Puck wandered the empty hallway pissed at both himself and at Quinn. He knew he should have made a greater effort to get her back after Beth but he hadn't.
He'd let her bitch and rave and pretty much kick him out of her life.
He didn't think things could get any worse than they already were.
And that's when he heard it.
Crying.
Worse than that: chick crying.
He needed to get the fuck out of there before whoever she was latched on to him. He was a stud in a letterman jacket; any chick would love to cry on his shoulder and have him make her forget all of her problems.
He quickly ducked his head and picked up his pace. But the sound was getting louder. Fuck! It sounded like it was coming from the choir room. And fuck all if he didn't leave his books in there until after football because he thought those assholes on the team would steal them or some shit. (Not that he cared about his grades or anything. He just needed to be able to show his mom that he knew how to read.)
He slowed his steps to a tip toe as he approached the room. He carefully poked his head around the corner and saw a lone figure sitting in the dark, hands covering her face and huge, silent sobs wracking her body.
Double fuck. It's Berry.
He internally debated saying fuck the books and heading home before he heard her let out a loud sobbing hiccup before silence reigned again.
Triple fuck. He looked to the sky and shook his head. "I get it," he whispered. "Help the girl Jew and win some karma. Better be a friggen car in this deal for me, J-Man."
He took a deep breath, ran his hand over his 'hawk, and walked into the choir room. He shut the door softly behind him and made his way across the room. If Rachel noticed him she didn't show it. He plopped down into the chair next to the crying girl and stared at her without saying anything.
When five minutes passed of silent sobs and deep breaths, he finally couldn't hold it in any longer. "What's wrong with you, Berry?"
Rachel gasped and her head shot up, one hand moving to press against her heart and the other moving to hastily wipe away her tears. "Noah! I didn't hear you come in," she told him needlessly as she continued to dry her tear-streaked cheeks. "Is there something you needed?"
It would have been so easy for him to tell her he just needed his books and he would be out of her way in a minute so she could continue crying over whatever it was that caused drama in her life – Streisand pulled her latest album or the Theater Guild was on strike again. Whatever. But as he turned his face too look at her again he saw that whatever it was that she was stressing over was big. Huge. And her big, huge boyfriend wasn't around to comfort her.
So, like a complete pussy, he sighed and said, "Nothin' that can't wait. What's wrong?"
She stared at him, wide brown eyes blinking uncomprehendingly. "What?"
"What's wrong with you?" he asked slower. Bitch is out of her mind.
"I can assure you, Noah, that it's nothing you want to hear about and would probably make fun of me for crying over anyway. If you'd like to mock me, as usual, I would really appreciate it if you could do it tomorrow. And, in exchange for your agreement on that issue, I will fully condone you throwing a slushee flavor of your choice in my face to accompany said mocking." She took a deep, gulping breath, tears filling her eyes again, before asking, "Deal?"
Puck stared at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. "The hell? Did you just tell me to slushee you tomorrow?"
"In exchange for not mocking me and simply leaving me alone right now, I will graciously accept a slushee in the face tomorrow. Between classes, even, and in whichever hallway you deem to be the most populated so as to up the chance of complete humiliation. So, please, Noah," she added softly. "Just please go away right now."
"Does this have anything to do with why you backed out of the solos and shi- uh, stuff at Sectionals. 'Cause the whole club's talkin' about it. But no one knows what happened," he told her.
"It's directly related, yes, but you're wrong about people not knowing what happened. Santana and Finn know exactly what happened," she told him before turning her back on him again. "Now please go."
This shit was getting old. He didn't have time to sit around and have Berry give him little bits and pieces of why she was a fucking train wreck today. But then he played her last words over in his head and furrowed his brow. Finn and Santana? No fucking way. "What do Santana and Hudson have to do with this?"
"Nothing," she responded dully.
"Listen., Berry. I can't fucking help if you don't tell me what's going on!" Puck shouted at her in a whisper. Just in case there were people left in the school. He didn't want anyone to think he was, like, a good guy or anything.
"First of all, you know how I feel about foul language. And second, what exactly is it you want me to tell you? What is it you think you can help me with? This is my issue, Noah. Mine. And there's nothing anyone can do or say to make it better for me. Understand?"
"Just tell me what happened, Berry," he said in a bored tone.
"No."
"C'mon. It's can't be as bad as you think it is," he wheedled.
"Noah, stop it. It's bad, okay? Like, really bad."
"So tell me what it is. I'm the bad guy around here, remember? If it's bad, I need to know about it so I can do it."
Rachel snorted inelegantly and rolled her eyes at him. "In a way, you already have. But not really."
"Tell me," he pressed again.
"No."
"Berry, tell me."
"No."
"Damnit, Rachel. Just tell me what the hell happened!" he shouted at her, this time taking no heed to who may or may not be in the vicinity.
"Finn had sex with Santana last year!" she screamed at him.
Their eyes met, his wide with shock and hers narrowed with anger. Her breath was coming out in heavy pants and her chest heaved.
"Are you serious?"
"Do you think this is something I would lie about? No. It's not. She wants to date him or something so she told me all about his lie. Well, actually, she told Jacob ben Israel about his lie and the little pervert posted it all over his stupid blog. Now everyone who reads it knows that I wasn't good enough to keep Finn Hudson interested in me. And now the speculation, according to said blog, is that he's been messing around with her the whole time. Behind my back. And why, you may ask," she continued angrily. "Because I won't sleep with him!"
