Basic Disclaimers:

1. I don't own Glee.

2. I don't own "Howl" by Florence + The Machine.

Notes:

1. I know Puck isn't a saint. I know most of the time he's a total douche, especially in this story, but I also realize that he's very much a teenager so I let a lot of the crap he does slide. At times, I don't think I make him vile enough.

2. I shifted one thing in the timeline. Most people assume that Santana and Puck break up at the beginning of episode three but I figure they just broke up at some point earlier in the semester. Since we're never given an official date, I took the liberty of making it happen early.

3. I have to say thank you to each and every reviewer I've had. I know I'm the worst at replying (I generally don't) but I appreciate every single person who took the time to tell me what they thought. I you all!

Warnings: Teenage boys. Teenage girls. Rampant hormones, unintentional voyeurism, intentional cruelty. Spoilers for season 01, everything.

This Is Not Forever, Just Always
If you could only see the beast you've made of me / I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free / Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart

The third time Puck asks Rachel out, Quinn gets pregnant. Yeah, he doesn't even know.

Life at McKinley goes pear-shaped when Finn joins glee without warning. One day the guy is belting out old rock standards in the locker room showers and the next, he's signing up for Homo Explosion. To add insult to injury, he actually tries to justify it. In Puck's mind, there is no justification for flinging yourself practically off McKinley's social ladder. Finn is the fucking quarterback; he's got everything including the head cheerleader and he just wanders into glee club one day? It's like something out of a creepy children's movie from the nineties.

It's also kind of grating because doesn't Hudson know what people would give to be him? Puck isn't jealous of Finn in that Count of Monte Cristo (shut it, he reads) kind of way but he does think the guy is a fucking lucky bastard. And maybe, when Santana is being either particularly bitchy or particularly whorish, he thinks that it would probably be nice to have a girl like Quinn. Sure, she can be as much of a world class bitch as Santana but she's sweet when smiles and yeah, Puck can admit she looks like a freaking angel. She's gorgeous and everyone knows it. San's exotic and sexy as hell but there's something about Quinn—something pure and innocent and untouchable—that makes Puck's fingers twitch. He's always been a mischievous bastard, always the kid who had to touch something just because it was behind the rope and the lady said it wasn't allowed. Quinn's a lot like that.

Puck knows she's off-limits. It's not just because she's dating Finn (Finn's had other girlfriends before her and Puck hasn't ever even thought about touching them) but because she's Quinn Fabray. She's president of the Celibacy Club, star of McKinley's only good thing (Rachel isn't the only one with a thing for stars), the good all-American girl of your dreams. She's the girl that guys like him (guys whose fathers disappear in the dead of night instead of blazes of patriotic glory, guys who aren't expected to go anywhere no matter how well they do because that's just who everyone knows they will be) will never get. It pisses him off and attracts him all at once. He knows it's a ridiculous cliché but he's bent to the will of high school for the past year, why make a fuss now?

(It never crosses his mind that if he was going to put any effort into breaking the status quo, he might as well go after the girl he actually dreams about... not that he dreams about any girl in a way that isn't completely offensive.)

The other thing about Quinn, the thing that really gets Puck's attention, is the fact that she obviously likes that he's so into her. She loves Finn (he's met her parents, they talk about their future sometimes, it's real) but that doesn't stop her from flirting back with Puck when she thinks it's harmless and even sometimes when it might not be. Of course, she shuts him down once things turn remotely serious (promising) but it doesn't negate the fact that she shoots him coy little looks when he winks at her and that she grins when she's supposed to be scandalized. None of it translates into a direct invitation but it's just enough encouragement to keep him a little bit (a lot) entranced.

In the weeks after Finn's sudden gander into the gay, a bunch of bad things happen one after the other. Puck thinks of it as some kind of fucked-up Lima edition of Katamari Damacy: one big, growing ball of bad karmic shit that just keeps getting bigger and bigger and swallowing up everything and everyone. Of course, Puck's the one driving it around town but it's Finn that sent it down to Earth in the first place so no one is safe and there's no escaping it. (It makes sense to him, alright!)

First, Puck and Santana break up over some shit Puck doesn't even understand. He's not sure how she got hold of his credit score in the first place and secondly, he knows it isn't as shit as she says. She dumps him nine days after he tosses that grape slushie in Rachel's face and he can't do anything but stand and gape at Santana's back as she just strands him high and dry in the hallway. One time, just once while she's yammering away about financial security, he thinks, Bitch, you have no idea what I gave up to fuck you. He lets it slide because harping on it will give it meaning and he doesn't need that on top of all what's going on right in front of his face.

