Best of Intentions

by Tarafina

Rachel, thinking to help, writes Puck's new girlfriend an anonymous letter to keep her from making the same mistakes she did. PxR

Title: Best of Intentions
Category: Glee
Genre: Romance/Humor
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: Teen
Warning(s): Coarse Language, Sexual Innuendo
Prompt: http:/ /tinypic. com/r/ 2163ic/7 – puckrachel drabble meme
Word Count: 5,244
Summary: Rachel, thinking to help, writes Puck's new girlfriend an anonymous letter to keep her from making the same mistakes she did.

Best of Intentions
-1/1-

Monday morning had just begun; the doors to McKinley were only recently opened and Rachel Berry was on a mission. She regretted the lack of a dark trench coat, but the show must go on. Perhaps wearing an all black ensemble was a little much, but she was nothing if not in the moment at all times. It was something that would undoubtedly help her in her future career as Broadway's shining star. Moving hall to hall, peeking around corners and down rows of lockers, she swept through the school like the 'ninjas' he was so fond of. Target in sight, she hesitated, eyes darting in every direction, making absolutely sure that there was nobody nearby who might see her do this. When she was certain she was alone, she hurried forward and she slid the pink envelope she'd held tight in her hands all morning, that she'd spent her entire weekend composing, through the slats of the locker. She stared a moment longer, chewing her lip with indecision, wondering for a moment if perhaps she should take it back, if maybe this wasn't the smartest thing to do. But when she thought about him, thought about what he deserved, she took a step back and nodded as if to reassure herself. Finally, she walked away, her small plaid heels click-clacking beneath her.

Readjusting her oversized sunglasses, she glanced over her shoulder just once before speed-walking on, quick as can be, until she was far out of sight, far away from the all important locker. She would have liked nothing more than to hang back and see that her intended target had received her letter, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Licking her lips, she closed her eyes and hated the hitch that seemed to cloud her heart. She furled her black-gloved hands into fists, missing the light weight of the envelope, and gathered all her might to trap the hollow sadness that burned her throat. This was for the best. She was doing him this one last favor. After all, despite everything, he had only been trying to help her.

She spent the rest of morning feeling like any moment somebody was going to tell her she'd been caught. She was nervous and edgy and she avoided them as much as she possibly could. Instead, she tried her best to focus on other people, other couples. There was Mike and Tina, giggling and smiling and showing for all the world to see their perfect 'Asian love.' And there was Artie, wheeling through the school, grinning proudly at the airy blonde that sat in his lap, just as happy that he was hers. Across the hall, she watched Finn and Quinn make not so subtle eye contact from their separate lockers and she frowned. Now that Sam had thrown in the towel and moved on to stringless fun with Santana, she'd thought for sure that Finn would get his perfect, blonde ex back and solidify things. There was a dull ache in her chest that she attributed to the long-known fact that one's first love would always linger. While once she had thought her love for Finn Hudson could neither be overshadowed nor dim in its intensity, she had been wrong. Her adoration had waned, had grown into an affection for the first boy to kiss her, to love her, to make her feel like she had a spotlight all her own and it radiated from his smile. He was her past now and she felt confident that he was meant to stay there. Perhaps one day, down the road, they could be friends. It would look good in her autobiography if after everything they still maintained a friendship, after all.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully and began planning (like many times before) what her relationships might look like in print. There was Finn and Jesse and Noah, of course. And whatever future dalliances she might have. And then there were her friendships and her familial connections, good and bad; her dads would be shone in an affectionate and idolizing light, while Shelby would likely look much like a villain in some respects. She imagined Jesse too would look like a boy out for fame and fortune, leaving a trail of shattered hearts in his wake. And when she considered the facts, she imagined even Finn would have his moments of heartbreaking douchery. She flushed; a smile tugged at her lips as she remembered that word was something not of her vocabulary but of a certain ex's. Noah would no doubt love every word written about him, because though his history was the most tainted, in terms of her she thought he might well have been the most valiant and careful with her heart. Disregarding the painful torture of daily slushees that happened before them, of course. Yes, of her three exes, two of whom she'd dated much longer than the five days she spent with Noah Puckerman, he had still managed to instill a sense of being appreciated, understood, accepted, in a way neither Jesse nor Finn had ever accomplished. And even after their break-up, he still stood up for her, still made her feel like less of a freak than most others had. He was honest, of course, and never hesitated to tell her when she was being diva-like, but he never tried to change her or fix her or trick her in any way.

