Puck doesn't know how long Rachel's going to make him wait, but he's sort of going crazy.

They've been fooling around for a couple of weeks, and it's not like they're not doing anything. Actually, they're sort of doing everything but having sex, and he thinks that's why it's making him so nuts. She has this hot little body, all tight and soft and smooth, and he's figuring out that she's good with her mouth no matter what she's using it for. Then there's the fact that he's never seen a girl look better when she comes, legit. Her neck arches the tiniest bit, her lips part a little, and she digs the tips of her fingers into whatever she's got a hold on at the time (the best is when it's his hair).

Whatever. She's made it pretty clear that she doesn't want this to be a serious thing, and that's fine. It's partially fine because she's also made it pretty clear that she will be fucking him at some point.

It's all good. He totally doesn't hate hanging out with her. She's kind of hilarious, and it's cool to actually get to know someone totally new. When you live in a small town, not only does everyone know your shit, you know theirs. Yeah, he's screwed around with some of the tourists (of course he has), but he's never put this kind of time into getting to know a girl he didn't basically grow up with. He started putting in the effort with her because she was hot, kept it up because she's tight with the Evanses and he loves that family. Now they're actually sort of friends. With benefits. (Though not quite enough benefits. Yet. He's holding on to that yet.)

They're in his room one afternoon, just hanging out and talking with some music playing. Puck's lying back against his pillows and Rachel's got her head on his stomach, her feet resting on his desk chair where they're hanging off the bed. He's playing with her hair because it's really soft and it's right there, and he can tell by the way she sort of tilts her head into his touch sometimes that she likes it.

He's got her phone in his hands, flicking through her pictures because she said she didn't care. "Who's this?" he asks, turning the screen so she can see the picture of herself with a blonde in a cheerleading uniform.

Her face is blank when she answers, "Quinn." Too blank.

"She a friend?"

He can tell it's a loaded question by the way she presses her lips together, but he doesn't know why. "She was my best friend until I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with her." His hand stills in her hair when she turns to look up at him. "It was a bit dramatic."

He snorts out a laugh because even though it isn't funny, the look on her face kind of is. "That sucks," he says sincerely, and he means it. Cheating is complete bullshit. He knows firsthand.

"Losing my boyfriend and my best friend in one fell swoop? Finding out that they'd been lying to me for months, running around behind my back? Yes, it sucked."

Her eyes are on his face when he goes back to tugging his fingers through her hair gently, massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers. "Did you love him?"

He doesn't really know why he asks. He shouldn't care. He doesn't, not really, except now she's actually his friend instead of just being the girl he wants to fuck. He wants to know shit about her.

"I was with Finn for two years. I was head over heels in love with him, " she answers. Her fingers are toying with a loose thread in his bedspread. "Quinn knew that."

"Shitty best friend."

"You could say that," she laughs. She lets out a little sigh and looks up at the ceiling. "They deserve each other." They're quiet for a moment, until she asks, "Have you ever been cheated on?"

"Once," he answers, keeping his voice light. "I don't really do relationships," he admits. He lets his hand drift lower, trailing the tips of his fingers up and down her upper arm. "Girls cheat on their boyfriends with me."

"I bet they do," she says wryly. She sits up and takes her phone from his hand, dropping it on his bedside table before moving to straddle his thighs. His hands land on her thighs, pushing up so the tips of his fingers are just beneath the hem of her denim shorts. "I don't want to talk about them."

He's not sure if she's talking about her people or the girls who cheat on their boyfriends with him, but it doesn't really matter. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, smirking a little when she slides her hands up his chest, her fingers curling into his tee shirt a little at his shoulders.

She shakes her head a tiny bit, leaning over to sip at his lips. "I don't want to talk."

She lets out a little squeal when he rolls her beneath him. "What d'you wanna do, baby?"

Her fingers trail over the back of his neck, dipping just beneath the collar of his tee shirt. "Just kiss me," she murmurs, closing her eyes before he's even leaning in.

