Author's Note: This is a CRAZY idea that melted my brain while I was mowing a couple weeks ago and I've now finally put onto "paper".
The summary gives a general direction of the plot, but what is important to know is that Rachel is the star in the Broadway musical Beauty and the Beast and Puck is her new OB/GYN. It's mainly Puckleberry with other characters tossed in the mix, and rated M for all the right reasons. It is COMPLETELY A/U, but entirely in character (with the addition of some maturity given their ages).
There was something about the idea of Puck being an OB/GYN that I could NOT stop laughing about, so I seriously hope you guys enjoy this because it's quickly gotten out of control and basically taken over my life. With that in mind, I want to give a shout out to michaelfanfic, who I promised a prompt oneshot and I AM working on it. Hopefully it will be done sometime this week - but this just had to come out.
I am SUPER nervous about posting it, though, since it is so A/U (even if it is the characters we know and love at the core), so please, please, please let me know what you think. The first chapter is sort of just laying the groundwork for the story, but everything will be explained about their pasts and presents, etc. (since obviously they didn't go to high school together). I am in the midst of writing the third chapter as I type this, but if y'all hate it, then I'll just cry myself to sleep and try to forget about it. Haha. So, really, let me know!
Disclaimer: Beauty and the Beast is no longer in production on Broadway, but that does not mean I owe it. All references to the plot, song lyrics, etc. within this story are private property, and I'm merely trespassing. Thanks!
Rachel walked confidently down the city streets, bobbing and weaving her small frame through the crowd of people to her left and right. New York was the city that never slept, but what no one mentioned was people weren't sleeping because they were too busy walking. It was the tail end of rush hour and wearing four inch heels was usually enough for Rachel to hail a cab, but she knew she'd just be sitting in traffic the whole time. And she refused to be late. Not just because she was Rachel Berry and punctual was just one of her many admirable character traits, but it had taken her forever to find a doctor's office that met her standards and would stay open past the normal nine to five hours. Besides, it was only one more block away, and the weather was finally nice again.
Spring had officially sprung, and sometimes Rachel could hardly contain her elation on her way to and from work. It didn't matter that she'd lived in the city for nearly twelve years. New York was her dream and everyday she was grateful that it had come true. Never once would she take the beauty of the city for granted, nor would she ever tire of seeing her name in lights (or just on the playbill of every night's showing). She'd only just stopped sending copies of them back home to her dads, but that had been a request more than her being ungrateful; her fathers had convinced her she wasn't being environmentally conscientious. It only took about a minute of their speech about all the poor, defenseless animals left without a home because the trees were being cut down for Rachel agree to stop.
Not just stop, but officially join PETA and donate to the Rainforest Conservation Fund.
Rachel turned the corner onto W. 52nd Street, yanking open the glass door of the second building on her right. Like many buildings in New York City, the entrance simply led to another door, in this case an option on either side of her. She looked down at the business card in her hand, again noting the name of the doctor one of her castmates had recommended before turning right. She read the directory by the elevator and saw the office was on the second floor, so she made her way up the closest set of stairs, her eyes focused outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows until reaching the top. Flinging open another door, Rachel was greeted by a welcoming receptionist desk, and a clock that informed her she was precisely six minutes early.
"Ms. Berry, I pray?"
"Yes," Rachel answered merrily, setting her purse on the countertop as she took in the wary expression of the woman behind the desk. Her eyes drifted down in search of a name tag, but aside from the stethoscope hanging across the nurse's neck, there was only a paper sticker that said, "Hi, my name is BITCH" and Rachel wasn't comfortable with that title. "I have a six o'clock with a …" Rachel looked down at the card again, "Dr. Puckerman."
"You're the last patient today, so let's just move this along." The nurse gathered a clipboard and a few pieces of paper, disappearing out of sight only to reappear at a door to the left. She tilted her head in invitation for Rachel to enter, and she did simply because she was sure the Latina would hurt her otherwise. "I've got a hot date."
"Oh." Rachel blinked in surprise, the nurse's candid conversation catching her off guard. Her castmate had said the doctor was the best in the entire city, and Rachel hadn't thought to question her or the other five women that had chimed in. The office was only two blocks out of her way home, which meant it was also walking distance from the theater, and it had been the only place that was willing to work around her erratic schedule. Rachel supposed she could deal with an intimidating nurse for sheer convenience alone.
"Fill these out while I check your vitals."
"Of course." Rachel accepted the clipboard of forms, untangling the pen attached by a string and starting on the basic information as best she could while the nurse was taking her pulse and blood pressure. "I-I'm sorry about the late appointment. I appreciate your business accommodating my hectic schedule."
"I just work here," the Latina mumbled, grabbing the clipboard from Rachel's hands and writing the vitals on the sheet that had been on top. "What was the date of your last period?"
