Wow. I acquiesce to your demand. This is now multi-chap. Now review or else…

When Puck wakes up there is a warm body next to him. His nose is pressed up into hair that smells like the wind and the inside of his truck, and there are small fingers scrunching up the fabric of his shirt just above his heart. He blinks, once and then twice, resisting the urge to stretch out. There is light slanting in through the slats of his blinds and Puck gives in and rubs his eyes.

Rachel stirs and Puck stills, holds his breath. She lets out a little sigh and then snuggles into him further, nose brushing against the skin of his neck. He pushes away that feeling of electricity, reminding himself its just the leftover adrenaline from last night. Because Rachel was his friend, his best friend. And thoughts like that would probably just fuck the only good thing still left in his life right now.

So Puck just lies there, one hand behind his head, watching absently as the light plays against the wall of his bedroom. He strains his ears when he hears his mother come in, relaxes when she simply pounds up the stairs and into her bedroom.

What happened last night plays over and his head and he swallows inaudibly, feels the back of his neck prickle. Shit. That wasn't supposed to have happened. Puck figured Linder was just being a pussy. Mike and Matt, the rock salt and the iron poker – that had all been just for show. So now he's trying to figure out if what actually happened happened. Because there was just no fucking way ghosts were real.

Right?

'Noah?' A small, tired voice says and Puck shakes his head, glancing down to see Rachel wrinkling her nose.

'Sup Berry?'

'What time is it?' She asks and Puck looks at his clock.

'Way past feeding time,' he answers and Rachel rolls her eyes, shifting away from him. She presses the palms of her hands into her eyes, runs her fingers through her hair. Puck can tell she's self-conscious but he just watches her anyway, doesn't even notice that the hand at her waist is tracing small circles into her side. There is a muffled thump and she freezes and Puck again feels that annoying feeling of remorse creep up on him.

'Chill. It's probably just my Mum,' he tells her and Rachel immediately launches herself off his bed, stares at the door like its going to open any second.

'Your mother's home?'

Puck gives her a weird look, wondering why she's so freaked. Truth was Abigail Puckerman worshipped the ground Berry walked on. One look at the Star of David hanging around Rachel's neck and the girl had pretty much bought a lifetime get out of jail free card. He was pretty sure that if his mother did come barging in here, somehow the situation would end up being him corrupting her.

Which, let's face it, was probably the truth.

'Dude chillax. The apocalypse won't be able to wake her. I swear, for all the shit she gives me, that woman can sleep like the dead,' Puck rolls onto his feet. Rachel plants her hands on her hips, some of her hair sticking up on the side she'd slept on. Puck doesn't know whether to tell her this or not and then just decides not to.

Rachel's looking around, taking in her surroundings. Puck knows the moment she realizes what she's doing here because she starts fidgeting and there's blood rushing to her cheeks. Her eyes are flitting around like a hummingbird and Puck sloppily makes his bed, if only to avoid what he thinks is the awkward silence that has descended down on them.

'I should probably get home,' Rachel finally murmurs and Puck wonders why her leaving bothers him so much.

'Yeah sure,' he mumbles and grabs his keys off the bed stand. He doesn't need to look behind him to hear that Rachel's quickly made up his bed just right. He practically tramples down the stairs and Rachel shoots him a glare. Puck smirks, whistling loudly just to rile her up.

'Noah, has it failed to escape your attention that I do not want our presence announced?' She's hissing through clenched teeth.

'What the hell are you bitchin' about now?' Puck asks innocently. Rachel, predictably, smacks him on the arm. It doesn't hurt but Puck pulls away and rubs at the spot like it does.

'Fuck Berry. What did I say about bruising this fine piece of ass?'

She mutters something about his uncouth nature and brushes by him when he unlocks the door. Puck heaves a sigh and unlocks the doors to the truck. He starts the engine and backs out of the driveway, Rachel silent beside him. It's a short drive to her place but if there was one thing that was a certifiable fact, it was that Rachel didn't know when to shut up. It wasn't like she talked all the damn time. Puck had come to acknowledge that Berry knew just the right times to listen, those big brown eyes completely fixated on you like you were telling her something that demanded her complete and utter attention. It was one of the things he liked about Rachel.

'Listen,' he clears his throat. 'I'm sorry about yesterday.'

Rachel actually looks like she jumps out of her seat and Puck frowns at her when she speaks.

'Oh. I already know that Noah. You even offered to let me…' She trails off and her eyes rest on his crotch. Her cheeks flame and Puck starts thinking of his Bubbie mowing the lawn, or hitting a mailman with his car.

'Yeah well. I shouldn't have made you come with us. Sometimes I forget you're a girl you know?' He remarks flippantly. He doesn't notice the way Rachel flinches at his words because he's keeping an eye on the road.

'What's done is done,' her tone is rigid and Puck sweeps his eyes over her face, noticing that the smile she has on is a little bit too forced.

'But really, you're okay to crash at home by yourself?' He deflects. Rachel's fingers tighten over the edge of the seat but she nods her head, squaring her shoulders.

'I'll be perfectly fine. I apologize for my display of…clinginess last night. The influx of epinephrine was obviously-'

'Whatever Berry,' he cuts her off abruptly, shifting gears so he can pull up at the curb. It's irritating the way she's treating what happened after – the fact that she told him she feels safe with him, which Puck thinks is a huge fucking deal – like it isn't important. Something like anger makes his words curt and Rachel flashes him a disgruntled look that would have had Puck laughing any other time.

'Is something the matter?'

'Can you talk like you're not a sixty year old cat lady?' He shoots back. It's mean and snarky but right now he doesn't care.

'Excuse me if I feel the need for an expansive vocabulary,' she retorts and folds her arms across her chest. Puck taps his fingers on the wheel impatiently.

'God, no wonder people think you're such a freak,' he mutters under his breath and then winces because shit.

There is a sharp intake of breath beside him and Puck's already scrambling for something to say, anything to say.

'Thank you for the lift,' she doesn't say his name and Puck swings his head around to see she's already got the door halfway open.

'Berry, wait. I didn't-'

'Goodbye Noah,' she bites out without turning around and he doesn't know whether to feel chastised or relieved when she says his name that way, like it's a revelation that there's this whole other side of him that she knows isn't a complete tool.

Before he can even get another word out, Rachel's slammed the door hard enough for the frame to shake and she's hurrying up the steps to the front porch. Puck sits there, immobilized, wondering why he'd said what he'd said.

No good reason came to mind, which just made it a billion times worse.

'Fuck,' Puck growls out, contemplating slamming his head against something hard. Knowing there was no way in Pandora Berry was going to give him the time of day right now, Puck pulls away and grinds his molars.

He's pretty sure when Dean Winchester coined the term primitive screw-ups, he had been thinking of Puck.