Title: You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)
Category: Glee
Genre: Drama/Romance/Humor
Ship: Puck/Rachel
Rating: Mature/NC-17
Prompt: 'School Secretary!Rachel and high school senior Puck.' by darlingemory – puckrachel drabble me (part 9, page 75)
Word Count: 8,292
Summary: Mild-mannered, high school secretary, Rachel Berry thought she wanted to live a safe, easy, drama-free life. High school senior Noah Puckerman blew that idea right out of the water. Denial can only last so long.

You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)
-Novel-

I.

Puck wasn't surprised to find the school halls were empty; he was a half hour late for school and he was still dragging his feet. In fact, if it wasn't for his ma bitching at him and practically chasing his ass out the door, he wouldn't be there at all. Sure, it was the first day of his senior year, but what the hell? The first week was just review bullshit; reminding everybody what they forgot over the summer.

He couldn't wait to get out of there; to be done with school entirely. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he did know that had to be outside city limits. He couldn't and wouldn't waste his life away in Lima. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that his ma wouldn't ever let it go, he'd already be gone. He was eighteen; he could cut and run if he wanted to. But she wanted this, maybe even needed it; some kind of proof that her screw up son did something right. So she could wave it in front of the yentas at temple and say, "See? My boy's smart!" And yeah, she was leaving college applications all over the damn place, but that wasn't happening. First, school was for chumps. Second, he didn't want some desk job somewhere. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but he knew it wasn't that.

He swaggered into the office for a late slip, aviators still on, blocking out all the crappy school lighting that would wake him up before he could take a good old fashioned nap on his History book. His loosely laced boots clomped beneath him, thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans, and a yawn cracked his jaw as he walked up to the front desk.

Dropping his elbow to the counter, he waited impatiently for the secretary to notice him, preferably before Principal Figgins noticed him; like he needed a suspension this early in the year. The click-clack of fingers on a keyboard drew his eyes and he finally looked down at the woman at the computer.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft, sweet, and noticeably not the same that usually greeted him when he was late.

Brows furrowed, he stared at the dark, shiny hair tied up in a bun on top of her head. Young, he thought.

And then she looked at him, a friendly smile stretching her full, pink lips, showing off perfect, straight, white teeth.

"You're new," he muttered, eyes wide.

She laughed lightly, ducking her head slightly and nodding, her bangs just long enough to catch on her eyelashes. "I am." She rose from her seat daintily and held out a hand. "I'm Miss. Berry, the new secretary."

"Puck," he grunted, taking her hand. Damn, it was soft. Clearing his throat, he readjusted his backpack and turned his eyes away. "So, uh, you're kinda young for a secretary…"

Her nose wrinkled cutely. "I'll have you know, I'm twenty-one… I don't think that's too young at all." Retaking her seat, she looked back up at him, brows lifted. "Now, what can I help you with, Mr. Puck?"

He half-smiled. "Uh, it's Noah Puckerman… I need a late-slip or my History teacher won't let me in." He shrugged. "He's a douche."

"That's doable." Turning her seat, she began looking through her desk drawer for the appropriate paper.

Watching her, in her tight little black and white dress, pearls around her neck, he thought if anything was doable, it was her. She was hot, in a classy kind of way. She wasn't like the cougars he hooked up with through his pool cleaning business; they were all kinda sad and yeah, hot, but like, in an experienced kind of way. Miss. Berry was all soft curves and dangerously long legs; seriously, she was crazy small but her legs went on forever.

Standing once more, she turned the slip over to him. "If you could fill out the top, I'll sign it for you," she told him brightly.

Nodding, he took the pen she offered and started filling out his name, the time, and why he was late.

She hummed under her breath, resting her chin on her hand, watching as he wrote.

He glanced at her. "How're you so chipper?" he wondered. "It's like, early…"

She smiled. "Oh, I get up every day at 6:30 am, on the dot." She shrugged. "I'm an early bird. I like to work out on my elliptical, go for a jog, have my morning tea, and get in early to work." She blinked her big brown eyes up at him. "You have an athletic build; I gather you like to stay busy too…"

He flexed his arms, lips curling in a smirk. "I play football," he told her, raising a brow. "Basketball too. And I like to hit up the weight room at lunch sometimes."

"It's important to stay active," she murmured, her eyes resting on his arms.

He turned the slip around to her and watched as she signed her name with a flourish, adding a tiny scribbled star at the end. His lips twitched wonderingly.

She grinned at him sheepishly. "It's a habit…"

He shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat." He pushed his glasses up onto his head and nodded his chin. "Thanks... See ya around." Walking backwards, he folded the paper up and tucked it in his shirt pocket. "Probably tomorrow, 'round the same time."

Clucking her tongue, she wagged her finger at him before twirling on her heel and returning to her computer.

Grinning, Puck walked out of the office feeling a whole lot better about his senior year. 'Cause if he had anything to do with it, he'd be getting into the secretary's pants, or well, up her dress, before winter break.