Rachel blushed. "Um, two weeks ago?" Rachel was normally so precise, but she was suddenly very uncomfortable. Her people skills had certainly improved since high school, but for some reason Rachel was having trouble relaxing in the presence of the nurse. There was something about her that put Rachel back in the mindset of a scared, fifteen-year-old girl standing in front of the head cheerleader. "I'm sorry, but, um, what is your name?"
"Santana." The nurse scribbled something on the form, looking up at Rachel with an almost cat-like grin. "You want my number, too?"
"Wha-uh. No, th-thank you," Rachel stumbled, her cheeks blushing again. Had she mentioned that she hated going to the doctor? "Just trying to put myself at ease."
"Well, I'd tell you to picture me in my underwear, but since I'm not wearing any that would be weird." It didn't seem possible, but Santana's smirk deepened. "Or incredibly hot." Rachel laughed nervously and the nurse just rolled her eyes, bending down to retrieve a gown from one of the cupboards and tossing it to Rachel. "Undress and put this on. The doctor will be in shortly."
Rachel just nodded, waiting until the door was completely closed before she even slipped out of her high-heel shoes. While unzipping her dress so the material would pool to her feet, she inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled, using the breathing exercises she'd learned for her career to calm her nerves there in the doctor's office. Unfortunately, just when she'd started to feel her heart rate return to its normal relaxed beat, the door flew open and she had about a nanosecond to use the gown in her hands to try to cover herself up.
"Excuse me!" She screeched, her eyes narrowing on the man in the white lab coat. "I wasn't finished."
"Sokay. I'm not lookin'."
Rachel's eyes were in slits, watching the doctor take a seat on the stool while reading Rachel's file. Her breath was lodged somewhere high in her throat, blocking the loud, long speech that had immediately sprung to her mind at how inconsiderate and unprofessional he had been to barge into the room without even knocking. She thought better of actually saying it all, though, knowing his rebuttal would no doubt be that he was about to examine her most private areas and therefore modesty went out the window the second she walked into the office.
"My name is Dr. Puckerman." He extended his hand out toward her once she was securely inside the robe, smirking at her blushing cheeks. So, yeah, he totally was looking. Before she'd left for her date, Santana had told him the last patient had been worth the wait, and fuck if she wasn't telling the truth. High-strung, no doubt, but Puck was fairly certain he could figure out a few ways to loosen Ms. Berry up. "What brings you here today … Rachel?"
Rachel settled onto the patient's chair, the white paper covering the seat crackling with each new movement. She cleared her throat softly, looking at the doctor straight in the eyes. "I'm here for my annual examination, and then I also had some questions about fertility."
"It says here that you aren't married," he questioned, checking the form again just in case. Sometimes Santana would forget to mark certain things, which he'd actually been meaning to talk to her about. "Are you and your … boyfriend … trying to get pregnant?"
"Oh, no." Rachel shook her head, his attention focused more on the sway of her dark, wavy hair. "I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh," Puck grunted, noting his own damn bad luck. Figures. "Well there have been a lot of advancements in reproductive endocrinology recently. I can give you some pamphlets for you to take home so you and your partner can discuss your options and …"
"I'm not gay," she muttered in horror, instantly feeling bad. "Not that there is anything wrong with that lifestyle. I actually have two dads and my best friend is gay and he's even considering adoption with his significant other even though Blaine is sort of dragging his feet. I think he's worried about raising a child in the city, which of course can be a challenge. But sometimes challenges are good, making you reach your full potential and …"
Puck had stopped listening somewhere at the middle-ish beginning, his eyes glazing over as she babbled on and on about something or other. It didn't really matter that she was talking, though, because he was completely focused on her mouth. Her lips with pink and pouty, looking so smooth that he wanted to run his tongue over them just to see what she'd taste like. Berries, he thought comically.
"The point is, I'm not a lesbian," Rachel summed up, biting her lip self-consciously when the silence rang in the room. She had a tendency to ramble, and it only got worse when she was nervous. And attracted, her inner monologue pointed out despite how hard she wanted to ignore it. Her expectations had been quite high after her castmates had gone on and on about the doctor, and whether it was a good thing or not, he'd completely lived up to his end of the bargain. They hadn't been exaggerating at all by likening him to a Greek god, but they had, however, left out the fact that he was clearly quite presumptuous with a flair for rude.
"So, let me get this straight." Puck put his pen to the form, figuring he should write this down. "You aren't married." Rachel shook her head. "You don't have a boyfriend." Again, a quick sweep to the left and right. "And you aren't into girls." She glowered, but nodded negatively again. "But you want to discuss your fertility."