The bell rang for classes to recommence and she was forced from her thoughts. Rising from her seat, she realized she had accomplished very little during her break. Usually, she spent the time cataloguing her books or dreaming of ways to get herself recognized and take Broadway by storm. But today was different; today she had given her blessing to a girl that though she thought was undeserving of the treasure, had won the heart of her ex-boyfriend. She had written a short list of tips, offering encouragement more for his benefit than hers. Rachel wanted the best for him, even if some part of her, perhaps cattily, even possessively, felt that she would be much better suited for the job. She had lost her chance. Misguided and blinded as she was, she had walked away when she should have stayed, should have held on. But mistakes had been made, choices too, and in the end perhaps their time was only meant to strengthen her, to help her along in her own growth, and maybe his as well. There was a voice in her head -the optimistic and bright voice that often told her she would shock and awe Broadway with her abundant talent- that said the future was a world of possibilities and she might get another chance. Some day, one daym when they were both ready and without other objects of desire. So while her heart ached and she longed to hook her arm with a much stronger one as she walked through the halls, she had to accept that now was not that time.

She was distracted in classes, having to ask her teachers to repeat their questions before she could properly answer them. They stared at her like she'd grown a second head and she knew well that she was acting out of sorts, that she was not the girl who had her arm up each and every class, either to correct some misinformation dispensed by her teachers or to answer their probing questions to keep their students on task and catch them in daydreaming. Each time she tried to focus on her work, to get her mind back on task, it wandered. Mentally, she went over each and every sentence of her letter and wondered if she'd missed anything. If perhaps a sequel was needed. Or maybe a series of letters...

She began making notes in her binder that had nothing to do with Math; a class he had obviously skipped to have his usual daily nap. In bullet form, she listed the many suggestions she had for his new girlfriend, tapping her pencil against her lips as she began thinking of things that no doubt the girl would want to learn on her own and not from an outside source. Like how much he liked it when she bit him just a little, her teeth applying just enough pressure to his full lips that he moaned and jerked and squirmed beneath her while she sat straddled above, his hands sliding ever closer to what lay beneath her skirt. Or how he so loved when she dragged her nails through his Mohawk, scratching at the base of his neck like she might the scruff of a faithful dog; how it made him breathe a little harder and arch his hips up into her. It was, of course, information she didn't imagine his new girlfriend wanted to learn from his ex, and some part of her couldn't help but want to keep it private anyway. If his new girl wasn't intelligent or confident enough to find out these things then why should she intervene? He was obviously quite content in his relationship and thus his girlfriend must not need her cues…

So she focused away from the physical aspect of it, even if her mind reminded her quickly that he was nothing if not physical, and instead tried to keep her list to the little things he liked. Sugar cookies with just a little bit of vanilla icing and sprinkles, but never pink ones as he found them 'sissy' and counteracted his 'badass.' Cherry slushees were his favorite, but he could be convinced to enjoy grape if he was in a good mood… and he never objected to grape flavored kisses. His favorite dips were anything spicy, but have antacids on hand because they revolted against him every time. He spent his money foolishly and should he ask for a loan, don't expect him to pay it back, but do expect to see some completely useless weapon of his choice suddenly appear in his room; throwing stars – really? The list went on and on before finally the bell rang and she was forced to leave for lunch.

Packing up her books, she made her way toward her locker, deep in thought. She twirled the lock comm. absently and put away her books in a distracted daze. Thinking through the options of where to have lunch, she finally decided on the choir room. It was quiet and empty and she could avoid the snickers or glares or the footballers and their oh so funny slushee bombings. Just as she was reaching for her pre-packed vegan lunch, she noticed the red and white of a Letterman's jacket coming up behind her. Her shoulders hunched instinctively and she awaited the icy cold shower, targeted specifically at destroying her ego and kicking her self-esteem. But when the slushee never came, she loosened up, opening first one and then the other eye and finally turned, only to find Noah smirking at her, his brow raised.

