Dedicated to 24ljs, who won this in the Support Stacie auction.

Enjoy this behemoth and hopefully it makes you want to experience something like this as well, just like I did.

Puck takes in the people around him, watches as a mother grasps onto her child and struggles with a bag of groceries in another. After months spent in the searing heat of the Afghan desert, returning back to civilian life has been jarring. He is due back for another tour in a few days and Puck can't decide if he is relishing the opportunity to pull on his fatigues and swelter back on base, passing the hours restlessly while at the same time dreading the patrols that had claimed more than one friend in his unit. Scratching his temple Puck shoves his hands deeper into his pockets as the light flashes green, trying to decide what to do with his last few hours of freedom.

He iss rounding the corner when it happens.

Something small and compact collides into his chest and sends him staggering back a few paces, his hands shooting out to grasp onto a curved waist. Taking in the long brown hair spilling over her shoulder, Puck grins.

'Hey, are you okay?' He asks. The woman looks up at him with wide brown eyes and Puck finds himself encased in some kind of bubble, where everything simply fades into the background. Her lashes flutter and the spell is broken but Puck keeps his grip on her side, for some reason hesitant to let her go.

'I'm extremely sorry! I have a propensity for getting lost in my head when I'm doing my mental preparations. It's important that I take the stage with my head completely able to focus on the task at hand because my audience deserves the very best from me,' she speaks in one, big giant breath. Puck gapes and the woman colours.

'Again, I extend my apologies. My friends frequently inform me that I have a tendency for being verbose.'

'Verbose huh?' Puck feels the warmth of her skin through her jacket.

'I'm Rachel,' she blurts out and Puck wants to laugh at how embarrassed she looks. The cold air pinches her cheeks and blows a few strands of hair into her face.

'Puck.'

'Puck? As in the sprite from A Midsummer Night's Dream?' She queries, wrinkling her nose.

'Fuck no,' he denied rather vehemently. 'It's short for Puckerman.'

'Well, would you provide me with your first name?'

'Only if you give me your last.' Holy shit, is he flirting?

'Rachel Berry,' she announces with much more confidence, sticking out her hand for him to shake. Puck grasps it and lifts it to his lips, feeling a bit cheesy. But the blush it brings onto her cheeks is worth it, he decides.

'Noah Puckerman.'

'Hello Noah.' There is this awkward silence that often punctuates the air whenever two strangers meet for the first time.

'You says something about preparing yourself for the stage?' He asks, finally loosening his grip and returning his hand to his jeans.

'Oh, yes,' her eyes light up and Puck isn't ashamed to admit that it makes her features glow. Or maybe it is the way the sun is hitting her face just so, highlighting what looked like gold threads in her hair. 'I'm performing at SoHa tonight.'

'Really?' She could sing?

Rachel appears affronted at his tone. 'I'll have you know that I'm exceptionally talented.' He watches as she looks at her watch, clucking her tongue. 'I'm sorry but I really must go. Perhaps…I'll see you later?'

'I'll definitely see you later Rachel Berry,' he assures her and she gives him a shy smile, tucking some hair behind her ear.

'I look forward to it Noah,' he barely hears before she's walking away, giving him a small wave over her shoulder. Puck stands there, not knowing what just happened, but content to study the sway of her hips and the sharp curve of her waist. Also, did he mention her legs? Whistling under his breath, Puck digs out the phone he'd swiped from Finn this morning and punched in his best friend's number.

'Hey man. Want to head over to SoHa?'

Turns out that Soha is a live music joint located right in the heart of Columbia University. Finn had offered to drive, saying that he is thinking of spending the night at Quinn's after so he isn't intending to drink. Pulling up outside the bar, Puck couldn't help but envy the carefree, relaxed shoulders on the students. He absently rubs his forearm, feels the raised scar tissue through the layers of clothes he wore. If he closes his eyes, Puck can taste the dirt and blood in his mouth and smell burning flesh. For a moment his throat seizes up and he finds it difficult to breathe.

'Dude, you okay?' Finn's voice jerks Puck back and he shakes his head, waving away his friend's concern. Hudson had a tendency to mother Puck if he thinks something is wrong and the last thing Puck needs is his friend watching him like he's some kind of head case.

'I'm fine. Let's get in there before the show starts,' Puck mumbles, already halfway out the door. Finn shrugs before doing the same, spinning the keys around his finger and shooting Puck what he obviously thinks are covert looks out of the corner of his eye.

'What?' Puck bites out. Finn has been hounding him all fucking day about why they absolutely had to be at SoHa, Mike and Matt joining in like some twisted form of the Spanish Inquisition. If Puck hadn't known these guys since high school, he would have had no qualms about kicking their ass. And as a trained Marine, the idiots wouldn't stand a chance.

'Hey guys. Over here,' Mike waves his arm frantically in the air trying to get their attention. Puck rolls his eyes, silently wondering how Chang's girlfriend manages to put up with his obvious mental retardation.

'Chang. Rutherford,' Puck greets, bumping fists.

'This place is packed,' Matt says before they step inside. Students and non-students alike lined the inside from wall to wall and Puck feels a bit claustrophobic from the sheer lack of space.

You sit in a humvee for hours. This is nothing Puckerman. Pull yourself together.

'I'm going to grab us a table,' Puck has to raise his voice, shaking his head when Finn asks if he wants a drink. Puck learned the hard way after his first tour that alcohol isn't going to help him forget anything. Pushing his way past a few tipsy college kids, Puck throws himself into a booth located near the front. Drumming his fingers against the wooden table he leisurely cast his gaze over the crowded bar, eyes narrowing when he sees someone reach into their jacket. His body only uncoils when the guy takes out a wallet.

This isn't a war man. Chill.

It is hard to forget sometimes that this isn't enemy territory, that Puck does't have to be constantly on his guard because the next person to bump into him might have an AK-47 stashed somewhere under his robes or a bomb strapped to his chest. Finn had moved around him warily the first few days he had arrived back from Afghanistan. Every small sound had makes Puck jump and the sound of a car backfiring had makes him flinch and reach for a weapon he no longer needed to carry on his person.

It had taken a while for his nerves to calm but the nightmares still haunted him. The first few times Puck had decided a bottle of Jack was all he needed to forget and it had worked. But the feeling of not being in control of his own mind, of the headaches and nausea, had eventually become more of a burden. Not to mention the fact that it makes him more susceptible to anger. Flexing his fingers, Puck stares at the tendons as he remembers socking Finn in the jaw one night, the guilt and shame that had eaten away at his insides as his best friend tried to brush off the incident as an accident.