Rachel started to express her concerns about turning thirty this year and statistics she'd read in an article during her lunch hour at the theater about the correlation between age and infertility levels and … again, Puck stopped listening. She might be hot, but she talked way too damn much. Plus, she was obviously bat-shit crazy if she was planning on having kids before she was even dating anyone, male or otherwise. Moreover, Puck certainly wasn't down for banging a (crazy) chick who was hoping to make babies in the near future.
"I've just always been a take-charge kind of person and I'd rather be prepared for any situation beforehand, just in case," Rachel finished, sitting up straighter when the doctor stood from his stool. She'd been so surprised by his initial appearance that she hadn't really noticed his stature the first time, but she quickly made up for lost time. He looked taller than average, though people joked that everyone looked that way to her. His frame, however, was definitely more athletic than most men, his chest and shoulders broad and the rest of him looking toned and in shape.
"Well, let's take a peek at the plumbing and we can discuss what you'd like to do in terms of your fertility."
Rachel scoffed at his complete disregard for the medical jargon she'd come to expect, but lied down nonetheless. Her feet settled into the stirrups and she scooted her butt to the edge of the chair, looking up at the ceiling nervously when the doctor moved the bright light closer to where she was … on display. She held her breath and closed her eyes tight when she heard him rolling the stool between her legs, her hands wringing nervously on her stomach.
Puck settled back into the stool and held back a groan at the view in front of him. Seriously, he loved his job. If he'd gone into teaching music in high school like he'd started out and did this kind of stuff, well he would have been arrested by now. Instead, he got paid to finger chicks every weekday. And then, on the evenings and weekends, he just did it (and more) for fun.
"Cold," he warned before inserting the metal clamp into her center, keeping it open so he could take a swab for her pap smear. It couldn't be all fun and games. "Is there a history of infertility in your family?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered, half because his questions were coming from between her thighs and half because it was a sensitive subject. "I was adopted."
"Oh, right." Puck smirked gently as he poked his head up. "Two dads."
She nodded softly, finally exhaling the breath she'd been holding once he'd removed the clamp. She inhaled it right back in, though, when he stood and pressed two fingers inside of her. Her eyes had been focused on the ceiling, but they quickly fell down, her head tilting up slightly to regard him. He had this damn smile on his face that was completely negligent of his degree and his eyes were so smoldering that she couldn't bring herself to care.
"A little pressure," he explained quietly, using his other hand to press on her pelvic area. He watched her face as he checked her ovaries, typical as he looked for any sense of pain. But Rachel just continued to look nervous, so he moved his eyes back down to his left hand before letting the thumb of his right sweep across her clit. She jerked at the contact and he again had to hold back a moan. "Sorry."
Rachel inhaled a sharp breath, her lip sucked between her teeth and her eyes slamming shut. She was mortified and could feel her skin flushing under his scrutiny, which only made things worse. He'd think she was reacting favorably to his accidental slip when she was really just hoping a hole would form directly under her and swallow her whole. Things like this never happened to anyone else, only her. It was like high school all over again, when she'd been pouring her heart out on stage just to slip on the newly waxed floor.
"Alright, all set." Puck removed his gloves with a snap, tossing them in the biohazard bin on the counter and marking the test vials with the chart number Santana had written on Rachel's forms. Clicking the pen again to retract the point, he turned back toward her and took one step forward. "Arms up, please."
He again watched her reaction to him as he checked her breasts for lumps, moving his index and middle finger in small circles around the perimeter of her boobs and then over the nipple. As if he already couldn't tell from his sneak peek when he'd entered the room, Rachel's body was legit off the hook. He thought he heard her say something about a theater, which meant his fantasies about her being a dancer could quite possibly be true. That meant on top of a perfect pussy, amazing tits, and a taunt little body, she was also flexible and agile and … why were the perfect ones always so fucking crazy?
"So let's talk about your fertility concerns," he segued, moving her gown back to cover her breasts. He took a step back and leaned against the countertop, his arms crossing over his chest and his one leg hooking over his other. "There's nothing we can really do to guarantee you'll have a baby when you're ready to have one, but we can take some blood tests to at least rule out some complications."
Rachel nodded absently, her hands clutching at the fabric of the gown to keep it secure. "That would be acceptable."
"Great," he answered emptily, wondering why she couldn't just say 'OK' like everyone else. "Then we'll take it from there." He pushed himself away from the counter, gathering the forms and vials before pointing back toward the counter. "There's girly stuff over there if you need it. I'll be outside when you're done."
"Thank you," she responded, ignoring his amateur vocabulary for the feminine hygiene products on the counter and instead just waiting for the door to close before she moved to change. She did so quickly, half expecting him to interrupt her again. Unfortunately (Wait. No. Good thing) he didn't, and she collected her purse last before grabbing the handle and turning it down to open the door. Down the short hall, she saw him sitting behind the receptionist's desk where the nurse had originally greeted her. It was eerily quiet as she made her way back to the front, and she realized that he was probably the only one left in the building. "I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."
