It's a Wonderful Life.

By: jewishamericanprincess.

Paralleling the Puckleberry relationships to Mary/George from the movie, 'It's a Wonderful Life'.

Italic sentences are thoughts.

Noah Puckerman was never one to take any initiation. But one summer when he was six years old, he couldn't think of anything that he wanted more then to take care of his little family.

His father had just left, leaving behind a heartbroken mother, an oblivious five-month-old baby girl, and one angry little Puck.

That was when he got his first job.

It wasn't much; delivering newspapers to a few houses in his neighborhood on weekends, but at least it made him feel like he was helping. He was the man of the house now, after all, and he wasn't going to back out on his responsibilities this early in the game.

And that's how he found himself outside of Santana Lopez's house at 7 o' clock in the morning on a Sunday.

The little boy was still waking up as he approached their house, rubbing his eyes to try and wipe the tiredness away. He had just turned up the pathway towards her home when Santana came bounding towards him until they were face to face, dolled up in a miniscule white lace dress and a giant bow tying her curled hair back from her face.

Grinning from ear to ear the girl called out her greeting, "Hello, Puck! Guess what? My confirmation is today! I'm going to the church now. Daddy says he'll throw me a big party after and... Oh. Hi Rachel."

Puck hadn't even noticed the Jewish girl before Santana had mentioned her. She was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Lopez house, kneeled down and attempting to tie her shoes with little success. Looking up from her Mary Janes she let out an exasperated breath, she had hair in her face and her dress was skewed to the side. She must have been running and tripped on her untied shoe laces. Rachel reached her arms, still a pudgy with baby fat to wipe the tears and hair from her face. Her bottom lip was trembling, but the moment she saw Puck and Santana staring at her she snapped a weak smile onto her face and waved gently.

"Do you want your newspaper or not?" Puck had the rest of the block to deliver, and all he wanted to do was go home and curl up with his baby sister until nap time. No cooty-covered girl was going to distract him from that.

"Yes please, Pucky."

Santana skipped over to Rachel while Puck rummaged around his bag looking for the Lopezs' multiple newspaper subscriptions. She leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I like him."

"But you like every boy! And they're icky." Rachel made a face, scooting away from Santana.

"What's wrong with that?" Santana rolled her eyes, deeming Rachel unworthy of knowing her secret crush as she hopped back over to Puck.

Puck handed over her papers without another word, rubbing his eyes yet again as he turned to leave.

"Wait! Want to help me carry them inside? They're awful heavy, and you're so strong." Santana cooed after him, twirling a piece of her hair and letting the papers fall to the ground.

"Carry them inside?" Puck groaned, shaking his head at Santana and marching away down the path towards Rachel.

She had given up on tying her shoes, and had crossed her arms in protest of the cruel world, instead waiting for one of her fathers to realize she was missing and come find her sprawled out on the ground in front of Santana Lopez's home. But as Puck began walking towards her Rachel sat up, blinking her big brown eyes up at him with a sweet smile.

"Does your family get any newspapers? Because I wanna go home and watch cartoons and I think your house is one of the places I'm supposed to deliver to."

Rachel frowned lightly at his less then kind words, but nodded her head and coughed before squeaking out a small reply, "Yes. We get The New York Times, I think."

Puck began searching for the Berrys' newspaper while Rachel watched intently. He's even cuter without the yamaka. And he's so sweet bringing newspapers to all of these people. Noticing Puck's gaze back on her, Rachel switched her focused expression to a wide-eyed innocent smile.

"Do you want Rolling Stone? There's an extra in here." Puck said gruffly, handing Rachel her newspaper.

Rachel's face fell again, her eyebrows furrowing as she replied, "No. Daddies don't like Rolling Stone."

"Don't like Rolling Stone?" Puck twisted his face up in confusion, "Say, brainless, have you ever seen Rolling Stone?" Lookit. Bands and guitars and leather and singers. It's Rock n' Roll." Looking around suspiciously, the small boy pulled out the shiny magazine, squatting down next to Rachel to give her a look at it.

Rachel's eyes grew even larger as she ran her little hand over the smooth cover. "It's so new! I never saw it before..."

Puck rolled his eyes, pulling the magazine away and standing up straight again, "Of course you haven't. Because your 'daddies' don't like it," Puck sneered at the childish word, shaking his head as if she had suggested eating bugs.

Reaching into his pocket, Puck extracted a walkman from his baggy shorts, placing the headphones over his ears as to ignore the bright eyes little girl in front of him as well as he could. He began tucking away the contents of his bag again, and Rachel seized the opportunity, standing up as quickly as she could to lean over Puck's ear.

"Puck?... Can you hear me with your headphones on?" Taking the silence on his end as a no, Rachel continued. "Noah Puckerman I'll love you till the day I die." A hand flying to her mouth in shock, Rachel withdrew, disgusted in herself that she would say something about a boy; especially this boy. The boy who mocked her on the playground and pushed her down so he could be the first one in line for lunch. Why him?

The boy removed his headphones, turning back to Rachel. "I'm going to be a rock star one day, you watch. And I'm gonna have houses all over the world, and maybe a million girlfriends from all the different cities I go to on tour. Wait and see."

Rachel shook her head, baffled. Squeaking out an, "Okay." the little girl did the only thing she could do. She ran home faster then she ever had before. Leaving a grumpy little boy, a bag full of newspapers, and unfinished dreams behind.