Title: Crazy
Pairing: Puckleberry, y'all (that's Puck/Rachel, for the few of you who may not know)
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: You knew when you were getting yourself into all of this, that Rachel Berry was nuts. No really. She's practically certified. But it's cool, you know? Cos even though she's seven different types of crazy, you've gotten used to it.
Warnings: Puck is very, very fond of the F-bomb.

You knew when you were getting yourself into all of this, that Rachel Berry was fuckin' nuts. No really. She's practically certified. But it's cool, you know? Cos even though she's seven different types of crazy, you've gotten so used to it, that now? Now, when she goes off onto one of her epic rants, you kind of just tune her out and try not to smile at how adorable she is. You know, unless she's like super pissed at you. Then you bet your ass you've gotta pay attention. You miss one second of her little snit, and kaboom. They'll be picking up pieces of you for the next ten years.

But when she's calm and cool, she's fucking cool. The first time you went over to her house, you were afraid that she was gonna force feed you vegan-friendly shit and make you watch musicals until you died. Also, to be totally honest, you were kind of fucking terrified of her dads. You don't do well with dads. They hate you. Most take one look at you and just know that in a few hours, some part of you is gonna be inside their daughter. Which is totally never a good thing for dads to know. And not that you're homophobic or anything (you're totally not. You're all for the gays. Kurt's a little weird, but not cos he's gay. It's cos he's fucking weird.) but the two dads, who are gay for each other? It kinda worries you only on the level that you know you're a hot piece of ass, and what in the fuck are you gonna do if one of your girl's dads comes on to you?

Yeah, okay, so probably not gonna happen. The two Mr. Berrys have been together for like, twenty something years. The dudes probably only have eyes for each other. You're comfortable enough that if one of them had an appreciative little looky-loo at you when you first got to their house, you know it's cos you're a sex viking and everything.

But then you sit down to dinner, and suddenly Mark is talking to you about football and school and "how's your daughter doing?" and when he asks your opinion on whether or not Brett Favre is really retiring this year, he has to know what he's getting himself into. Rachel and her other father, David, share an amused look from the kitchen when you launch into your standard ten minute rant about why Favre can kiss your ass. Rachel smiles at you over her dinner when you're done, and you dig into your steak and potatoes like it's going out of style. Seriously. Most delicious meal you've had in a while (you love your Ma, but the woman's ordered take-out for the past two weeks in a row. Enough is enough, you know?)

Then, once Mark and David have shooed Rachel away from the dirty dishes at the sink, they have like, zero problems when she grabs your hand and drags you into her (holy pink hell) bedroom. And shuts the door behind you two. Score.

Also cool? You two watch 'V for Vendetta'. And that movie kicks some serious ass. The amount of blood that comes out of people when V kills them is like, ridiculous. Then she puts in 'Mr. & Mrs. Smith', which you love and she hates. Something about how she doesn't enjoy watching the beginning of a relationship that ruined a marriage. Whatever. Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie are both smokin', in kind of different ways, but you wouldn't turn either of them down.

It doesn't really matter that she hates the movie though, cos the two of you spend most of it making out. And doing...other things. Look, you've had (admittedly) tons of sex with a lot of girls, but there's something about Rachel that makes you clam up about your sex life. It's fucked up and you'll never admit it to anyone, but you actually really care about this chick. So after all the 'fooling around', she's dozing away on your chest while you stare up at the ceiling, the credits for the movie playing in the background, you kind of start to think about her. And how awesome she is.

But then your mind goes all weird with too much thinking, and you start thinking of all the crazy things about your relationship with Berry.

And, you know, about how she is fucking crazy.

No exaggeration. Chick is out of her damned mind. But not in a stalkery, "I will hide in your closet and watch you sleep" kind of way. But in a, "I overreact to everything and take life way too seriously even though I'm 16 and should chill out cos I've got plenty of time" kind of way. Okay, like, one time, when you two were fighting at three in the motherfucking morning and you yawned, she actually lost her shit. Good thing her dads weren't home, and her room is soundproofed, because someone would have died from the sheer volume of her screaming.

It didn't help when you snapped back, saying, "Dude, it's three in the morning. I yawned. Kill me. 'S not like I was fucking listening anyway."

