A/N Haven't bothered to post in ages, too busy, lack of motivation but love Puckleberry. One-shot on a Sunday night that I should have been organising myself for another full work week. Hope you enjoy xx

Rachel Berry edged her eyes around Noah Puckerman's bedroom anxiously as he scowled at her in response to her seemingly innocent comment on what they should select for their duet Mr Schuester had roped them into together. She straightened her skirt, looking anywhere but his agitated face.

"Berry, not every song ever recorded is all musicals and Dion," he muttered as he stalked to his vast CD collection. Then again, she was probably naïve enough to believe that if Barbara Streisand or the Gershwins didn't belt it out or pen it, it probably didn't exist. He felt sorry for her for a moment as he selected a few CDs from the numerous CD racks.

"I didn't realize you had such an extensive music collection, Noah," she said quietly, her fingers twisting, failing at hiding her nervousness. "It's impressive."

"You've been here before, Berry."

"I know," she said, quietly.

He threw himself into his desk chair and inserted a CD into the drive, before relaxing his hands behind his head, Rachel watched him lace his long fingers. "You've at least heard of the Foo Fighters' right?" he asked, not looking back at her. When she didn't reply, he considered ripping out the minimal amount of hair that was on his head (he'd only cleaned up his Mohawk that morning and having to re-do it tomorrow would be a real bitch). Calm down, Puck, he told himself. "So, like, you've never heard Everlong or My Hero or Best of You? I mean, you must have heard Best of You, it's a little more commercial but it's pretty recent."

Rachel started at the back of Puck's head as he ranted and wondered if what he'd just uttered was the longest set of continuous words she'd ever heard from him. She decided it was.

"How about Pearl Jam?" he swiveled the chair to face her, his face still possessing that intensity form before he'd turned his back on her.

"I think I remembering them covering The Who – "

"Yes!" Puck smirked. "Love, Reign O've Me, for Reign Over Me. You've seen that movie?"

"I like Adam Sandler movies," she shrugged.

"You surprise me at the best of times, Berry. So, you've seen Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison?"

"I enjoyed Happy Gilmore. Daddy loves golf so we watch it together occasionally when he's feeling particularly jovial. Billy Madison is a little silly for me though," she told him, realizing Puck probably rolled on the floor in laughter while watching the latter.

Puck blew a raspberry. "You don't know what you're missing then," he told her. "I'm making you a mixed CD to educate you."

"In what?"

His eyes flashed playfully. "To ensure you don't miss out on some real classics. Nirvana, Foos, Pearl Jam, Metallica, White Stripes and so on. And then I'm making sure I burn The Beatles White Album for you."

She scoffed. "Seriously, Noah," she rolled her eyes, sitting at the edge of his bed close to him in his chair. "I know The Beatles. Dad was instrumental in ensuring that The Beatles were always playing in our home. It was probably overkill, but there isn't a song that you cannot play me that I will not know the title and lyrics to."

Puck quirked an eyebrow. "You issuing me a challenge, Berry?" he turned back to the screen, scrutinizing his iTunes playlists before him.

"Whatever," she said flippantly as he laughed loudly. It was so un-Berry, it killed him when she tried to play off cool. Occasionally she did it well, at that moment? Fail.

"Okay, first one," he played the song –

"Pathetic. As My Guitar Gently Weeps. At least try something a little more difficult, Noah."

He chuckled. "Yes, mamme," he tried again.

This time she blew a raspberry, astounding Puck who looked back at her in her outburst. "Blackbird."

She was good. Not that he was picking any of the more obscure Beatles catalogue, but it was time to pull out what he considered the big guns. He went ahead with the next song.

"Revolution 9," she sighed. "Are you done? Clearly, this isn't a challenge, Noah."

He chuckled, loosening up. "Okay, okay, I give," he held up his hands, spinning back and leaning forward, pressing a gently kiss to her lips. "Your music knowledge is superior to mine," he told her. "But let it be known, when it comes to rock music, you know squat."

"Well, educate me. Let's do something you think is appropriate for our duet," she suggested.

"You would totally hate all of my suggestions," he knew this. He was avoiding a fight and having to justify his selections. And besides, he was lazy and didn't mind what Rachel usually made him sing – within reason. She knew this.

"That's not true. If you felt in your heart that it was perfect, I'm sure I could be persuaded," she defended herself.

Without having to think, he replied, "Pour Some Sugar on Me, Def Leppard."

Rachel was extremely wary, thanks to his sinister smirk. "Something tells me I'll veto that."

"No you won't, it's 80s awesomeness. Check it out," he found the track and let it filter into his room.

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on

Livin' like a lover with a radar phone

Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp

Demolition woman, can I be your man?

Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light

Television lover, baby, go all night

Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet

Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah

Hey! C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up - break the bubble, break it up

Pour some sugar on me

Ooh, in the name of love

Pour some sugar on me

C'mon fire me up

Pour your sugar on me

Oh, I can't get enough

"How… charming," Rachel said sarcastically. "Doesn't sound like to me, mostly just sexual harassment and oppression of women. Something tells me that's exactly what My Schue doesn't want from us."

Puck shrugged. "Well, maybe it's what I want from you?" he dove off his chair and tackled her back onto his mattress. "It's just a little 80s rock, baby."

She giggled as he pushed some long brown hair from her face as his lips lowered to hers.

"Remind me to introduce you to Motley Crüe, okay?" he laughed as the medley for Kickstart My Heart pounded through his already overactive imagination.

"Motley Crüe?" was the last thing he let her say that afternoon that was her calling or moaning his name. Music education over for now, and Puck's playtime with a very flustered Rachel Berry awaited. She wasn't the only one in his room that got off to music, you know…