In Dreams

Written for GoingVintage who won me at the Support Stacie Author Auction.

Summary: In dreams, he comes to her. It's not her fault her subconscious wants him so badly.

Spoilers: None really. Just bits and pieces. But if you've seen the first 16 episodes. You're good.

Warnings: Adult themes.

Verse: Not really canon. But I 'include' canon elements very loosely.

It starts small.

He's just a random face in a crowd. And while Rachel can't really see any of his features, she knows it's him.

Don't ask her how she knows. Or why he's there.

He just is.

At first, she doesn't really notice. Dreams are hard to keep track of. But sometimes she holds on to them. Tightly. Even if, when she wakes, she can't remember why.

.-.-.-.

She dreams about kissing him one night. His lips are soft and tender, but barely there. Her eyes are closed as she tries to deepen the kiss. And even though she never does see his face, something inside her tells her it's him.

He's gone with a whisper of a kiss. And so is the memory.

But when her alarm goes off moments later, she wakes with a smile on her lips.

.-.-.-.

His presence in her dreams doesn't actively affect her life. That is, until she remembers.

Like. Really remembers.

She doesn't remember what she was doing or why she was doing it. But she does remember him walking towards her; his proud (sexy) smirk aimed directly at her.

(Oh that and the fact that she's smiling back.)

.-.-.-.

She opens her eyes in shock. Like she's just been told that her 'current' nose is too big for show business. Or maybe like she's been nominated for a Tony award for her performance in the Lima Community Centre's production of 'Fiddler on the Roof' last Fall.

She's not sure which, but she's shocked all the same.

.-.-.-.

When she sees him walking down the hall that day, talking lewdly with Matt and Mike while clutching a football, Rachel thinks she's possibly had this dream before.

Maybe even more than once.

.-.-.-.

The next night he's walking towards her, but this time, his hands are tightly holding a football to his chest, his elbows jutting out to either side. And the next morning, she wakes with the images of his bare rippling forearms burned into her brain.

That, and her intense new desire to touch them.

.-.-.-.

She's quickly becoming obsessed with his arms, or, as he likes to call them, 'his guns'.

Rachel often finds herself discretely (and sometimes not-so-discretely) sneaking peeks at them during Glee. She marvels at the way his biceps move under the long sleeves of his shirt; wonders how they'd feel beneath her fingertips, all taut and bulging.

That is, until he catches her staring. She's completely mortified at the annoyed look he shoots her as he barks "What'cha looking at crazy?"

It's one of the few times ever that Rachel is at a loss for words, unable to form a suitable response, but then she notices the way his muscles flex defensively as he's speaking, and she momentarily forgets her horror.

(My, they are lovely, aren't they?)

.-.-.-.

Mr. Schuester assigns them a new song for Glee. It's exciting and fast paced, so Rachel's concentrating earnestly to learn the new choreography when Finn clumsily whirls her into him. Puck's arms encircle her easily, catching her as she stumbles. She finds herself staring blankly at his chest and all she can think about is how strong his body feels, exactly like she imagined; her fingers feel almost singed by the heat radiating off him.

She blushes profusely as his hands drop from her waist to dangle loosely by his sides.

"Thank you, Noah," She says politely as she steps back towards a sheepishly grinning Finn. Puck just shrugs his shoulders in response, grunting something that sounds a lot like "s'okay", but she's not entirely sure.

.-.-.-.

That night, as she's tucking herself into bed, she rationalizes that the warmth of his body was completely normal. They'd just spent the better part of an afternoon repeating rigorous dance steps, and it is therefore foolish of her to continue fixating of such a trivial matter.

So, she resolves not to think about it anymore.

(If only her subconscious would listen.)

.-.-.-.

She bolts up straight in the early hours of the night, her heart racing and her forehead damp with sweat. Rachel groans as she closes her eyes, picturing his half-naked body pressed against her own, his fingers grazing over her skin in a deliciously slow manner as her arm reaches up to clutch the base of his neck.

