Title: Say You Will

Genre: Television

Series: Glee

Characters: Noah Puckerman, Rachel Berry

Spoilers: N/A

Rating: PG

Summary: Noah used to dream of his future when he was a child, but he never expected this. He never expected her.

Rachel Berry had a voice for every occasion, she was the singing and dancing equivalent of a Hallmark card. Having been in Glee Club with her for several years Noah Puckerman thought he'd heard them all; he was surprised to find that he was wrong.

He knew her happy voice, the note of confidence that made her sing so solidly, so loudly until her voice filled every corner of the room. Her face would match the voice, eyes wide and shining but still clear that her thoughts weren't there in the room. She was somewhere else entirely, her mind was up on Broadway on the stage, and the room wasn't empty, it was an auditorium full of people and they were applauding her because she was Rachel Berry, Broadway star. She was dreaming with her eyes wide open, and no matter what song spilled from her lips it was her song, as if it were written just for her.

He knew her sad voice, the way she could make it soft and reaching, make it fill every shadow with more darkness until the room felt like the air had been sucked out. Her body hunched in and her arms reached out, the music vibrating from every muscle of her body. She could make pain a single note on the musical spectrum, holding it until it felt like every nerve in his body was stretched to the breaking point. Sometimes Noah felt like he knew her too well in those moments, because sometimes during those moments she would look at Finn, but more often she looked at him.

Noah knew the voice of her anger, he'd provoked it from her often enough that he knew it very intimately. She had a large talent and when pushed too far she threw it all out there, every ounce of strength she had and she thrust it into the song with fervor beyond her years. She would make him hear her words, every last one would be drummed into his mind, his memory, if she had to hollow out her spirit and tear her throat to shreds to do it. Every dance step was a little harder, every spin more wild, and her eyes danced with light that he had put there. Noah loved her angry voice because her angry voice was her true voice. It was the voice where she hid nothing, where she couldn't contain it, where she looked at him and every emotion was laid bare in the darkness of her eyes.

She had a voice for passion, too, but Noah knew he was the only one who heard it. It wasn't the songs, wasn't her favorite musical, wasn't her favorite ballad. You couldn't find it in Celine Dion, couldn't find it in Rent; Noah helped create this voice with her and he held that knowledge in his chest like caged butterflies that he refused to release. It was the small hitch in her breath when he touched her, just his hand sliding down her arm to tangle their fingers together when no one was paying attention. It was the soft sigh that she couldn't contain when they were alone together, finally alone together. It was the quiet whimper that shook free of her throat when he fastened his lips to her collarbone and whispered his own song against her skin.

She had a voice for every day of the month, for every feeling and mood, and she was never afraid to let others hear them. He listened to each voice, made a memory of each one, and he remembered. He knew the way she would move, knew the way her face would look, knew who caused what song and why. He was her captive audience, silently enraptured and unable to leave without one more encore.

As time passed he became no less infatuated but the songs became less of a performance he watched than ones he participated in. He became her leading man and it was like a role he'd always been meant to play. He knew her moves already, knew the way she could twist her voice to the songs, how she could lay emotion into the words until the words blurred and the only thing you could remember was the look in her eyes when she sang them.

There was something about this particular song, Noah thought, that felt like he was seeing her again for the first time.

She was standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, deliciously rumpled from the bed she'd just rolled out of, and she was singing a song he'd never heard before. Her hands had slipped down to cradle the swell of their child, her voice quiet but still carrying down the hall to his ears. Noah stepped out of their bedroom and couldn't help but study her face. It was the first time he couldn't immediately identify her song, or why she sang it. Somehow it was every song she'd ever sang, and at the same time it was none of them.

It was a quiet song, wistful and soft, but her eyes were distant and her thoughts were miles away. Her smile, though directed inward towards wherever her thoughts had taken her, was fierce with the passion he knew lurked under the serene mask she'd perfected years ago. Even though all the signs were contradictory, she was happy, she was sad, she was confusing and confused; he still knew her well enough that he feared he knew just where her thoughts were. The guilt of it rose in him until he couldn't stop the words from spilling forth.

"I'm sorry," he whispered from where he stood, unable to come closer.

"For what?" Rachel asked, forgetting her song in an instant and turning to gaze at him.

He shrugged. "For Broadway."

Confusion slid across her eyes and she tilted her head slightly, her hands rubbing the side of her swollen stomach idly before she finally comprehended what he meant. Unconsciously her hands splayed widely across her bump protectively, and she shook her head at him. "Don't be. I'm not."

"It was your dream, Rachel," Noah stated, stepping towards her because he couldn't help himself, had never been able to stop himself from always wanting to be closer to her.

"Dreams change, Noah," Rachel chided him, holding out her hand and waiting for him to take it before continuing. "You can't live in dreams, and this reality is so much better than I ever expected it to be."

"We just graduated high school and we're having a baby," Noah stated, his hands sliding down her body to join hers in cradling their unborn child, still so young and growing. "Your fathers aren't speaking to us, my mother can't look me in the eye, and our friends can't stop gossiping about it long enough to even tell us whether they're happy or not, which I think is an answer in and of itself."

"Noah," Rachel said softly, leaning up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his chin, "none of that matters. Do you love me?"

He was nodding before she even finished the question. He couldn't even give words to how he felt about her, there was no way to describe the all consuming nature of what she was for him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers and put that feeling into the kiss. It was needing, and it was loving, it was passion and it was happy, it was every song and and it was none of them. He could feel their child pressed between them, the small kicks of a barely formed foot tickling his ribs and making Rachel smile into his mouth.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't the stuff of dreams, but for Noah Puckerman it was enough. It was more than enough.

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