It rains for three days straight, and even though Rachel doesn't really hate the change in the weather, Stacy and Stevie aren't taking it well. By Friday, they're moody and argumentative and picking at one another constantly, and it's making Rachel crazy. She doesn't have siblings, so this thing they're doing where they torment one another is foreign and annoying. She loses her cool completely at lunch when Stevie deliberately knocks his glass of Kool-Ade into Stacy's plate, ruining the girl's meal and making an enormous red mess. He cries when Rachel sends him to his room, but she's so annoyed that she doesn't care.

She almost wants to hug Regina when she gets home from work.

Puck tells her to come over when she texts him to share her relief. (Despite the fact that she thinks it's inappropriate and generally refrains, she's spent the last couple of days texting him even while she was with the kids since the rain kept him home from work.) He's home alone and she hasn't seen him in a couple of days, so it doesn't take any convincing.

His sister is staying with a friend and his mother is out on a date (with a man she's apparently been dating for quite some time, if the way Puck talks about him is any indication), so they're alone in the house for the evening. They wind up in his room, on his bed, watching Gothika while the storm picks up outside.

It just seems like too much of a cliché when the electricity flickers off after an enormous clap of thunder, plunging the room into silent darkness.

She isn't scared - darkness never hurt anyone, and there isn't anything to be done about the storm - but it feels nice to be lying against Puck's side instead of being alone.

"Don't move," he tells her. He uses the light from his phone to move around the room, lighting candles on his dresser and bedside table, then comes back to sit beside her. "Are we gonna die?" he asks when he sees her checking the weather on her own phone.

"No, but we're under a thunderstorm warning."

"Whatever." He shrugs carelessly, then pushes at her shoulders so she's lying back against the pillows, following her down and lying half on top of her. "Wanna fool around?" He brushes his nose against hers when she laughs. "'S'not anything else to do."

He doesn't actually need to convince her, but it's hilarious that he asked at all instead of just kissing her, especially since his hand is already pushing up the side of her shirt. "We could play cards," she offers, setting her hands on his shoulders. "Or a board game."

He looks down at her incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Noah," she says quietly, smiling a little at the use of his given name, brushing her fingertips up the side of his neck, "you're very gullible."

He kisses her, then mumbles, "You're mean," when he pulls away to tug her shirt over her head.

Yes, she's terribly mean when she's letting him take her clothes off.

There's a part of her brain - admittedly, a very small part - that's aware that this is absurd. The storm outside is absolutely raging: booming thunder, near-constant flashes of lightning, rain beating against the windows.

But then Puck is sweeping his lips over the swell of her breast, sliding down her body to unbutton her jeans and tug them off her legs, and all she's thinking about is how he's making her feel.

In a word, breathless.

He touches her more than Finn ever did. It's like he isn't in a hurry, and not only because he thinks she's going to stop him before things get too far like she has before. He takes his time and pays attention to places no one else ever has: the expanse of skin above her breasts, the line of her spine, the backs of her knees. It's either the fact that it works her into something of a frenzy or just because he likes the way her skin feels, but whatever the reason, it makes her crazy.

He sips at her lips while he plays the pads of his fingers over her ribs, swallows her mewl when he dips one finger beneath the waistband of her panties, runs it back and forth between her hipbones. He lets out a low chuckle when she unhooks her own bra, dropping it off the side of the bed and arching into his touch when he circles his thumb around her nipple. She breathes his name when he leans down to suck the hardened bud between his lips. "Please."

He moves over her body more, swipes his tongue over her other nipple before kissing up the valley of her breasts, over her chest, across her collarbone. "Please what, baby?" Her head rolls to the side when she feels his lips against her ear. They're her weakness, something he discovered about her early on in this thing they're doing and exploits often. The tip of his tongue traces the shell of her ear, just barely touching. "Tell me."

They've played this game, or a version of this game, before. Maybe it's because they don't know each other well, or maybe they're just silly, but they never just ido/i something. There's always a question first, this teasing way of making sure they aren't going too far, too fast.

She moans breathlessly when he nibbles a bit at her earlobe. "Puck...god, Noah, take me." He pulls back to look at her, and she can see the question in his eyes in the candlelight. She thinks it's almost funny that she's saying yes to this in the candlelight. "Take me," she repeats, her fingertips digging into his shoulder as she tries to draw him closer. "Fuck me."