Her fingers glide through the soft bristles of his Mohawk as she lowers his head to hers. The world moves in slow motion; his lips approaching hers at an achingly slow pace.

.-.-.-.

Their lips never meet; the dream dissipating in an instant as soon as her eyes snap open.

.-.-.-.

She's not a stalker. Really she's not.

He just happens to be around a lot when she looks over her shoulder, even when she least expects it. Rachel's always believed that she's kind of psychic, but even this weird Puck-specific radar that she has developed is starting to freak her out.

She doesn't want to be looking at him all the time.

She just is.

.-.-.-.

It's getting harder for her to act normal around Puck. (At least normal for her anyway.) And Rachel thinks he's starting to notice.

It's not her fault. Really.

It's becoming a natural instinct for her bite her lip whenever they're in the same room together. It's mostly to stop herself from picturing him shirtless. But sometimes, she fails miserably. Especially when Mr. Schuester decides to include this lift-and-twirl motion in their latest dance piece, and she finds herself jumping into Puck's arms at least ten times every rehearsal. She has to force herself not to shiver every time his fingers glide across her skin. She starts wearing long sleeves and stockings to school, just so he won't notice the goosebumps.

But it doesn't help much.

.-.-.-.

She begins dreaming of herself in a beautiful white gown as good, strong arms carry her across a threshold before laying her on a large bed covered in rose petals.

But Rachel never seems to remember that part of the dream. Instead she remembers what follows after; his lips sliding against her skin, the soft glide of his fingers unzipping her dress and slipping the material away.

Each time, her eyes snap open as she forces herself to wake up, but the image of what they were doing moments earlier just won't disappear. And she starts to wonder if she actually wants it to.

.-.-.-.

It gets worse.

He's beginning to shoot her these strange looks. (Meaning looks that imply he thinks she's strange, and not looks she doesn't understand. Because she does. She really does.)

So now, whenever she sees him, she turns to face the opposite direction.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Which is good in theory, but kind of hard when he's spinning her around, and she can feel his sizable muscles shifting beneath her.

.-.-.-.

He corners her after glee one day, pushing her back up against her locker just as she's finished collecting her bag.

Rachel squeaks in surprise as he gently thrusts his lower half forwards and she can feel his hardness pressing lightly into her lower stomach.

"I know you want me, Berry." His voice is so deep and alluring as he whispers into her ear. "I could see it in your eyes. You were practically eye-fucking me in there."

She moans softly as his hand lands on her knee, his fingers raking a path up the outer side of her thigh. Her eyelids fall shut as he starts to gather her skirt in his palm, slowly (excruciatingly slowly) working his way up and pulling the material obscenely high as his hot breath fans out across her neck.

"Rachel," he murmurs against her ear. "Rachel..."

Except, his voice is getting steadily high, and more pitchy. In fact he's starting to sound a lot like their math teacher, Mrs. Richardson.

Huh?

.-.-.-.

Sleep is becoming more elusive for Rachel. Mostly because she's scared.

Scared that she enjoys these dreams way too much. Especially since the leading man in said dreams hasn't shown any inclination towards her since their one week of dating.

That's why falling asleep during class really doesn't surprise her as much as it should. But she's still kind of horrified to find Mrs. Richardson hovering over her with a worried expression etched into her face.

Rachel's only saving grace is that Puck's not in class at the moment. In fact, he hasn't attended a math class all year. And she's more than grateful.

"Rachel?" Her teacher repeats kindly. "Are you okay dear? Do you need to go see the nurse? You are looking a little worse for wear this afternoon."

"No, that's okay Mrs. Richardson." She replies as she tries to stifle a yawn. "I'm quite fine. I just haven't been sleeping well lately." Rachel's so glad that she's good at acting, because if her teacher knew exactly why she wasn't sleep well, she just might die.