.o.

"This is the third time in a row," she said, standing slowly, head tipped thoughtfully. "I'm starting to wonder about your alarm clock."

Puck grinned. "Told ya, I really don't do mornings…"

"One would think after all these years, you'd be used to getting up this early," she said, digging out her late slips from her desk.

He admired her ass in her pencil skirt, throat suddenly very dry. When she turned back around, he raised his brows innocently. "I don't really like following rules…" He shrugged. "They say school starts at 8:30; I say it starts at 9…"

She smiled slightly. "Somehow, I don't think your college professors will be as adaptable."

Puck paused and then looked at her. "I'm not goin' to college," he said, and for the first time he actually worried it made him look bad.

"Oh," she said, clearly surprised. "Well, I… There's nothing wrong with that. Lima has a lot of colorful job opportunities."

He scowled. "I'm not stickin' around here either," he said, his voice harsher than he meant for it to be.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Either way, whatever plans you have, I'm sure you'll succeed."

Slowly, his irritation faded and he looked down at the late slip, filling it out absently. When he looked back up, she was chewing on her lip, obviously worried she'd offended him. She took the pen from his fingers and scrawled her name at the bottom. When she held it out to him, he blurted, "I'm gonna get outta here… And I'm gonna do something with my life. Maybe, hopefully, with music…" He shrugged. "I could be happy with that, y'know? Even if I don't really make it big…"

She smiled softly. "I think you'll make a wonderful musician, Mr. Puckerman."

He nodded awkwardly, feeling slightly nervous about what he'd shared. Taking the paper, he backed up and finally turned around to walk back to class. As he turned the corner out of sight, he smiled to himself.

She was being honest; she really thought he could make it.

He didn't know why, but that made him proud.

.o.

He was pretty sure she was starting to catch on to him. She hadn't called him on it yet though.

"So did you go to school to be a secretary or…?"

She looked up at him, brows raised in slight surprise. "There was a program being offered, on office work and organization, and I thought it could only help…" She shrugged. "It wasn't my first career choice, but…" She smiled. "I like it. I like interacting with people and keeping everything in order. It's calming…"

He nodded. "Bet the pay's shit though."

Her laugh was melodic; tinkling; it made his gut do funny things. "Well, it pays the bills and I guess that's all that matters."

"You, uh… You got a husband or something? To help with the bills?"

She stared at him a moment, almost like she wasn't sure if she should share that personal detail with him. Finally though, she replied, "I don't. It's just me…"

He didn't know why – she wouldn't have been the first married chick he hooked up with by a long shot – but he liked that she didn't have some dude waiting at home for her.

"But my dads were very helpful in finding a good apartment for a comfortable price," she continued.

"Dads?" he repeated curiously.

Her eyes darted away before she lifted her chin proudly and told him, "Yes. I happen to have two dads. They're a happily married gay couple."

Puck thought of his own one dad, a deadbeat who never stuck around. "'S cool," he told her. "I only got my ma… And a bratty sister."

She smiled carefully. "Unfortunately I never had any siblings."

"Lucky you."

Chuckling softly, she handed him his late slip. "You really should get to class."

He winked at her. "See ya tomorrow morning, Miss. B."

Blushing, she shook her head at him.

Progress.

.o.

"So what's your first name?" he wondered, flicking the pen she offered him back and forth, leaning on the counter, watching her as she typed at her computer.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. Her hair was down and long, even shinier than yesterday; it slipped over her arm and fell in waves down her back, against her pretty pink blouse with tiny white polka dots all over it. Lips pursed, she shook her head, "You can call me Miss. Berry," she told him, before standing from her seat and checking his late slip. "You haven't filled anything out yet."

He shrugged. "Yeah, 'm totally gonna hold myself hostage her until you give me your name."

Her brows furrowed, lips twitching. "And just how are you going to accomplish that?"

"Instead of going to class, I'm just gonna hang out here, bugging you, distracting you, 'til you give up the name."

"That's your price?" she asked, battling a smile. "I spend a morning in your presence or I give you my name for some peace and quiet?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Choose wisely, Miss. B."

Nodding slowly, she said, "So the real question is whether I want you around all morning… If I choose not to give you my name, you think you've won, because you miss your classes and you succeed in bothering me… But if I do give you my name, you still win…" Her eyes narrowed. "Very clever, Mr. Puckerman."

"Puck," he corrected.

She took the pen from his fingers and signed her name to his slip. "Your education is very important," she told him. Pushing the paper back to him, she tapped it with her finger. "I might even suggest getting here on time from now on…"

He looked down to wear her manicured nail was tapping; Rachel B. Berry stared back at him.

He grinned.

Rachel.

"I'll be sure to think of you while I'm in class gettin' educated," he promised, winking before he turned and walked out the door.

He kept his word; he wasn't sure he thought about anything else.

.o.

She called it 'actively sabotaging' himself.

