Hey, everyone! Yeah, yeah. I know. Puck/Rachel. What? From me? This is actually the first Glee fic I ever wrote. It's been gathering dust on my laptop for a while just because I've been posting other things. While I'm not a shipper of the two, I do appreciate their scenes. And okay, I did adore them in Mash Up. And kind of because Puck got slushied. As always, please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Dammit.

Noah Again
One-shot

His mind went blank. For two seconds, it went totally blank. There wasn't any exhaustion from the nights of laying awake with the knowledge that Finn and Quinn's baby was really his and Quinn's baby. For two seconds, there wasn't any guilt that he was lying to the best friend who, in eleven years of friendship, had never forced him to talk about the out-of-nowhere sleepovers when his dad would roll back into town for a week and leave him with injuries that he always blamed on a non-existent fight club. For two seconds, he didn't have the lingering thoughts that he was going to be a father or that he wasn't actually being given the chance to be that baby's fucking father. For two seconds, Rachel's arm wasn't linked in his. For two seconds, everything disappeared and he stood there, eyes shut and mind on pause.

It all came flooding back when the slushie dripped down the neckline of his shirt, over the curve of muscle, and to his nipple ring.

Then he was sputtering, because he wasn't supposed to get slushied. No, he was the one that was supposed to be throwing flavored syrup and ice into some nerd's face.

He was the nerd now; singing and dancing in Glee Club, dating Rachel Berry.

He could hear Rachel now, the sharp intake of her breath. He felt her arm tighten around his for a second before releasing the pressure, as if she were sure he was going to pull away from her and all of this fucking drama. A second later, her arm fell to her side, though her hand still brushed his.

It was in that second he felt the humiliation. Right then he could suddenly feel the blood rushing to his face as people stared, he could feel the chill as the slushie seeped into his clothes and down his body.

There were eyes on him, coming from every direction and he knew he could hear some jocks—and since when did he not really count himself among them?—snickering. His eyes fell shut and for a moment, he felt like Noah Puckerman again, felt like that same, scrawny little kid with the thrift store clothes and too-small shoes. He felt like the same Noah Puckerman that existed years before he was Puck, back when it hadn't been just him and Finn, but had been him, Finn, and Kurt. They'd been the Three Musketeers for the entire year of kindergarten, right up until Kurt looked at him, all big eyed and innocent and asked about the bruises. He'd pushed Kurt into the sandbox that day, scared as he yelled at him and called him names, because if Dad found out that someone knew, no one would be safe. Their friendship had ended that day with Finn following him, trying to ask why he'd pushed their friend. He hadn't answered and, eventually, it was just him and Finn.

For a moment, he was Noah Puckerman again, the subject of bullying because he'd been too damn small as a kid. He'd grown up and made sure people knew him as Puck because he didn't want to be that person anymore.

He was Noah again and it wasn't the Noah that Rachel called him. The way she said it never made him feel like that helpless kid. The Noah he was right now was the same one that Finn used to have to protect. He didn't want protection, didn't need it, especially not from a guy whose loyalty he knew he didn't deserve.

Glee Club and Rachel turned him into Noah again. They brought that version of him back. He wanted to hate them for it, but he knew at the same time that he actually liked what they'd brought him.

If he walked away from Glee Club and from her, he could get everything back. Chalk it up to temporary insanity and throw a slushie at someone.

If he stayed in Glee Club, he'd lose...not everything, but almost. If he stayed, though, he got to do something that he was only just starting to admit that he loved.

He didn't want to choose, but what else could he do?

The End

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