Secondly, when Finn decided to throw his lot in with Homo Explosion, he went fucking soft. Like, Puck always knew Finn wasn't entirely cool with tossing nerds in the dumpster since he was always holding Hummel's latest whatever while Puck did the heavy lifting. This worked fine; somebody had to play good cop. After the glee-wrought change becomes apparent, Puck is Finn's most vocal critic for two reasons: a) glee club is the bottom of the frickin' barrel and b) everyone knows Finn listens to Puck. The other footballers and idiots like Karofsky all make their displeasure known but it's Puck who they expect will walk up to Finn and be all, "What the fuck, man?" They expect results.

But then Finn rains on Puck's parade because Puck's plan to tip Wheels in that port-a-potty? Effin' genius. Finn plays hero, of course. That's not what pisses Puck off though. He can live with Finn being Mr. Nice Guy, Puck's badass enough for both of them. And when he thinks about it, even he can see the amazing heights of douche-baggery that particular prank would have achieved (and Wheels was actually pretty damn ballsy for making that burn sign at the whole football team despite what they'd just threatened to do with him; Finn was big but it was the whole team on the other side). What pisses Puck off is the speech Finn makes at him.

Finn babbles about a lot of shit that Puck doesn't listen to. Truth be told, he doesn't hear much beyond "loser". Whether or not Finn clumped himself in with all the other losers in Lima, all Puck registers is that his best friend in the state (Zach's up in NY; doesn't count) just called him a loser in front of the whole team. Finn fucking knows how he feels about that shit and he still does it. And, yeah, maybe it makes a point to the others but it lets Puck know that Finn just chose Glee.

The next day, Puck knows there's glee rehearsal and when he doesn't see anything going on in the choir room, he heads to the auditorium (don't ask how he knows where to go). When he turns into the appropriate corridor, he sees his favourite Spanish teacher heading inside and he can hear a half-decent Journey song wafting out of the open doors. He approaches slowly and waits the few moments it takes for Mr. Schuester to move further into the room. Then he steps inside to get a look at what's happening on the stage.

It feels like a sucker punch.

He hasn't—not by any stretch of the imagination—forgotten that Rachel is in Glee. The thought of her and Finn coming in contact with each other simply never occurs to him at any point up until he sees it: Them, they're there, together, on stage. Didn't see that one coming. But he's not too bothered about it, he's seen Rachel sing with other guys. Hell, he spent half a summer strumming chords and listening to her belt it out with Zach and—

Fuck no.

Rachel turns on her heel and leaps toward Finn with this fucking huge smile on her face. Puck knows her stage smile (he watched her practice variations of it) and the one she's wearing is anything but staged. It resembles the way she beams whenever she sees Zach but there's something else, something more, something Puck recognizes because he used to call it his own once. She's looking at Finn like...Puck can't even put it in words in his head. He just knows that look. (Not so long ago, he owned that look.) Suddenly, Frankenteen is on the receiving end of it.

Puck clenches his fists then shoves them into the pockets of his jacket. His jaw is so tight it hurts but he stands there and keeps on watching them sing. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Coach Sylvester, Santana and Quinn spying from the shadows. He doesn't pay any attention to them. Rachel is busy bounding around the stage, weaving between gleeks and touching Finn in that way that would drive any guy crazy—all innocent, lingering moments of contact. It's how she flirts; it's the way she lets you know that it's okay for you to touch her if you want.

Maybe it's just a part of their routine or whatever but Finn takes the invitation, reaches out and touches her. Puck can't be certain but from where he's standing it looks like Finn's hand is pretty much cupping Rachel's boob. Rachel's reaction? A wider smile.

Puck turns around and leaves.

He's surly on the bus ride home. He sticks his headphones in her ears, ignores the other guys' conversation and tries to think about nothing (it's harder than you might imagine, even for him). At first he closes his eyes and concentrates on the lyrics DMX is spitting into his ears but that doesn't help. Unfortunately, closing his eyes turns the insides of his eyelids into screens replaying that damn performance on constant repeat. He opens them after a few seconds because all he can see is Rachel's wide brown eyes and that damn smile. God Almighty, none of this has anything to do with his life anymore. He doesn't know why his brain insists on thinking about it.