So, okay, he might've spent the first two weeks of his senior year thirty minutes late and flirting with the new secretary. If he had to call it anything, he'd say it was 'motivation' to spend any time at school.

Raising a brow as he swaggered in, smirk already growing on his face, he noticed she had a pen at the ready and a late slip waiting.

"I feel it's my duty as a staff member here to tell you that your record for being late is disappointing… If oddly accurate," she said in greeting, signing her name to the bottom before he'd even filled it out.

He shrugged, resting his elbows on the counter and staring at her steadily. "So what are you doing after school?"

She smiled slightly. "I work here… I can't be seen…" She cast her eyes away to search for any onlookers and found no one, "canoodling with students…"

Taking out a pocket-sized dictionary from his back pocket, he showed it to her rather smugly before flipping through it to find the word. Eyes wide, he read out, "Canoodle, verb; to caress, fondle, or pet amorously…" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Babe, I was just suggesting dinner, but hey, if you wanna fondle some Puckerone, we're down!"

She laughed, a flush riding high on her cheeks. Waving a hand at him, she shook her head. "Stop." She tapped her finger against the late slip. "As I'm sure you're aware, your flirting is flattering…" She smiled softly, resting her chin on her upturned fist. "But I'm afraid it's not going to work…"

He scoffed, pushing the slip away and ignoring it. He leaned in closer to her. "Why?" he asked. "You're only a few years older than me… It's legal," he assured.

Lips pursed, she sighed. "We're very different people, Mr. Puckerman."

He frowned. "That's an excuse. Why can't you really do it?"

"It's a valid reason…" She again drew the slip in front of him. "You're eighteen; you're in high school, which, might I remind you, I work at…" She stared him in the eye. "And what you're looking for in me is simply a good time. Your reputation precedes you and I… I'm not that girl." She lifted a shoulder daintily and his eyes were drawn to the delicate silver chain around her neck, where a Star of David rested, not that it surprised him; her nose gave her away.

Something in his chest moved though and vaguely, he could hear his mother saying, 'Why can't you date a nice Jewish girl?'

He shook it off and focused in on her again. Rachel. She still refused to call him anything other than Mr. Puckerman. Shit though, he figured it could be hot if he had her bent over a table, skirt hiked up around her hips, screaming it out as she came.

"So we could hit up BreadstiX first," he encouraged. "I checked it out, they got tons of salads and shit. So you're good."

Her brows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "I noticed you were only eating like trail mix and shit… You don't like meat, right?" He glanced over to her lunch, sitting on her desk, yet untouched.

She blinked at him in surprise. "I… I'm vegan."

He stored that information away and nodded at her. "Right, so like, you could have a bunch of salad or, I dunno, they probably make vegan stuff…" He frowned. "Wait, what do vegans eat besides salad?"

She grinned at him. "Listen, you're a very sweet boy…" she said.

"Man," he corrected. "I'm eighteen!"

She bit her lip in slight amusement. "I know…" She shook her head. "But I'm not going to go out with you… Not for dinner and not for anything else…" She took his hand and wrapped it around the pen, but as she did, she paused, her fingers lingering on his.

He smiled and rubbed his thumb over her three middle fingers, her skin soft, her nails pretty and manicured. "You sure about that?" he asked, voice a little deeper, rougher.

Her eyes darted up to his and she drew her hand away quickly, holding it to her chest and playing with her Star of David nervously. Swallowing tightly, she blinked her eyes a few times and then shook her head. "Please fill out your slip, Mr. Puckerman… Your education is what's important here and I wouldn't want to see you waste any more of it…" Turning her back to him, she retook her seat and focused all of her attention on her computer.

Frowning, Puck filled out the rest of his slip, stared at the back of her head, and finally, with a heavy sigh, left for class.

He'd convince her yet.

.o.

"So what'll you trade me for a PB and J?" he asked, hopping up onto the counter, legs swinging.

"No—!" She caught herself and smoothed her hands down her skirt. "Mr. Puckerman, I'll have to ask you to get down from there, please…" She cast her eyes around, watching the students walk past the hall outside. "It's not appropriate."

He rolled his eyes, but hopped down. "So?" He held out a sandwich. "C'mon, Rachel, you got any of that bird seed in there?"

"It's my own personally made trail mix, not bird seed," she reminded, but drew out the bag anyway and showed it to him. "And why, pray tell, would I want to exchange it for your," She wrinkled her nose, "soggy sandwich?"

He grinned, boasting, "I cut the crusts off and made it myself."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Don't you have any friends you can trade food with?" she wondered, but handed over her trail mix anyway.

"Sure…" He tossed her the sandwich, which she caught rather proudly. "But I like you better."

Sitting back in her seat, she shook her head. But she didn't argue with him.

He spent the whole lunch hour sitting on a backwards chair, distracting her from her work, eating half her sandwich and watching her pick at his bag of trail mix.

She really liked those vegan chocolate chips.

Yet another thing about her he filed away for future reference.