No more.

'So why did we absolutely have to come here again?' Matt asks, sliding into the seat across from Puck. Puck stands up to let Finn inside, licking his lips when he sees the tall tankard of beer sweating on the table.

No more, he repeats firmly to himself.

'Just heard the act here is fucking awesome,' Puck comments casually. Mike narrows his eyes.

'Heard where? You haven't been home for nearly a year. And last I checked all the people we know didn't hang out on the Upper West Side.'

'I'm trying to expand your fucking musical horizons Chang,' Puck shoots back, leaning back in his seat. 'I know all about the Backstreet Boys and Mariah in your iTunes library.'

'For the last time, Brit put those in there!' Mike protests loudly, splashing some of his drink onto the table.

'Whatever makes you sleep at night Other Asian,' Puck uses the nickname Coach Sylvester had bestowed upon his friend.

'Yeah laugh it up Shaft and Big Foot,' Mike grumbles when Matt and Finn chuckle.

'Ladies and gentlemen!' Someone announced on stage. Puck's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the fedora and sequined vest on the man, the way the guy is jutting his hip out as he waves his hand in the air. 'Could I get a drumroll please!'

A few people up front rattle their tables while some guys down the back holler along.

'I present to you the inestimable, the irrepleacable, Rachel Berry!'

The lights dim and the crowd grows quiet, all of them focused on the sweeping wooden stage located in the front. Puck hears himself take in a sharp intake of breath, eyes fixed on the petite figure illuminated by the spotlight. Her hair is curled around her shoulders, flowing around her face like a waterfall. The black dress she had on is cut just above her knee, held together by peals in the middle. If you looked hard enough you could see the black lace hugging her underneath the sheer chiffon. But then she opened her red lips and her voice is the only thing that mattered. It is if the music is her and she is merely repeating the emotions buried deep within the words, enough so that you could hear the heartache, the pain, the joy.

Whispering
Here the ghosts in the moonlight
Sorrow doing a new dance
Through their bone, through their skin

Puck recalls the dreams he has at night, images of Johnny and Big Mike floating through like wisps of smoke. It is easy to see through their skin, their bone and whenever he reaches out to touch them they would slide through his fingers like a ghost.

Listening
To the souls in the fool's night
Fumbling mutely with their rude hands
And there's heartache without end

See the father bent in grief
The mother dressed in mourning
Sister crumbles, and the neighbors grumble
The preacher issues warnings

He hadn't been able to make it to either of their funerals. Puck had simply stood under the sun, hands clasped firmly behind his back, rigid as each casket is marched onto the plane. No one ever knew how bad his fingers had shakes, the way they had knocked together.

History
Little miss didn't do right
Went and ruined all the true plans
Such a shame. Such a sin.

Mystery
Home alone on a school night
Harvest moon over the blue land
Summer longing on the wind

Had a sweetheart on his knees
So faithful and adoring
And he touched me. And I let him love me.
So let that be my story

Listening
For the hope, for the new life
Something beautiful, a new chance
Hear its whispering
There again

The last note ends in a whisper and for a single, solitary second everyone in the bar holds their breath, waiting for her to finish it. Then Rachel smiles and the applause that shakes the bar startles Puck out of his reverie.

'Puckerman, I get it now,' Finn says softly at his side, awestruck. Puck sees Rachel scan the crowd, as if looking for something or someone, notes the way her smile dropped ever so slightly.

'Be right back ladies,' Puck claps Matt on the arm as he makes his way towards the front of the stage. Rachel is now talking with the man who had introduced her and Puck feels himself frown at the way the man is playing absently with one of Rachel's curls.

'Really Bee, a few highlights will do this mane justice,' the man says rather vehemently. Rachel rolls her eyes though Puck notices a look of amusement etched onto her face.

'Kurt, you know I can't afford to spare the money at the moment.'

'Sweetie, you can't put a price on beauty,' Kurt shoots back.

'Well, our capitalistic society highly disagrees with you.'

'So when you says you were a performer, you were just being modest huh?' Puck practically yells over the din. Rachel's head whips around and the smile she bestows on him does something funny to his chest and stomach.

'Noah! You came!' She seems genuinely surprised to see him there. Puck shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

'I is in the neighbourhood,' he lies. 'Babe, you were fucking amazing.'

Rachel beams at the compliment, though the rush of colour to her cheeks is again present. Kurt clears his throat meaningfully.

'Oh. How rude of me. Noah Puckerman, this is my friend Kurt Hummel.'

Puck shifts slightly, the raking gaze Kurt is giving him making him a bit uncomfortable. 'Hey,' Puck finally says.

'My, my. Bee here isn't kidding. You are simply a prime piece of real estate,' Kurt drawls out.

'Dude, are you hitting on me?' Puck asks bluntly as Rachel gasps.

'Of course I am. I'm not blind. As much as I would love to stand here and ogle what I guess is a compelling physique, my boyfriend is probably lonely. I'll leave you two alone. Call me darling,' Kurt presses a kiss onto Rachel's cheek before (and Puck kids you not) sashaying off the stage as if it were a runway.

'Well, that is Kurt,' Rachel remarks dryly, both of them giving the slight male another brief look as he threw himself at a tall, black man in the corner. 'With Dwayne.' She is playing with one of the pearl buttons of her dress before focusing her doe eyes back on him. Puck rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to do.

Of course he hadn't exactly been celibate these past few years. But his time spent overseas means that he hasn't had a decent conversation with a woman since his last year of college. Santana Lopez had been a fiery Latina who hadn't taken any of his bullshit. They had lasted a year before they had both agreed to break it off when Puck had enlisted. It hadn't exactly been love but Santana had been the only girl to stick around him for that long.

Puck thinks that had to count for something.

'You want to get out of here?' Puck tries and is rewarded with a hesitant smile.

'Alright. Let me just get my coat,' Rachel replies.

'I'll meet you out front?' She nods her head before slipping past him and heading towards the wing where Puck thinks the green room is.

'I'm out guys,' Puck tells his friends, who all look at him as if he'd grown a third head.

'She isn't a cougar,' Matt says slowly.

'And she's, like, hot,' Mike adds.

'You got your keys?' Finn asks and Puck nods. 'Remember – wrap it before you trap it.'

Puck wrinkles his nose. 'I have no idea what you just fucking says, and I don't think I want to. I'll call you guys tomorrow so we can hang out or something. Later.'

He leaves without waiting for a response. Someone bumped into him.

