I don’t own Glee or the Buffy ‘verse. That’s Ryan Murphy or Joss Whedon.Author’s Notes:
A Christmas gift for SariLane. Merry Ficmas, sweets.
Chapter One: Searching for a Signal
Dawn was wandering, not really paying attention to her surrounding, as she searched for a cell signal. So of course she fell over a pair of dusty boots and of course the first thing she thought was, ‘Great, another dead body.’ Then the guy’s eyes opened, a beautiful hazel with thick, full lashes, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She hated having to report dead bodies on school grounds.
The guy smirked and she realized she was still sprawled across his lap. “Oops,” she muttered, flushing red as she carefully pulled herself off him.
He sat up and she saw an unfortunate Mohawk gracing the top of his head. It almost distracted her from his wink as he said, “You can sit on my lap any time.”
She blinked, focusing on his eyes as she demanded, incredulous, “That does not
work on girls. Tell me that’s never worked on girls before.”
His eyes narrowed even as his smile stayed firmly in place. “Usually.”
“That’s horrible,” she said sincerely. “Tragic. Someone should run an intervention.”
He scowled, his smile finally sliding away. “It works and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Truly tragic,” she said again, shaking her head.
“Well, how would you do it?” he demanded belligerently, eyes snapping and, God, that was hot.
She decided to play along, propping herself against the nearest wall, bending one of her knees so that her skirt rode up to flash a few inches of thigh. She lazily began to swing it, making her skirt swish a little, and she had him as she said, “My name’s Dawn.” She tilted her head and a lock of hair, lightly curled, slid over her shoulder. He tracked the motion, mesmerized, as she said, “Is there anything fun to do in this town?”
He locked onto her eyes and said, voice husky, “Me.”
Dawn fought down a shiver, pushing herself off the wall until she could brace herself against the wall behind him, and murmured, inches from his face, “That’s how I do it.”
He blinked until the sexual haze had mostly cleared from his eyes, then smirked. “Good to know.”
If she’d been paying attention to anything besides the little gold flecks in his eyes, she’d have noticed the hands that came up to yank her into his lip. If she’d cared, she could have turned her face away from the kiss. But he had lips made for kissing and rough hands that were being gentle, so she threw herself into it.
A throat cleared behind them and she jerked away, hand coming up to cover her lips as her face turned red. The man that’d caught them, obviously a teacher, stared at the wall above their heads as he, too, blushed red to the roots of his curly hair, his unfortunate butt chin seeming to deepen as she watched. “Puck, you’re going to be late for Glee club.”
“No,” Dawn said, immediately straightening. “I am absolutely not calling you Puck.”
“It’s cool,” he protested, scowling.
“It’s a disk that gets slapped around ice rinks by overgrown barbarians or a quaint Southern nickname for horse shit,” she countered.
“Horse shit?” he said, confused and, man, she was glad she had brains enough for two people because, while he was totally hot and built like an Adonis, smarts obviously weren’t his strong suit.
“Horse pucky,” she said, voice clipped. She stabbed a finger into one well-formed peck and demanded, “Pick something else.”
He rolled his eyes and said “You can call me Noah.”
One of his hands had edged up her skirt and his thumb was idly tracing circles on her thigh. That was the only reason she could possibly conceive for forgetting the teacher until he cleared his throat again. At least now he looked more amused than anything.
“I’ll be right there, Mr. Schue,” Noah said, smirking. “I just need to firm up plans for Friday.”
Mr. Schue apparently decided to trust them despite the position he’d first found them in, and nodded before he wandered away. Dawn almost shouted a warning about almost-dead bodies before she caught herself.
Noah looked at her and his eyes warmed as he asked, “Friday?”
“I’ll pick you up,” she said, suddenly deciding.
He squeezed her thigh and smirked. “I like a woman that takes charge.”
“Then you’re gonna love me,” she said, quickly pressing her lips to his then smoothly rising from his lap. “But we don’t want you to be late for Glee, so you better go.”
He scrambled up and there might have been stars in his eyes when he looked at her. “Later,” he said, backing away.
“Bye,” she said, and maybe her smile was a little goofy. She was a teenager and the first blush of Something was supposed to make her stupid.
She watched him jog away, then looked around for the phone she’d dropped. Spotting it, she scooped it up and raised an eyebrow at how many bars there were.
Dawn pressed speed dial, looking around to see if anyone was around. At the brusque hello, she said, “Tell them I think I found her.”