That night, he stays home. There's a party at somebody's house and he would go but he can't seem to stop being angry long enough to work up any enthusiasm. One sure fire way not to get laid is to behave like an asshole before the girl spreads her legs so Puck knows the night will be a bust. Besides, with the mood he's in, he's more inclined to go to Fight Club. His mom gets an emergency call from the hospital just as he's walking down the stairs and all his plans fly out the window. Somebody's got to watch Sarah and he hadn't mentioned any plans for the night so he can't go anywhere even if he wanted to. It's a good excuse as any, he'll take it.

After he gets Sarah in bed, he heads to his room and can't sleep. He feels like some sort of chick-flick reject and is seriously contemplating beating the shit out of himself à la Edward Norton. It's not a realistic option tonight since he's babysitting (and therefore isn't allowed to die or whatever) so instead he lies in bed, the sheets warming under his weight, and just stops fighting himself.

Fucking Finn. The boy has everything and now he takes the one thing in the whole school that... That what? Belongs to me, Puck thinks before he can stop himself. Next he thinks: She'd be so offended by that.

He groans out loud. This is not happening. Rachel is nothing to him. She isn't even a proper ex. She's a summer distraction that... Just go to sleep, Puckerman.

(He winds up playing Street Fighter 4 on his PS3 until two in the morning and only switches it off when he hears the rusty rumble of the garage door opening.)

The next morning, he's armed with blueberry when he spots her having words with Quinn between her and Finn's lockers. He knows there's only one reason Quinn would deign to speak to Manhands directly which just serves to validate his suspicions about what's going in the glee club. Something is definitely going on between Finn and Rachel and the feelings Puck remembers from the first time he slushied her—all the resentment and anger—come back full force. It makes him nudge O'Connell, who's walking with him carrying a second slushie, and tilt his head in Rachel's direction. O'Connell's eyes go wide for a second then he nods. Puck doesn't usually ask people to help him slushie Rachel—Puck doesn't let people help him slushie Rachel—but he's going to make an exception today. She fucking deserves it.

He times it just right, slows his pace (O'Connell drops a step behind), and waits as Rachel takes a few backward steps away from Quinn. The minute she transfers her weight to the balls of her feet, he walks forward and bam! Full frontal hit. O'Connell follows his lead, gets her right in the face, and Puck high-fives him behind her back. He knows she can hear them laughing.

Quinn is hiding her laughter behind her hand but Puck knows she's enjoying this as much as he is. He catches her eye, grins and winks. She smiles at him like he's a hero. Quinn is gorgeous and perfect and popular and why in God's name would Finn risk the privilege of having all that beauty to himself? She throws her shoulders back, waves at him and turns down the hallway. He stares after her (thank heaven for that Cheerio skirt, man) and, for a moment, Puck forgets about the mess he's made behind him.

Later that day, he's in the nurse's office with his Applied Mathematics text book balanced on his lap (he's part of that dual enrolment program Lima Community College has going on with the local high schools so he can earn college credits; he likes it because it's all done online and no one but the school administration ever has to know) when the door opens. First thing he does is chuck the books under the bed and lie down. The pencil he had tucked behind his ear pops out and snacks him in the face, barely missing his eye. He catches it before it hits the ground. Then he rolls around a little bit to make the bed look like he's been using it for its original purpose and not as a conveniently curtained desk. Evening out his breathing, he pretends he's sleeping when his wildest fantasy starts coming true right there: the Cheerio squad files in one by one and starts stripping down to nothing on the other side of the privacy curtain. Instant boner.

He's considering the best way to convince them to join him on his freshly repurposed bed when he hears his ex's voice. Santana is bitching about scales and diets and Puck suddenly realises that this whole situation is even better than he thought. Not only is the Cheerio squad practically naked within five feet of him but they're all feeling intensely vulnerable—or, at least, they will be as soon as they step off the scale. It's like a gift from God just walked into his life and Puck makes a mental note to go to Temple that weekend.

He listens for the sniffles and the sighs of relief. Cheerios that walk away from the scale happy are going to be the smuggest bitches in the world for the next week, at least. The confidence boost it gives them allows them to be picky about who they spread their legs for and while almost all of them would definitely say yes if Puck asked, he'd have to work for it, which would, of course, be a total waste of effort because the majority of the squad is walking off the scale crying. Tears equals desperation equals eagerness to please and Puck likes to be pleased.