'Watch it buddy,' the other guy warns. Puck meets his glare and the other man turns away after a beat, swallowing discreetly. A few of the guys in his company had remarked how Puck could scare the living daylights out of anyone with a simple look, leading to the nickname Cyclops amongst the Warlords.

Puck rubs his hands together once he got outside, blowing hot air onto his palms.

'Noah?' Rachel's voice draws his eyes to the front and he finds her wrapped in a red pea coat, a scarf wound tightly around her neck.

'You hungry?' He asks, not knowing what else to say. Rachel must have noticed his nervousness (and what the hell is up with that?) because she giggles behind her hand and nods.

'I know a fantastic pancake place a few blocks down. Is that acceptable?'

'I've had MREs for the past twelve months. Anything that isn't powdered I'll fucking take,' he tells her.

'You're in the Army?' She starts walking, Puck falling into step beside her.

'Marine. Enlisted straight out of college,' he replies, looking straight ahead.

'Oh,' there is a pause as Rachel fiddles with the lapel of her coat. 'Do you…enjoy it?'

Puck takes in the cautious tilt of her head and gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smirk.

'I like being able to serve my country. I'm not saying there are some parts of the job I wouldn't want to give up,' he answers, surprising himself with his candour. Puck usually hates speaking about his life as a Marine, disliking the way civilians would often hang onto his every word as if every word he says is some kind of story. Because it isn't just words written down on a piece of paper or some high-priced film. This is his life and the last thing Puck wants to do is talk about how he feels when Big Mike is down in front of him, screaming as the blood pours from his thigh and the buildings rained debris down on them.

'What about you?' Puck deflects. 'What's your story?'

'Well, I'm currently auditioning for a role in an off-Broadway production of Spring Awakening. I've made the final cut so hopefully when I do my read through next week the director will be suitably impressed by my impeccable vocal range and more than adequate acting skills,' Rachel rattles off, gesturing animatedly as she speaks.

'Well you've got a rockin' set of pipes babe,' Puck says, feeling the same chill crawl up his skin as he hears her voice in his head.

'Thank you Noah. I'm flattered and appropriately confused by your compliment.'

'Confused?' Puck questions.

'Well, you barely know me. While I haven't had much experience with the opposite sex I do know that men never compliment a woman unless they want something. Usually it's sexual intercourse,' she says so blandly that Puck almost chokes on his tongue.

'Huh,' is all he manages. Rachel regards him with a serious expression on her face.

'I hope that you don't think that this rendezvous, while admittedly spontaneous and completely out of character for me, will lead to the sex.'

Puck can't help it. He laughs out loud. Hard.

'Berry, you're fucking classic,' he tells her, still smirking.

'And that's a good thing correct?' She asks him, unsure. Puck nods his head, trying to catch his breath. His eyes crinkle up at the corners, Rachel notices, and it makes him look younger and less tired.

Rachel spots the giant sign up ahead and flourishes her hands dramatically towards the Pancake Establishment. Puck shakes his head, as if amused, but leans over her shoulder to open the door. Rachel gives him a grateful look before sighing in appreciation as the warm, circulated air kisses her face. Swiftly unbuttoning her coat, she watches as Puck unzips the worn leather jacket and swallows at the way his shirt hugs the lean muscles of his back and arms.

'Table for two,' he tells the waiter in an unmistakable baritone. Rachel cannot help but be aware of the warmth radiating off Puck's tall frame and it makes her shiver.

The rest of the night passes in a kind of pleasant haze and for the life of her; Rachel would only ever recall bits and pieces a few years later. What she does have etched indelibly in her brain is Noah Puckerman and all his quirks. The way his brow pinches in the middle whenever he speaks of something he doesn't agree with. The way his mouth curls up on one side in a kind of half-smile when he speaks of his mother and little sister. The weariness that fills his eyes whenever the topic of war is touched, however briefly.

Somewhere through the night Rachel finds her fingers looped together with his. It is entirely subconscious and when she realizes the callous pad of this thumb is pulling at her skin, Rachel doesn't know whether to feel exalted or afraid. Because there is something about this man, with his vibrant green eyes and heavy shoulders, that reels her in like a moth to a flame. This feeling that laps at the shores of her mind and heart is entirely foreign and new. Rachel can't put a name to it and it frustrates her. Because she is usually so sure of everything and yet here is this man with these feelings that escapes all categorization.

'Rachel?' She thinks that she would never get tired of hearing him say her name.

'Yes. Sorry,' she blinks rapidly, trying to force herself back to the present. Puck stares at her and she feels the blood leech into her cheeks, cursing herself internally. Everywhere his eyes touched seems to set her skin on fire.

'You need to be home soon?' He seems eager for her answer and Rachel shakes her head, deciding that she will simply tell Senora Rosietta that she isn't feeling well for ballet tomorrow morning.

'This is in no way asking for you to fuck me-'

'Must you be so crass Noah?' She sighs with exasperation, though she refuses to admit that she finds his use of profanity endearing.

'But you want to come over? Hang out or something?' He continues as if he hasn't heard her. Rachel slants her head to the side, taking in the sincerity in the set of his mouth and the languid look in his green irises.

'That sounds lovely,' she tells him with a soft lilt of her lips. Puck looks relieved and reaches for his wallet. Rachel immediately digs out her purse, pulling out a twenty.

'Dude, I got this,' he says, pushing her hand away.

'I insist on covering my half of the meal Noah,' she presses because she doesn't want him thinking that this is a date.

Even though it totally is.

'Can't you just let me be chilvarous or some crap like that? Don't chicks dig stuff like that?'

'It may have escaped your notice but we happen to live in the twenty first century. I can assure you that Destiny's Child's "Independent Woman" has become the new anthem for modern day feminism.'

Puck mumbles something about Beyonce trying to emasculate him but nonetheless reluctantly lets her put down her money. Rachel takes it as a submission and flashes him a victorious look as she shrugs back into her coat.

They catch the subway back to his house and Puck feels a comfortable sort of silence settle over them both. It isn't the self-conscious one that had hung over their heads when they had met this morning. This is the kind of quiet you enjoyed with people who you had known for years. Finn and him would sometimes walk around their apartment, neither exchanging a word for hours, and it never feels as if they were disconnected. Glancing at Rachel out of the corner of his eye, taking in the slope of her neck and the gentle slant of her full, plump lips, Puck wonders how he is so at ease with this diminutive woman. Because Puck keeps his feelings close to his chest, never showing his hand unless he wants to. But with Rachel the walls slip away brick by brick and it kind of terrifies him how easy it is for him to just simply be when he is around her.