.o.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but… Don't you think there are better places you could be spending your lunch break?" she wondered, raising her brow at him as he sat on a chair in the office.

"You gonna lemme come around and sit in there?" he wondered, brows hiked.

"I can't let you sit back here," she reminded. "If Principal Figgins or, heaven forbid, Coach Sylvester caught sight of you, I'd probably lose my job…"

"Why?" He grinned. "Scared you'll lose control and lemme take you on your desk?"

Her face lit up bright red. "Of course not!" She shook her head. "I just meant that there are a lot of classified files back here… No student is allowed back here!"

He shrugged. "You say so…"

Sighing, she leaned forward to look at him; he had a second chair in front of him to rest his feet on and his lunch in his lap.

"Can I ask you something?" she wondered.

"Shoot," he told her, tearing open the plastic wrap on his sandwich.

"You seem very… dedicated to… pursuing me," she said.

"Yup."

"Can I just… I mean, it makes me wonder…" She shook her head, closing her eyes for a long moment and taking in a deep. "I don't mean to offend you, but…" She stared at him once more, searchingly. "You've expressed a desire to leave Lima, one you're very adamant about…"

He nodded.

"So why not put some of this… this passion you have for… women into reaching your goal of getting out of Lima…?" She smiled faintly. "You're obviously very smart, very charming, and when you want something enough, you apparently can't be deterred, so… Instead of chasing after me, why not put all of your energy into your music or something else that might help you?"

He stared at her a long moment, brow furrowed. "'Cause even when I say I'll get out, I'm still worried as shit I won't…" He dropped his sandwich to his lap. "Lotta people say they will and they're still here ten, twenty, fifty years later…" He shrugged. "And I probably will be too." He frowned. "I hate it… 'Cause if I'm not workin' some dead end job, I'll be in jail, or dead… All of the above…" He stared darkly at the floor. "But women?" He grinned sarcastically. "Women I don't have problems with…" He raised his eyes to her. "'Cept you… You're different."

Rachel smiled sadly. "You will get out," she told him. "And I bet you'll surprise even yourself."

"How do you know?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Because I've never known a more stubborn man," she said simply. With a nod, she dug out her trail mix and pushed it across to him. "Now, why don't you tell me more about your sister…? You said she was taking a ballet class?"

He walked over, handed her his other half a sandwich and dug out a handful of trail mix. "Yeah, drives me crazy…" He rolled his eyes. "She's always pirouetting all over the damn place… Nearly kicked the TV over last week."

She laughed softly and he grinned in reply.

He liked it when he made her laugh; always made him feel proud.

.o.

Rachel told herself she was going to the football game purely out of a deep-seated sense of school spirit. Of course, she'd never been a fan of sports and had very little idea what was going on, but she based her reactions off of the crowd and what the players did to tell if she should be happy or outraged.

Noah Puckerman wore the number 20 jersey, she noticed.

She told herself that it was merely friendly observation; he was one of the few people at McKinley that she'd gotten to know and she just wanted to keep an eye on him. If he was the only player she watched, then that was only because he was the most aggressive of them all, and possibly more talented than the others.

And, of course, whenever he scored a goal and he made that vulgar arm movement toward his groin, she rolled her eyes, even if it was quite amusing.

When everything was over, she told herself it was fun and it was nice to join in on something, despite how she'd sat alone with just a thermos of herbal tea. She would dress more suitably next time too, maybe even in the team colors.

She couldn't be sure why she lingered as the crowd began to disperse. Until he spotted her, grinned, and winked suggestively, and she felt herself flush right down to her toes. In her head, she listed all kinds of excuses for being there, none of which he would probably ever hear. She was adamant that this was simply because she worked at McKinley and had nothing at all to do with him in particular. She embraced denial strongly, telling herself that the reason she didn't feel ready to leave wasn't that he had yet to acknowledge she was there. And that she would be attending all of the future football, and likely basketball, games to show pride in her place of work and for no other reason at all.

.o.

"If you're going to spend every lunch break here, you might as well start showing up for class on time," she told him, shaking her head.

"Where's the fun in that?" he wondered, taking the offered pen. "Plus, I get an extra half hour to sleep in…"

She raised a brow. "Really? So you weren't idling in the parking lot the last half hour, napping?"

Caught. He laughed, the sound slightly startled. "Saw me, huh?"

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "If you're not careful, you're going to get in trouble…"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered, snorting.

Reaching out, Rachel covered his hand in hers.

His eyes rose up and met hers.

She stared back gently. "Just because you've made some mistakes, doesn't mean you have to live up to others standards for yourself…" She raised her brows meaningfully. "Why not show them you're better than what they assume?"

"What's it matter?" He shrugged. "I try to be a good guy. I tell myself, 'Be cool, Puck. Be nice.' But it's like, I dunno, I just… I've screwed up so much already that as soon as something goes wrong, I know people are gonna look at me… So I just figure, what the hell, might as well…"

"And it's that kind of attitude that is going to hold you back when you have the chance to do and be something so much more."