"Well, all the same, dear, I think you should go to the sick bay. Ask Nurse Moore if you can lie down for a little while." Rachel opens her mouth to protest once more, but the usually gentle old face staring down at her turns stern. "I insist."

So Rachel has no choice but to collect her belongings and head to the nurse's office. She stifles another large yawn just as she arrives. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

Her opinion changes a minute later when Nurse Moore directs her into an adjacent room containing two large cots lining the walls, one of which is already occupied by someone with a very familiar Mohawk.

His tall form is completely sprawled out over the makeshift bed, one leg dangling off to the side. He looks completely different like this; face relaxed, no trace of his usual scowl or smirk.

And this is so not a good thing.

"Here you go dear." The nurse motions to the empty cot. "Take as long as you need."

Rachel takes a seat, and quietly examines his features. He'd probably freak out, knowing that she's watching him like this, but she can't seem to turn away. He looks peaceful, the strong line of his jaw hanging open slightly. And she smiles. (She doesn't know why.)

He moves, and for one horrifying moment, Rachel thinks he might wake up and catch her staring. But then he just rolls over and releases a low sigh. His back is now facing her, and she can see his shirt riding up slightly, exposing the muscles of his lower back, the waist of his boxer shorts peeking out from the top of his jeans.

Her eyes slowly begin to trail lower and…

She really needs to get out of here.

She's gone in an instant, leaving a flabbergasted Nurse Moore in her wake.

.-.-.-.

Rachel's eyes snap open after another dream. It was erotic and romantic and…

She really needs to stop dreaming about it.

She groans and rolls over onto her side, but instead of facing her clock, she somehow finds herself staring at Puck's sleeping form, his mouth hanging open slightly as his chest moves in a deep, even rhythm. It takes her a long time to realize she's still dreaming, but this time, she really doesn't mind.

.-.-.-.

Rachel's smiling brightly today, her heart feels light and she's humming quietly to herself as she starts setting up for rehearsal. She doesn't know why, but she's had the most pleasant night's rest she's had in a very long time.

She's completely in a world of her own, that she doesn't even realize when she starts absently singing random lines out loud, whatever you wish for you keep…

"You're in a good mood this afternoon, Rachel." She's brought out of her bubble by Mr. Schuester as he strolls into the room.

She turns to face him, a little embarrassed at being caught. "Yes. Well, it's been a very good day so far, Mr. Schuester." She says as she turns back to continue unstacking chairs, but she pauses midway when she realizes that one of the chairs in already occupied.

"How long have you been sitting there?" She asks as her eyes widen in shock.

Puck shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. A while, I guess."

Rachel's mouth drops open, trying to recall if she'd said or done anything embarrassing in the past five minutes. "Then, why didn't you say something?" She splutters.

He shrugs again. "Figured if I did, you'd make me help, and I really can't be f–"

"Puck," Mr. Schuester interjects warningly.

"–Bothered." Puck finishes lamely. He's not acting any differently, so Rachel tries to put herself at ease.

It doesn't work. Her good mood has officially evaporated because now she's internally berating herself for not paying attention to her surroundings. The last thing she needs right now, is for Puck to realize she's been having dreams about him. Inappropriate or otherwise.

.-.-.-.

Puck's impromptu appearances in her dreams are always at the forefront of her mind, even as Regionals approaches. And Rachel's extremely stressed. She's knows that their success over Vocal Adrenaline heavily depends on her performance, so she desperately needs to focus.

But it's still very hard. In fact, it's getting harder for her to concentrate because not only is he visiting her in her dreams at night. He's also there during the day. In dreams and in real life. And it's getting difficult for her to distinguish between reality and fantasy.

.-.-.-.

She's in a rush to get to the car park. She's running late. And she never likes to be late.

Suddenly, a door opens along the hallway and out steps Puck. He's wearing his basketball shorts low on his hips, and nothing else; a small towel casually hanging behind his neck.