So, yeah, that last part wasn't supposed to be said out loud. But your brain gets kind of stupid when you haven't slept all night and you've got school in five hours. You know you're twenty different kinds of screwed when her eyes get all big and watery, and her mouth shuts tight. She stares at you, trying to like burn holes into you with her eyes or something, and you rub your hand over your face. "Babe, I didn't-"

"Get out."

You look up, eyebrow cocked, at the words she spits out at you. "What?"

"I said, get out!" she yells, throwing stuffed animals at your face. You put your arms up to block them as she slowly maneuvers you towards her bedroom door. "You are unbelievable, Noah Puckerman! I'm trying to sit here and explain to you just why I do not appreciate it when Santana sends you those...those filthy, degrading text messages even though she knows you and I are together! No self-respecting female should send a text message to another girl's boyfriend that says, and I quote, 'I'm lying in my bed, naked and wanting you inside me. Ditch the freak and come over.' And the fact that you just sit there and let her do this, time after time, just lets me know that you clearly are not involved in our relationship!"

Most of the time she's talking, all you can think about is how red her face is getting, and when what she's saying hits you, you take a few steps towards her. "Now wait a god damned minute-"

"No, Noah!" she cries, waving her arms. "I'm not waiting anymore for you to stand up for me! You don't care about this!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I care. Shit, Rachel, just cos I have options doesn't mean I use them! Jesus, Berry. What the hell would I be doing here so late...early...whatever, if I didn't fucking care about you?"

And even though that's probably the most heartfelt thing you're ever gonna say in your whole life, she manages to narrow in on the one bad part of the whole speech.

"Options?" she whispers, looking at you with the saddest eyes you've ever seen and it kills you. "Options, Noah? As in, more than one?" She turns her back on you, and moves out of the way whenever you try and touch her, when you try to bring her back into your arms. She sighs, sadly, and hangs her head. "Get out, Noah. Just...just leave. Go enjoy your options."

"Berry-"

"No, it's fine," she insists, turning back around to face you like nothing's wrong. But the thing is, you've been with enough girls and dated Santana long enough to know that when the word 'fine' is used in an argument, absolutely nothing in the god damned world is fucking fine. 'Fine' is like the kiss of death. No good comes from the word 'fine.' "Go enjoy your options," she tells you, casually making her way back to the bed, picking up the discarded stuffed animals on her way. "I'm sure I could find a few...options of my own. Options that would be very pleased when I welcome them into my bedroom."

And in no fucking way are you gonna let that fly. No dude, no guy except Noah Elijah Puckerman, is gonna lay their hands on Rachel Caroline Berry if you have any fuckin' say about it. Stalking towards her, you watch her eyes widen and she backs up in alarm, flinching when you reach past her onto the bed for your cell phone. You look her straight in the eyes as you dial Santana's number and hold the phone to your ear.

She answers with a throaty, sexy sounding, "Hello?"

"Yeah, hey Santana," you say shortly, still looking Rachel in the eyes. She gets an insanely sad look on her face as she misunderstands where this phonecall is going. You lift her chin with your fingers and make eye contact once more. "So, here's the deal. I get the fact that you're a horny bitch all the time and whatever, and you're into fucking whoever you want, whenever you want. But it's not gonna fly with me anymore. I'm with Rachel now, and she and I don't like being fucking woken up right after we've gone to bed cos you don't know how to keep it in your pants. So back the fuck off, and have a nice night."

You hang up on the sound of her squawking in indignation, and Rachel looks so fucking proud of you that it makes you smile. You take her face in your hands and kiss her, hard, and say, "Rach, I yawned cos it's way beyond time to go to bed. I can't help it. You need to stop flipping out over everything and just let me get some sleep, kay?"

She smiles at you, and kisses your cheek like she didn't just keep you awake for the whole night.

And now that you're thinking about it, it's also never stopped being weird for you about her mom. Like, the fact that suddenly she had one, and it was the coach of the rival glee club. How shitty of luck was that? And plus, her mom basically was responsible for the first guy who ever really dated Berry completely screwing her over, something that you think is more than a little fucked up. And then she basically admits she wants nothing to do with her own daughter, after putting her through the ringer? Seriously. If she wasn't a lady and your girl's mom, you would have punched her in the face.

