You make the water warm

Puck/Rachel

A/N: Title from "Digital Bath" by Deftones. The song was not inspiration for the fic at all, just those particular lyrics seemed fitting for the title.

The first time Puck showers in Rachel's bathroom, it takes him twenty minutes longer than usual. In his own it takes about ten minutes to wash his hair and drag a bar of soap over his body and lather it into the guns, but Rachel is a girl. He already knew that obviously, but a bathroom changes everything. When he looks at all the body washes, scrubs, her shampoo and conditioner, he has no idea what to do. Puck knows how to clean himself - he's not a freaking moron - but everything she has smells like a fruit or a flower.

He sure as hell isn't going to walk around all day smelling like a damn flower. And a fruit? Fuck that.

He does put a little bit of her strawberry body polish onto a finger and rubs it into one of his biceps and, OK, that part of his arm smells like her all day. That is something he kind of likes, but only because it smells like Rachel. Only because of that. It has nothing to do with how clean and soft that part of his arm is. And he definitely doesn't use more the next time he's there.

But the first time it takes him ten minutes of just standing under the best spray of water he's ever used to think about searching her bathroom for some real soap. So he leaves the water running and slides the glass door open and steps out, getting water all over the tile, and searches the cabinets and her boxes of perfumes and make-up before he finds a hotel-sized bar ofunscented soap in a basket on the back of the toilet.

Puck gets back into her shower and is done five minutes later, just like he should be. He tosses his towels onto the floor as he walks back into her room as a way of cleaning up the water he got everywhere, but that's all he's going to do about it. Walking out of her bathroom and into her bedroom naked should be enough for her; it's a gift to see him like this.

She yells at him later for the water, and evidently the soap was from a famous hotel that her Dad stayed in a couple years ago in France, so he tells her that he left the wrapper by the sink.

Who keeps soap until it can't even be used anyway? She can, like, frame the paper or something.

=/=

When Rachel wakes up in Puck's arms in his bed for the first time and slips out for a shower, she knows that she should have thought more about this 'sleepover' idea of theirs. It was really his idea, because if it had been hers, she wouldn't have to worry about showering. She would have all of her toiletries with her, and she most certainly would not be staring at a small sliver of soap and bottle of shampoo with the label torn off.

She knows that not every man is like her fathers, but growing up with two well-groomed men as parents has given her false hope on the hygiene of the other males who have come into her life. They've taught her well, but perhaps boys (even the ones who consider themselves men, studs, Puckerone, Puckzilla, etc.) are different.

Luckily she has a small, travel toothbrush in her purse, but that can only get her so far in her morning ritual. A bar of soap does nothing but wash away body odors, and sometimes it doesn't even do that. Especially if it's just remnants of what used to be, she hopes, a green bar of soap.

She finds a wash cloth in the linen closet and grabs her toothbrush and toothpaste out of her bag. As she brushes her teeth, she makes a mental note to start carrying a larger toiletry bag with her when she plans on seeing Puck - face wash, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, small loofah, all the necessities of her morning that aren't in her make-up bag.

The wash cloth helps some to lather up the soap and she's able to salvage her hair by running it under warm water, and then cold (though it's frizzier than usual, but her anti-frizz serum helps a bit). There's a hair dryer under the sink, thankfully. For a moment she allows herself to think that maybe he has it for her.

Although that was her worst shower since summer camp before 5th grade, which didn't have hot water after the seventh girl, it's just more proof that Noah Puckerman is a simple, man's man. And sometimes, she thinks, that's a good thing.

=/=

"Baby, where's the bathroom stuff?" Rachel can hear Puck rummaging through the boxes in the living room while she's in the bathroom unpacking the one full of their toiletries, taking out and uncapping a bottle of his favorite body wash and inhaling deeply.

It took a few years, but she finally convinced him to stop using only a bar of soap to clean himself. While they were dating she had to learn to be sure to always have a trial size bottle of each individual soap and hair product that she preferred for her shower. Once he started buying body wash and stopped throwing out the packs of loofahs she left hidden at his house, it became slightly easier to have last second sleepovers. In their own house, this will never be a problem.

"I know it was in the truck," he says as he comes closer to their new bedroom.

The house is beautiful, and exactly what Rachel always wanted for her adult self. It's large, but not as big as the house she grew up in, and it has the perfect space for a gym/singing room. And, of course, one smaller room at the end of the hall for the future.

Judging by the sound of tape being ripped away from cardboard, Puck is now tearing down and gathering the empty boxes scattered throughout the house. It was Rachel's idea to unpack a majority of their belongings in one day, and it was tiring, but she feels so much more complete in the new home because of it. Their pictures and clothes are in place, dinnerware and books already on their shelves, furniture set up.

It's theirs without a doubt and it's perfect.

"I have it," she answers as he steps into the bedroom for more boxes. He tosses them all into a corner, which Rachel finds counter productive, but final clean up can take place in the morning. For now, she's just going to enjoy her first night in her new house with her husband.

"I'm so tired," Puck moans and walks into the en suite bathroom, leaning against the counter and kicking another box out of the way.

