Like Ships

[acontrollist]

The apartment is empty when Rachel walks in. Not that she expects anything different. They've been married for a little more than a month, but since their honeymoon, she's actually gotten to spend time with Noah that wasn't just the two fo them sleeping next to each other or shoveling takeout into their mouths before they passed out maybe a grand total of 3 times. 4, if you count the quickie on the couch, which Rachel doesn't really, since she's pretty sure she was asleep before he even pulled out and she's not sure she would have remembered it happened at all the next day if there hadn't been that bruise on her ribs.

Needless to say, the whole baby thing? Hasn't happened. She was ovulating last week and didn't get to see him at all (she woke up halfway when he got into bed, and then again when he got out to go back to work) those days. Rachel's frustrated to say the least and she kicks her shoes hard into the back of their closet, grumbling to herself.

Comments

[but_idontlie]

To: rachel*
From: Noah Puckerman

how is britta doing? broken leg is a bitch, glad it wasn't you though

[acontrollist]

To: Noah
From: Rachel*

I heard she's fine, just stuck at home mostly. She'll be alright in time for the tour.

[but_idontlie]

To: rachel*
From: Noah Puckerman

ok. can you try to nap before i get out so we can stay up together? lmk if you want anything special for take out

[acontrollist]

Rachel knows the nap isn't a good idea. She's very strict about her sleep schedule during the work week and with Britta out, they're doing early rehearsals all week. Keeping a good sleep schedule is imperative if she doesn't want to be yawning during the Mama Who Bore Me reprise...

But she misses her husband too. Even if she is a little irritated with him.

Maybe. Is the only honest response she can give him. And even that makes her feel awful, like she's punishing him for something that he can't control.

She trades out her sweats for a pair of jeans and some boots, hoping she looks at least semi-presentable, before catching a taxi to the police station. It's a short ride, and she doesn't even really bother to check whatever Noah may have texted her back with between her last text and when she walks into the station.

[but_idontlie]

To: rachel*
From: Noah Puckerman

ok. love you. if you're sleeping when i get home, want me to wake you up or let you sleep?

It feels like he barely sees her. With Drew out at the precinct and Britta out now at the theatre, they're both stuck working their asses off when this should be the home stretch. She's only doing the show for the next two months; it seems like she's working more now than she ever did. He's noticed that crime seems to come in waves in the city - it's pretty fucking obvious, especially during the summer, where the heat shortens everyone's tempers - and he's at the top of that wave, baby. He feels like he never leaves work. [He actually rolled over in his sleep the other night and told Rachel to stop resisting arrest.]

He's stuck at the desk at the precinct, filling out paperwork and running info checks for anybody who calls in needing them. It's a shitty job and somebody's got to do it, but he'd actually volunteered. [If he's riding a desk, the chance of him going out on a call right before he's set to clock out goes way down. Guess who doesn't want to pull a triple today? This guy.]

[acontrollist]

Abbey's in her mid-thirties and has been working the front desk at the precinct for the last 10 years. Her husband is a lieutenant, and when Rachel comes in, looking exhausted and upset but determined, she immediately recognizes it as the Where is my husband? You assholes have been hogging him. look. And really, she's a sweet girl and Abbey's never seen or heard about anyone else when it comes to Puckerman, and on top of that, she knows from the recently appearing picture on his desk that the two of them just got married. So she takes sympathy on the poor girl.

"He's in the back, honey. Info checking. He might be in the file room nearest his desk." She calls over the edge of the desk before Rachel can even ask, smiling back when the tiny brunette flashes her a grateful, tired smile and turns the corner.

With Abbey's instruction, Rachel just heads through the precinct and to the elevator (she passes a few officers she knows, but she must look worse than she thinks she does because no one really says anything besides Hey Rach), heading upstairs to Noah's desk.

[but_idontlie]

The phone at his desk rings; he swipes it while scrolling through data one-handed to find the R.O. of a tan Camry with a partial plate. "Puckerm--," he answers automatically, before Rob interrupts. "Saw your girl in the lobby, she's heading up." Rob hangs up before he can say anything else, and his eyes automatically flick toward the elevators in the center of the floor.

Is he sure? Because, he figures, Rachel would have said something, sent him a text, whatever, if she was planning on dropping by. Unless, of course, she was stopping by for that quickie. She's just as exhausted as he is, so he doubts that it's that. Maybe she's just visiting, swinging by to say hi. Which is cool, 'cause he misses her.