Lying there, he tries to narrow his options down in his head. Santana is obviously out of the question because she literally hopped off the scale cackling. Puck rolls his eyes at this; she's going to be absolutely impossible to deal with for a while. Brittany is off the list of possibilities too—not because she's somehow managing to maintain the exact weight Sylvester requires, but because Santana is going to have her attached at the pinkie. There are a couple of Cheerios with boyfriends on the football team so Puck strikes those off his list because they have the whole season ahead of them and they already suck badly enough as it is. Adding internal conflict is just begging for outright humiliation. In the end, he still winds up with pretty decent pickings.

He's busy deciding whether he wants a blonde or a brunette when he realizes Quinn is the last Cheerio left in the room with him. He listens as she climbs onto the scale; her feet making the old metal shift and groan a little in the silence. The nurse, old sweetheart that she is, makes a couple of adjustments and then makes a sympathetic little noise. Quinn's silhouette slumps downward and Puck hears a choked sob. Before he can think too much about what he's doing, he's already stood up and stretched a bit. His yawn is real as he pushes the curtains aside. Across the room, Quinn looks up and they make eye contact.

Astonishingly, she's the one who looks away first. She lowers her head and sniffles a little louder. For a second, it looks like her whole body just curls in on itself. Puck thinks she's never looked more vulnerable or more real. Oddly enough, he thinks it makes her absolutely fucking beautiful. He stands there staring at the crown of her head for a little while longer before turning around and grabbing his stuff from under the bed (he surreptitiously shoves his math books into his bag). As he's walking out, he passes right by where Quinn is sitting and he can't help himself. He stops in front of her, waits until she looks up at him with dried eyes and a scowl, and tells her softly, sincerely, "You're not fat."

The scowl disappears and her cheeks go prettily pink almost instantly. She looks up at him with gratitude and a little bit of that something else that always, always draws him in. He smirks at her a little and she giggles, he winks at her and her giggle turns into a laugh. She starts shaking her head and pushes herself to her feet. Puck hasn't stepped back yet so the whole front of her brushes against the whole front of him. They both freeze there and stare at each other.

Puck can't help it when, surrounded by the smell of her apricot shampoo, his eyes flicker to her lips. She licks them in response and it's like a universally understood invitation. It's an invitation Puck can't imagine passing up because this is Quinn Fabray and he's wanted to kiss her since the moment he saw her shifting nervously on the edge of the football field at the beginning of freshman year. He leans in the smallest fraction; the arm holding his bag in place on his shoulder brushes against her skin and she gasps. He swoops forward just as she steps sideways. It takes both of them all their athletic grace not to stumble around awkwardly.

He blinks then turns to look at her. She looks horrified and, well, fuck if he's going stick around to be on the receiving end of that. Hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder, he nods at her and moves to leave. His hand is on the door handle when she speaks.

"Thanks, Puck." She sounds a little sorry and he can't even blame her for dodging because she's Quinn and she's dating Finn, his best friend. She was never ever a possibility.

He shrugs. "Whatever, Q. You know you're not fat."

Then he leaves before she smiles again and he gets them both in trouble.

Turns out, he can run from Trouble, but it'll always find him and the more he runs, the worse it will inevitably beat him to the ground. It catches up with him later that afternoon.

After leaving Quinn in the nurse's office, Puck snuck his way into the stacks and found a corner so out of the way he doubted the librarian even knew it was there. He finished up what was left of his Math assignment and then read his English text until the bell rang. (Tell no one but his GPA? Seventh highest in the school.) Football practice goes as usual, except for the fact that Finn isn't there. While it isn't out of character for a player to miss practice on occasion, Finn is the quarterback. Plus Quinn is over on the other side of field with the Cheerios, working them like a slave driver building a pyramid on deadline during a brick shortage. Obviously, everyone knows where Finn has disappeared to; McKinley is better than E! at spreading gossip.

Puck makes a point to pass by the choir room afterward so he can maybe catch Finn and talk some sense into the friendly giant. Puck gets that Finn means well, that his intentions are all noble and shit, but high school is not the place to try that. Things will get complicated. Even if the guy just likes singing and dancing, if the rumours that he's a big fucking fairy don't end him, then the rumour about him trying to play the head Cheerio (and cheating with the biggest loser in the school) definitely will. Puck's busy working out the best way to explain why these rumours are bad things to his admittedly dim-witted friend when he realises the doors to the auditorium are ajar. Of course he's not prepared to walk face-first into total validation of the latter rumour but that's what he does because when does he ever plan shit?