He lets out a groan before he kisses her hotly, his tongue curling around hers in a way she'd think was frantic if his hand wasn't moving so steadily down her stomach, slipping into her panties until he's grazing her clit with his fingertip. "You're sure?" he mumbles against her lips.

"Yes." He circles his finger with more pressure, drawing the moisture around. "Yes."

Her breath catches in her throat the first time he sinks into her, and she think she might love him a little for stilling his hips, giving her a chance to adjust. It's been awhile, and he isn't exactly small. "Fuck, Rachel," he mumbles, his lips pressed to her forehead. "Fuck, you feel good."

She whimpers when she shifts her hips a little. "So do you," she gasps, rolling her hips in earnest. "God, Puck, move."

He takes his time, waits until she's begging to slip a hand between them and push her over the edge. She comes with his given name on her lips, and he lets go just after, his face pressed against her neck, tongue darting out to taste her sweaty skin.

She lets out a little whine when he pulls out, moving away from her to take care of the condom. "My god," she breathes, almost laughing. He lays next to her, sliding his palm over her stomach while they both try to catch their breath.

Puck is only the second person she's been with. She and Finn were each other's firsts, so anything they knew about sex, they learned together. (If she ignores the time at the end when he was also sleeping with Quinn. She chooses to ignore it now.) One time with Puck is making her wonder if she should've been sleeping around the whole time.

See? Sex with Puck has made her stupid and illogical.

"You good?" he asks, reaching up to push her bangs off her sweaty forehead.

She actually laughs, nodding her head and letting him tug her into his side. "Very good," she answers, making him chuckle.

They're talking about nothing when the electricity comes back on. She's just wearing his tee shirt and her panties, he's in his boxers, and they're lying facing each other with their legs tangled together. Neither of them says anything about it, but Puck is grinning when he reaches behind him to turn off the lamp on the bedside table (the only light they'd had on while they were watching the movie), and Rachel flicks off the TV to get rid of the glowing blue screen.

She sends a text message to Regina to let the woman know she intends to spend the night at Puck's, using the storm as her excuse. As soon as she's set her phone down, Puck is pressing her back into the mattress, kissing her neck until her giggles turn to moans and she's telling him to touch her.

Puck's never been the guy who has girls sleeping over in his bed, partially because he avoids bringing his hookups home. It's a lot easier to bail when you're the one who leaves. (Kicking a girl out of your house? That shit kind of sucks; he did it once and he never wants to have to do it again.) And he likes his bed and having all the space in that bed open for himself, knowing that there isn't anybody there to see if he's snoring or drooling or talking in his sleep or what the fuck ever.

Waking up next to Rachel the morning after they finally fuck? He doesn't hate it.

(It's at least a little bit because she was totally willing when he woke her up at like, two-thirty and asked her to go again.)

She's on the left side of his bed, all curled up on her side facing him, one arm tucked under the pillow. Her hair's a fucking disaster, but it's hot, and the fact that she's wearing the Stones tee shirt he had on yesterday is hotter.

So, yeah, he wakes her up with his hand skimming up her naked back under his shirt, pressing his cock against her hip. And when she totally goes for it, he decides that having a chick in his bed is pretty awesome.

The Chamber of Commerce holds a Fourth of July party every year at the country club for its members and their families, a big barbecue and a fireworks display and a bunch of stuff for little kids. This year, Puck's just glad they decided not to open the pool, because it means that he gets to hang out instead of doing the lifeguard thing. It's the same every year. He goes with his mom and his sister, eats a ton of food, watches fireworks, and then walks across the golf course with Santana and whoever else to her house where they all get wasted. They crash at her place because it's huge and her dad apparently doesn't give a shit, and they take the entire next day to recover.

Puck's mom doesn't know how to be on time to anything, so they leave the house about half an hour after she insisted that he and Abby be ready to go. Santana still manages to find him as soon as he steps onto the grounds at the club. She's all smiles with his mom (she always is, and if his mom knew some of the shit he'd gotten into with Santana, she wouldn't love the girl so much), then she's dragging him across the lawn to where Rachel's standing with Matt and Artie in this weirdly hot white and navy striped shirt that shows off her collarbones.

