Hello Lovely Readers. This little story idea WILL NOT leave my brain, so here we go.

AN: This story is set at the beginning of Season 2, but Matt never left and Sam never came.

Enjoy!

Ugh. Where the hell is that light coming from? It was probably Hannah. Damn brat opened my curtains again.

Puck rolled back over in his bed. Mondays were always the worst in his opinion, and his loser peers considered his opinion gold, so that meant that Mondays were like hell with never ending elevator music and long ass lines.

Hmm… these sheets smell nice. Ma must have washed them. That means she wants me to do something. Fuck.

Puck regretfully sat up, not wanting to really leave the bed yet; but if he was going to make it to his 10 o'clock nap in the nurse's office, he better hustle. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Puck looked around and wondered if he was still dreaming.

Where the hell was his stuff? He usually scattered clothes and other various items throughout his room. The walls were also bare, his nudie and car posters? Nowhere in sight. And was that a calculator on his desk, and a textbook?

This had his ma written all over it. She was always complaining about the toxic waste dump that was his room. He honestly wasn't that surprised that she finally did something about it, he just hadn't expected it to be done, you know, overnight.

Maybe she's worried about something. She cleans when she's worried right? Or is it baking… whatever. She's still been acting spacey…

Puck sighed and figured whatever was going on with his mom and her cleaning vendetta, it could to be addressed tonight. Right now, he needed to go.

He jumped in the shower and then spent twenty minutes trying to find his clothes in his drawers that had suddenly become color and fabric coded.

Dammit, Ma.

Since he had about ten minutes before the nurse started to look in his classrooms for him, he didn't question the insane neatness or cleanliness of his room. Instead he grabbed his backpack which seemed to have gotten ten pounds heavier, like there were actual books in there. Weird. Puck flew out the door when he saw a note on his extremely clean kitchen counter.

Noah, I noticed that you did not pack a lunch for today, so here is some money for food. Don't be mad, but I let you sleep late. You just looked so peaceful.

There wasn't a name on the note, and it didn't really seem like something his ma would do. Puck looked down at the money and counted thirty bucks.

What the hell, ma? I never pack a lunch. And money doesn't grow on trees woman, Jesus. And I sleep late every day! Lady is officially going batshit.

Puck pocketed the cash, because, c'mon, if she didn't want him to have it, she wouldn't have given it to him!

He grabbed his keys off some new key dish by some new table by the door. Someone in the family must've died or something. All this new shit was freaking him out.

Puck locked the door behind him, and when he turned around his jaw dropped. Parked on the street was a brand new Chevy sitting in front of his house.

I hate those people who think they can park here! This is my house, motherfucker!

He clicked his car keys and looked around for his old beat up piece of shit. And then, a miracle.

The Perfect Car's doors unlocked. Que the singing angles.

Puck hopped in the truck, figuring his ma must have taken his to the shop and got this as the rental. Smart woman.

Suddenly, Puck couldn't get to school fast enough to show off his hot new wheels, even if he wasn't keeping them.

On the way to school, he ended up getting turned around and passing his house, which was crazy because he drove the exact same route every morning. He could do it with his eyes closed.

When he finally rolled up to the school, there were people walking through the quad, so he figured second period had just been let out.

Sauntering up to the school like the badass motherfucker he was, he saw Quinn walking towards him. Only, walking may not have been the best word. Puck saw her stumble twice and she was moving at an incredibly slow pace. She had her Cheerios uniform on and a dopey look on her face. She smiled goofily at him and waved.

Puck turned around to look and see if Finn or another Cheerio was behind him. Quinn never talked to him unless it was to bitch about her baby weight she still couldn't shed after having recently given birth to their daughter who she didn't really seem to give a fuck about.

Well… no one else is around so maybe she's high. Yeah that's probably it. She's high!

Puck just continued walking, not really wanting to get involved in Quinn's antics today. While walking through the school doors, he missed the disappointed look that passed over her face.

The next person he saw nearly made him pass out.

Artie was walking down the hall towards a classroom that Puck was standing by. Walking. He had some freaky Goth makeup on his face and piercings in his nose and lip.

What the hell...? Puck pinched himself a couple of more times and shut his eyes, hoping he would wake up back in his bed.

When he opened them he saw a very un-gay, chain sporting Kurt also heading for the classroom.

This has got to be a dream.

And them he saw her.

She was coming towards him down the hall in a Cheerio skirt that flounced further and further up her tanned legs with each step. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that was swaying side to side, viciously hitting anyone's shoulder that was too close. She had her perfect red lips wrapped around the straw of a grape slushie, sucking on it like she was doing it a favor.

Hot as fucking hell.

She flounced right up to him, still sucking that straw. Puck tried to smirk at her, but couldn't seem to wipe the stunned look off his face.

"Hey, Rachel," Puck stammered. Oh fuck. That mouth.

"What did you just call me, Freakaleak?" Rachel asked sweetly, cocking her head to the side.

Puck chose to ignore the nickname. "Um… Rachel?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow and pulled her straw out of the drink, licking the excess slushie off the end.

Puck was so mesmerized by this action that he didn't notice when she pulled back her arm and launched the purple drink all over him.

The laughter didn't even register in Puck's head, because Rachel was leaning up to whisper into his slushie-covered ear. "It's 'B' to you, Puckerman."

This has to be a seriously fucked up dream.

Love it? Hate it? Suggestions? Review!

THIS IS PUCKLEBERRY! I pinky swear.

If you like this, I bet you'll like my other stories too. (I love to self-promote. It rocks.)

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xoxo Brooke