"Oh…" She looked around, wondering where his shadow, in the form of Lauren Zizes, might be but found him alone. She pursed her lips. Having alone time with him, while it might seen like a good idea, would only worsen the already stinging pain reverberating in her chest. "How may I help you?" she wondered, keeping things as direct as possible.

He snorted. "Y'know, you're not a Walmart greeter, Berry. Just say 'sup'?"

Feeling a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she scoffed to cover it. "Excuse my execution of manners, Noah. I'll try my best to be as uncouth as possible in future. I know you respond well to that kind of behavior." She rolled her eyes, turning her face away.

"S'cool." He grinned. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he just stared at her awhile. It was unnerving; his probing gaze always felt like it was revealing parts of her she hadn't wanted shown. And she didn't just mean that she felt as though he was undressing her with her eyes, although she was sure he was doing that too, but she also felt like he was peeling away layers of her to get to the 'Berry' inside. She flushed. He would no doubt turn that into a terribly suggestive innuendo. Her stomach should not have fluttered pleasantly.

"Really…" she sighed. "If I can't be of assistance, I don't know what you possibly mean to do by standing here gawking at me for—"

"Dear New Girlfriend," he interrupted, looking entirely too smug.

She stopped, her mouth ajar, and peered at him with big, shocked eyes. "I don't… I have no idea what you're implying but—"

"Treat him okay," he continued, staring at her now with serious eyes and his smirk long gone. "He always acts tough around his friends, but it's just that… an act." His lips quirked slightly. "Laugh at his jokes, even when they aren't funny. It makes him happy…" His eyes fell slightly. "Never be the one to let go of his hugs first; it puts a huge smile on his face…" He glanced up at her then, looking almost nervous and so much like the boy behind the mask. The one who cared, who was vulnerable and showed it to only those he cared about, trusted. "Always hold his hand when he reaches for it. It makes him feel as though he owns you, in an entirely Neanderthal but utterly attractive sort of way." He grinned slightly, chuckling under his breath. "And realize…" He licked his lips. "Realize you have a great guy when you're dating him. Because he's one of the best I ever had and one I wished I hadn't underappreciated when I had him…" He half-smirked then. "Sincerely, His Ex-Girlfriend..."

Nervous, she played with the end of her skirt, eyes darting to and fro, never quite landing on his face. "I… I'd like to point out, for the record, that any number of girls in this school might be referred to as your ex and thus it could by any one of them. As such, I feel it is pertinent to tell you that accusing me of this act would be—"

"It's written on scented paper," he cut her off, grinning widely now. "Pink scented paper… And you drew a star at the end of Ex-Girlfriend…" He raised a knowing brow. "'Sides… you really think Satan or Quinn or any of the other chicks I banged would write this stuff about me?" He snorted.

As she thought it through, she decided Santana would no doubt put Lauren down and list various sexual positions she and Noah engaged in, likely ending with a long run-on sentence, riddled with Spanish, that implied she was either still having intercourse with Noah or would be soon. Quinn would likely write a list of contraceptives and likely rant bitterly about how never to trust Noah Puckerman. And while Rachel could see the many qualities Noah possessed but were hidden beneath his crude vernacular and outwardly badass disposition, she couldn't say many of the other girls at McKinley thought along the same lines. To many of the girls he was a good time, not a good guy. And there was absolutely no chance one of his cougars had come to school to offer advice in letter form. Sadly, that left her as the one and only option. Rats! She blew out a breath. She thought she'd planned this much better than anticipated. Obviously, when she next planned a secret excursion, much of her strategy would be dedicated elsewhere than her wardrobe. Although she maintained that her black plaid skirt and her black sweater were the perfect 'cat burglar' outfit, and the gloves really offset it all, while also offering a purpose in hiding her fingerprints. Not that she expected either Lauren or Noah to actually test the letter for fingerprints, but she'd been engaged in a CSI marathon over the weekend with her dad and daddy and so she gathered it might have rubbed off some.

