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Puck tosses and turns, trying to sleep. He rolls onto his side, punches his pillow into a ball, and lays his head back down. From here he can see the tiny box on his dresser. The tiny, dark blue, velvet box containing a gift he never thought he'd buy. It's small, not just the rock, but the ring itself. Ellie has the tiniest fingers.
He hopes it'll fit. He hopes she'll like it. He hopes she'll say yes.
They've been dating for four years now, and she's at OSU taking journalism classes, with two years left. He's been working as a supervisor in an automotive plant, and thinking about going for a full degree in engineering. While still working for Burt on weekends and holidays. It's fun hanging out with Sam and Kurt, and especially when Finn's in on leave. But he's got big plans for him and Ellie.
If she says yes.
Eventually, he falls asleep, and doesn't feel the sun on his face pouring through his window until a damp towel hits him in the face, courtesy of Natalie Puckerman. She sticks her tongue out at him and ducks out of his open doorway. "I made toast, ass face. Hurry up, or the dog'll eat all yours."
He grins and hops out of bed, running to the door to throw her towel back, but she's too quick. He sees her dark hair flying out behind her and she runs around the corner to the kitchen.
Their mom had died a year ago, and they couldn't have got through it without each other. Or the Hummel-Hudsons, or Sam, or Ellie and her mom. But Nat at fifteen is a force. It seemed like she hadn't smiled or laughed for months, but it'll take more than a personal tragedy, no matter how devastating, to bring her down for good.
God help the world she'll take over one day, Puck thinks.
He heads for the shower, and then, dressing carefully, walks into the kitchen. He scoops up his keys from the small table by the door as he walks past.
"You want Lady Susan today, Munchkin?" he asks his sister, as he makes to toss her the keys to his Bronco.
Her eyes glow, and then just as fast, they squint as her face wrinkles comically into a scowl.
"Yeah, right," she replies, as she continues to nibble on her toast, letting her hair dry around her shoulders.
"Seriously. I'm gonna take the car," he explains as he turns to straighten his collar in the mirror over the chest holding their mother's wedding china. 'The car' referring to the classic Mustang he's been working on with Sam and Burt at the garage for more than six months. The same car that he never ever drives.
He doesn't see her squint at him again. "So... is today the big day, then?"
"Huhhh. What?" Puck asks as he turns to face Nat.
"You gonna ask her today," she clarifies, "Noah?"
"Can't slip one past you, can I? And sorry, it's a habit. Natalie." he replied, not at all remorseful that he'd called her one of the nicknames she pretended to hate.
"Nope!" She grins at him, showing bits of toast and jam in her mouth, and he chokes on a laugh. Fifteen, my ass, he thinks, as she then flips her hair off her shoulders.
“What, you think I won’t notice a teeny little box from a jeweler’s hanging out on your dresser for a month? What do you take me for?”
"You want the truck or not, Squirt?" he asks again, and if she notices he's used another hated nickname, she doesn't show it.
"Sure," she replies, super casual, fooling no one, not even the dog.
"Breezy?"
"I'm breezy," she returns, raising and cupping her hands to catch the keyring he tosses her as he checks his appearance in the mirror again and looks back at her. "Give me a ride to the Hummels’?"
They play classic rock in the truck as they take the few blocks over to Burt's garage, Nat gives him a fist bump and repeats “breezy” to him, then Puck is waving at his little sister sitting high up in the front seat of his first true love.
"Hot date?" Sam asks, walking out of the garage and wiping his hands on a clean rag.
"Shut it, Evans." But Puck grins in spite of himself and wishes he'd eaten some of Nat's toast after all, to settle his stomach.
"She'll say yes."
At this, Puck looks over at Sam again, watches him toss the rag over his shoulder, and reaches out to grab Sam around the neck and shoulders. "I love you, man."
"Dude, save it for your girl, will ya?" Sam laughs and shoves at Puck, but he returns the hug, squeezing tight for a few seconds, before pounding Puck on the back in that age-old 'bro' way, and releasing him. "You don't want to smell like a grease monkey when you ask her, do you?"
"Could think of worse things, honestly," Puck replies, grinning again.
They raise the door to look at the beautifully restored car, and Sam tosses Puck the keys. "D'you ever name 'er?" Sam looks sideways at him.
"Yeah, I did. Her name's Annie," Puck replies, ducks down into the driver's side door, and slides into the seat.
Sam leans in and claps a hand down on Puck's shoulder. "It's perfect. She would be honored, man."
Puck sucks in a breath, pushes his hands against his knees, and grins at Sam.
"She'll say yes?” Puck asks, meaning Ellie this time.
"You know it, bro. Go get her."
Ellie knows they have reservations, that it's a special dinner, their anniversary. But he's still surprised when she's ready and answers the door immediately when he knocks. She never stops surprising him.
She's got some kind of soft yellow dress that floats around her hips and thighs, and he has to take another deep breath.
"You look beautiful, Elliot," he says into her hair, when she steps forward to hug him around the middle.
"So do you. I mean, you look, wow. You do clean up nice, Noah."
He pulls back to kiss her lips, and wraps one of her curls around his finger. "My mom did it," she says by way of explanation, waving her hands in the direction of her styled hair.
"I like it, all wavy, but it I like it normal too."
She grins up at him and he feels her slip her hand into his. He moves it up into the crook of his elbow with his other hand and walks her to the car.
"Ohhhhh," she breathes it out, like she can't even help it. "You finished it. She's so pretty, Noah. Did you name her yet?"
That right there, that's why he loves her.
"Annie," he replies as he opens her door, making sure to tuck her dress in, before pressing the door closed carefully and jogging around to the driver's side.