She gulps as she takes in his appearance. His large shoulders, his chiseled torso, the thin layer of sweat lining his skin, making him almost glisten (but not in a creepy vampire way.)

Rachel knows she must be dreaming. Because really, there's no way Puck could look this good. But she's not entirely sure. Neither of them has spoken a word, and they continue to stare at each other silently; even as her finger reaches out tentatively and pokes him gently in the middle of his chest.

Her eyes widen in shock at the firm sensation beneath the pad of her finger.

This is not a dream.

She steps back slightly, and raises her panicking eyes to meet his questioning gaze.

"Hello Noah," She says quickly, trying not to cringe at the (unusually) high pitch of her voice. He arches his eyebrow and opens his mouth to reply, but Rachel decides it's best for him not to talk. Because he's just going to ask why she touched him, and she's not sure she can answer that without making a complete fool out of herself. (That is, even more than she already has.) "I was rehearing. In the auditorium." She rushes out, her mouth moving a mile a minute. "I realize that's not really out of the norm. I like to practice almost any spare moment I get. During Glee and during lunch period. And sometimes even before school. But, I find that rehearsing in the auditorium is the most beneficial, and the only time Principal Figgins will allow me to use the auditorium is after school on Wednesdays." She pauses to take a deep breath, and she's surprised that Puck's still looking at her, seemingly paying attention to her panicked outburst. "As I have many solos that I need to perfect before next week's competition, I just find that the acoustics in the auditorium are far more adequate for practicing for Regionals than the choir room. I mean, as a fellow musician you must have noticed how much more accomplished our numbers sound when we're performing in there. For example, 'Don't stop believing', 'Hello, Goodbye', 'Somebody to love'…"

"'I wanna sex you up.'" Puck offers with an understanding nod.

"You do?"

The two words leave her mouth before she even realizes. She ignores the hopeful tone of her voice.

"What?" His expression turns confused.

"Nothing." She looks away quickly to hide her embarrassment; mentally cursing herself for not having a proper brain-to-mouth filter. Of course, she pushes ahead trying to divert his attention away from her momentary lapse in cognitive function. "You're of course talking about your performance at the PTA meeting a few months ago. While I didn't have the opportunity to see that number first hand, I did hear rave reviews from my dads." Her eyes widen in shock once more as she remembers why she was in such a rush in the first place. "Speaking of which," she continues, glancing quickly at her watch. "My dad has been waiting to pick me up for the past fifteen minutes. I really have to go. It was nice talking to you Noah."

And she's gone; breezing past him without giving him an opportunity to respond. And she's more than glad. Rachel's too afraid that he'd finally put the pieces of her weird behavior together, (If he hasn't already,) and she's not sure she could handle the extra stress of him realizing the strange effect he's had on her waking life. (Oh, and her dreaming one too.)

.-.-.-.

For the next week she avoids him whenever she can. Even during Glee. She positions herself in a secluded corner of the room, singing softly to herself, and pretending to immerse herself in only her music.

Her will is her own.

.-.-.-.

But during the night, she belongs to him.

With his arms, and his bare chest, and his smirk.

Yeah, in dreams, he comes to her. And Rachel always greets him with a smile.

.-.-.-.

They're perfect.

Vocal Adrenaline, that is. Not New Directions.

They're all backstage watching the star, Jesse St. James, be just that. The star. And Rachel's so close to hyperventilating that she has to get out of there.

They've still got 2 other groups before New Directions has to perform, and after seeing their flawless routine and perfectly harmonized singing, Rachel's confidence is beginning to waver. She hides herself away in the green room, designated to New Directions for their costumes and belongings. They're not supposed to be back here again until after they perform, but she can't really deal with the rules right now.

Rachel closes her eyes and starts breathing deeply, trying desperately to compose herself once again. She can do this. She knows she can.