The setting screams Rachel. She likes this indoor picnic thing—Puck knows because she had set one up for one of their dates (middle of a hot August day, her living room floor, her fathers in the backyard, his lips on hers whenever he wanted). That's all he really makes of the environment because his attention is immediately focused on the two people on stage.

Feeling numb isn't supposed to hurt. Puck thinks something's got to be wrong with him because he thinks he feels numb but there's this sort of wrenching, twisting, tugging, piercing ache in his chest. He's so confused by it that he can't even bring himself to look away. Finn's gangly form is impossible to mistake and the petite brunette could be anybody but really, what's the point of lying to himself now? Rachel Berry is there, shifting onto her back, lying tense beneath Hudson, one hand clutching at the fabric of the absolutely fugly shirt he's wearing today. She looks nervous but it's blatantly obvious that she's willing and Finn is fucking eager. They move slowly, her body lowering by degrees to the cushions she has artfully spread out around them, until finally, she's on her back, knees bent and slightly parted for Finn, who's hovering tensely above her.

Recently, as in: since walking in on the gleeks singing Don't Stop Believing, Puck has made a conscious effort not to think about Rachel. His concern has been solely for Finn. Finn is his best friend and he loves the dude like a brother. They've been through a lot of stupid and serious shit together and they're tight. Honestly, if asked Puck to name the one person outside of his family he couldn't live without, his first thought would always be Finn. No homo. He's one of three people on Puck's list of "People I Would Probably Give Up My Life For (if they really, really needed it)". And up to five minutes ago Puck probably would have jumped in front of a bus to save Finn if the big dimwit needed it.

Now though, as Finn slowly lowers his lips to Rachel's, all Puck wants to do is push the motherfucker under a bus himself. For a moment, the fantasy of watching some large automobile smash Hudson's bones to dust distracts Puck just long enough for him to miss most of their actual kiss. He doesn't remember when Rachel moved her leg so Finn could fit himself between her thighs. Now though, Puck's paying attention again and even from a distance he can sees Finn's body jerk awkwardly against Rachel's. The thought of the two of them literally bumping uglies (that whole Push It fiasco? Completely blocked. That shit was borderline scarring) has Puck moving forward even as Finn jumps to his feet. A second passes in which Puck thinks he's been spotted and Finn is about to deny, deny, deny. This isn't the case.

The auditorium is silent so there's nothing to mask the sound of Finn begging Rachel not to tell anyone about them. Finn spins around and disappears backstage. Rachel literally crumbles. Puck remains in place, unmoving, until he hears a door slam shut in the distance. At the sound, Rachel's whole body is wracked with a harsh sob. Puck watches her cry and vindictively thinks, Serves you right for kissing him.

Then she's just sitting there abandoned and sobbing and he can't help what he does next. Later he'll try to convince himself that he did it to prevent Zach from kicking his ass when he found out that Puck had seen all this and done nothing. Rachel was their girl (although in very different ways) and he couldn't just leave her there like that. (He'll try to convince himself but he'll fail; even he's not stupid enough to buy that.)

He doesn't make any effort to conceal his presence as he makes his way toward the stage. She's still crying into her hands when he stops at the edge of her makeshift picnic but he knows she knows he's there. He knows she knows it's him.

"Stop crying," he demands. His voice is rough and the anger he feels as he speaks to her is entirely unexpected. He knows he's pissed at Finn. He didn't realise how angry he was at her, how hurt. (Yeah, he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that.)

She sniffles and finally looks up at him. She looks utterly devastated. Her eyes are swollen, her nose is red and she looks generally puffy. On her there's nothing beautiful about tears and heartache. Nothing about her vulnerability makes him feel like he can finally touch her (he's never really felt like he couldn't; he just chooses not to). Seeing her like that, all small and helpless and hurt, only makes him want her to stop. She's not that girl—she's not the damsel in distress.

It's startlingly, jarringly different from Quinn.

"Noah."

There's more to say. He knows it and she knows it but neither of them will do anything about it because he's just seen her do the worst thing she's ever done in her life (and this includes getting Sandy Ryerson fired—the man was a menace) and she's ashamed. He can see it all over her, the shame and the guilt, and he wonders for a moment when he started channelling his mother.

"Noah." She takes a big gulp of air, searches his eyes for a sign of pity or something then looks down at her hands when she doesn't find it. She opens her mouth to finish her sentence but all that comes out is another sob. When she says his name again, it's physically wrenches him toward her. "Noah."