Puck doesn't think it is rational to feel this way about someone he met less than twelve hours ago.

The overwhelming case of nerves that flows through him when he opens the door to his apartment is another thing Puck has never felt before. Puck is a stud and studs just didn't do anxiety when it came to the fairer sex.

Fuck, maybe he should have makes sure the place is clean before inviting her over.

He's granted kind of a reprieve when he notices there are no errant boxers lying around or opened take out cartons left strewn on the coffee table. Rachel is peering around his shoulder and Puck steps to the side, allowing her in.

'So this is it,' he announces, scratching his temple. 'It isn't much but its home whenever I'm here.'

'It's surprisingly neat,' she proclaims, teasing.

'Yeah, well, we learn to keep our shit in line in the Marines. I guess it just kind of became something normal,' Puck offers, reaching for her coat and draping it carefully over the bar stools positioned along the breakfast nook. Rachel is peering at one of the framed pictures Finn and Puck had decorated the mantelpiece with.

'That's me,' he says upon noticing which one had captured her attention. He is grinning with his two front teeth missing and the mop of curly hair that still continues to plague his younger sister is on full display.

'You were adorable,' Rachel practically coos.

'Were?' Puck pretends to be offended. Rachel gives him a look over her shoulder.

'You want something to drink?' He prays she doesn't ask for anything too strong because all they have is water and a six-pack Finn had bought before Puck had gotten home.

'Water's fine,' she replies, still engrossed with the photographs. Puck plucks out a purple mug left over from his college days and opens the tap, affording himself the opportunity to drink in the long legs on display. For someone so fucking tiny, the girl sure seemed to go on for miles.

'Thank you,' Rachel says demurely and takes a delicate sip from the mug, cradling it between her hands as if it were precious. Puck thinks he could stand there and just observe her. Rachel makes even the most mundane gesture seem graceful. Right now the edge of her fingers were doing a tap dance against the side of the mug, her eyes flickering up to meet his every half second or so.

'You want to watch some TV?' Puck asks and feels like slapping himself upside the head. Rachel's eyes brightened though so he feels less like an idiot.

She follows him to the couch; sinking into the cushions and feeling her eyes roll to the back of her head. She is just so tired. While Rachel knew many of her co-stars on Broadway couldn't understand her need to perform at SoHa every week, she thinks it gives her an opportunity to go back to her roots. Her love for singing isn't just a meal ticket, no matter how good the money is at the moment. Rachel Berry actually, genuinely feels that singing what you feels is the purest form of self-expression available.

'You okay?' Puck asks as he settles a few inches away from her, picking up the remote and flicking on the tube.

'It just feels nice to be off my feet.'

'Know the feeling,' he trails off and Rachel wants to ask if this is how he feels after patrol. But she bites her tongue because it isn't her place.

'Wait,' she darts a hand over to snatch the remote away from him, ignoring the spark of electricity between them as her skin brushes against his. 'We have to watch this!'

'Grease?' He groans as if the very word is torture. 'Oh come on Berry, please-'

'Noah, I'm your guest and its simply good manners to accede to my request,' she informs him primly, jutting out her bottom lip for good measure.

'No fucking way am I watching this,' Puck insists, crossing his arms and returning her stare.

'I refuse to give in to any kind of intimidation or coercion. Just so we're clear,' Rachel says out of the corner of her mouth. She wants to clasp her hands together and sigh when Sandy and Danny begin the opening strands of Summer Nights. Puck grumbles something beside her but seems to accept his fate.

Half an hour in and Rachel turns her head to see Puck asleep. Resisting the urge to trace her fingers over his forehead, she quietly gets up to turn off the television and gingerly places the remote back on the coffee table. Biting her lip, she decides to rest for just a minute before letting herself out. Folding her legs underneath her, Rachel lays her head down and finds herself watching the man beside her. His breaths came out deep and even, hardly a sound. His entire body is rigid and his arms are still tightly clenched. Closing her eyes, Rachel wonders what he would smell like if she buries herself into the nook of his neck.

'Fuck Mike, haul ass!' Puck yells, hearing the pop, pop, pop of artillery fire behind him. It had been a routine scouting mission. His company had been driving along the village streets, the air ominously silent, when out of nowhere something had erupted beneath their humvee. The adrenaline kicked in then and Puck slaps his back against Mike's, hearing their breath come out in ragged bursts.

The worst part is there is chaos. A woman is wailing, clutching the small body of a child in her arms and Puck feels his stomach turn when he sees the red smear along the front of her burqa. Dragging his gaze quickly from one place to the next, Puck barely has time to duck when what looked like a bomb made out of shrapnel explodes onto the building beside him. Mike is yelling and pulling at his sleeve, Puck pulling back the safety on his gun as he stumbles along behind his friend.

'Where's Johnny?' Puck asks as they duck behind a wall, brushing away the dust and dirt gathered around his mouth.

'Cyclops…' Mike pants and Puck swings his gaze downwards, seeing the blood spilling through his friend's fingers.

'Shit. Why didn't you fucking say anything?' Puck demands, undoing his belt.

'I think they got an artery or something,' Mike says weakly and Puck feels his fingers slip as his belt falls from around his waist.

'Yeah well. You're the toughest motherfucker I know. Don't make me tell your wife you're a pussy,' Puck answers between his teeth, pushing Mike's hand away and trying to secure the belt directly above the wound.

'You take care of yourself okay? Take care of Johnny and the rest. Assholes wouldn't know what to do otherwise,' Mike sounds far away and Puck catches Mike around the waist as he slumps down towards the ground.

'I need a medic!' Puck hears his voice rise above the din, not caring if he is giving away their position. 'Don't you die on me Mike, you understand? We've been through too much for you to just…' Puck chokes, his throat closing up. Mike's eyes are closed and the hand that had been clutching his arm is limp.

'No,' Puck murmurs, slapping Mike on the cheek. No response. 'No, no, no, no! Wake the fuck up Marine! Don't you dare do this to me!'

'Noah! Noah!' Someone is shaking his shoulders and Puck snaps upright, wondering why there were streetlamps outside and why the sand underneath his feet is gone. His chest feels tight and Puck digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand.

'It is just a dream,' he mumbles under his breath, finally allowing his fingers to press against the side of his head painfully.

'Noah?' That same, timid voice again. Puck doesn't want to look at her, to see the fear in her eyes or the sympathy. Not right now. Now he just needs to breathe dammit. Just close his eyes and block out the image of Mike bleeding and broken underneath him, refusing to open his eyes.