"Oh," she said, feeling a flush pinken her cheeks. "In that case…" She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Yes… I did write the letter to Lauren. However—" Before he could override her or start listing all the ways she was 'bat-shit crazy,' she said quickly, "I was only looking out for your best interests." She nodded sharply. "While I'm sure you believe Lauren to be a suitable companion, I had only sought to make sure she knew exactly who it was she had and that if she happened to take you for granted, it would be her loss…" She straightened her skirt out of nervous habit and cleared her throat. "I'm sure you think I overstepped my boundaries and perhaps in some manner I have… which legitimately explains why I didn't leave my name and instead thought that a vague note might leave an air of anonymity so she didn't think I was in any way staking a claim or somewhat stating that she was an unfit girlfriend."

When he moved to open his mouth once more, she interrupted quickly.

"Although, for the record, I do find her to be a mite aggressive… rude… mean… obnoxious… and completely dispassionate to you or your feelings." She clenched her jaw and pouted slightly. "I've heard the way she speaks to you, Noah, and while I know that you've gotten used to it or have even begun to accept that it is just the way people see you, I would like to reiterate how very wrong she and anybody else who considers you a Lima Loser or anything of similar bearing are. You are not, nor will you ever be, inconsequential or worth her displeasing insults." She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest seriously. "And I'll warn you now that if it keeps up, I will not be held responsible for my actions." Staring up at him with wide eyes, she raised her brows meaningfully, "I may be a petite girl, Noah, but I have taken self-defense classes and I believe that given the right incentive, I may actually have to engage in fisticuffs with Lauren Zizes!" She sighed forlornly. "While I don't look forward to the recovery period or what it might do to my face, and I'd like to ask now that she refrain from hitting my nose," she lifted a hand to touch her face, already frowning, "I would like to say that it will be worth it… You and your substantially large, if bruised and purposelessly harmed, ego will be worth it." She blew out a long, infuriated breath and stuffed her hands on her hips.

He blinked at her, his grin fading into a half-smile. "You done?"

She quirked her head, thinking over all she'd said. "I believe so… I reserve the right to add more later, however."

He shook his head. "You're bat-shit, y'know." Rather a statement then question, she sniffed at him.

"Yes," she sighed, half-rolling her eyes. "I had really hoped you might say something less related to the various levels of crazy you find me…" She pursed her lips. "Actually, I had rather hoped you wouldn't know it was me at all and that perhaps Lauren would have enough common sense not to show you the letter." She frowned. "I assume if you know, she knows… Should I be readying for the aforementioned fisticuffs?" She darted her eyes toward her locker. "Perhaps I should have a paramedic on stand-by…" She raised her chin to stare up at him. "I hope that my engaging in such volatile behavior with your girlfriend would not impede our friendship, Noah."

"We're not friends, Berry…"

She really hated how that hurt. Taking a deep breath, she meant to list all the reasons she thought they were friends, or even could be friends. But then his finger was on her chin, lifting it up so they were eye to eye again.

"And Lauren's not my girlfriend."

She blinked, her brows furrowing. "But you serenaded her… You've been chasing her for awhile now…" She lifted a shoulder. "Admittedly, it confused and even at some points repulsed me, but there is no controlling who the heart wants Noah. I realize she's not your usual type and that high school can be an unfortunate playground with many pointless rules, but with you working so hard to be more than what was expected of you, it made sense that you were trying to be with someone who stood outside your usual social ranks." She pursed her lips. "I don't especially like Lauren. I can handle her in small doses but she does have a rather aggressive personality. But if you love her… If you choose her, then I won't hinder your progress." She nodded. "I had only hoped to help her along… I didn't want her to hurt you like… Like so many have." Her eyes fell.