His jaw ticked, eyes turned off. "Whatever. You just want me to quit hitting on you every morning so you won't feel bad about actually wanting to say yes…"

She scoffed. "As if that'd stop you."

He smirked. "You know it."

Ducking his head, he filled out the slip and handed her back her pen. "See ya at lunch," he said.

With an amused sigh, she shook her head after him.

He was on time the next morning though; he figured she'd like that.

.o.

He didn't know what made him bring it up, but one minute she was telling him about something funny her dad said the night before on his weekly call and the next he was telling her about Beth.

"I was sixteen… It was stupid. She was with my best friend but I still…" He shrugged, shaking his head. "I thought I loved her or something, y'know? I thought… she could be different."

"Was she?"

He scoffed, scowling at the ground. "She tried to convince Finn the baby was his even though they'd never slept together. And he fell for it like a dope. But it got out eventually, y'know? And I tried being with her, tried to step up, but… She didn't wanna be a mom and I probably wasn't ready to be a dad… We gave her up. Nice family. They had a dog…" He picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans. "Named her Beth."

"I bet she was beautiful."

"Yeah…" He nodded. Digging out his wallet, he flipped through it and searched for the picture he kept of her when she was first born. "You wanna see her?"

She smiled. "I'd love to."

He watched her face as she gazed down at the picture, soft and sweet.

"Stunning," she told him, nodding. "Just like her daddy."

He grinned, took the picture back and stared at it a minute himself.

"Maybe you weren't ready yet… But I bet you'll make a great father one day."

He saw the sincerity in her face. "Yeah… I think I will be."

It was crazy, but he wondered if they'd have her eyes.

.o.

"You seem very popular here," she noticed, when he nodded yet again at somebody walking past outside the office.

Puck shrugged. "Not always for the best reasons," he admitted.

Her brows furrowed. "I wasn't very well liked in my high school," she shared, casting her eyes down as she went through papers, over and over, mostly just for a distraction, so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"How come?"

She chewed her lip. "Well… I was very determined in school… Dedicated to always having the best grades… I think I spent more time talking my teachers into giving me better scores than I did interacting with my peers…" She half-smiled. "And when I did, I don't know… I'm not sure I was normal enough for them."

"What'd ya do?"

She glanced at him. "I was loud and stubborn and I constantly thought my way was the only way…" She chuckled in remembrance of her own mule-headedness. "I was constantly petitioning for things. Better food in the cafeteria, bigger lockers, anything really. An LGBT Alliance wasn't exactly wanted in my high school, but I pushed until I got my way… It took two years and even by the time I graduated there was only two other members… One was mandatory after setting a fire in the boys' bathroom and the other was a very unusual girl who I would constantly find trying to sniff my hair…" She frowned. "But as my daddies always say, my heart was in the right place…"

He nodded and, after a pause, told her, "I like you."

She looked up at him, smiling lightly. "Thank you… Unfortunately that means my closest relationship is with a student I shouldn't even be friends with."

"Student's not complaining," he reminded with a shrug.

"Regardless…"

"Well, maybe those other people just didn't know how cool you were…" He leaned in on the counter, arms crossed beneath him. "You were all stiff and crazy polite first time we met and now look at you…" He nodded. "You just gotta show people the real you."

Her eyes turned off thoughtfully. "And you think they'll like me?"

"'Course."

She smiled up at him. "You can be very thoughtful, Noah."

She laughed as he saluted her.

.o.

He saw her talking to the math substitute at break. He was pretty sure the dude was flirting with her; he didn't know why, but whenever she laughed at whatever the guy was saying it made him want to break shit. He shoved Jew-fro into a locker and skipped his next period in favor of a nap in the nurse's office. But he couldn't get her face out of his head; how she was smiling, laughing, how that sub douche kept touching her arm.

He punched his pillow and then threw his arm over his face and closed his eyes.

What the hell'd that guy have over him anyway?

.o.

"Hey man, we were startin' to think you wouldn't show," Finn said, nodding his head in hello.

Puck muttered a vague hello and went straight to the bench press. "Load me up," he said, lying down.

Finn and Sam exchanged a look before walking over to add more weights onto the already fairly heavy bar.

"You, uh… all right?" Sam wondered.

"Fine," he grunted, pushing the barbell up.

"So… You've been kinda busy lately, what's up?" Finn said, standing off to the side to spot him.

"Nothin'." He could feel the strain of the weights in his arms; every single muscle firing and burning from the pressure. "School, watchin' the brat, usual…"

"Really? 'Cause…" Finn shrugged. "I dunno, you're usually in the office at lunch… Thought maybe you got in some trouble for, uh…" He looked around to make sure nobody else was listening in, "You were the one who stole the vending machine, right?"