They've all practiced hard. Endured endless hours of rehearsal to be absolutely perfect. She ignores the fact that their performance being 'absolutely perfect' hinges on her ability to reach the high G sharp, which was unpredictable during their final rehearsal. Mr. Schuester attributed it to nerves, and told her to just relax.

Easier said than done.

But she needs to.

Relax.

Relax.

Relax…

.-.-.-.

There's a soft knock on the door, and Rachel opens her eyes to see Puck standing there.

"Hey," he says soothingly, offering her a small smile. "Mr. Schue told me to come get you. It's time to warm up."

She tries to return his smile, but it feels tight and forced. "Thank you, Noah. I'll be there in a moment."

He nods, but he doesn't leave like she expects. Instead he enters the small room properly, and closes the door behind him.

"Hey," he says again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She replies, but she fails to convince him. "Just a little nervous." She says, her trembling hand moving down to nervously smooth her dress.

He's standing in front of her now, his lips still tilted into a small smile. "Don't be." He says. "We totally got this shit."

She laughs quietly at his words which, while crass, are still endearing.

"Noah…" She attempts to berate him, but she stops as she watches as his hands move up to cup her face. Rachel feels her eyes going a little cross-eyed as she tries to focus on his face, but all her thoughts are focusing of the rough, calloused fingertips of his hand smoothing away the lines of worry. "What are you doing?" She whispers, her heart caught in her throat.

"Helping you relax." He says just before his lips touch hers. It's slow and tentative, but each time Rachel tries to deepen it, and just sink herself into the feel of his kiss, he seems to hold back.

His hand moves lower, sliding down her bare arms to settle on her waist. He squeezes gentle, and she instinctively changes her stance, allowing him to lift her slightly, and place her on a nearby table. They both clear the table, pushing away the belongings of the other ND members, and not caring as the items fall to the ground.

"Noah," She gasps as his mouth attacks her neck, leaving a trail open mouth kisses along her hot skin. He automatically sweeps her hair out of the way, careful not to mess it up too much. She moans as she clutches him closer, his body feeling hot between her legs, his hardness grinding against her gently.

His hand moves lower to the hem of her dress, carefully gathering the simple black material in his palm as he inches higher.

"Noah," She repeats breathily (desperately), her eyes falling shut as his hand glides against her inner thigh, getting closer to just where she wants (needs) him.

"Shhh, Rachel." He moans in her ear, as the sensation of his palm cupping her mound causes her to jerk involuntarily against him. She can feel him growing harder against her, and the thought makes her shiver. Her hands lower to his belt, making quick work of the buckle.

They don't remove their clothes, just clutch at each other, trying to press closer together. Rachel tries to memorize everything. Every caress. Ever breath. Ever sensation. But it's almost too much.

His fingers sweep aside her panties, running along her slit slowly. She's already ready for him, and he gently pushes a finger inside her, like he just knew she would be. Rachel gasps, biting into his shoulder as she gives into the feeling. Her hand snakes between them, moving lower to grasp his ever hardening member. He grunts and adds another finger side her as her hand moves over his cock. She moves delicately, tentative moving down to cup the base before moving up to palm the tip.

He's no longer kissing her neck; just groaning as his hot breath fans against her neck. They develop a rhythm, his fingers moving inside of her as her hand strokes him. She's completely lost, and it feels wonderful. He grunts as he changes the angle, and Rachel's movements get faster as he being hitting the same sweet spot insider her over and over again.

She's close. And so is he. She can feel it. His arm holding her up is tightening around her, and the actions of his other hand are getting more frantic with each thrust. And she's matching the pace stroke for stroke.

She whimpers as she moves her head to side, her lips seeking his and he instantly complies. "Rachel." He moans against her mouth, and she gasps in reply. "Rachel." He repeats, and she's gone. Her core clenching around him as he continues thrusting against her now stationary hand. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then he leans his forehead on hers as his body shudders in her arms.

