A/N: Another oneshot for Puckleberry Week on tumblr! Today's theme was Road Trips. Everything up to episode 3x16 is included, except I changed them from going to Nationals in Chicago to Miami.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Glee or Puck or Rachel or anything. Wah.

ENJOY! And thank you times a kajillion for all your awesome reviews and comments and I love you all!

(PS Tumblr? Come visit me – gleekalyze dot tumblr dot com, or on LJ – orangetulips25 dot livejournal dot com). Yay!

Turbulence

Noah Puckerman is a badass, ok? He's not afraid of shit. He's been doing crazy shit since he was 5, like when he did the whole poprocks and soda thing or when he used his ma's hairspray can to make a blowtorch. Or when he licked (licked) that homeless guy in front of the ShopRite. Or hung upside down on the train tressel.

He just fucking hates planes, alright?

Fucking.

Hates.

Planes.

They're on their way from Ohio to Miami for Nationals this year and he is excited as fuck to get his ass in the sand and see some boobs. Cause Miami has topless motherfucking beaches and he is ready for those topless motherfucking beaches.

If he survives the plane ride first.

He usually swipes a Xanax or two from his mom and a double dose of Dramamine, and his stomach stays in one piece and he doesn't go all Twilight Zone on the joint. And he did that last year on the flight to and from New York and he was a-fucking-ok. But this time he was in such a rush that he packed the Xanax and Dramamine in his regular checked suitcase and not his carry-on and fuck his life he's going to fucking die before he seestopless motherfucking beaches.

He's sitting with Sam on the plane, but Sam went to switch seats with Tina so he could poke Mercedes and be all five-year-old flirty with her and then Tina switched with Artie so she could sit next to Mike and Artie came to sit by him but Wheels needs a wheelchair seat so he now is sitting in the back of the plane and thank Moses that means he has his own seat with no one next to him.

Because no one is going to want to sit next to his dead body when he fucking dies on this fucking plane because everyone else will be alive and he will be fucking dead on the damn plane and the topless motherfucking beaches.

Fuck his life.

***

In the next to last row of the cabin, Rachel is sitting next to Kurt, who is sulking because he wanted to sit next to Blaine. But Blaine is with Finn, and the last thing Rachel wants to do is sit next to Finn. They're on amicable terms, but ever since they mutually decided that marriage was not a good idea for them (right now, at least) things were strained and the relationship fizzled out.

She's still mourning the demise of her relationship with Finn. And she's kind of forgotten how to be Rachel, as opposed to RachelandFinn. So realistically, even though it makes Kurt angry, she knows sitting next to Finn for a three hour plane ride is not conducive to the "Reclaim Rachel Barbra Berry: The Three Month Plan" that she has outlined in her focus notebook.

They're taxiing on the runway and Rachel begins to regret the three cups of chamomile tea she drank in the terminal before takeoff in an effort to relax. She unbuckles her seatbelt and makes her way to the bathroom. Of course she's in one of the last rows of the cabin and the bathroom is in the front, but she's sure she can make it back in time before the mandatory seatbelt sign comes back on.

Rachel Berry likes rules and she's sure that, if she follows the rules, fate will not allow her bladder to explode.

On her way back to her seat she sees Noah, who is a not-so-lovely shade of green. "Oh my, Noah, are you ok?" She asked. "I told you not to eat the bean burritos in the terminal -"

"Ma'am, you need to be in your seat right now we are about to take off." The flight attendant appeared out of nowhere.

She gives (a quick look at the flight attendant's nametag) Lorna her winningest smile. "Sure thing, Lorna, I am on my way, my seat is just right over there." She points to row 23.

"Miss, seat 4A over here is available, please sit and buckle your seatbelt now," Lorna retorts. "You can switch back after the captain has deluminated the 'fasten seatbelt' sign."

She finds being cool, calm, and collected in these situations (and continuing to smile) will usually yield the most positive results. "Yes, well, Lorna, in the amount of time it takes for us to have this conversation, I could have been in my seat already, so if you just excuse me," She moves to sidestep Lorna, the flight attendant of awfulness.

"Take. This. Seat." Lorna orders.

Rachel Berry likes rules. So she obeys and flops down next to Noah. Who is still green.

"Um, Noah, are you alright?" She touches his arm gingerly.

He grimaces. "Are we taking off yet?"

"No, not just yet, I mean, we will shortly." She buckles her seatbelt and goes to rest her arms on the shared armrest, but Noah's knuckles were turning white, he was gripping it so hard.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Noah? Are you…afraid of flying?" She asked incredulously as the propellers began to give off a dull hum. She's sure she is wrong and misinterpreting things. He was fine on the plane to New York last year. And he's Noah Puckerman, for heaven's sake.

"Shut the hell up, I swear to God, Berry, if you tell anyone I will fucking…"

"Noah! You are afraid!" She actually smiles and if he wasn't busy talking himself down from the ledge he would have….done nothing, because he's not a violent asshole. But he sure as hell would have told her to fuck off, or something.

"I just….I just fucking hate flying. My stomach belongs in my damn stomach and not in a heap at the bottom of my fucking toenails," He squinches his eyes shut. "And I'm usually fine 'cause I take a Xanax and it calms me the fuck down and I'm not freaking the fuck out like a pussy, but I packed them in my suitcase by accident."