Puck glanced at him. "What? No." He'd been too damn distracted by Rachel and all her playing hard to get bullshit to pull off anything like that. In fact, if he really thought about it, the last month he'd been so distracted by Rachel he hadn't really done much of anything. He went to class, a half hour late every morning, did his work, kicked ass in football practice, glee club, went home to watch his sister, listened to his ma bitch, thought up new ways to convince Rachel to give him a chance, did his homework, and repeat.

"Really?" Finn looked skeptical. "All right man, whatever." He shrugged. "People just figured, y'know…"

Yeah, he knew what people figured. He was going nowhere. Might as well start early and steal anything that wasn't nailed down. The hell would he do with a vending machine anyway? So what, he'd have a whole lot of stale chips and a crapload of change. Big fucking deal.

"New secretary's pretty hot," Sam mentioned.

Puck paused, arms straight. He turned to look at Sam, who smiled back sheepishly. "What? Just saying…" He shrugged. "I mean, she talks a lot, and I don't always know what she's talking about, but… She's pretty."

He dropped the barbell back in place and sat up, sweat dotting his skin. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," he muttered, jaw ticking. "Her legs are locked up tight. Practically got a chastity belt up that dress…" His eyes narrowed. "I don't even what her deal is, she's twenty-one… I've been with chicks twice her age…" He rolled his eyes, rubbing a towel over his face. "Even called 'Stix to see if they have a vegan freakin' menu and she still shoots me down…"

Sam and Finn exchanged another look.

"Dude… You're trying to hook up with Figgin's secretary?" Finn asked, shaking his head. "Do you want to get expelled?"

"Please… She wouldn't rat me out," he muttered dismissively. "And it's legal. Seriously." He looked up at them, eyes wide. "I looked it up."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think people are gonna see it your way. She kinda works here. It'd look bad…"

Puck threw his towel at him. "You sound just like her." Jumping up from the bench, he walked over to the punching bag, snagging up the supplied wrist wraps. "I don't see what the big deal is… She's a hot Jew, I'm a hot Jew… It's natural!"

Sam circled around to hold the bag steady for him. "Look, I get it, she's hot…" He raised a brow. "But there's a lot of hot chicks, so why not hook up with someone else?"

"'Cause…" He shrugged, planting his feet and taking a couple shots. "I kinda like her."

Finn frowned. "Wait, like… Like her you wanna sleep with her or like her you wanna date her…"

Puck considered it for a second, his brows furrowed. "I dunno… Both."

"That's… different." Finn tipped his head. "Well, I mean, for you…"

He rolled his eyes. "She's cool… She's crazy and obsessed with musicals, but she's also kinda funny and she, like, thinks I'll get outta Lima… Not a whole lot of people do."

Finn nodded, getting it. "Still though… She's the secretary."

He focused in on the punching bag and threw his whole weight into the next few punches.

It didn't matter how many times anybody said it; that whole 'she's the secretary' thing just wasn't gonna scare him off.

He wanted her.

And he was gonna get her.

.o.

"You could call me Noah," he said, shooting M&M's up into the air and catching them with his mouth; he was starting to appreciate how much Coach Sylvester scared people. Figgins usually spent his lunch hour hiding out from her, so Rachel was free to chat up. "Only my ma and sister call me that."

She looked over at him from where she was putting away a stack of files. "I thought you didn't like that name. Hence why you go by Puck…"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but you said that was the name of some fairy in that old dude's play or whatever."

"Shakespeare," she said, nodding. "And I hardly think that would make you feel any less of a, what do you always call yourself?" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and then nodded. "Right, a bad ass."

He grinned. "You totally just swore."

She scoffed. "It hardly counts if I was only repeating somebody else."

He snorted. "You say so…"

"I do," she said primly. Closing the file cabinet drawer, she walked over to the counter. "So… Why should I call you Noah then?"

"'Cause it's better than Mr. Puckerman…" He shrugged. "And I dunno, we're like, friends… sorta…"

She smiled knowingly. "I'm fairly sure you don't just want to be my friend."

"True," he said, standing from his seat and walking over to her. "But you're not gonna let that happen, right?"

She shook her head slowly.

He leaned his head to one side, smirking. "So what's it matter if you call me Noah?"

"I… It's a matter of boundaries," she said, eyes darting away.

His lips curled in a grin. "I don't like rules, remember?" He reached out and took a tendril of her hair in his hand, twirling it around his finger. "So really, you're giving me a reason to keep chasing you…"

Rachel carefully untied her hair from him and cleared her throat. "I'm not running away from you, Noah… I'm simply out of reach."

Turning her back to him, she walked back to her desk.

"We'll see," he said.

.o.

"Hey Rachel," Will said as he walked into the office. "Any messages for me?" he wondered.

"Only hate mail from Coach Sylvester," she told him, pointing to the assigned boxes for the teachers, where it was stuffed with post-its.

He rolled his eyes. "It's been years, but she never gets tired of that."

"She's very clever, in a scary kind of way," Rachel added, nodding.

"Okay…" He knocked his knuckles on the counter. "Have a good day."