Rachel holds back an eye roll, but doesn't stop herself from letting out a scoff when he continues to whine about how much he needs to shower and then sleep.

"You barely did anything," she counters. She knows that moving in general can be a stressful, strenuous task, but she also knows that she did the majority of the work. Puck watched the movers bring in some of the furniture and helped her for about an hour to arrange (and rearrange and rearrange), but he in no way did more than her.

Puck looks down at her, flexing one arm and then the other. She's been here before with him not responding to something he knows is true and instead trying to distract her with how manly he is.

"Baby, you trippin'." He flexes his left arm again before leaning back against the counter. "These guns did all the work."

Rachel tries, really tries, not to laugh, but ends up retorting in between giggles, "You're a fool if you think you worked as much as I did!"

She tosses a bottle of her shampoo at him, which he catches in one hand and places on the lower section of the in-shower recessed shelving. Turning to hand him the bottle of his own shampoo, she notices the placement of hers and meets his eyes in a full-out glare.

"Why is mine on the bottom, Noah?"

"S'cause you're a shorty, Shorty."

He takes the proffered bottle, and looking straight at Rachel, places it on the top shelf. Rachel should be used to jabs at her stature by now, and in all reality she is, but she has no problem making him sleep in the living room their first night in the house. No problem at all, and he knows it; he seems to enjoy pushing her.

"Noah," she says in warning, but before she can stop him he's moving across the bathroom to her and taking the box out of her hands. Then he walks back to the shower and begins to fill the shelving with their individual toiletries, hers on the bottom shelf and his on the top. "Noah! Stop that right this instant!"

Puck laughs at her use of 'Rachel Berry In Charge' voice, although unfortunately there's a hint of laughter and tiredness in it, so she does the only thing she can think to do: she begins to toss her loofahs at his head. Loofahs are not soft like sponges, so he turns abruptly with a shocked, yet amused expression.

"I know you didn't just do that." She can see the mischief in his eyes, but she stands up straighter and readies herself with another one. As she rears her arm back, he places the box onto the floor in front of the shower and lifts a container of her dry shampoo. Lifting an eyebrow, he tosses it from hand to hand a few times before unscrewing the cap.

Rachel shakes her head slowly and begins to lower the loofah, but then he throws the cap down and squeezes the bottle of powder in her direction. Although he hasn't slushied her in ten years, his aim is impeccable and there's a layer of powder shampoo from her collar bone to waist. In the back of her mind she's extremely happy that he's smart enough to not let it get into her eyes, but then instincts take over and she knows she only has seconds before his next attack.

Rachel shrieks as she tosses the loofah at him, hitting him square in the chest, and then another that ends up in the shower.

"Why would you do that?" She yells through her giggles and half-heartedly tosses a makeup brush at him.

He smiles and squeezes the bottle onto her again and then snags her around the waist as she tries to jump out of the way.

"I'm not sleeping on the couch," he answers looking down at her. "Only way I can sleep with you tonight is by making you laugh."

It's absolutely true. She has no idea why she's laughing (that shampoo is not her cheapest beauty product, and now the bathroom tile needs to be cleaned), but she is smiling and she's no longer thinking about making him sleep anywhere other than wrapped around her.

She laughs some more at his words and reaches up to kiss him lightly before turning out of his grip and going back to the task at hand: emptying the rest of the toiletries out of the box, placing make up brushes in their drawer, cotton balls and q-tips in their jars, toothbrushes in their holders, and then handing Puck the box for him to tear it down.

He does it while still grinning at her and tosses it aside when he's finished. Rachel tries to decide if she should risk having to vacuum first thing in the morning by going into the bedroom for pajamas or if she should leave her clothes on the bathroom floor for the evening. Puck watches with obvious enjoyment as she decides on the latter and begins to slip off her clothing.

"If I'd known I was going to get a show, I would have done that right after the movers left."

Rachel laughs and winks at him before running a brush through her hair. When she finishes, she places the hairbrush in its basket and steps up to him with the sultry look he loves so much. Rachel grips the bottom of his shirt he kinks an eyebrow and wraps his arms around her waist.

"Did you say something about needing a shower, Mr. Puckerman?"

Puck pulls her closer then and she moves her hands to his shoulders and lifts herself, feet slightly off the floor, to his lips. What begins as a slow, soft kiss quickly becomes more passionate, until Rachel pushes against him and rocks back on her heels.

"Oh, Noah. I forgot to get towels." She pulls out of his embrace and turns to leave the bathroom, but Puck quickly picks her up and goes to place her in the still open shower. He stops when he realizes that the shower isn't on and sets her back onto the floor.

"Wait a sec," he says and turns the hot and cold water on. Rachel occupies herself with unbuttoning his shirt and then moves her hands to unbuckle and rip his belt out of his belt loops quickly before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

That's as far as she gets (here she is standing in the nude with her husband fully clothed) before he's looking down at her with a smirk and picks her up again and places her under the spray.

"What are we going to do about towels?" She laughs while letting her hair soak, and he shrugs while stripping off his own clothing.

"Don't know, don't care," he says and gets in after her and pulls the door to.

"We're going to mess up the floor, just like you used to do at my house!"