Perhaps Rachel got the hint because suddenly there is just quiet, the faint hum of early morning traffic filtering through the closed window. Puck focuses on the pattern of her breathing, aligning his own to that same rhythm. The knot in his chest is still there but it feels looser, like someone had gone in and picked it apart.

'Do you feel better?' Puck likes it better when she is loud. The thought is so random and out of the blue that he doesn't risk speaking, merely jerks his head. 'Here.' That same purple mug is now being presented to him, filled with water. 'I assure you there is no backwash in there.'

'Thanks,' he murmurs and takes a long, long gulp. His tongue itches for something stronger but Puck pulls back the urge forcefully, running a hand through his shaved head. He feels something graze the shell of his ear and he jerks back reflexively, swinging around to catch the brief flicker of hurt across Rachel's face before she plasters on a neutral smile.

'Sorry,' he doesn't know why he is apologizing. 'It's just…reflex.'

He looks at her and she must have read something in his gaze because her fingers were tracing the curve of his jaw, the spot just below his temple. Her touch is warm and wherever it left, there is a kind of fire that burns slow and lingers in its wake. She is looking at him as if he were spun glass and Puck wants to rail at her, to tell her that he isn't fragile or brittle, that he won't shatter right in front of her. But a larger part of him turns into her wandering digits, relishes the comfort and peace that settles over his frame.

'I'm going to kiss you now,' she breathes and Puck can't do anything but dip his head down to meet hers. He wants to ask her if this is pity but the feel of her chapped lips against his makes the thought fly out the window like a bird who has found its wings. She is slow, gentle at first. But then Puck tangles his fingers into her hair, the strands so soft and wispy, and angles his mouth for better access. He sucks on her lower lip, distantly hears a mug bounce off the shag rug, traces it with his tongue. The moan she gives is all the invitation he needs. Her tongue duels with his, curling around and sliding against each other like velvet.

'Are you sure?' He asks in between. Rachel simply pulls him closer, pressing that spot just below the crown of his head. Puck growls and hefts her up, Rachel wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively.

'Fuck,' he groans, feeling her press against the front of his jeans. There is something wicked about the curve of her lips but Puck couldn't care less.

As he undoes the buttons of her dress, feels her slide her fingers down and then back up again, Puck knows that this isn't going to be something he can just forget. No, he thinks. Rachel is going to leave her mark deep inside his bones and maybe even somewhere inside his heart. Parts of him are screaming, telling him to stop this before it is too late. This woman coming undone beneath him is like a force of nature, hurtling towards him like a tsunami that wants nothing more than to pull him under her tidal wave.

'Noah,' she sings his name like a song. It ignites something inside him, something possessive that wants to lay claim to her. It is primitive need that snakes its way up his spine and infuses his actions, settling in the back of his head like a distant echo as lips, teeth and movement to dance alongside each other. She is making these sounds that fuels his hunger and his eyes roll heavenward when she arches into him, pressing her body flush against his.

'So good,' he moans. She links her fingers behind his neck, drawing him to her so that his forehead is pressed up against hers. They look at one another, both not saying a word; the noise falling away until all Puck can hear is short, ragged bursts of air coming from them. They don't break their gaze as Rachel starts writhing, as if telling him what she wants through actions rather than words.

It is intense and Puck cannot help but try to ignore the fear that accompanies this sense of wonder, driving himself deeper into her as she practically screams his name. Her leg hitches itself higher on his back and then he sees stars as well.

Rachel doesn't curl up into him as he expects. Instead, she occupies her half of the bed. Puck turns to face her and the rustle of sheets tells him that Rachel has done the same. He falls asleep when the tips of her fingers just barely brush against his cheek. For the first time in a while, he doesn't dream about anything other than Rachel.

So of course when he wakes up he does the first thing that comes to mind naturally. He screws the fuck up.

The smell of coffee is in the air as Puck pulls on some boxers. He rubs at his eyes, taking in the rumpled sheets on Rachel's half of the bed and her pink lace bra that has ended up somewhere in front of his dresser. Puck holds his breath, and then lets it out when he only hears Rachel humming quietly to herself. Thank god Finn wasn't home yet.

She smiles when she sees him, a genuine happy smile that makes Puck want to kiss her and run at the same time.

'Good morning Noah,' she chirps.

'Yeah,' he answers shortly and the perkiness slips away a fraction.

'Would you like some breakfast?'

'Actually…I have stuff to do,' he rubs the back of his neck and averts his eyes. Rachel is wearing the shirt he had on last night and pretty much nothing else.

'Oh,' she says it soft and sad. He doesn't know whether it's a good or bad thing when she just nods and heads toward his bedroom, emerging a minute later in her own clothes and wiping at the corner of her eyes discretely.

Shit.

'It was a pleasure meeting you Noah. I wish you all the best.' There is finality in her words he doesn't like.

'You're welcome,' he tells her stupidly and slams a fist down onto the counter when the door clicks quietly shut behind her. Puck had expected some kind of yelling or shrieking about what a complete asshole he was. This quiet resignation doesn't sit well with him but Puck tells himself it is for the best that he never sees Rachel again. Because what kind of girl was going to attach herself to a guy who was always never there, and when he was dreamt about his best friend dying in his arms?

No, Puck repeats firmly, Rachel Berry deserves more than he can give.

He spends the rest of the day just strumming his guitar, trying to ignore the way that the room still smells like sex and acceptance. He doesn't get up to eat or drink. Puck simply sits with his guitar, in his boxers, and plays the doubt away as he has done countless times before.

It is only when Finn arrives home that Puck feels his certainty slip.

'Dude, what the fuck are you doing?' His best friend asks, flicking on the light. Finn still has that dopey, goofy expression on his face that Quinn seems to bring out but now this is dimmed, and his forehead is creasing up the way it does when he's turning something over in his head.

'What happened?'

The question is so simple, yet Puck finds that he can't even begin to explain the fact that Rachel is the first person who has burrowed under his skin, made her way through his blood. Puck trails a finger down the side where she slept, fisting the sheets in his hands as he attempts to recapture some of the warmth that Rachel holds in her touch.

'Nothing,' Puck finally decides to mumble because isn't that simply the truth? Boys meets girl, boy sleeps with girl, boy is a complete jackass to girl. The end. Sure it glosses over the middle part, the part where she doesn't flinch away from his nightmares like he expects her too, the part where Rachel actually stays the morning after. That is, until he'd told her to go.