[acontrollist]

She hears Noah's voice before she sees him, and it suddenly occurs to her that duh, he always sits in the same place and she's not sure why she's standing in the doorway looking for him (she's so tired. Her half-functional thought processes can be excused). Side stepping another officer, she weaves through the desks, waving slightly at a rookie she recognizes, before stopping at her husband's desk.

"Hi." He looks exhausted, and she can't imagine she looks too much better, but it doesn't really matter at this point, does it? At least she's actually getting a glimpse of him for the first time in what seems like forever.

[but_idontlie]

She stands before him, dark circles under her eyes, still polished and gorgeous in these skinny jeans he loves tucked into the fuzzy boots he'd given her for Hanukkah. She's beautiful, and she really fucking needs one night of uninterrupted sleep. [So does he, but whatever.]

He manages a half-smile, his face instantly releasing the tension he didn't realize he was holding; he opens his arms to her, leaving her enough room to slide onto his lap and cuddle close. Fuck protocol. Nobody here is going to begrudge him a hug and a few minutes with Rachel. "Hi, baby," he murmurs, blinking as he gazes into her eyes [he is so tired]. "Big surprise. Thought you were staying home."

[acontrollist]

She doesn't hesitate to slide down into his lap, wedged slightly between him and the edge of the desk. It doesn't occur to her that it may be slightly counterproductive, but with his warmth at her back and his scent so close she's suddenly exhausted. Down to her bones and despite the beeping and the phones ringing and the talking all around her, she could probably honestly just sleep. Right here, in his lap, all night.

"I didn't think the nap was a good idea." I couldn't say no to everything. It's not your fault you work ridiculous hours is really what she means. Not that the first statement wasn't true. "When do you think you'll get off?"

[but_idontlie]

He pushes back from the desk in his rolling chair, giving her a bit more room as his arms wrap around her body and hold her close. "I wish I could get out of here now," he murmurs regretfully. "I miss holding you when you're not knocked-out. M'stuck here 'til four," after getting to work around midnight, four puts him at the end of a double shift, "unless they make me stay later. Pretty sure that's not gonna happen, s'why I'm on desk duty. So I'm not out when a call comes in and I end up on a triple," which would bring him home at midnight - twenty-four hours after he'd originally arrived at work. He hates triples.

"You can hang out here if you want," he offers gently, knowing that it's definitely not going to be her first choice, but he wants to be selfish anyway. "We could get take-out, eat it on break. I could go for noodles. You can crash on the couch in the break room. I miss you, babe."

[acontrollist]

"You could come home." Rachel suggests alternatively. She has to work in the morning, early, just a few hours after Noah gets there and falls asleep. Spending the majority of her sleeping hours on the kind of awful break-room couch, waking up whenever someone needs coffee and then again to head home just...no. No. She knows that Noah knows this, that he probably knew she'd say no as soon as he asked, just like she knows he'll say no to her suggestion. But it was worth a try.

"Can you take off Monday?" That's Rachel's one day off during the week. "Or Sunday?" She works that day, but only matinee shows.

[but_idontlie]

He winces. "I wish." But he's stuck at the precinct for another three hours minimum, and there's no way he can bail or leave early. It seems silly for Rachel to get all the way to the precinct from home/work just for a quick hug before having to leave again.

"I can try to switch with somebody," he brushes a few strands of hair from her face. "Rob owes me. I bet I can find somebody with a Monday who wants to switch. I could try and get a Saturday second shift, come home, sleep with you. Be with you Sunday." Lowering his voice, he leans in, his lips brushing gently against her ear. "When's your next shark week? Figure out when our good days are, and I'll put in to have the days off."

[acontrollist]

Try. Rachel tries not to sigh too loudly, nodding. She knows his job is unpredictable. That working a bunch of hours is really the best kind of unpredictable they can hope for in his line of work. And she's proud of him for doing something he loves that helps so many people. But that doesn't mean she has to like sacrificing her husband a grand majority of the time.

"Week after next." Rachel mumbles. At least, she hopes so. Going off of the pill has made her periods kind of weird while they try to re-regulate themselves. She didn't have one at all for December, and she was two days over in January after they got back from their honeymoon (not that they were having sex anyway...).

[but_idontlie]

Try, only because making a promise he can't keep ends up disappointing both of them. "I'll ask around before I head home. And -" shark week, okay, gotta check out the calendar "- I can get a couple days off unless somebody's on vacation, or I could just try and get the week." It's a long shot to get the week, but he could probably drop his vacation and take the week if nobody else has it. But, regardless, it'll be an entire week paid vacation with Rach while they begin the babymakin'. She takes her prenatals every morning and he makes sure that they've got a full fridge of spinach and bananas and everything they need for green smoothies.