He stared at her for a second, complete devoid of thoughts or anything to say. And then his brain kicked into high gear. He slept with Santana? Was it when he and Rachel had their thing going on over winter or was it after? Was it on the night that he had plans with Santana but she cancelled because she said she had something better to do?
Had Finn Hudson cheated on Rachel Berry with the chick he was banging on a regular basis since ninth grade?
"He cheated on you?" Puck asked quietly.
Rachel turned to face him and she shook her head shamefully. "No," she said softly. "It was after he broke up with me and I was with Jesse."
"And it was only the one time?" Puck continued.
"As far as I know. But I don't know much," she elaborated. "Just that when I admitted to him that I didn't sleep with Jesse when he thought I did he didn't admit that he did sleep with Santana after telling me he didn't."
"So you're pissed because he lied, basically," Puck stated, not even bothering to make it into a question.
"Does that even matter?" she asked him with a huff. "He lied to me; he had sex with your girlfriend. Doesn't that make you angry?"
"Berry, I'm going to level with you here. Not because I think you want to hear it but because I think you deserve to hear it. Okay?" He waited for her to nod before he took a deep breath. "Truth is, Berry. Uh, Rachel. The truth is, Finn didn't do anything wrong when he slept with Santana. They were both without someone. It happens. That's how she and I hooked up all the time." He paused. "I've done way worse than what he did, Rachel. Way worse. But if the look on his face since Sectionals is any indication, he feels shittier than I did. And I'll say it again: what he did wasn't wrong. Was it wrong to lie? Yeah," he nodded. "But screwing Santana? It's like a right of passage in the school."
"So you're saying that you're okay with the fact that he slept with her?"
Puck shrugged. "She and I aren't dating," he said matter-of-factly.
"Might want to check with her on that. She told all the girls in glee who had boyfriends who play football that you two were dating," Rachel replied with an arched brow. Puck noticed that her tears had finally completely dried.
"She's full of shit," Puck responded harshly.
"Noah," Rachel sighed.
"No. She's completely full of shit. We're not dating. We have sex. That's it. And I'm not the only one she's having sex with. And I don't believe in open relationships."
"You don't?" she asked with a smile.
"No," he said lowly. "I just … when I'm in a real relationship then she's it. I mean, I didn't cheat on you …"
"We were together for eight days," she laughed.
"Only eight days since I lost my virginity that I didn't have sex with anyone," he told her seriously. "And once Q and I got together, sort of, well … no, we didn't get together. But I didn't have sex with anyone after …"
"After what? After both Mercedes and I shot you down?"
"The fuck do you know?" he grumbled.
"Noah," she sighed. "This …" she closed her eyes for a moment and then focused on him. "Why would he sleep with her if he knew it would hurt me?"
"Because he knew it would hurt you, babe," he said with a pained smile. "He thought you were gettin' plugged by St. Douche on a nightly basis. And I'm pretty sure he knew it wouldn't last between you and the Vocal Toolbelt. So he wanted to have a least a little experience before he got between your legs …"
"You're foul," she interrupted him with a scowl.
"And, besides, Santana could probably manipulate even you into her bed if she put her mind to it. She's fucking sneaky with that shit."
"Really?" she asked as she slowly widened her doe eyes at him.
"Berry," he said gruffly, "don't give me that look right now."
"What look?" she asked him.
"The look that makes it so easy for me to picture you and I giving Hudson the best kind of revenge possible." When she stared blankly at him, he leaded forward and whispered, "Give him a taste of his own medicine."
"Noah!" she cried out as she jumped from her seat. "I would never … If I wouldn't when I was with Jesse I certainly won't while I'm with Finn!"
"You sure you're still together?" he asked as he stood and put a smarmy smile on his face.
"Yes, you letch! I love him! This is just a minor bump in the road! We'll be fine!" she cried out as she backed towards the door.
Puck paused where he was, his look melting away to a slight smile. "Then why are you in here crying like it's the end of the world? Be pissed for a little while then forgive him like we both know you're going to. I'll do my best to keep Santana away from him."
"Why?" she asked him with narrow eyes. "Why would you help me? And why would you listen to all this today?"
"Easy, Berry," he said with a wide grin. "Now you owe me. And I know exactly how I plan to collect."
She gasped again and thrust her hands onto her hips. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Noah!"
"Jeez!" he groaned as he rolled his head. "Will you keep your fucking voice down?" He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I need a favor, Berry. And, as a chick who owes me and doesn't hate me like all the other chicks in this school, you're going to be the one to do me the favor."
"And what, exactly, is this favor?" she asked him with an arched brow as she crossed her arms.
"This Sam kid? He's got to go."
"Noah, we need him in glee club."
"He can stay in the club," Puck agreed. "But he needs to back the fuck up off my woman."
"Noah …"
"And you're going to help me make that happen," he told her definitively.
Rachel sighed and nodded her acceptance. There really was no point in trying to argue against him. Rachel didn't disagree with the fact that Sam and Quinn were not quite right for each other.
"I'm not going to help you get her to cheat on him," she warned.
"Berry," he grinned. "I just need you to be yourself."
She had to swallow the uneasy feeling that was climbing up her throat.
No good could come of this.