He shushes her with a kiss and wraps one arm around her waist before using his free hand to push her hair back. Then he reaches for her shampoo and lets go of her waist to pop the cap open. Pouring a small amount into his hand, he maneuvers around her until he's standing directly under the shower head and hands her the bottle.

"I love when you wash my hair," Rachel sighs, letting her head fall back on his shoulder.

Puck pulls her hair from between their bodies and runs the shampoo over her hair with one hand, takes it all into his other hand and begins to work the shampoo in with both. Rachel knows that secretly Puck loves the way she reacts to him grooming her. It probably because of how happy she is when she gets home from having her hair washed and cut. There's just something so wonderful about someone else washing your hair. She, personally, hates washing other people's hair (she's helped Sarah numerous times with tangles and curls), but it's one thing she loves to indulge in. Having a husband to do it for you is much better than paying a hairdresser as well.

When he finishes he moves to the side and she rinses the shampoo out and reaches for her conditioner and applies it herself.

"Mmm, thank you, baby."

He chuckles at her use of a 'pet name' while she rinses the conditioner out. She doesn't use them as often as he does, but every once in a while she can't help it. His reaction is usually a laugh or disapproval, and learning which name he finds funny and which ones he finds unacceptable is one small thing she enjoys about their relationship.

Usually she'd leave the conditioner in for the recommended amount of time, but when she spots Puck opening a few bottles of her body wash, she rinses it out quickly and pulls him to her.

"Don't do that! I don't need you wasting anything else tonight."

"It smells like you," Puck responds. "I like it."

Rachel snatches the bottle and points to the loofah on the shower floor. "Would you get that for me, please?"

Puck kicks it so that it lands behind her. Then smiles a toothy grin.

"You did that on purpose," she accuses.

"Just get it, baby." Puck winks at her and grabs the body wash back while she turns around. Rolling her eyes, Rachel retrieves the loofah and laughs as Puck whistles appreciatively behind her.

When she straightens up he's crowded behind her, pushing her forward to the shower wall with his hips.

"I'll wash you," he says.

Pouring some of the body wash into the palm of his hand, he rubs both of her shoulders, and she passes him the loofah over one.

"You did a lot today," Puck mutters against her neck. "Your idea to do it all when we could have taken the whole weekend, but whatever."

Rachel giggles when he tickles her side lightly with one hand while continuing on her shoulder with the other. "So I deserve a massage?" She lets one of her hands join his wandering one, settling it low on her stomach, and pulls him tighter into her. "You could have bought me a gift certificate to a day spa."

She shrugs and feels his laughs vibrate through her body in response. "Don't want some random douche touchin' you. And I'm free, babe."

"I suppose your massage skills are up to par with a spa."

The hand holding the loofah moves around to her front and he sets his chin on her shoulder. "You know they are," he whispers into her ear.

Rachel shudders when Puck begins to lather the soap into her stomach and up and down her arms. Ten minutes ago she would have sworn that she was just going to take a short shower and then go to sleep, but with this man holding her and bathing her, she knows that's not happening. So she turns around quickly, winding her arms around his neck and kisses him lightly.

"Let me wash you now," she says against his lips.

He hands her the loofah wordlessly, even though usually he's practically kicking and screaming about it being "too girly." She knows he just wants her to touch him, so she takes her time in lathering his chest and looks up at him through her lashes to see him watching her intently.

"Now you smell like me," she announces as she pulls him back under the spray. He washes his front off quickly while she moves around to his back and repeats the process.

"I always smell like you," he laughs when he steps away from rinsing the body washing off of his back.

"This was a terrible shower," Rachel realizes.

"I'll make it better."

=/=

"We still don't have towels."

"If I run fast enough, how likely is it that the floor will get wet?" Puck steps out before she can answer him and turns to her. "Stay there. Just, air dry." He leaves the bathroom and comes back half a minute later with three towels in his arms.

"You're getting water all over the floor!" He rolls his eyes and towels himself off before tossing it onto the floor. "There."

Rachel groans, but grabs the other towels from him and wraps one around her body and squeezes the water out of her hair with the other.

When she's no longer worried about ruining the floor, she steps out of the shower and starts for the bedroom. She stops in the doorway and surveys the room for a moment. Looking around at their furniture and photographs, and knowing that their clothes are also in the dresser and closet, she is sure that she made a great decision to unpack everything in one day.

"Looks good," Puck says from behind her, and she allows him to nudge her out of the way so he can get a pair of boxers out of his dresser drawer. He puts them on while she finds her own pajamas before joining him at the bed. Turning down the comforter and sheets on one side, she slips under them and over to the opposite side while Puck slides in after her.

"I think I made a good decision," she sighs contently.

Puck wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him, dipping his head down to her shoulder and placing a few kisses on the skin there.

"You smell good, baby." His breath fans across her neck and she shivers once, but knows that she really needs her sleep.

"Good night, Noah."

Part of her expects some (manly) begging, but Puck just nods against her and loosens his grip on her, placing his arm lazily over her hip.

"Night, Rach."

She can always make it up to him in the morning after their second shower in their home. Now that they're together under one roof for good, they can each be permanent steps in their showering routines.