'You slept with her.' Finn doesn't ask.

'No offence man, but I don't really feel like talking about this right now,' Puck grinds out, flexing his jaw. Finn stands there, unmoving, before taking a few steps into the room and plucking something silver and shiny from the ground.

'You might want to return this,' he says before dropping a charm bracelet into Puck's hand. Puck lifts it up, sees the musical notes hanging off. Rachel's Dad had given it to her right before Julliard and she'd mentioned that it was some kind of good luck charm. Puck sees the affectionate curve of her lips as she rubs one of the charms between her fingers as she tells him this.

'Fuck,' he whispers because he knows that he has to return this. Puck understands nothing about sentimentality but he does know that Rachel does. He also knows that he still has the bandana Mike gave him after ROTC and that Puck tucks into his pocket to remind himself that he isn't alone. Johnny's hip flask is stashed away in his closet as well.

Puck pulls on a clean shirt and jeans, grabs his jacket as he wraps the bracelet up in some tissue paper so that it doesn't get scratched.

'I'll be back,' he calls out just before he steps out.

'Hey!' Finn shouts and Puck pauses at the threshold expectantly. 'Rachel's different right?'

Puck presses his lips together and closes the door firmly behind him. Then he realizes that he doesn't know where Rachel lives, doesn't even have her number anywhere. He drags himself over to SoHa and manages to sweet talk Rachel's address out of the cute blonde behind the bar. She coyly bats her eyes up at him but Puck keeps seeing brunette and takes his leave, completely missing the irritated look the bartender shoots his back.

Rachel lives in Brooklyn in an apartment that's way nicer than his, Puck thinks. As he climbs the stairs up to the second floor, his heart is pounding in his chest and the butterflies that take flight in his stomach make him want to hurl. He knocks on her door, holding his breath, shifting his eyes left and right to make sure there isn't anyway along the narrow hallway ready to witness what he is sure is going to be a scene.

Puck admits he's actually surprised when she swings open the door. He thought she'd take one look through the peephole and scream at him through the wood. But she doesn't and Rachel's dressed in a loose grey shirt with some kind of fleecy pant. Her hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and there isn't any make-up on her face.

She's beautiful Puckerman. And you kicked her out of your house? If I wasn't already dead, I'd shoot you or something.

Johnny's voice doesn't help things.

'Yes?' Rachel says shortly and folds her arms defensively across her chest, her brown gaze dancing to the spot next to his ear. Puck carefully extracts the bracelet and holds it out, mumbling.

'You left this at my place. Thought you'd want it back.'

He doesn't miss the way she tries to avoid absolutely all contact with him as she takes the bracelet away.

'Thank you,' again with the curt tone. 'Well, good night.'

It's her dismissal that angers him and Puck pushes away the hypocrisy.

'That's it?' He exclaims. 'That's all you have to say to me?'

'You made your intentions abundantly clear this morning Puck.' She doesn't use his first name and it's like a sucker punch to the gut.

'You were supposed to go all Carrie on my ass!' He's trying to defend himself and Rachel straightens her shoulders and abruptly pulls him into her apartment, practically slamming the door.

'I appreciate you returning my bracelet but I'd sincerely appreciate it if you just leave.'

'Just like you did this morning?' He sneers and her eyes narrow, cold and glittering in the soft yellow light.

'You had things to do,' she throws his words back in his face and Puck winces. Rachel doesn't skip a beat, jabbing a finger into his chest. 'I imagine that the rest of your one night stands don't receive the same wondrous opportunity to see you again after you've ceremoniously kicked them to the curb.'

'That's not what happened!' He roars and Rachel flinches away. Puck clenches his fist, reigning in the white-hot rush that's submerging his senses and making him want to run his fist through a wall.

'What is it then?' Rachel is quiet when she asks him and Puck bites his tongue.

'I don't need your pity,' the words tumble out unbidden and Puck does his best to avoid eye contact. I'm broken and I'm bleeding, just like Mike, and I don't want you to be the one that puts me back together, he wants to tell her.

He doesn't.

'You think I…you thought that was pity?' She sounds incredulous and infuriated at the same time.

'What the hell else was it supposed to be? I practically shriek my head off because of…' Puck swallows, refuses to say nightmares. 'And then you're all up on this. What else am I supposed to think?'

Rachel heaves a sigh that is exasperated. Puck still refuses to look at her. There is the sound of something metal being put down on a table and then her small hands are encircled around his waist. Puck stiffens, not sure what to do with his body or his hands.

'The fuck are you hugging me for?' His voice is hoarse. Rachel squeezes him tighter.

'I made love with you because I wanted to. Because you needed it and because I needed it.'

'What?' He doesn't understand.

'You were hurting and I wanted to make you feel better.'

Puck wants to push her away because seriously? She thinks that isn't pity? Rachel must have sensed what he was thinking because she's peering up at him through her long, long lashes. Her eyes are a liquid, milk chocolate brown and Puck thinks his pulse is speeding up.

'I don't know what it is about you that makes me want to always be around you,' she tells him softly and Puck thinks he's kind of scared about where this is heading. 'But there's something here between us. Can't you feel it too?' She's pleading with him and it doesn't sit right with him at all because Rachel's strong and confident no matter how much she blushes.

'It won't work,' he finds himself saying instead. Rachel's hold slackens slightly. 'I'm…I'm leaving in two days and fuck knows how long I'm going to be gone. I've seen guys try to make it work but the distance is brutal okay? Then you're going to be left wondering why the hell you're in this to begin with.'

Rachel doesn't reply.

'And fuck Berry, we met yesterday. This isn't some lame teenage love story. Two people just can't meet and then…happen,' he finishes weakly. Rachel steps away and the air around him feels distant.

'Why not?'

'Because shit like that doesn't happen to guys like me and girls like you?'

Rachel scrunches up her nose and Puck decides its kind of adorable before shaking his head.

'Look,' Puck's going to be honest with her, 'last night isn't something I regret. What I do regret is making this more complicated-'

'I think the both of us is entirely simple. You're the one making it complicated,' she retorts. Puck opens his mouth but Rachel cuts her hands through her hand. 'I just one to know one thing – just one – do you feel anything for me?'

It's loaded and the tension inside her kitchen is constricting. Puck glances down at her and feels his insides tangle up, that same swooping sensation he's had since the moment she ran into him yesterday morning.

'It doesn't matter,' he's stalling and she knows it because she repeats the question.