"You too," she said, before turning back around.

"Oh…" He paused at the door and then backed up. "Hey, I was just thinking… I've seen one of my kids in here a lot lately and I was hoping…" He smiled awkwardly. "He's kind of troubled and he gets a lot of things blamed on him. If he… I mean, if somebody pulls him in for something, anything, would you mind giving me a call?" he wondered.

Brows furrowed, she nodded. "Sure… What's his name?"

"Noah Puckerman, everybody just calls him 'Puck.'" He shrugged. "He's in my glee club and I've just been seeing him in here a lot…" He frowned. "Even more so than usual, actually…"

Rachel's eyes widened and darted away. "O-Oh. Right. Yes. I—I think I know who you're talking about. Um, about this tall, mohawk…?"

"Yeah." He laughed slightly. "I hope he's not bothering you. I know he can be… forward."

She bit her lip to keep from scoffing. "He's actually very… Well, he's quite friendly. And he's mentioned that he really loves music, so I'm glad to hear he's part of the glee club."

"He has?" His eyes widened slightly. "I mean, I knew he liked it. I just thought…" He shook his head. "He's on the football team too and sometimes, I guess I always figured sports came first, y'know?"

She nodded, resting her arms on the counter. "Actually, I think… Well, he has mentioned that college isn't for him, but that he wants out of Lima and he sees it being directly linked to his music, so…" She shrugged. "Maybe you're fostering more hope in him than sports ever did."

"Yeah… Maybe…" He nodded, brows furrowed thoughtfully. "Thanks."

"Sure." She smiled. "And I'll be sure to let you know if he gets into any trouble."

He waved appreciatively before walking out.

Rachel wondered how it was she was going to explain away him simply being there for the sake of flirting with her if Mr. Shuester ever came back with questions. She spent the rest of her afternoon thinking up excuses and then wondered why. She shouldn't be finding a way around it; she should be encouraging his teacher into discouraging him from his current behavior. But when Noah Puckerman swaggered in for lunch that day, she forgot all about Will Shuester.

.o.

On Halloween, he brought her a chocolate sucker shaped like a pumpkin.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her. His other hand was hooked around the strap of his backpack. "I made sure it was vegan-friendly too."

Rachel took it from his outstretched hand and bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely. "That's very nice of you, Noah."

"So, uh…" He looked away and then back, rocking on his heels. "What're you doin' for Halloween?"

She shrugged. "Handing out candy to some of the kids in my building…" She grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And I'll probably watch 'It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.' It's one of my favorites."

He nodded. "'Cause I was just thinkin', y'know, costumes and make-up and nobody'd even recognize you or me and…" He licked his lips. "We could hit up a party or see a movie… Nobody would even know…"

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, Rachel really did consider it. For all of her putting him off, he really was a handsome and nice person. And he made her feel good; he made her feel like he was really listening when she talked. Like she was interesting and fun and worth all of the lunch hours he spent on her.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that it could never be like that. "I appreciate the offer, Noah, but…"

His face fell, shoulders slumping.

"I think… I know that you will find an amazing girl for yourself. I just think that I—I'm not her…" She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Maybe if we'd met a year later…"

He stared at her hand over his. "You're wrong…" He looked at her. "I already met an amazing girl. And I'm not gonna give up just 'cause I'm a little younger than her or—or she's worried somebody's not gonna like that we're together…" He shook his head. "Just give me a chance," he asked, staring at her searchingly. "I can change your mind."

She sighed, ducking her face slightly. "I can't."

Frustrated, he turned around and left.

.o.

He didn't come back for the rest of the week, but she knew he'd attended his classes.

She was surprised by how much she missed seeing him, or hearing his stories about his friends and his family. How much she missed that mischievous smirk of his or the way he playfully leered at her. She missed how he always picked out all the vegan chocolate chips from her trail mix whenever they exchanged food and gave them back to her. She even missed his completely inappropriate comments on how short her dresses were and how amazing he found her legs to be.

Whenever somebody walked into her office, she looked up hoping it was him, only to be disappointed when it wasn't.

She told herself it meant nothing.

She knew she was lying.

.o.

Joseph Adams was a substitute teacher who spent a lot of time at McKinley.

He brought her coffee whenever he visited. She never had the heart to tell him she couldn't drink it because he kept adding cream to it. It was a nice gesture all the same. And he was handsome. Just a few years older than her with carefully coiffed dark hair and a fantastic smile with straight, pearly white teeth. He always wore a suit, in impeccable condition, and he kept a small folded napkin in the breast pocket of the jacket that always matched his tie. At first, she thought he was gay. She even considered setting him up with a friend of her dads who she thought he would just love.

Then he asked her out for dinner.

"I've heard great things about BreadstiX," he told her.

She blinked.

BreadstiX.

Where Noah had mentioned, sixteen times now, that they could share a nice dinner. He'd even called to make sure they had a vegan menu.