This has to stop. She just sobbed his name and he hated it. Rachel is a lot of things but broken is not one of them. Somehow he doesn't feel responsible for dropping to his knees beside her. He isn't the one telling his arms to hold her. His mouth is out of control and the kisses he's pressing against her hair are in no way his choice. His body is betraying him and he can't do anything to stop it.

"Noah," she cries again. It sounds like some hybrid of a plea and a whimper so he tightens his hold on her. She still fits into him like no one else. Even at this odd angle, she's easy to hold. He can't explain why or how but their bodies just work together and it's both thrilling and terrifying because what's happening right now? Completely abnormal. They're in school and he's sitting on stage with her tucked snugly into him and he's kissing her hair and her forehead and her cheeks and her eyelids and her nose and...

She blinks up at him when he stops. He stares at her, takes in all the ugly pain painted across her face then leans forward just enough to rest his forehead against hers. The small shift of his body alerts him to the fact that her hands are back at their favourite resting place: she's clenched her fists in the fabric over his heart and he thinks if he was more left-brained, he'd find significance in that.

"You look fucking awful," he blurts out. That's not what he wanted to say at all. He cringes the second he's formed the last syllable. They're so close he can't help but notice the subtle tightening of her mouth. She's going to cry again and this time it's going to be his fault. It's not, not really, but he won't let it happen anyway. Before she can make any sort of sound, he leans forward and does what he always wants to do when he's around her: he kisses her.

She lets him.

She squeaks. It's cute. He kisses her harder for it. There's a brief period where she does some scrambling. Her hands are all over him, she's half trying to push him away, half trying to pull him closer. Finally, she relaxes when he runs his palm up her spine to settle the hand in the hair above her neck. He tugs her around so she facing him—it takes a bit of manoeuvring and their kiss breaks into harsh breaths as he repositions her. He watches her skirt as she shifts. It's teeny and pleated and riding indecently high on her thighs. He loves it.

She winds up kneeling in front of him because she's too short if she sits flat while he's still on his knees. She still has to look up at him and she can't begin to describe the way he's looking at her. Well, at her legs. Normally, she would be offended but she's not thinking like herself. Finn has just outright rejected her (she's not proud of having offered) but this is Noah. Noah: who looks at her makes her feel wanted; who kisses her and makes her feel beautiful. Noah, who, for all he puts her though, makes her feel things no one else can.

This is Noah who makes her feel like Rachel is enough.

He can't begin to guess at what she's thinking as her expression changes. All he knows is that this look—this particular softness in her eyes and this subtle upturn of her lips—is something he was never wants anyone else to see. She doesn't leave him much time to ponder it though. For the first time since she ended them, she kisses him.

She uses her grip on his shirt for leverage and leans up to press her lips to his. Unlike his kisses, hers start softly. She spends long minutes practically sipping at him until he can't stand it anymore. When a growl of frustration finally escapes the back of his throat, she pulls back. Puck honestly doesn't believe she knows what she looks like when she licks her lips because the thought of her knowingly wielding that much power over him is totally frightening. No wonder Finn couldn't resist, he thinks. Then he scowls and she jumps. He keeps her tight to him rather easily. Then he leans in and picks up where she left off.

He doesn't sip and tease—he isn't even particularly gentle with his mouth—he just needs to have her, to claim her in some indisputable manner. Again, she lets him. Rachel opens her mouth for him and he very nearly comes in his pants. Controlling himself with a will of iron, he doesn't hesitate to take what she's offering. He knows Finn didn't kiss her like this. But, some annoying part of him points out, Finn got between her legs.

His next actions don't even warrant consideration. He simply shifts their combined weight and lowers her to the cushions. They're still kissing. Eventually they have to break it off because the arm supporting his weight is pulling at her hair. He leans back, bracing his weight on one hand by her waist as the other strokes the skin just under the hem of her shirt. She sits up a bit and gathers her messy strands together before tossing them out behind her head as she lies back down. Puck likes her hair like that: spread like a fan, out of their way but still there for him to enjoy. When she's settled, he wastes no time reclaiming her mouth.

It occurs to him how different this is from what they did in the JCC corridor two months ago. Unlike that time where they were content to just meld mouths and fully-clothed bodies, these kisses are building toward something. Puck knows where this could lead if she doesn't stop him. He can't—and won't—stop himself. He wants this. Badly.