"Me and Lauren were… better as friends." He shrugged carelessly. "I dunno… I thought I was really into her but I think it's just 'coz she was so badass and like… didn't wantme." His eyes widened. "Legit, she's the only chick who didn't wanna take a ride on the Puckerone Express." He scoffed, looking really offended. "Even you were all up in my grill and I wasn't hearing any complaints."

Rachel blinked. "While I don't think your substantial ego needs any more stroking, Noah, I am a little surprised that Lauren wasn't attracted to you, or interested in pursuing a physical relationship. She did seem to be warming up to you, however." Reaching out, she touched his arm. "Perhaps…" And it hurt her to say this. "Perhaps you just need to try harder and she'll come around. I'm sure eventually she'll see the boy I've become so fond of and will acknowledge that you are being honest in your courting of her."

"Yeah, I'm really over that. She put me down a lot; it was kinda depressing…" He frowned. "Like, my mom rags on me all the time, but I'm used to that. I don't really wanna girlfriend who think she's wasting her time with me."

"Oh…" She stroked his arm absently, partly because she just enjoyed the sculpted texture beneath her fingertips and partly because she hoped it might soothe him. "Well, I'm sure you'll find somebody who fits the bill for your ideal woman." She chewed her lip. "I would suggest avoiding Santana or Quinn, as they are both engaged in either a flirtation or sexual relationship with two of our glee mates and while I'm sure that your charm would no doubt sway them, I'd like to avoid the inevitable blow-up that might cause to our club."

And she really wasn't sure she could handle seeing him all over Santana again or fighting with Finn for Quinn. She wondered if perhaps she had accepted his relationship with Lauren more because she didn't feel threatened by her like she had the attractive Cheerios, but shook her head and the idea away. Now was not the time to wallow or pick apart these issues.

"Yeah… I was kinda thinkin' I might look an ex up actually…" His lips quirked. "I've liked her for a really long time, but I always kinda thought she was too good for me or didn't, I dunno, like me the same way." He shrugged his shoulders, stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and when he looked over at her she saw that vulnerable expression of his once more. "See, she popped this letter into my ex's locker, who gave it to me and told me to get my shit together… Guess I'm not as subtle as I think I am." He laughed under his breath, his eyes falling and she could have sworn they landed on her lips. "So this girl… She's like, proud of me, or some shit. And she makes me proud of myself… 'n maybe… Maybe if we give it a second chance, we'll get it right this time…" He inhaled deeply and sighed loudly. "So whattya say, Berry? You wanna, uh… skip the rest of lunch and grab a slushee with me?"

Rachel's heart fell to her stomach and then leapt up high into her throat. "I-I-That-And-You—"

He chuckled lowly, ducking his head, his warm green-hazel eyes looking up and meeting hers. "Made ya speechless, that shit's legen—wait for it…" He winked at her. "Dary."

She scoffed. "You have not, nor will you ever, hinder my speech…" Glancing away, she smiled. "I was just momentarily stunned by—"

He swooped forward and caught her lips, slanting his own hot mouth across her and dragging his tongue along the seam of her lips before plunging inside to taste her. She let out a content sigh and melted into him, her hands falling to his sides and gripping the fabric of his shirt. She didn't argue when he leaned into her until she was pressed into the lockers, his long, hard body enveloping hers with its heat and strength. Dragging her hands up his sides, she briefly tickled along his ribs, grinning when he flinched and gasped a little into her mouth; yet another of the many physical things she knew about him that she'd been unwilling to share with Lauren. Gliding her hands up his back, she spread them along his shoulder blades, felt them flex beneath her touch, and then wrapped them around the back of his shoulders and squeezed lightly. There was something utterly masculine about him and the way his body so sinuously moved against her and beneath her palms. The muscles fluidly reacting as she arched into him and her tongue reached for his. How his hips rolled forward and pinned hers to the lockers while his shoulders drew back, tightening under her grasp, and his head ducked lower, his chin scraping briefly against hers, the faint whiskers he hadn't shaved leaving a tingly web of pleasure coursing along her skin. She missed this; she missed him. Yes, it had only been five days last year and an afternoon in her bedroom last December, but… He had lingered, in her mind and her memories and perhaps even in her heart, for much longer than she had anticipated or acknowledged.