She hadn't seen him since last Monday, when she'd turned him down for a Halloween date.

"Rachel?" Joseph prompted, smiling at her wonderingly.

"Oh, um…" She cleared her throat, trying to find a logical and polite excuse. Only, she didn't have one. She was single and young and he was handsome and nice. And really, the only reason she could find that she would say no to him was that she had a stubborn boy working very hard to get her to date him. "I… I would love to," she said, even as she felt her smile become brittle and fake. "I'm sure we'll have a great time."

"Great. I'll pick you up at, say, six?"

She nodded. "Sure. Yes. I'll see you then."

He grinned.

And as he walked away, she felt a stab of guilt in his chest.

She closed her eyes and ignored it.

.o.

He walked into the office feeling more nervous than ever before. He didn't even know why. He was still kinda pissed at her. Why couldn't she just go out with him?

"Hey…"

She looked up quickly, her eyes wide. "Noah." She stood from her desk. "I…" She paused, clearing her throat, and smoothed her hands down her skirt. "Shouldn't you be in class?" she wondered, peering at the clock, her nose wrinkled.

He held up the bathroom pass and shrugged. "So… How ya been?"

"Busy…" She motioned back to the computer. "And you? How—How's glee and football and—Your sister? How was her Halloween play?"

He half-smiled. "She kicked ass."

"Good." She nodded. "That's very good."

"Yeah…" He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to her. "Listen… Last week, when you turned me down… again—"

"Noah…" She shook her head.

"I mean, I get it…" He nodded. "I get that this whole thing is kinda weird. I'm in high school and you're just, you're not… And you work here or whatever, and that sucks. 'Cause yeah, Figgy'd probably lose his shit and Coach Sylvester would probably accuse you of like child molestation or something…" He shrugged. "But Rachel…" He stared at her. "I really like you… I like hanging out with you and I like that I can talk to you, about my—my family or my friends or just school and getting out of Lima and shit… I like that when I talk, you really listen…" He licked his lips, ducking his eyes. "And I know it could really screw things up for you, with this job and everything, but… I think it could be worth it… I really think you should give me a chance so I can show you that…" He stared at her. "You're always telling me to show people I can be different. Well this is one of those times. 'Cause I don't want to just be a guy in your bed… I wanna be with you, like, the whole package…"

She swallowed tightly and blinked quickly, long lashes dancing against her cheeks. "That's..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "That's very flattering, Noah, but… We can't."

"Why?" he asked. He reached for her and took her hand in his, turning it over and threading their fingers. "Gimme one good, solid reason."

She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her noise. "I have a date," she said, her voice high. "With Mr. Adams, the substitute." Slowly, she opened her eyes to look at him. "He… He's a very nice man."

Puck felt his face drop, and his heart thud. "Lemme guess… He's takin' you to BreadstiX… 'Cause they got a kickass vegan menu…" he said in a dark monotone.

"I—I'm sorry," she told him.

"Yeah…" He let go of her hand. "I get it."

He turned to walk away.

"Noah."

He paused.

"If things were different… If I didn't work here… I wouldn't even hesitate to be with you."

Grinding his teeth, he glared at the floor.

Without saying a word, he walked out of the office.

.o.

Joseph was perfectly pleasant.

He pulled out her seat for her, didn't pressure her to make up her mind on what to eat, kept up a constant polite conversation, and he never spoke with his mouth full. He was cultured and genuine and she imagined her dads would love him.

But she spent half the date completely distracted.

It was Tuesday. She wondered if Noah was watching his sister, Becca. A precocious ten year old who loved to spit, curse, and pull pranks. She was a tom-boy except for her passion for dancing; ballet. She looked up to her big brother and she took entirely too much after him. Racehl imagined Noah would end up making her Kraft dinner and helping her with her homework before he set into his own school work and maybe spent some time working on whatever song he'd been penning out lately. She tried to imagine him with his guitar in his lap, plucking strings with those long fingers of his, crooning under his breath.

And then she would focus back in on Joseph and feel bad for thinking of someone else.

Someone she should not be thinking about.

Someone who was young and far too experienced for his age and looking for something in her she wasn't even sure she could offer.

She'd never expected Noah when she went to work at McKinley. She had been expecting an easy and safe job, something to counter those dreams she'd had as a very young child, of making it on Broadway or on the silver screen. Back when she thought she could sing her way into the hearts of many. Before life reminded her that education was important and dreams were not always reachable. So she put away her dancing shoes and focused instead on her schooling. She told herself that one day she would be happy, with a job and a family and security. And now she had an apartment and a comfortable position as a secretary and she was out on a date with a man who was stable and nice and handsome.

A man whose only goal wasn't to set out with nothing but the clothes on his back, the gas in his truck, a guitar in his hand, and hope for the best.

A man who wasn't still in high school, with no love for education, no interest in college, no roots to be set down anywhere.

Joseph was the better choice. The easier choice.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that he just wasn't the right choice for her.

[To Be Continued: Part II.]