The hand he had stationed at her cheek moves down her body, tracing her curves and brushing the side of her breast on its downward path. He stops it when he feels the delicate curvature of her knee bone and lets his fingers stroke back and forth along the outside of the joint. Finally, her leg twitches and he slides his hand forward to grip it firmly and pull upward. Her limbs follow his lead effortlessly, easily allowing him to settle himself between her thighs. Then they go still. They lie there, pressed intimately together, and stare at each other.

Puck can feel the heat of her through his jeans. He knows she can feel how hard he is for her.

"Rachel," he whispers (unintentionally).

She doesn't answer him. Instead, she cups his cheek in her hand and waits as he plants kisses along the line of her jaw. After a beat without him saying anything else, she shifts her hips. She has to bite her lip to stifle the sound she wants to make and Noah? Noah groans low and guttural and drops his head into the crook of her neck. His resultant immobility makes her worry that she might have done something wrong. He proves her wrong immediately by pressing his lips to the skin of her throat and thrusting his hips into hers.

Puck can't believe what she's allowing him to do to her out in the open, right there on the fucking stage. He can't even remember whether or not he closed the auditorium door behind him when he walked in. All he registers at the moment is the incredible sensation of being between Rachel's legs. He builds a steady rhythm that she matches and this act of pseudo-sex is quickly driving him toward one of the fastest orgasms of his life. He refuses to have this end like that so he slows them down until they are only making the smallest, subtlest rocking motions against each other.

Looking down at Rachel's flushed face, he thinks he's found the words they need. He kisses her gently then turns so his lips brush her ear as he speaks (he's not innocent and he's willing to use every trick he knows on Rachel if it means he'll get what he wants. What he wants is Rachel, all of her, all for his own).

"Tell me you want this," he demands. Then, his body runs ahead of his brain again and his mouth forms the words, "Tell me you want us."

He feels her body tense beneath his and watches her eyes blink to sharp awareness.

"What?" she breathes.

He figures he's already said it. "This, Rach. Us. We feel so fucking good, babe. You can't tell me you don't want it."

He rocks his hips just a little harder for emphasis. Her whole body jerks at sudden the contact and she gasps loudly.

"You want me," he insists with a smirk. "You want me, not Finn. You want me."

Her eyes go wide and everything about her face tells him he just said something really fucking wrong. She pushes at his torso and scrambles out from under him. He lets her up, of course, but that doesn't mean he understands what her problem is. He looks away from the distraction that is a flash of her dark pink panties and grinds out his confusion:

"What the hell, Berry?"

She walks briskly over to the side of the stage and grabs her bag from in the wings with trembling hands. When she turns to look at him, she looks as angry as he feels. (He can't bring himself to admit that she has more right to it than he does.)

"I don't know what this was, Noah, but I don't want you. You have proven over and over again that you want nothing to do with me—in point of fact you prefer to humiliate me on a regular basis—and I... I've found someone worthy of my admiration. At least he is willing to stand up to his peers."

She turns on her heel and is about the exit stage left when he calls out, "So that's it? You're into Finn fucking Hudson now, with his Cheerio girlfriend and all? You'll never get him, Berry. Try it and Q will ruin you. You'll be worse than nothing here if you go after Finn."

He doesn't even bother to appreciate to flare of her skirt as she spins back around to face him, he's that furious.

"You're just jealous," she spits. "You're jealous of Finn because he's the team captain. You're jealous because people actually like him. You're jealous because he's braver than you will ever be and you're jealous because he has—"

Despite the abrupt stop, they both hear the final, unsaid word loud and clear: me.

It hurts him more deeply than he'll ever confess that she would take all of the things she knows about him and fling them in his face like that. He knows he can't refute the things he stupidly told her about himself but he can fix the one superlative mistake he's made all of today. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks toward her. She coils in on herself a bit and he scowls because there's still a part of him that's offended by the thought of her being physically scared of him.

Coming to a stop directly beside her, he leans over and sneers across her cheek, "Don't be so conceited, Berry. I just wanna do you 'cause you're passably hot. Don't go thinking you're special. It'd be cool if I could let the boys know I gave you a facial that didn't involve a slushie but honestly? I'd rather no one ever knew. Finn might be dumb but at least he got that one right before me."

Then he straightens up and walks away.

As he reaches for the handle of the same door he assumes Finn used to escape, he ignores any and all sounds coming from behind him. What does he care?

