A/N: Because I'm sick as a dog and super cranky, this little one-off is a little less fluffy than normal. Story idea based on the Kate Nash song "Foundations". I don't own anything 'cept the computer I'm writing on.Thursday night, everything's fine.


The weekly dinners had become a bit of a tradition. Rachel and Puck had moved in together during their junior year of college. Once they were settled, Rachel had insisted on inviting a group of their New York friends over to break in their new (thrifted) dining room table. Puck would have preferred to break it in with a few rounds of dirty table sex, but Rachel had nixed that idea pretty quickly with some weak argument about how unhygienic it was to have sex on the same surface where you ate. Buzzkill.

The first dinner was so much fun that Rachel had insisted on repeating it the following week. And the one after that. Eventually it had become a regular occurrence. The list of attendees expanded and changed each week, but the roles remained the same. Rachel would cook some elaborate meal in their tiny galley kitchen and Puck was expected to entertain the motley crew of characters that filed into their living room.

This week's incarnation included a few of Rachel's friends from one of her dance classes, the barista from the coffee shop around the corner from their apartment and the TA from Puck's literature class.

My fingertips are holding on to the cracks in our foundation

"Seriously babe? Why the hell did you invite that douchey asshole tonight. Isn't it enough that I have to listen to him drone on for 3 hours a week in class. I don't want to hear that shit in my own home too." Puck leaned into the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of white wine for Rachel's friends and a bottle of Spotted Cow beer for himself (Finn sends him a case every few months from Wisconsin. Shit's delicious.) Douchey McDoucherson the TA could get his own drink.

"Noah, I know that you are dangerously close to not passing your class. And while I've never personally seen your in-class interactions with Peter, I can't help but believe that your deplorable attitude toward him is nothing but detrimental in your quest to do well in his class. If you would just make an attempt to speak to him in a civil manner, I'm sure that your opinion of him will change. Perhaps if he sees that you're not a complete lost cause, Peter might be willing to offer you some extra assistance or extra credit to boost your grade."

It gives me thrills to wind you up

"Fuck Rach. I know you and Mama Puckerman are tight, but do you really need to meddle in my shit like she does? Because one Jewish mother is pretty much all I can handle in my life right now. I'm a grown man. I can take my shit on my own without Mommy's help."

Rachel slammed the bread knife she was using down on the counter. "I'm going to pretend that you did not just compare me to your mother in such a negative manner. She is a lovely woman who tried her hardest to raise a delinquent son. Heaven forbid that the women who love you try to make you achieve your full potential. You're so damn stubborn that you refuse to realize that when people as you so crudely put it, 'meddle in your shit' they're only doing it because they care."

Puck stared at the woman in front of him with a look of disdain. "Maybe I don't need you to care."

I know that I should let go, but I can't.