Oh, and then there's the whole other fucked up part where, you know. Your girlfriend is also your daughter's half-sister. Or something really weird like that. So Rachel's mom, who she is actually totally blood related to, adopted your's and Quinn's daughter. You didn't really even think about it until Kurt pointed it out to the both of you with one of his snide little comments.

So if you and Rach ever, like, get married, you're gonna be your daughter's half-brother-in-law or something as equally fucked up and holy shit, you really were not thinking that through. Yeah, Shelby will probably give Beth a better life than you ever could have, but it's gonna be weird watching your baby girl grow up, being so close by, and her not have any idea that you're her father.

Seriously. Ever since this glee club started your life has gotten worse than one of those soaps your mom watches.

Your mind slips back into the present, and Rachel gives a little sigh as she turns away from you. You watch her for a little while, before pulling on a pair of your sweats that she keeps in her room, and grabbing the button down shirt she made you wear tonight. You pad down the stairs, stomach growling even though you had a totally kickass dinner, and peer into the fridge. Eventually you grab a styrofoam box that you brought back from dinner one time, and open it up. The BBQ Wings still look good, and Rachel even made sure that there was one of those little plastic containers of ranch dressing in the fridge for you. Best chick ever.

After you've dumped the wings onto the plate and put them in the microwave and heated them up to your liking, you're just chilling at the island in the kitchen, munching away, when David walks in. You kind of choke on the food when he does, because even though he's the (slightly) smaller of the two, he's always been the one that intimidated you the most. After you're done coughing, you nod, and say, "Hello, sir."

He gives you an amused smile as he tugs the fridge open, fishing around for the carton of skim milk. You think it's kinda cool how, even though neither of Rachel's dads are vegan, or even vegetarian, they're totally willing to stock the fridge with all of the anti-animal food that she wants, whatever that is. "Noah," he says, pulling a glass out of a cupboard. "You don't have to call me 'sir.' We've had this conversation many times," he reminds you, sitting opposite you at the island. "We're not in court. You can call me David."

You give him a small nod in understanding, and continue eating your wings in silence. You can feel David's eyes on you, but not in a 'checking you out' kind of way. It's the scary, 'you're dating my daughter and I know what post-sex munchies are and you have them after spending the past two hours defiling my daughter' kind of way. Which is why what he says next surprises you a little.

"You make my daughter happy, Noah," he says once he's finished his glass of milk. He makes his way to the sink and rinses out the cup, then turns to face you once more. "Even when she was with Finn, or even that Jesse boy," (another plus, her dads totally hated that douche.) "...I don't think I've seen her as happy as she is when you're here."

You give him an actual smile, and say, "I really like her, sir. David. Sorry."

He waves it off, and says with a smile of his own, "Just understand that if you hurt my little girl, I will hunt you down." He claps a hand on your shoulder as he walks by, making his way back to his bedroom. "Goodnight, Noah."

You stare after him with wide eyes, cos you know that dude is serious. "Goodnight, sir."

It takes you a little while to head back up the stairs once you've finished eating, cos you don't know if he's waiting at the top with a shotgun or something. He's not. You walk into Rachel's room and shut the door behind you, only mildly surprised to see the light from the TV flickering over her. She's sitting up in her bed with her knees drawn to her chest, a glass of water in her hand. She gives you a smile when you walk in, and says, "Food?"

This chick totally gets you. You smirk and slowly strip off your clothes, liking the way her eyes go up and down your body once you're naked. You slip into bed with her and put an arm around her shoulder. Taking the cup out of her hand, you take a sip before setting it down onto the nightstand. She gives you a curious little look, her eyes lit up as Family Guy starts playing on AdultSwim. "Everything okay?" she asks quietly.

And god damn it if you don't love that she knows you well enough to know that when you smirk and say, "Everything's cool, baby," you really mean, "Everything's perfect."

She smiles and burrows into your arms, and the two of you sit in the bed with only the TV on for noise. It's a while before you break the silence.

"So babe...do either of your dads own shotguns?"