His façade of cool indifference lasts as far as the opposite end of the school parking lot. He rounds the corner heading toward the football field then swings his fist suddenly and splits his knuckles open on the wall of exposed brick. Fuck!

Finn has Quinn, what the fuck does he want with Rachel too? Puck keeps asking himself this over and over and can't come up with any sort of reasonable answer. This whole mess is Finn's fault and the 'I'm-an-idiot' excuse can only cover so much. If Finn had only stuck to hanging with his regular friends, playing his normal sports and kept his attention on his own fucking girlfriend none of the shit that just went down would have had the chance to happen.

There's a part of Puck that knows he should blame Rachel too but he can't.

He's in a mood straight out of a Shakespearian tragedy for the rest of the night. His mother takes one look at him and tells him he can grab his dinner from the kitchen whenever he wants. She and Sarah settle at the dining room table to work on some solar system project (Pluto is a freaking planet, just saying) and they give him space. If he wasn't so pissed, he'd acknowledge the fact that he really loves his family at these times.

When Mike calls him up around six and says a bunch of footballers are headed over to hang out at O'Connell's, BYOB, he doesn't think twice about grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. His mom calls after him to be safe and he waves noncommittally over his shoulder. The gas station cashier is a little too shrewd for him to buy straight beer off of but he somehow manages to convince her that he's picking up the wine coolers for a family thing. He gets two cases and heads to the party.

Within an hour, he's chugged a whole case by himself. He's buzzed enough to not question too much why O'Connell is being oddly generous toward him and plying him with truly quality whiskey from the drinks cabinet. He vaguely registers some mutterings about the epic opportunity to slushie Berry. Rachel. Shit. He makes a shot of whatever's left in his glass and is wandering aimlessly in search of O'Connell's cabinet of tricks when he sees Quinn looking pissed beyond in a corner. His feet veer off course and he finds himself offering her a wine cooler (who knew he was still holding onto those?) and a suggestive smirk. She rolls her eyes at him but takes the alcohol. She's queen of the Celibacy Club but she's got no illusions of Prohibition.

Puck feels a bit stupid just standing there watching her drink so he pops a bottle open and leans against the wall beside her. Maybe he's too close, his depth perception isn't exactly top notch at the moment (Good God, he's got to find out what O'Connell was serving tomorrow). It takes him a minute to realize that she's there on her own.

"Where's the fuck is Finn?" He's proud his words don't slur together. His alcohol tolerance is steadily increasing.

Quinn's mellow is totally harshed by the mention of her boyfriend. She practically growls out, "Probably screwing Manhands because she weighs less than a hundred and ten pounds."

The whiskey is obviously kicking in because Puck doesn't feel angry. He just looks at this gorgeous, enraged cheerleader in front of him and thinks, Hey, this is my chance.

"You're not fat and Finn's a fucking retard if he doesn't want you."

The honesty in his voice surprises her. All Puck wonders is where these words were six hours ago. She smiles at him, that smile that he knows will get them in trouble one day, and takes a long drink from her bottle.

Half an hour later Puck doesn't know what he said to get himself into her bedroom (he remembers something about her not being fat and her being so fucking special and something about how much he's always wanted to kiss her) but they're lying on her bed and she's letting him rub himself lewdly against the outside of her leg. She stops him more than once to ask (important but annoying) questions about his feelings and then about birth control and he's so gone that he just says, "Trust me," because Quinn pretty much admitted he was legit getting to pop her cherry.

It's not as great as he thought it would be. Quinn looks spectacular naked but there's this disconnected part of his brain that thinks she's too tall, too blonde and it hates the way she doesn't know what to do with her hair once it's out of Sylvester's severe regulation ponytail. Her eyes aren't big enough, they're too light, and he just wants to be fucking Rachel instead.

But Rachel wants Finn, he thinks.

When he comes inside Quinn, he feels generally victorious because Finn, the girlfriend-stealing bastard, can suck it.

Five weeks later, Finn is acting all weird and Quinn hasn't spoken to him directly since the morning after when she told him to never mention what had happened to anyone, ever or even the baby Jesus wouldn't be able to save his sorry ass. He didn't care, just shrugged and left (because he really didn't want to stand there and think about saying pretty much the same thing to someone else the day before).

In the break between second and third periods, he sees Finn holding a crying Quinn by her locker and he wonders what's up in an off-handed way. When he finally manages to catch up to Finn, his life changes in a single mumbled sentence.

Quinn's pregnant.

Fuck his life, Puck joins Glee the next week.

TBC