'And don't even think about lying because Jesus is watching,' Rachel gestures towards the small altar she has set up a few feet away. There is a statute of Jesus with his palm out as if in blessing, a rosary at his feet. A lone candle flickers and Puck focuses on the shadow and light.

'What do you want me to say?'

'The truth,' she says plainly, like it isn't as hard as he's making it out to be.

And fuck because there's just no escaping what Rachel Berry has done to him. That mass of hair spilling down her back, that smooth skin left exposed from her neck to her shoulder, those lips. The way she listens to him attentively whenever he speaks, as if everything he has to get across is the most important thing in the world. The way she gave him a drink of water and chased away some of the specters that he's sure hang around him.

The way Rachel looks at him as if she's everything she expects him to be.

'Yeah.' It's one word and it comes out rough. Something blossoms on Rachel's face, hopeful. She reaches out a hand but Puck quickly steps back.

'But it still doesn't mean that this is going to work.'

'How can you know that?'

'Because I'm the guy that makes shit decisions and fuck if I'm going to be the one that makes you hate me,' he spits out and rubs a hand over his shaved head.

'I want this,' she grabs his hand and laces her fingers through his, refusing to let go.

'I'm leaving in two days,' he reminds her. She tugs him towards her and Puck lets some of the anxiety drain from his muscles. Rachel tracks her fingers down his jaw, day-old stubble scratching against her skin.

'I'm willing to try this if you are.'

It's a choice she's giving him. An ultimatum. He dredges up the look in Finn's eyes when he tells him that Rachel's different. How he'd trekked all the way to the Upper West Side to see her, to find her. How he knows the story behind her bracelet and how she got that scar that runs over the top of her right eyebrow (she was six and tripped head first into a license plate). He runs the pad of his thumb over her eyebrow, over the scar, and his brow furrows.

'Okay. But don't blame me if-'

'Shut up Noah,' Rachel interrupts and presses her lips against hers.

This time when he falls asleep, Rachel is curled up against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair, her toes curling against his shin. She lets out a sigh of pleasure and giggles when she feels him press against her thigh.

'Really?' She teases and Puck leers.

'I'm a fucking stallion,' he sees fit to inform her. She scratches lightly at the puckered bullet wound on his side, a stray shell that had grazed his side during a firefight, and Puck can't help but press a kiss against her hair.

He sleeps and doesn't see blood.

They spend the next two days just being. She's always touching him and Puck isn't complaining. He slings an arm around her shoulder in the subway when some douche with curly hair eyes her legs, shooting a heated glare before the idiot practically runs off at the next stop. He enjoys the feel of her against him, the way she laughs and how she rolls her eyes whenever he's particularly profane.

Puck plays the guitar and asks her to sing for him. She sings something pop, about being what a girl wants. His heart expands like the Grinch and he's putting the guitar down and pulling her on top of him. Her ridiculously short skirt rides up and he runs a hand up her thigh and cups her ass, grinning when she moans into his mouth.

'Fuck you're hot,' he says in between kisses.

'You have lovely arms,' she compliments him, gripping his bicep. Puck's just glad she enjoys his fantastic bod.

He already knows that when he leaves tomorrow it isn't going to be pretty.

It isn't, but not in the way he expects.

He needs to fly down to North Carolina to assemble on base and Rachel pretty much doesn't leave any room for argument when she tells him that she's dropping him off at LaGuardia. She's quiet as he stuffs his clothes and whatever else he's going to need into the regulation duffle, playing with the corner of his bedspread and humming something under her breath. Rachel's always singing and Puck doesn't know why it doesn't drive him nuts. It's kind of soothing, something he can latch on to.

'You ready?' He asks and she nods. Finn shuffles his feet when Puck walks out of his bedroom. The two of them stand there.

'Make sure you come back okay?' Hudson mumbles out of the corner of his mouth. Puck rolls his eyes and drags Finn into a hug, clapping him on the back.

'You better have put a ring on it when I get back,' Puck says into Finn's ear, referring to the engagement ring burning a hole in Finn's sock drawer.

'I'll make sure Rachel's cool.'

Another clap on the back and Rachel's holding his hand, following him out the door. She leans into his arm and Puck shrugs out of her grip and pulls her close. She tucks her hand into the back pocket of his pants and Puck slips his fingers down the shoulder of her shirt so he can massage her bare skin. He doesn't want to talk about it and neither does Rachel.

It's an hour to the airport and they spend it listening to her Ipod. She's forcing him to listen to the Jersey Boys soundtrack and Puck tells her he doesn't want to listen to a bunch of guys doing falsettos. He scrolls through and wonders where the good stuff is. She informs him that he's musically stunted and that he should be eternally grateful she's deemed him worthy enough to take him under her wing. Puck tells her anyone who can't appreciate Zeppelin or AC/DC is dead to him. She fires something back about him being an uneducated heathen and her chest is pressed up against him as she defiantly scrolls through the music he's got clasped in his hands.

Puck thinks he's going to miss this normalcy.

The mood turns somber and just gets depressing when his flight is called. Puck nudges the duffle with his toe, hating the way Rachel's trying to be strong. Her lower lip is trembling and there's no mistaking the sheen in her eyes.

'Hey,' he murmurs, telling her not to cry with the tone of his voice.

'Do you have to go?' She knows it's unfair to ask. Puck exhales noisily and presses his forehead against hers, thinking back to the first time they shared a bed. Rachel's pupils dilate and Puck is sure she's remembering the same thing too.

'Here. I want you to have this,' he lifts the chain over his head and slips it over hers. Rachel glances down and fingers the two rectangular dog tags dangling at the end.

'Don't you need this?'

'It's a spare,' he assures her, already marking out her cheekbone with his touch. She leans into his hand. 'So you won't forget me.' It's a joke, an attempt at levity.

'I won't,' its said with certainty, so much so that Puck finds it hard-pressed to not believe her.

'I'll…' Puck swallows. 'I'll call you when I get on base.'

He allows himself a quick press of the lips before he's shouldering his duffle and walking away. He doesn't look back until he's cleared security. Rachel's still standing there, sliding his dog tags back and forth, as if it's the only part of him she has left.

Puck hasn't told her, as inconceivable as it is, that she already has his heart.

He does call her when he gets to North Carolina. Their conversation is short. They don't say anything much. She rambles on about the weather. Puck has to cut her off, tells her he has to go. She gets quiet.

'Okay.'

'Okay,' he mimics, grasping the edge of the phone booth so tightly his knuckles are white.

'Come back okay?' It's the same thing Finn asks but there is something different about Rachel's request, something more.