They stay there for a moment; panting as they try to catch her breath.

She opens her eyes to find him smiling at her, his lips tilted in a small smirk. "Relaxed?" he asks. Rachel smiles and opens her mouth to reply, but she's interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Instantly, her head whips to the side to stare as it opens, but when her head turns back in panic to look at Puck, he's gone.

Vanished. Like in her dreams.

.-.-.-.

Rachel opens her eyes to see Puck standing at the door, hand still poised after he knocked.

"Hey," he says soothingly, offering her a small smile. "Mr. Schue told me to come get you. It's time to warm up."

She tries to return his smile, but it feels tight and forced. Her mind flashing between images of what is and what will never be. "Thank you, Noah." She nods her gratitude. "I'll be there in a moment."

He nods, but doesn't leave like she expected. Instead he enters the small room properly, and closes the door behind him.

"Hey," he says again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She replies, but she fails to convince him. "Just a little nervous." She says, her trembling hand moving down to nervously smooth her dress.

He's standing in front of her now, his lips still tilted into a small smile. "Don't be." He says. "We totally got this shit."

She laughs quietly at his words which, while crass, are still endearing.

"Noah…" She attempts to berate him, but she watches as his hands move up and she holds her breath; her fantasy playing out right in front of her eyes.

But he doesn't cup her face like he does in her daydream. Instead, his hands land on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "You're totally gonna blow 'em all away." He says, with such confidence in her that her smile instantly brightens; her momentary fear fading away with the remaining images of her dream.

"Thank you, Noah." She replies, as they both move towards the door and make their way to the warm-up room. "As you so fondly like to say, 'Bring it'."

.-.-.-.

This is a nightmare. It has to be.

All the teams are on stage, all huddled in their individual groups, and Rachel can see the VA students smugly looking at them, as they all wait with bated breath for the results. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest; her hands clenched together tightly in slient prayer. She's never felt more nervours, scared, or excited in her entire life.

"And third place goes to," The announcer starts, and Rachel holds her breath. "Rhythm and Tunes from Stevenson high school."

Rachel doesn't know whether to sigh in relief or fear. Because they only have two more opportunities to place, but one of those opportunities is still a chance to win.

"Second place goes to…" She's forgotten to breathe again. "Vocal Adrenaline from Carmel high school." The Carmel students are completely shocked, but they graciously accept their prize, and hope rises in Rachel's chest as she waits in suspense.

"And finally, the winner of the 2010 Ohio Regionals Show Choir competition goes to…"

There's an uproar around her, her fellow Glee students jumping up and down, but all Rachel can hear is the echo in her ear.

"New Directions from William McKinley high school, with the special outstanding vocalist award going to their female lead, Rachel Berry."

There are people hugging her from all directions, as the shock slowly wears off.

She steps forward to accept her award before turning back to face her fellow Glee clubbers.

This is a dream. It just has to be.

.-.-.-.

He's walking towards her after the excitement has died down, and Rachel smiles brightly as everything moves in slow motion. She moves to meet him halfway, the freedom of her dream giving her the confidence to act boldly. Her arms instinctively move up to circle his neck. His eyes widen in mild surprise as she guides his head down towards hers. It takes him a moment to react, but it's only as he moves to deepen the kiss that she realizes something is different about this dream.

She pulls back and stares into his eyes, her confusion evident. "This isn't a dream." It's a statement not a question, and Puck just smiles back her.

"No," He shakes his head before his eyebrow kinks upwards. "But I'd be happy to help make whatever daydream you were having in the green room come true."

Prompt: Rachel starts having inappropriate dreams of Noah and every day she starts acting a little more skittish/nervous around him because she starts becoming so attracted to him – Basically watching Rachel lose it around him because of the dreams.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this story! A gold star if you got the sneaky song reference I slipped in there. Because well, as I've said, I'm a totally fluff-girl at heart. Also I hope it wasn't too confusing to follow. :D