Author's Note: Somewhat of a drive-by update (meaning that I'm running in and out and didn't even look to edit it before posting. So, preemptive apologies). A million thanks to those of you reading and responding. If it weren't for all of you, this would have stopped at just the one part. Now there's like, plot inside the smut and plans and ... it's crazy. So thanks. Special thanks to Jann for the kick of motivation in what can only be described as do-or-die moments. Hopefully this makes you whistle while you work. Haha.


Rachel walked into the party while it was in full swing, the music loud enough to be heard outside the house increasing so much in volume upon her entrance that she felt her heartbeat shift to accommodate the tune. She was as open-minded as anybody when it came to musical preferences, and had a pretty wide range of personal favorites. But there was something about the thumping of the speakers and the erratic beat of the song that angered her further as she squeezed through the crowd of people to head back to the kitchen.

She liked her beats fast and the bass down low. Got it. Now please move on.

"Rach!" Finn waved his arms high above his head, as if it weren't already possible to see him towering above all the other teenagers circled around the keg. She approached him slowly, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she tilted her head up to look into his eyes.

"I see you aren't the designated driver this evening." His expression changed from an enthusiastic smile to one that was almost guilty, and she had to bite back the warm feeling that spread through her when she realized she still had that effect on him. At that moment, though, it was nice to be reminded that someone still cared about her. Someone had the decency to greet her when she arrived. Alone.

"How was your summer?"

Rachel cocked one eyebrow up. "I saw you last week, Finn. Remember?" That doofy smile that only Finn could pull off as endearing took over his entire face and she laughed. "How long have you been here?"

"Awhile."

Finn gestured with his head to the next room, where Quinn and Santana were arguing over something the two girls probably wouldn't remember tomorrow. Or in the next hour. Rachel's mind momentarily filtered back to the first and only glee party at her house and the resulting implications of all that had happened. She'd eventually gotten over the feeling of Britney's puke dripping over her skin, but Rachel swore she'd never get trashed like that again. The others apparently hadn't made the same pact.

"Have you seen Noah?" She finally asked, unable to avoid the question any longer. Anymore time spent with Finn and she'd have to ask how things were between him and Quinn. Even if she were still in a stable relationship (stable being a word she used loosely at the moment), Rachel was pretty sure she didn't want to hear those details.

"Uh." Finn's eyes quickly moved off of her face, scanning the crowd absently. If she didn't know him so well, she'd swear he was actually looking for the man in question instead of just avoiding her. Unfortunately, she knew him and she knew that face. Despite nearly six months of barely speaking to his once best friend, Finn was still caught in the "bros before hoes" honor system.

"Got it. Thanks." Rachel stole the red plastic cup right from his hand, tipping the drink back and swallowing the contents in one gulp. She replaced the cup back into his loose grip, grabbing another full glass almost in the same second. She touched his forearm gently and gave a reassuring smile before making her way out of the kitchen and through the next few rooms.

The music had switched from Dev's song to The Pussycat Dolls, which was entirely too perfect for Britney and her current state of intoxication. Rachel had to pry herself between the swarm of football players and pretty much every other guy surrounding the wannabe stripper. Artie was noticeably absent, but then again he'd been that way ever since Britney and Santana decided to make their girl time a little more official. Rachel understood the two were pretty serious about one another, but that didn't mean they weren't playing up the whole "bisexual" thing during these parties just to keep their popularity up as high as it could be.

After several years being at the bottom of the totem pole, Rachel actually sympathized with the pair. It was hard to be ridiculed for doing something you loved, but Rachel imagined it was even harder to be teased and tormented because of whom you loved. In fact, now that they were starting their senior year in a couple of days, she figured that was the most likely explanation for her current predicament. After all, while she'd seen less slushie facials and shoves into lockers, being her boyfriend didn't do much for Puck's reputation – even after the whole janitor's closet fiasco.

The sound of loud whoops and hollering diverted Rachel's steps from upstairs to instead down the hallway, past a few closed bedrooms and a full bathroom. The door was wide open and girls were puking in the toilet and the sink while still managing to hold a conversation about how this was the best party ever. Until next weekend, Rachel guessed.

"Ante up, ladies and germs," a faceless student said just as Rachel entered the overly crowded back room. She didn't even recognize half the people in the space, and was sure there had to be students from another school here considering all the bodies she had to plow through just to make it back to the room. Lima was too small to have Santana's entire house filled with kids just from McKinley. However, there was at least one student from McKinley in the room besides herself, and he was sitting at the head of the round felt green table with a dazed but comfortable expression on his face.