Santana's got one of the bartenders giving her cups of rum, which they're surreptitiously adding to the fruit punch they're drinking, and by the time the fireworks start, they're all half-drunk. Puck's sitting on the ground, leaned back on his hands, and Rachel's sitting in his lap because 'the grass makes my legs itchy.' She's got her head leaned back against his shoulder, and he can hear the little sounds she's making as she watches the fireworks go off over their heads, like those bursts of light are more than just exploding chemicals in the sky.

He kisses the side of her neck because it's kind of fucking adorable, okay? Especially since he's buzzed.

There are about a dozen of them walking across the golf course to Santana's after the show is over, Puck and Rachel lagging behind everyone else because they got caught up talking to Jeff and Regina. Well, Rachel talked; Puck just stood there and kept his mouth shut so they wouldn't be able to tell that he'd been drinking. Rachel's the best sober-acting tipsy chick he's ever seen. He's impressed, legit, and she laughs when he tells her that.

"It's not that hard," she tells him, shrugging her shoulders. She skips forward a few steps, then turns to face him, walking backwards. He's pretty impressed with her ability to do that, too, actually. "It's a good skill to have."

"I bet."

She pauses her steps until he catches up, then takes his hand, weaving their fingers together. He doesn't say anything, mostly because they're walking so close together that the back of his hand is brushing her thigh, left bare by the tiny red shorts she's wearing. "I want more rum," she says thoughtfully, cracking him up. "Really. It makes me feel all...affectionate."

She squeezes his hand a little and looks up at him, and he thinks the girl deserves to have all the rum she wants if it makes her eye him like that.

It's easy to fall into a pattern with Puck. Most of the time she spends away from the Evanses is spent with him, partially because, yes, she doesn't know many people here in town, but mostly because she has fun when she's with him. She'd mentioned to him her desire to know the town like a local, and he's been showing her things. She knows now that the best coffee in town is at his mother's cafe, but the best cold coffee drinks are at a place on the south side of the lake called Fenwick's. She knows how to bypass marina traffic when she's going from the Evans' to the Puckermans', cutting across on an unmarked road that's little more than an alleyway. He showed her a tiny, hidden park just a few blocks from the elementary school, a place that's gorgeous even if it is little more than a gazebo and a little koi pond with some flowerbeds. She's gone with him to 'the point,' a local hangout that she wasn't particularly fond of given the amount of drinking and driving that obviously originates there

Usually though, they're just hanging out, not really doing anything. They spend more time at his house than the Evans' because his house is usually empty, his mother at work and his sister next door because the neighbors have a little girl her age. It's a way for Rachel to get some quiet (the Evans house is constantly buzzing in a way that hers never has), and a way for them to get physical with one another.

The day after Rachel stayed with Puck the first time, Regina came into her room, sat on the edge of her bed, and initiated a conversation about responsibility and birth control. On one level it was mortifying, but at the same time, it was refreshing to be talked to as an adult (especially since Regina has known Rachel her entire life and could easily treat her like a child). As long as she lets Regina know when she isn't going to be home for the night and the way she cares for Stacy and Stevie doesn't change, the woman trusts her to make good decisions. It really boils down to being treated like an woman instead of a little girl, and Rachel appreciates that more than she can say.

They're driving around on a Saturday night, sipping fresh-squeezed lemonade from a tiny little stand next to the movie theater and chatting about the movie they just saw when Puck turns down a road Rachel's never seen before, heading towards the lake.

"Where are we going?" she asks curiously. The movie they saw wasn't really Puck's style, so he spent the last half of it touching her as inappropriately as she would let him get away with; she'd expected that he'd take her back to his house to take her clothes off like he's told her he wants to do. She starting to recognize the little grin on his lips now as one he gets when he's plotting something.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, turning off the road and putting the jeep in park when the tires hit sand. "Skinny dipping," he finally answers, cutting the ignition and tugging his shirt up over his head.

She blinks at him for a moment. Skinny dipping is a reckless, ridiculous activity that really serves no purpose, as far as she can tell, beyond titillation and the thrill of doing something 'wrong.'

And heaven help her, it sounds like a lot of fun.