'I will.' It's a flimsy promise at best because he isn't sure what lies in wait for him. But he's going to make sure he does everything in his power to make sure that Rachel's next to him again.

'See you later,' they tell each other. Rachel had argued that goodbye was too conclusive.

They get to Afghanistan and Puck finds himself slipping back into old routines. Early mornings, grueling days, adrenaline and fear. Big Mike and Johnny's absence is keenly felt but never discussed and the company spend their days patching the gaping hole in their fabric. Rachel's face swims behind his eyes during the night and he's woken up more than once with the memory of her touch and sounds ringing clear as day.

'Puckerman! Looks like you got somethin'!' Red brandishes an envelope, Puck snatching it out of his hand while the rest of his friends catcall. The loopy cursive makes his breath catch. He shuts out the questions and collapses down onto his bunk, fingers shaking as he rips off the top of the envelope. A thin chain falls out onto his lap. There is pendant, two musical notes intertwined together. Puck opens the folded piece of paper and doesn't miss the smell of green apples that is just so Rachel.

Dear Noah,

When you get this I hope you're doing well. You'll be pleased to know that I got the part! Of course there was simply no competition when the casting director witnessed my read through with the male lead. The chemistry we had was undeniable, though in no way surpassing what we both share.

And before you get upset, I would like to state for a fact that Jonathan – the lead male – is one hundred percent comfortable in his homosexuality. If it weren't for the fact that Kurt enjoys a little milk with his coco puffs (it makes me weep to consider that this is what passes for lyrics in this day and age), I believe that the two of them together would be lovely.

My time has been consumed with rehearsals. Perhaps I expect too much from myself but what else is there to strive for but perfection? Needless to say I've taken this role as a new challenge on my way to stardom. Kurt is already designing the dress I will wear when I accept my Tony. You, of course, will be wearing a tuxedo. A bow tie is negotiable but a tie is a must I'm afraid.

Please find enclosed something to make sure you don't forget me.

I expect a prompt reply. If you don't, I'll call your mother. Finn has assured me he will be more than happy to provide me with her details. Apparently she takes an unhealthy interest in your romantic entanglements.

Yours,

Rachel *

p.s

I miss you.

Puck folds the letter up and tucks it under his pillow. He makes sure the chain she's given him is hidden under his shirt, places a hand over it and presses it against his chest.

'That your girl?' The guy in the bunk next to his asks.

'Yeah,' Puck says with pride, confidence, astonishment.

He feels like he's been in some kind of ninety-six hour fairytale. It's bizarre and surreal.

And Puck knows he doesn't want it to end.

When he arrives back home eight months later, the stack of letters Rachel's sent him bound together with care in his duffle, Puck admits to being surprised when he spots Rachel at LaGuardia with Finn by her side. The smile that splits her face is lost momentarily when Finn pulls him into a hug. Puck feels the duffle drop to the floor.

'This one's it Puckerman. I'm telling you,' Finn whispers before stepping aside. Rachel's giving him this shy look, rolling her ankle around.

'Hey baby,' he hums and licks his lips when he sees his dog tags dangle in the valley between her breasts. Something hot lances through him and he doesn't resist the urge to take her into his arms, burying himself in the taste and smell of her.

'Did you miss me?' He says into her lips. She nods. 'When?'

'The nights,' her reply is short on breath and she's licking her lips, giving him a dazed look even as her hands cradle the back of his head.

'That's it?' He jokes.

'I missed you Noah,' she tells him and there is a look in her eyes that makes his own smolder.

'I did too,' he pushes some of her hair back tenderly, rubbing the sliver of skin just above the waistband of her jeans.

'Let's go home,' she slides down his front, on purpose he's sure if the naughty grin she shoots him is any indication.

'Let's go home,' he marvels at the ease in which he says it.

Maybe, finally, he's found his place. And Puck's pretty sure it's always going to be with this woman at his side.

We're proud of you buddy, Big Mike and Johnny are smiling at him. Puck blinks and they're gone.

'Noah?' Rachel prompts and Puck smiles down at her earnest face. The sunlight makes it seem like she's wearing a halo and its clichéd but he really thinks she's been sent down to save him.

'I'm glad you didn't listen to me,' Puck says and clarifies when she looks confused. 'When I said we wouldn't work.'

Rachel's features soften and she's giving him a look that makes him feel warm and content and tranquil. She doesn't leave his side, the both of them sliding into Finn's car as he grumbles about Quinn being a bridezilla.

Glimpsing down at Rachel, Puck sees her in white lace.

He knows that until she's walking down that aisle, his fairytale won't be complete.

Puck buys the ring the next day. He takes her to the roof and Rachel's kind of wary. Puck can't blame her because he's been on edge since this morning, trying to act as if nothing was different. When everything was.

'Rach, when we first met I knew that something was going to happen. And I was right. Because you came along and suddenly everything wasn't so fucking awful anymore. I don't believe in much but whenever I look at you, I just know that I can believe in you. Because you're fucking awesome and you're kind of like my Northern Star.'

She covers her mouth when he gets down on one knee, fumbles with the velvet box. It's a small ring, simple but beautiful. Just like her.

'I can't imagine my life without you because its just fucking impossible now that I've had you in it. So I guess what I'm trying to say, Rachel Berry, is that I want to make an honest woman out of you. If you'd let me.'

She's not saying anything and Puck wants the world to open up and swallow him whole. His nerves are shot and he's still kneeling, the concrete biting into his knee.

'Rachel?' He shatters the silence and Puck his horrified to see that she's crying.

'Fuck baby, don't cry. I take back everything I said-'

'Yes,' she blurts out and Puck freezes.

'Yes?'

'Yes Noah Puckerman, I'll marry you,' she breathes. Puck gapes up at her in shock. She's sticking out her hand and wiggling her ring finger. Puck scrambles to his feet and rips the ring out of the pillow, gulping down the lump in his throat. When he slides the ring onto her finger, it's never felt more right.

'I love you,' she says and Puck wants to laugh because this is the first time either of them has said it.

'You have no idea how much I love your tight, dancer's ass too,' he grins down at her, feeling as if he's floating on air. She raises her eyes heavenward before capturing his bottom lip between her own.

Puck closes his eyes and thinks this fairytale has the perfect ending now, that it is no longer unreal but solid and tangible.

Because he had been broken and Rachel had healed him.

But most important of all, Puck thinks as he holds his future wife, he'd given all his heart and hadn't lost.

If that wasn't a love story, Puck doesn't know what was.