He starts the car and turns to her. Ellie's face is half-lit by the streetlight outside and above her, and she reaches over to cover his hand on the gearshift.
"For your momma," she says, and it's not a question.
He just smiles at her, knowing that she understands, and remembering how she was there for him, strong and steady, when he needed her most. And they drive like that, to Fancy Local Restaurant in Lima, with her hand on his, and no music, just companionable silence.
He turns his hand under hers when they get there, and squeezes.
***
She releases and tucks her hands in her lap as she waits for him to walk around to her side, knowing tonight of all nights, he won’t let her open her own door. He’s the kind of guy who knows she can open her own door, wouldn’t dream of considering her or any other woman a fading violet, but just loves to do things for them anyway. It’s why she loves him.
She can hardly believe they’ve been together four years already. And that it’s been over a year since his mom Anne had passed away. Puck and Nat had been so broken at first. How can you plan for your mother to die, in her forties, from a heart attack? How can you plan for your father to never come, to never write, to never send a single flower? How can you plan to have your own heart break over and over again?
Ellie still doesn’t know these answers, but when it all went down, she was there for them as best she could be. She and her own mother, and Burt and Carole, and even Sam’s parents drove up, everyone came home from school or New York or California, and everyone helped hold Puck and Nat together the only way they knew how. Finn and Rachel and Kurt and Finn and Mercedes and Quinn had sung a beautiful song by John Denver, and Ellie had held Puck’s hand as his mother’s casket was lowered into the ground.
She looks at him now, after she’s been seated, and he’s settling into his own chair, carefully holding his tie to his belly, as if surprised to find it’s there, and she smiles to herself. He’s 23, and has the beginnings of gray in his closely trimmed hair. He has his mother’s and his sister’s names inked into the skin of his left forearm. His eyes crinkle when he grins at her, and she’s momentarily distracted by his lips.
***
“This is nice, huh?” he asks, running his fingers over the tablecloth and the rich material of his folded napkin.
“It’s lovely,” she answers, looking for something edible and not priced too crazy high on the menu.
They give their orders, and talk quietly about their day, and about the ‘new’ car, and about nothing at all. She’s so beautiful. And yeah, part of it might be the dress, and the wavy hair, and the flowery perfume that’s making him want to kiss her neck right this second. But most of it is ,i>her. It’s that she really looks at him, really sees him, the way almost no one ever has. It’s the way she smiles and makes his heart skip every time, like a fucking fairy tale. Neither of their lives were ever fairy tales, but she makes him believe in all that shit. The happily ever after. Because he knows that with her, he’ll be happy no matter what.
When their food arrives, Puck thinks about taking the waiter aside and asking him to put the ring in a dessert, or in a champagne glass, or... something. Maybe he should have thought this through. But all he really cares about is being with Ellie for the rest of his life.
Keep it simple, he thinks to himself.
***
“You know I would’ve been happy eating out of a bag in the Mickey D’s parking lot, if I’m sitting next to you, right, Noah?” she asks, wanting to be sure he didn’t go to all this trouble in some misguided way of impressing her, even now.
“‘Course I know, Elliot. I still like to take you nice places, though. I get to see your legs, this way,” he says, and grins as he leans over the edge of the table as if to check out her legs right this minute.
“Noah,” she starts, but he interrupts.
“I like you in jeans, too. I like you in pigtails, and that awful tank swimsuit. I like your sexy coke bottle glasses,” he pauses to grin and she returns it. “I like your hands, how you never have goop on your face, so when I touch you, it’s just you.” She blushes, as he reaches across the table to take her hand. She doesn’t care anymore that her hands are always rough. Chlorine does that, and even though she isn’t on the swim team at Ohio State, she still swims nearly every day. ‘You can take the fish outta the water, but you can’t take the water outta Ellie,’ her momma always says.
“I like you, too, Noah,” she whispers, and doesn’t look away.
“Good,” he replies, and she watches, mouth falling open, as he stands up, keeping her hand in his, and kneels at the side of her chair.
“What--” but she stops when she sees him swallow, his adam’s apple moving in his throat, and she looks back into his eyes.
“Elspeth Meriweather Reilly,” he began.
“How did you--”
“Woman, don’t you ever know when to keep your mouth shut?” Puck asks, and kisses her lips. Just reaches up and kisses her. It surprises her, and she closes her mouth with an audible click and looks back down at him.
“Ellie, do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Just say it.”
“Yes, I love you, Noah Benjamin Puckerman.”
She watches his eyes squint, reminding her of Nat, and she giggles.
“Two can play at that game, Noah.”
He squeezes her hand, and starts again.
“Will you love me forever?” he asks and reaches into the pocket of his dress pants, leaning over to the side to wriggle out a small velvet covered box, and Ellie automatically reaches out to steady his shoulder with her other hand, still staring at the box.
“I mean, will you marry me?”
But she keeps quiet as he finally lets go of her hand for a second and opens the box. In it, rests a thin silver ring. The setting is a beautiful, small, opal. Perfect.
“I didn’t think you’d want a diamond, but if you do...” he trails off, as she remains mute, still looking at the box. “I wanted to give you my mom’s ring, but--”
Finally she speaks.
“Noah, that belonged to her, and you were right to bury her with it. And this is perfect. It’s so beautiful. Can I...?”
He laughs, swallows again, and pulls the ring from its cushion.
As he slides it on her finger, his own hand shaking, he asks, “So, is that a...”
“Yes!” she laughs, and with his ring on her hand, she cups his face, pulling him to her, and kisses his mouth. The other restaurant patrons, people she had heretofore paid no attention whatsoever, and all the staff applauded and cheered.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she repeated, with a kiss between each word.