A/N: Hi Everyone, After being so entertained reading such fantastic fanfic based on the most AWESOME TV show on the airwaves, I thought I could let my imagination have at it, and try my hand at some fanfic as well. This story has Puckleberry all over it ;) It's also A/U. Hope you enjoy...I have an vague idea of where this is going, but any opinions, critique would be most welcome.

Disclaimer: Glee, not mine...if it was, I would quit my day job. Oh, and the title of the fic is based on the song "If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago.

"Save me!" she looked at him, her deep brown eyes pleading, "I'm begging you!"

"Look, babe, I..."

"Please! My sanity is at stake." Her eyes widened, a scary sort of determination being forged in them, "believe me mister, you do not want to see me go crazy."

Damn, she looked intense. He gulped in spite of himself, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I don't wanna see that."

"So...will you?" she pressed, "Because you have approximately five seconds to decide..four...three...two..."

He gave her a quick once over and concluded that despite her midget-like height (well...compared to his height), she was smokin'. He shrugged with a practiced nonchalance that only enhanced his bad ass exterior, "What the hell?"

She breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed his hand possessively as she whirled her body away from the bar to face the dance floor, forcing him to turn around abruptly as well. A flash went off, momentarily blinding him.

"The fuck!" he protested, using his arm as a shield to block the assault of light from another candid snapshot.

"So this is him?" a man with a frizzy brown fro, dark rimmed square glasses, long nose and bad teeth demanded in a nasally voice.

"You actually have the nerve to doubt me?" she gasped with indignation, "I assure you Mr. Ben Isreal, that when I informed you earlier about very serious, albeit clandestine relationship, it wasn't merely a ploy to stop you from sending flowers to my house and leaving messages of you singing "Let's Get It On" quite badly and off tune I might add, to my personal answering machine," she gave him a quizzical glance, "How do you even know my phone number? I've had it changed three times!"

The girl's stalker looked about ready to respond to her query with some creepy technical mumbo-jumbo, but she interrupted him before he finished inhaling, "That was a rhetorical question by the way. I'm not interested in an explanation that will only give me further justification for carrying big purses that hold multiple containers of mace. Oh...and being involved with men who are in posession of seriously toned biceps," she added as an afterthought, smiling towards the handsome stranger beside her. His brow raised as he gave her the you know it look. She couldn't for the life of her understand why her cheeks flushed from that one glance but eventually determined that the entire club had suddenly and instantaneously gotten warmer. She made a mental note to inform the manager of the establishment.

"He doesn't look so tough," Fro-man countered with a distinct quiver in his voice. "I mean, he's got one arm in a sling," he pointed out, all the while taking a cautious step back from the couple.

The girl's expression looked confused, and slowly she carefully assessed her, er...boyfriend? She wondered at how she could have missed the fact that the man she'd picked for this little adventure had a maimed limb?

Puck resisted the urge to chuckle out loud. Clearly she'd been too preoccupied by his studliness to consider little details like his obviously broken arm. Who could blame her? He was one fine looking specimen.

Fro-man was openly waiting for the girl to answer, and since she was still too busy oggling his own hot ass, Puck decided to take matters into his own hands. "Look dude, if you're questioning my ability to pound your face into a pulp with my one good arm, I suggest we take this outside,"

With a shaky, nasal, pre-pubesant whine, Fro-man said, "I was merely speculating on how someone like you would sustain an injury like that. Perhaps a motor vehicle accident? Running into a pole while intoxicated?"

"Dude, are you serious? I earned this. I was in a fight so epic, it's out on YouTube."

"But your arm's broken," Fro pointed out flatly.

"Yeah? You should see the other guy," Puck grinned devilishly.

The hot brunette entered into the conversation with a disapproving frown, "Darling," she began emphatically, "We both know that I would never willingly enter into a relationship with a man who condoned violence. In fact, we've had multiple discussions about the benefits of civil, verbal exchanges as the proper means to settling disputes."

"Babe, you know I was only agreeing with you so you'd let me touch your boobs." She gasped with righteous indignation. "You how much I love getting physical. When it comes to that, baby, you know I'm number one...and I'm kick-ass at fighting too."

She glared at him, forgetting about the inquisitive audience they had in a certain Jacob Ben Isreal, full time creeper and part time freelance journalist (gossip monger) for his personal blog and The New York Daily.

"Your neanderthal tendencies aren't at all charming."

"Babe, that's not what you said last night,"

"Ugh!" she scoffed in disgust, "I must have momentarilly lost my mind when I thought you were attractive."

"It's the guns, chicks go hot for them."

"Oh really?" she shot back, "Chicks," she spit out, "Go hot for the uni-gun? The other one doesn't seem to be working at full capacity right now."

"Baby, you know it!" He flexed his good arm, showing off the toned muscle straining against his rolled up polo shirt. Puck shot a meaningful glance towards Jacob who'd taken out his pad and was hastilly scribbling notes down. "They were both fully functional when we first met right?" he ad libbed, "I mean, that's why we're in this relationship...or whatever..." he trailed off, realizing quickly that if this charade had any chance in hell of working, that he ought to steer cleer of topics that turned his dick into a vagina. "and that we have kick-ass fuck sessions," he added for good measure.

It was the crass comment that made her suddenly recollect her surroundings, she took a deep breath in, "Darling," she gritted her teeth, "perhaps it would be better if we discussed our personal differences and activities in a less public forum."

"You're the one arguing babe. I'm just sitting here fantasizing about the make-up sex we're gonna have tonight."

Her mouth opened and closed comically like a fish for a few seconds before she got her voice back. "It's Rachel. Not babe or baby or any other derivative of a word that I personally find demeaning when used in that particular context. I have never, ever encountered a more infuriating person. And trust me when I tell you that there will be no make-up sex tonight." With that, she attempted to storm away.

She heard him call after her in a voice that carried well over the crowd, "How 'bout tomorrow night?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. Not one to let the other get the last word in, she turned on her heel and gave him a wicked smile, "But we're headed to Ohio tomorrow baby, to meet my family. How could you forget? And as liberal as my two gay dads are, my room's not sound proof. Even they would object to the sound of a man's voice yelling in the middle of the night about how accomplished a lover their daughter is."

Jacob's mouth flung open in shock. Even Rachel was surprised at herself for uttering her less than lady-like retort...but to be fair, there was something about the man's cockiness that pushed all her buttons. She put her hands on her hips and dared him to counter that.

"Well hell," Puck grinned...Well hell indeed.