A/N: This is an offshoot of my Puck/Santana fic. Puckleberry. R&R. ;)

NY Puckleberry

New York. Puck and Rachel's apartment.

Rachel was sitting on their couch, bent over the coffee table, going over her notes for her Italian Diction class when Puck came in, dropped his gym bag on the floor and plopped on to the couch beside her. He then proceeded to hand her some cash.

"Rent," was his short explanation.

Rachel stared at the money Puck just handed her, before looking at him incredulously.

Noticing the questioning look on her eyes, he flashed her his signature smirk - the very same smirk that she had learned to both love and hate over the years. "You didn't think I could come up with my share of the rent, did you?" he asked, flipping his brows arrogantly at her.

"It's not like that. I was simply perplexed that you would be able to come up with the required cash, considering that you are currently unemployed. And I know for a fact that you spent the last of your savings when you agreed to accompany me here and when you paid your share of the rent last month," she expounded. "I did not mean to make you feel like I was questioning your ability to..."

"Shut up, Berry," he interrupted her, placing two fingers over her lips to keep her from talking even more. "Geez. I'm seriously never going to get used to all your talking."

She opened her mouth to defend herself only to be silenced by his raised eyebrow.

"Look, Rach, don't worry about where I got the money, okay?" He spoke the words in the tone of voice that he used when he wanted something from her - sweet, alluring and always effectively weakening to the knees. "I'm your man. Let me take care of things, okay?"

Rachel's mind was still reeling with questions regarding where her boyfriend got his money, but the way he was looking at her in that specific moment made her not want to ask. 'I'll eventually find out where you're getting your money,' she thought determinedly, never being one to give up, 'but now, I'll let you charm your way out of this one.'

After dating him for almost a year and living with him for a couple of months, if there was anything that Rachel knew for sure about Puck, it was that she could always expect him to do the unexpected.

Back in high school, when she was expecting him to drink slushies, he threw them at her face. When she got used to it and was expecting him to throw them at her face, he handed them over to her – grape flavor. When she was expecting him to back down from doing a solo, he went ahead and proved his "badassness" by serenading her with Sweet Caroline. When she was expecting him to choose football over glee, he chose glee. When she was expecting him to not be the father of Quinn's baby, he was. When she was expecting him to become Quinn's, he became hers… not that she was complaining, but one gets the point.

It wasn't that much different now that they were adults living independently.

When they arrived in New York, Rachel fully expected him to immediately find a job, because that was, of course, the logical thing to do. Puck, being the antithesis of everything that is logical, surprised her by settling himself to becoming the perfect specimen of a professional bum.

He was always either at home (watching TV, playing video games or tinkering with his guitar) or at the gym "kicking serious ass" (his words, not hers). That's the bum part.

That being the case, it would only be natural for her to expect that he won't have money to help out with their daily expenses, right? Wrong.

It was beyond Rachel's comprehension, but in spite of him slumming around all day every day, he could always cash out when necessary. That's the professional part.

She expected for him to give her some sort of explanation, but all she got was his (successful) attempts to dodge the topic or an alpha male speech about trusting her man to bring home the bacon.

This went on for months, and whenever Puck handed her some money, she would ask him a different question.

"Noah Puckerman, are you involved in some sort of illegal activity?"

"I heard about a bank robbery on the news. That wasn't you, was it?"

"Forgive me for asking but you're not selling drugs, are you? No? Vitamin D? How about cupcakes?"

And all she got from him would be a sneer or he would just roll his eyes. For the drug question, she got a kiss (and more) because he found her persistence hot. It got to the point that Rachel was already certain that she would die of curiosity, suspicion or irritation.

One night, while she was driving home after a particularly tough day at school, Rachel finally found her answer. On a billboard, for all of New York to see, was a picture of Noah Puckerman, posing with two gorgeous girls and another guy (who, in Rachel's non-biased opinion, wasn't as good-looking as her boyfriend). The ad had a hippie chic vibe to it, the four models leaning over an old VW. The sign read, Thirteen Kilometers to a New Direction. 13KM was Kurt and Mercedes' clothing line.

A smile crossed Rachel Berry's full red lips.

A/N: To be completely honest, I totally have no idea how people end up making it into the fashion business (other than joining reality TV shows, but I didn't want to go that road). So if any of the storyline sounds implausible, it probably is. Kindly suspend disbelief and humor me by going along with it. :D This story will be a two-shot or a three-shot.

Please R&R.