Dammit, they will make this baby. He won't disappoint her.

[acontrollist]

He offers to try for the week, but Rachel just shakes her head. What would be the point in that? She works during the week, and she could take the week off too, but if they're trying to have a baby, why take off unnecessary time and lose pay? He can get paid vacation, but she can't and there's never enough income to raise a child. "Don't worry about it. Just try for Monday."

The phone in ringing again and Rachel sighs, sliding off of his lap. He's at work, and hasn't officially taken a break, so he should probably do one or the other before he gets in trouble for neglecting his job. "I can't stay long...but I can run across the street and get dinner?" The Thai across the street is actually pretty good.

[but_idontlie]

He might as well use his vacation for this; he'll be able to get on a normal sleep schedule and see some of Rachel's final shows. He can get the apartment cleaned up, buy groceries and restock the shelves, take his wife out to dinner after a show instead of getting home two hours after she does and eating a slice of cold pizza as he drops a deuce because he really is that tired.

Fuck, he can bring the iPad to the theatre while they run rehearsals, relax in her dressing room when he isn't in the audience, run out and grab her something to eat between shows. He'll get to do all the shit he wants to do, but doesn't get to do because of his fuckin' job.

She slides from his lap and stands, regretfully, as he reaches for the phone with one hand and her hand with the other. "Puckerman," he answers, glancing up at his wife. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll check it out, get it back to you. Gimme 2." He drops the phone on the cradle and squeezes Rachel's hand. "Thai sounds awesome. I didn't take lunch yet," he admits. "I can get somebody to cover my break," probably Rob, 'cause he knows that Rachel is here, "we can get it delivered and have it in the other room. Yeah?" It's the best he's got.

[acontrollist]

It's the best either of them have got right now, Rachel knows. The show is in the home stretch and Rachel's been throwing her all into it, too tired when she gets home to really do more than throw something in the oven (or order something) that Noah will be able to warm up when he gets home before she collapses into bed. She wouldn't mind him waking her up, but with both Drew and Britta out, neither of them can really see anything happening in their bed but sleep. She's pretty sure if they tried, they'd both fall asleep a few thrusts in and Rachel doesn't want to suffocate to death trying to conceive a child.

It's the best either of them has, but it's still not good enough. She wishes she could blame the urge to burst into angry tears on pregnancy hormones. "It'll probably be quicker if I just go." No point in waiting extra for takeout when Rach could be there and back in probably less than 10 minutes. "Besides, you're supposed to be working. Get on that."

Squeezing back, Rachel leans in to kiss his forehead and snatch his wallet off the desk before heading out. She didn't bring any cash and the place across the street, while good, is entirely too sketchy for Rachel to want to chance using her debit card.

[but_idontlie]

This is almost better birth control than condoms; there's no chance of pregnancy because they aren't having sex. It's enough to make him grumpy as hell, but he doesn't jerk one out in the shower 'cause he wants his boys to be as potent as possible on the chance that he does get some uninterrupted awake time with his wife.

Fuck his life. He can't remember the last time they had sex.

"If you want." She's right; it is faster, and he's just being selfish by wanting her to sit in Jon's chair at the next desk over, not leaving his side. "I work my ass off, they can give me five minutes to see you." God knows they've called him in enough, sometimes an hour or two ahead of schedule to cover something. "I'll take lunch, meet you in the break room?"

All he has to do when he leaves is look up some information on this guy's aliases; they can't book him under "Tater Salad" but he knows it'll pop up on some record out there. Rob actually strolls in just as he's calling the Lieutenant back with the requested information, nodding at Noah. He waves him over with a hand, the phone clicking to the cradle. "M'takin' my lunch," he announces, and Rob nods understandingly. "Rach went out for Thai. Haven't seen her since we got back, bro. Drew and then she's working her ass off, too. I gotta see if I can get a couple days off and switch my vaca. Our parents are beggin' for a grandkid," which isn't entirely true, but it's a believable excuse. "If you got the time, can you switch with me?" You know I cover your ass all the time, he doesn't say.

He stretches out on the break room sofa, head at one end and feet at the other, waiting for Rachel; a smile relaxes the tension on his face when she walks into the room. "M'starving," he admits.