The plane accelerates. Rachel puts her hand on Puck's white knuckles and starts to gently rub her fingertips on his hand.

The plane's nose tips upward and his stomach drops into his feet and without a moment's thought he grabs Rachel's hand and grips it tight.

Holy cow, he has one heck of a grip, Rachel thinks to herself. And it's really….

Sexy.

What? Where did that come from? She shakes her head to throw the thought out of it. Noah's having a mental breakdown and she's busy thinking about his hands gripping her hips and -

RACHEL. Stop that.

She bites her lip because she thinks Noah may have just broken her pinkie finger. He's breathing slowly as the plane evens out. "Are….are you ok?" She asks hesitantly.

"Yes. No. Fuck. I fucking hate fucking flying."

"Wh-what don't you like about it?" His hand is still gripping hers. Hand that could be gripping her ankle as it trails kisses along her calf -

RACHEL.

"My stomach feels like it's in my fucking ankles right now."

She clicks her tongue. "Burritos."

"I didn't have any fucking burritos, Rachel," He spat the words out. "I just…I just hate fucking flying and I'm probably going to puke all over you."

She goes into crisis mode. "Ok, well, why don't you put your head between your legs?"

"Why don't you put yourhead between my legs?" He counters back with.

"Well, I can see you're not in that much dire straits if you can make a sexual innuendo."

"If these are going to be my last moments of life before everyone in this fucking airplane drowns in my vomit, Imma try to get a blowjob from Rachel Berry."

She sighs. And momentarily considers the invitation. For a split second. Because she's sure his legs are as strong as this grip on her hand -

Ra. Chel. She should just give up admonishing herself, because she has no clue why, all of a sudden, she's completely and utterly turned on by Noah Puckerman. Noah Puckerman, who, with all of his sexual jokes and comments and touches and jawline and those muscular arms and…

And all those items don't get her blood flowing but the minute he shows his vulnerability?

She wants to jump on top of him like a cat in heat.

Unless he throws up. That might stop her.

He lets go of her hand and puts his head down on the tray table. She starts rubbing his back and hears his breath start to even out a little bit.

"I don't like roller coasters or anything where you go from top to bottom because my stomach fucking belongs in my stomach." He explains, his voice muffled by his arms (his arms, my God, his arms, she thinks). "And I usually take Dramamine and Xanax and it calms everything down but…fuck my life."

She continues to rub circles on his back soothingly. This other side of Noah, seeing him this…exposed…she's never seen this part of him before. "Just take deep breaths," She coaxes him.

She can feel his back muscles relax under his white t shirt. She moves to rub his arm, partially selfishly because she wants to feel his bicep but partially just to change course and get his tension to loosen.

She hears him sigh contentedly. "Feeling better." She glides her fingertips up and down his forearm.

Her toes are tingling at the sound of his sigh. Why are her toes tingling? Why was that sigh so…hot? Stop it, Rachel, this can't end well. You just broke up with Finn. You're on a plane, a very public plane with Tina and Mike sleeping across the aisle and Mr. Schue sitting behind you.

She should go back to her seat.

No, she needs Noah, she means, she needs to help Noah, yes, right,help Noah, and she can't just leave him, right?

No, that wouldn't be right. Right? Right.

So she continues to rub his arm and tries to ignore the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He sighs again. "Thanks, Rach." He cradles his head in his arms and closes his eyes. "I'm gonna try to go to sleep, I'm a lot calmer now."

She smiles, even though he can't see it.

"You can go back to your seat." He says with a yawn.

"It's ok," she whispers. The Fasten Seatbelts Sign goes off, signaling that she can get up now. "I'll stay here for a bit….they…um…they still have the seatbelt sign on, so I really shouldn't move anyways."

"M'kay," He yawns. "If you fucking tell anyone…" his voice trails off.

"Not a word."

Rachel looks over at Noah, taking him in. His head is nestled in his arms (those arms), his face away from her. She takes her ipod out of her pocket and begins to listen to one of her playlists, but can't get that burning feeling out of her stomach; she can only silence it to a dull broil.

She's sure he's asleep right now. Sure of it.

So she brushes her fingers over his hand and she's sure, she's sure that, when he very slightly, ever so gently wraps his fingers around her hand, it must just be an involuntary reaction in his sleep.

His head is facing the window, his eyes are closed, he's halfway asleep, but when he feels Rachel's fingers ghost over his, he doesn't think, he just holds her hand back, and he grins into the darkness of his eyelids.

Dramamine is way overrated.

***

Around 11pm that night, after they're all settled into their hotel in Miami and Mr. Schue finishes room checks, Rachel is changing into her pajamas and beginning her bedtime regime. They're supposed to be going to sleep right now, but Tina, her roommate, was trying to sneak into the room Mike was staying in. She's sure this won't end well and Mr. Schue will come barreling into the room any second now.

She hears a knock on the door and braces herself for the teacher's inevitable wrath. Rules are rules.

But when she opens the door, she's greeted with a grinning Noah, in a white t shirt and basketball shorts, leaning against the doorjamb.

"So the hotel's experiencing some turbulence this evening and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle it without my Dramamine…"