One of his hands cupped her face, his thumb stroking along her cheek. As their mouths parted, panting, wet and swollen, he dragged his thumb along her lower lip and smirked when she nibbled the pad of it. He leaned his forehead against hers and just sighed. "For the record… You treated me pretty good, up until the end there, Berry… But we were both pretty hung up on other people and things were fucked up…" He licked his lips, eyes darkening at the lingering taste of her lip gloss. "And that tough thing I got going? Not all an act." He smirked. "I'm a BAMF, babe."

She smiled, even as she half-rolled her eyes at him.

"'n I'm seriously funny." His eyes widened for emphasis. "Just 'coz you don't get my special brand of humor…"

She scoffed. "Half of your jokes either have sexual connotations or involve some sort of expelling of gas."

He grinned, nodding. "Shit's funny."

"Fine." She pursed her lips arguably but let him believe he was right. After all, it made him happy.

He narrowed his eyes at her like he knew exactly what she was doing, but then he wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed, as if she could get any closer. "And this is me hugging you… Since you can't let go first, 'm just gonna keep doing it." He grinned. "So you're kinda stuck with me."

Softening, she let her arms fall to his waist. "I think I can be okay with that..." she murmured.

"Good… 'Coz if you don't, who knows what kinda letter might show up in your locker… I have this crazy ex-girlfriend that legit wrote my other ex-girlfriend on how to like, treat me better…" He raised a brow at her. "She's kinda awesome that way."

"As a favor to you, I think I should tell you that this crazy ex of yours… shouldn't be an ex at all." She lifted a shoulder. "I have it on good authority that she means to appreciate you like she hadn't before."

"Good…" He kissed her, short and sweet. "'m thinking of a lot of ways we can mutually appreciate each other right now." He smirked, wiggling his brows at her.

She laughed, shaking her head. "I believe I was promised a slushee, Noah." She slowly raised a brow. "Perhaps this appreciation can be exchanged in your truck…"

He broke apart from her, reached for her hand and booked it down the hall toward the parking lot. She held on tight and thought that his Neanderthal possessive streak was still utterly attractive, and she couldn't help but love that she was the one enjoying it. While she thought one day Lauren Zizes would suffer the same fate and realize just what a wonderful boy she had lost with her lack of appreciation, Rachel was happy to reap the rewards. And with a determined smirk, she decided that when Zizes changed her mind and meant to get Noah back, she'd be ready for her. Rachel had already learned her lesson and nobody took her man from her. And Noah Puckerman? Very definitely her man.

"Noah? Do you think I would have won during a battle of fisticuffs with Lauren?" she wondered as she hopped into his truck.

He glanced back at her, eyes wide. "Let's just not test that theory, 'kay?"

She sighed, wanting nothing less than to stomp her foot at his lack of support in the matter. So she did, but he just smirked at her.

"I just got you back…" he reminded, turning the key in the ignition. "You're short enough without her flattening you into a pancake."

Pursing her lips, she glared at him. "I am not that short."

"Babe…" he chuckled. "You're a midget." Reaching over, he grabbed and squeezed her hand. With a wink, he said, "You're my midget."

And that, she supposed, was comfort enough. Still… "If you're not busy after school, I would greatly appreciate a ride so I may sign up for boxing lessons."

He leveled her with a look that said she amused him and was still as 'bat shit' crazy as ever. It was familiar and she was happy for its return; so she leaned over and kissed him sweetly. While it hadn't been her intention to get Noah back, she was more than happy with the outcome. It was clear now that while she had only been looking out for him in his new relationship, the better option was to be his much more supportive and loving girlfriend herself. Since he grinned when she fiddled with his radio, as if he had missed how she disobeyed his 'never touch the tunes' rule, she thought he might just be happy with how things had turned out as well. Good. Because with their mistakes now rectified, they were meant for a very long and productive relationship.

And thus, symbolically, all of her stationary from then on would be signed, His Girlfriend*… Until years later, of course, when it became, His Wife*.

[End.]