[acontrollist]

The line is short, since the Thai place is mostly empty. She's the only order placed, and it takes a little longer than she anticipated it would since they're at the point in the night where they're making dishes to order, having thrown out the day's surplus already. Not that Rachel minds. She didn't want to leave her husband before, but she's kind of really appreciating the moment to breathe.

She'd known, before she saw Noah, that she was tired of and upset about their circumstances. She just didn't realize how much so until she actually got to sit down and talk to him for the first time in days at his job. He hadn't even had time to take lunch yet and maybe it's the newlywed syndrome, but she has a bone to pick with the New York Police Department about that.

While she's glad for the breather, she doesn't realize that the tension from the past few weeks has settled back into her shoulders until she reenters the break room and moves to sit next to her husband, the tightness bleeding out of her back as she sits. "Obviously. Why didn't you take lunch?"

[but_idontlie]

"Too busy. Had a few people call out third shift," when he'd arrived, "and we got backlogged. I went out in a car all morning, hit some scenes. I volunteered to come back here, but we're still down a couple guys." Hopefully everybody who's scheduled for second shift shows up at four, 'cause he's going home.

He sits up straight on the couch, moving over to give her enough room as he wraps an arm around her waist to hold her close. "Pretty sure Rob'll switch with me so I can have Monday. I just gotta check that week, see if I can take it off. Even if you're working, I can hang out at the theatre with you, get shit done at home." Unwrapping his Thai, he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply for a moment. "Smells good," he murmurs gratefully, tilting his head to kiss his wife's temple. "How's Brody working out with the show? We come home, then you get stuck doing crazy rehearsals 'cause Mike fell off the chair like a damn pussy." Seriously, who can't stand on a chair? He hasn't gotten to spend any time with this guy yet other than in passing; considering that he's feeling his wife up every night, he'd like a better introduction than that.

"When shit calms down with the show, we should have a party," he suggests. It seems random, but they used to celebrate their Glee Club wins [sectionals, regionals, nationals] and the general camaraderie that they shared. This cast has been a family for the past year. They should get cake, and booze, and they can have it at their place... Especially now that Rachel won't be traveling with them after the show's run ends, he wants to do something.

[acontrollist]

Rachel just lets out an unhappy little hum in response to his answer. She understands. In his line of work, especially, things just happen sometimes. But that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it, and she's not. He's barely been getting enough sleep, she at least thought he was shoveling down decent amounts of food between calls. Or she'd hoped so, anyway.

He says he might be able to get Monday, and she smiles, but doesn't really say much else, not wanting to get her hopes up. Just their luck, Rob will fall off of a chair too and Noah will be stuck working Monday. "Noah, really. The whole week is unnecessary." Sure, when she gets off at night, it'll be nice to see him but he could be getting paid for those daytime hours. "Brody's doing great." Rachel nods. He's very talented, and she thinks maybe if it wasn't for Mike's experience, that Brody would have gotten Melchior from the very beginning. But Mike is still her friend, so her husband gets a gentle elbow to the ribs for his whining. "It wasn't his fault, Noah. He had allergies." The day before, a chair broke in rehearsal. A spare was pulled out of storage the next day just for a run through, dust got kicked up....Mike sneezed and lost his footing halfway into the chair.

Cracked his elbow and a rib.

"It's not going to." Rachel mumbles into her Thai. It's really not going to calm down, she doesn't think. After all, they're in the home stretch and everyone wants everything to be perfect. Even if they weren't rehearsing nearly every morning, everyone's putting every inch into the production. Rachel's not the only one who can barely keep her eyes open afterwards.

[but_idontlie]

She worries about him, he knows. When he doesn't come home when he's supposed to be home [there was that time his phone died midway through his shift and he had to stop at the store before heading home, and Drew actually picked his ass up and drove him home because Rachel was freaking out]. When he works an overnight. When a cop gets shot or injured in the line of duty but they aren't releasing names. Fuck, when he works and any kind of crisis situation occurs, or when they do a NYPD collab with ATF or ICE or something and somebody's out there doing surveillance and he literally can't tell her where he's going in the city.

He gets it. It really sucks, being a cop's wife. The way she has to take a backseat to his job is, at times, unforgivable.

[But if shit ever goes down, she's his first priority. If they ever have to clear civilians out of the city, she's on the first wave out. She'll be safe. He has that power, at least, to protect her.]