She can tell Puck is surprised when she tugs her tank top up over her head without a word, but he doesn't say anything either, just watches her unbutton her shorts while he pushes his own jeans to the floorboard beneath him. He says her name quietly when she unhooks her bra, her last article of clothing, and drops it on top of her folded pile of clothing in the floorboard. She leans over, as if to kiss him, pulling away at the last second, scrambling out of the car, and dashing down the beach until she hits the cool water, diving beneath the surface as soon as it's deep enough.

She isn't the strongest swimmer, and he obviously is, so she's not exactly surprised when he breaks the surface just after she does. She kicks her legs, moving out just a bit further as he watches her, standing in chest-high water. She ducks under, tipping her head back as she resurfaces to slick her bangs back out of her face. It's strange, the way it feels different to be naked in the water. It isn't that different than swimming in a bathing suit, in actuality, but it is at the same time. It's somehow liberating and sensual, however ridiculous that sounds.

With the exception of having the occasional alcoholic beverage, Rachel Berry is a girl who follows the rules. It's silly, but this feels vaguely naughty, and exciting because of it.

She swims back over to where Puck is standing, puts her hands on his shoulders and lets the tips of her toes just skim the sand. "Hi."

He just shakes his head, his hands finding her hips beneath the water and pulling her closer so he can kiss her. She presses herself against him, the insides of her elbows resting at the juncture of his neck and shoulders, kissing him hotly until she can feel him beginning to harden against her stomach. "Why did you bring me out here?" she asks, leaning back a bit to look at him.

His thumbs are rubbing little circles on her hipbones. "Couldn't pass up a chance to see you naked and wet, baby."

She smirks, quirking an eyebrow, asking him without words if he's going to capitalize on the obvious joke. He just grins, sliding his hands down her body until he's got her wrapping her legs around his hips while he kisses her neck.

She knows better than to have sex in the lake, but that doesn't mean that they can't enjoy themselves. She skates her lips up his jaw, murmurs dirty things against his ear as she brings her hand between them to wrap around his length and stroke slowly, steadily. He bites down on her collarbone, gently, when he comes, sucking the skin hard after, hard enough that she knows she'll have a mark. She doesn't care though, not when he insists on returning the favor and his fingers are hot against her, rubbing just right and making her back arch.

Puck actually catches himself thinking of things he can show Rachel. She's really serious about this 'being like a local' shit, and Puck spends hours every day just sitting in a chair, making sure kids don't drown and letting his mind wander. He decides, one afternoon, that he's going to borrow Artie's boat and take her out to his favorite fishing spot. He'll get to see her in a bikini (which doesn't happen nearly often enough as far as he's concerned) and get her alone out on the water. It's kind of genius, really.

Until he goes to the Evans' and she reminds him, gently, that she's a vegetarian and therefore has a 'moral objection' to fishing.

Shit.

They go out on the boat anyhow, end up lying in the sun and making out instead of actually doing anything, and he admits (when she asks) that not fishing is better than fishing any day.

Jeff and Regina go to spend a day helping his parents finish some landscaping at their house in the next town over, leaving Stacy and Stevie with Rachel. Since they're in the habit of spending their Saturdays together, Puck comes over the house to "help" Rachel babysit.

Honestly, it's like having a third little kid running around.

He shows up with a pair of super soakers and a bag of water balloons and insists that the four of them are going to have a water war in the backyard, and idea that Stacy and Stevie immediately fall in love with. Rachel slathers the kids in sunscreen (throws the bottle at Puck with a pointed look), pulls her hair into a ponytail, and stands at the kitchen sink for half an hour filling balloons with water.

Yes, she's excited, and she isn't embarrassed to admit it. She's an only child: She's never had a water fight like the one Puck has obviously planned for them.

Stacy claims Puck as her partner (Rachel thinks the girl's crush is adorable.), so Rachel teams with Stevie, and they start on opposite sides of the yard, setting up buckets of balloons and refill stations for the water guns. It's not the sort of game that has a winner; the goal is getting wet, basically, running around the yard and being silly.

Rachel isn't at all surprised when Stevie turns on her, joining his sister and Puck in chasing her around the yard and pelting her with water balloons. She's laughing when she cries uncle, holding her hands up in surrender in a way that gives Puck the perfect opportunity to throw a balloon at her chest. It soaks her face (again) when it bursts, sending the kids into fits of giggles and making Puck smirk at her.