"No sweat." Puck tapped a few keys on the computer, inputting some of the last information that Santana had left for him before he pulled up the appointment page. "Do you always need late appointments?"
"It depends on the day." Rachel's embarrassment from before immediately faded as she thought about her work, her confidence shining through. "I'm the lead in a Broadway show and our schedule is quite demanding. I'm actually between sets right now." He looked uninterested, and some of her confidence deflated. "I have Mondays off, so that would probably be best so I don't feel so overwhelmed." She regarded him. "But I was told you don't work on Mondays, so I don't want to put you out anymore than I already have."
"I don't mind putting out," he smirked, looking up at her. She blushed and his smirk widened. Sometimes it was just too easy. "But I can't do Mondays. Nor am I the one who actually does the blood work."
"Oh, right. That's not what you get paid the big bucks for, right?" She tried to joke, internally debating if a civil conversation was plausible after he'd seen her naked and hadn't reciprocated. Not that she wanted to see him naked. Well, not that she expected to see him naked. This wasn't that kind of facility, which was precisely why she'd chosen it. Rachel hadn't had much luck finding a nice doctor, but thanks to her theater friends she thought her luck might be changing.
"For future reference, or perhaps to jot down on my chart, I'm available anytime in the late mornings or early afternoons on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday."
Puck made note of her schedule in the system and also in his head, randomly wondering what she did with her free time. It was random because it wasn't followed with a thought about her doing him in her free time, which was usually the case. Instead, he was genuinely curious, and that shit wasn't kosher. He definitely didn't want to waste time thinking about her taking a jog through Central Park when he could picture her bent over the side of his couch screaming his name.
"What cycle day are you on?" Rachel blinked at him absently and he sighed. Sometimes he hated his job. "When was the first day of your last period?"
Rachel looked down at the calendar he'd moved up to her level. She scanned the dates and her memory, pointing down at the squared off space from eleven days ago. Puck quickly did the math, and then looked back down at the computer. "I'll set up an appointment for next Friday at eleven for some blood work, and how about we do a follow up the week after … Friday at ten?" She nodded in the affirmative. "One of the tests next week is dependent on your cycle, so make sure to allot time in your busy schedule to come in, OK?"
"Yes, sir," Rachel rolled her eyes and then stopped, catching her smile before it could slip too far onto her face. She wasn't sure where the wave of comfortableness had come from, but she made sure to not let it slip into her next bit of dialogue. "I appreciate your dedication and understanding to my career."
Puck knitted his eyebrows together, extending the two appointment cards out to her and watching bemused as she fumbled with both the cards and her words. He'd caught a glimpse of what this woman might be like in normal circumstances, and what he'd saw he liked. This rambling, anxious, crazy person, however, left little to be desired. And that was saying something because he'd totally screwed his share of lunatics.
"It was a pleasure meeting you." She extended her hand out in front of herself, looking down at the appendage and waiting for him to respond to the gesture. He did so slowly, eventually curling his hand around hers and she tried not to gasp at the feel of his palm against hers. A jolt of electricity coursed through her, and she couldn't help but narrow her gaze on their union. She probably should have noticed when he'd been examining her breasts, but his fingers were callused just so that she could tell he played an instrument, and she guessed guitar without even knowing him.
"See ya later," he said, bypassing telling her it had been a pleasure meeting her and whatever it was she was about to ask him about. Conversation with women was never a good idea, and that was especially true of women like her, who apparently loved the sound of her own voice. Still, seeing as how she was a paying customer, he made sure to hold up the door for her, leaning against the frame when she passed. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she started toward the stairs, and he had to bite back saying something that he'd regret. Not that he ever regretted hitting on beautiful women, but he didn't want to practice to get sued. Again.
Rachel stopped midway between the second and first level, her legs shaking lightly underneath her. Knowing she'd have to get her bearings straight before leaving and heading back to the theater for the second show, Rachel moved to the side of the stairwell. She rested her hands against the railing, letting some of her weight rest on the cool metal while exhaling a breath. Her eyes opened and immediately honed in on the appointment cards still clutched in her hand. The day and time she was expected to come in was circled and filled in, the back of the card showing a list of doctors in the office with a check mark next to "Dr. Puckerman".
Everyone else had a first name listed but him, and even though she didn't know him at all, the rebellion of the omission seemed so him. Even his nurse had been coy about her first name, Rachel recalling the sticker name tag she'd noticed on the Latina before asking her for her name. She hadn't done the same for Dr. Puckerman, however, so she could only assume what his name tag would say.
Hi, my name is SEXY.