If he takes a week of paid vacation - he'd rather use it now, when he barely gets to see her, than have to use it during a week when she's pregnant and easily irritated and pelting him with pillows 'cause he hogs the bed or does something he doesn't realize is offensive. [He's just remembering the way Quinn was when she was pregnant. Heartburn, gas, weight gain, and nausea can make a normally awesome woman be pretty... not awesome at times.] "I'm gonna try and get it," he insists. [He'll have better luck at not being called in if he's off for the whole week. Vacation's vacation. A day off? They can pull him in if they need him, which is great for the bank account but shitty for the relationship.]

Allergies? Seriously? Whatever. Pussy. He has to admit, Mike wasn't particularly offensive for a guy who regularly had his paws all over his girl. "Brody a better kisser than me?" He asks because, well, the guy's probably been kissing Rachel a lot more than he's gotten to lately. And he's probably the only guy on Broadway who's straight.

Maybe he should send Mike a pizza and a get-well card.

"Sunday night after a show," he offers. Everybody will be wired after a performance, and Monday's an off day. "Come on, Rach. It'll be fun. Night drinking with a bunch of people? We haven't done that since right before we got married."

[acontrollist]

It's not the backseat that Rachel necessarily minds. She knows that when things go down with the show or during the few months that she was rehearsing nearly non-stop, that he had to take a back seat. On top of that, part of her job was pretending to have sex with and actually kissing other men. It sucks being an actress' husband too, and Rachel knows that. Not being his first priority against his job isn't really her major concern right now. It's the fact that on top of all of that, on top of their jobs shifting their priorities and stopping them both from having what they really want, his isn't even letting him take care of himself. Yes, she misses him and wishes they had more time together, but he puts his life in danger just setting foot in this building on a regular basis (who knows when some crazy is going to to come get revenge with an AK? The odds seem higher here than at a school or a movie theater). They can't let him get a hot dog from the corner? Seriously?

"Noah." Rachel huffs. He'd rather use it now, but she'd rather him save it. Use it later when he'd have a month, maybe even more, saved up. After the baby is born (because damn it, all they need is a couple of days. She knows it.) and he's really needed at home. A month for the two of them to get acclimated. That's her ideal. A month where he doesn't get called out in the middle of the night and wake the baby up on his way out (because she knows it'll happen. The amount of times he's slammed his knee into the doorframe trying to hop into his pants on the way out so he doesn't wake her up...)

His question upsets her much more than his questions usually do and she sits her food down on the table. "Why do you do that?" She snaps. "Why do you ask me things like that, Noah? Jesus, I already don't get to see you, can we have 10 minutes together without your ego getting in the way?" Maybe it's just the straw that broke the camel's back because she's sniffling. "I married you. Not Brody. If I wanted Brody, with everything that's been going on, if he was really better than you and I cared, that's where I'd be. Not eating halfway decent thai in a smelly police station with the husband I haven't seen in days."

"...Fine." She has to admit, it does sound fun. And Sunday would be a good night, since everyone's off Monday, and those with kids will be child free the next morning because of school.

[but_idontlie]

Yeah, it sucks being an actress's husband. He has to watch her kiss other men, let other men paw at her tits, pretend to have sex with other men, and that's only one show. Anybody else, and he'd be out, 'cause he didn't sign up for this.

But this has been Rachel's dream since before they met, and he knew what it might take, one day. She's achieving her dream every time she sets foot on that stage. As long as she's okay with it, and it stays onstage, he's supportive. [If he offered her the ultimatum - stage or him - depending on the day, it might be a toss-up. And while he might be an insensitive jerk at times, he's not that much of a d-bag.

"Rachel," he counters with a full mouth of noodles. He gets paternity. He has vacation to use. He'd rather take it now then save it up for later then get told he can't use it because somebody with more seniority already scheduled it. Maybe he needs a break from work, too.

He drops his Thai on the table and stares at her. "Whoa. Dial down the bitch for a minute." And that probably isn't going to go over well... especially as she begins sniffling, and it makes him forget her outburst in an instant. "Shhh, shhh," he soothes, wrapping his arms around her and folding her close to his chest. "I know, baby. I swear, I'll get time with you. I just - Shit's tough. We haven't seen each other in days and it's killing me. I just - I don't want you to have regrets with marrying me and shit after this. Feels like that asshole gets to see you more than I do," because he does, "and gets to kiss you and touch you for the show when I'm lucky if I get to kiss you when you're awake." So, fuck that, because - even if they've got Thai-breath and they're sitting on a couch that has seen better days, and they're sitting in the NYPD precinct break room, he's still gonna cup her jaw in one hand, brushing tears away with his thumb, and lean in for a slow kiss. It's more than he's gotten in too fucking long.

[See? He has good ideas.]