"That's fine," she says, nodding slowly and plucking a bit of blue rubber from her chest. "You will all pay for this later." She locks eyes with Puck. "Especially you."

He quirks his eyebrow at her quickly, then scoops Stacy up and starts charging around the yard with the little girl hoisted above his head. The three of them are singing "We Are the Champions" (loudly and off-key), and all Rachel can do is laugh and shake her head.

Puck helps her prepare lunch (if stealing carrot sticks as she cuts them counts as helping) while the kids scour the yard for pieces of balloon to throw away.

"You're really good with them," she comments, stepping to the side to flip the grilled cheese sandwiches that are cooking on the stove top.

He shrugs, ignoring her glare when he steals another carrot. "They're cute kids most of the time, and I don't have to deal with them when they suck."

It's ridiculous, but she has to laugh, picking up her knife and pulling another carrot from the bag on the counter. "I think Stacy has a crush on you."

He smirks, taking the knife from her hand and setting it on the counter before putting his hands on her hips and gripping gently. "Stacy, huh?" She nods, swallowing when his hands run up and down her sides once. It's just this side of inappropriate. "What about you, Rach? You got a crush on me?"

She's actually relieved when the back door flies open. Puck moves away from her, leaning back against the counter again while Stacy starts chattering about her 'balloon confetti,' brandishing a handful of colorful little balloon bits that Rachel ends up giving her a little sandwich baggie for, even though she should make the girl throw them away.

Puck's words hit a little too close to home, and it's a bit of a problem. He was just teasing. They've talked about this, how it's a perfect summer thing: easy and light with no expectations and no potential for hurt feelings and 'all that girly bullshit.' But the more time she spends with him, the more she gets to know him, the more she falls for him.

She's playing a dangerous, dangerous game, and she knows it.

Hell, she knew it from the beginning. She knows herself and she knew she was going to fall for him, but now she's in deep enough that she's not going to step away. Their relationship, such as it is, has an expiration date, and there's no sense in worrying about being in over her head. She'll be leaving in a matter of weeks, heading to New York and leaving this behind, so she might as well enjoy what they have while she has it.

He doesn't really think anything of it when he gets Rachel's text that she's coming over, just keeps doing what he's doing: Sitting on his bed and fucking around on his guitar.

He doesn't really anticipate Rachel's reaction.

She kind of freezes in the doorway, which is an opportunity for him to appreciate the way her little denim shorts show off her legs, all tanned and smooth.

"You play guitar?" she asks after a moment, her voice all quiet.

He raises his eyebrows at her because...well, yeah. Obviously, since he's playing right now.

She smiles and rolls her eyes a little, at herself, he knows. "What I mean is, I didn't know you play guitar."

He grins at her and changes it up, starts playing something slow and sweet. "Hey, Rach?" He waits until she's looking at him expectantly. "I play guitar."

She laughs and tosses her phone in his direction. It bounces harmlessly on the mattress next to him. "You're a smart ass."

"'S'not news, baby."

He watches her push his door closed and step towards the bed, her eyes on his hands as he plays. "Don't stop," she says quietly. The way she's eying him, the only way he'd stop is if she started getting naked. Well, the way she's eying him, he thinks it's just a matter of time before she starts getting naked, but the guitar is obviously working her up. Fuck, if he'd known she was going to react like this, he would have pulled out the guitar back when she was holding out on him. The look in her eyes is the fucking sexiest thing he's ever seen on her.

She gets onto the bed, maneuvers herself so she's straddling his thigh with one knee between his legs. "You think it's sexy, don't you?" he asks, teasing a little, because, yeah, she obviously does.

She narrows her eyes at him a little, slides herself just a bit closer to him. Her knee is almost grazing his junk, but it's hot. He trusts her, even if she's got him in a precarious position. She nods slowly. "You know it's sexy, Puck."

He keeps playing when she kisses him, which he can tell she's into, but then her tongue is sliding against his and he has to put the guitar to the side. Partially because she's short-circuiting his brain, but mostly because he wants to press her into his mattress and do things that make her moan.

So he does.