Directly across from him was a girl with bigger breasts than Rachel felt were natural, but she had to assume they were because the young lady (again, a term used loosely) had just taken off her shirt and thrown it onto the other clothes piled up in the middle. While some of the others simply tossed in a sock or a shoe, this girl was confident in every way of the word, and had eyes only for Rachel's boyfriend.

"So you're a football player?" She asked absently, twirling her long, curly blonde hair between her fingers as the dealer passed out five cards for each inebriated player. She lifted her hand up and evaluated the cards, her eyes looking just over the top of them. "What's your favorite position?"

Puck grinned charmingly, the room erupting in more chatter. He still hadn't noticed Rachel was in the room, which might have been why he let the question go until it came time to reveal his hand. Then, widening his arrogant smile while the others groaned, he looked right into the wide eyes of his affection.

"Threesome."

Everyone cheered and the girl actually managed to blush before tossing her hair back and picking the next piece of clothing she was going to bet. Puck leaned forward to grab his previously missing sock back, and noticed a tiny brunette wedged between two fullbacks. He noticed the tears in her eyes just as she turned to leave, Puck cursing softly to himself before getting up and following her.

"Leaving already?" The blonde purred before he could completely leave the room, trapping him between her body and the doorframe. He'd had a few shots and a couple beers already, which was why he might have let the girl press against him instead of just pushing past her. Her hair was crunchy and dull looking, she wore way too much makeup, and she smelled like the inside of a woman's magazine.

She wasn't Rachel.

"Bones," Puck called loudly, grabbing the attention of one of his football teammates. The tall running back came barreling over, eager enough to meet Puck's friend that he nearly knocked over two people just to get to the door faster. He quickly made introductions – something eloquent like, 'Bones, this is slut. Slut, this is Bones – before moving down the hallway and back into the heart of the party.

His head throbbed while he stood next to the sound system, his eyes a little blurry but able to make out the faces of those in the living room. He almost thought Rachel would have left, but apparently something had stopped her. Or, rather, someone.

"He's just trying to cheer her up, Puck." He glared to his side as Quinn approached, her lips close to his ear so he could actually hear her. Her breath felt … wrong … on his skin and he actually shook her away. His gaze went back to the pair on the makeshift dance floor, his eyes in slits as he watched Finn stumble around his girlfriend. The beat was loud and demanding, but the former flames were keeping their distance from one another, dancing merrily.

"You really have changed, haven't you?" Puck scoffed at Quinn's remark, turning his eyes back to his former flame. "The old Puck would have been mid-beating by now."

"You think I'm worried about Finnessa taking my girl?" He snorted in laughter, shaking his head while moving his eyes back to Rachel and Finn. Rachel's hands were resting comfortably on Finn's forearms, each of her thumbs caressing the skin of his inner elbow. She had a bright smile on her face and the tears from before were all but gone.

"I would be." Puck again glared at Quinn, the short blonde giving him those all-knowing eyes that he used to – and still did – hate. "Whatever you did, she was pretty upset."

"I didn't do anything," Puck growled.

"Of course you didn't." Quinn crossed her arms in front of her chest, rolling her eyes at him. Puck knew Quinn and he knew she could care less whether him and Rachel were fighting or made up. What she did care about, however, was Rachel messing up Quinn's plan to rule the school this coming year. She had eyes on Homecoming and Prom king and queen, as well as class couple and a handful of other senior superlatives.

"If you are so worried about losing Finn, maybe you should try putting out," he snarled before leaving her alone at the speaker.

Finn must have sensed Puck's proximity, the tall teen suddenly looking up from Rachel's chest. He might be a few inches taller, but Puck was considerably more built and quicker. With just one look, Finn mumbled some lame excuse in Rachel's ear and then backed away in the opposite direction. Rachel didn't protest Finn's abrupt exit, sensing Puck behind her before his body enveloped hers. She tried not to shiver when his hands slowly rand down her arms, but she couldn't help the goosebumps that surfaced. His body fits hers like a glove, sliding over her effortlessly. She held her breath when his hands moved to her hips, his head dipping down so his mouth was right by her ear.

"Wanna dance?"

She never expected him to apologize, but his question caught her off guard. She thought he would ask if she was still mad or maybe even wonder why she was upset to begin with. He certainly didn't seem to have a clue when he'd called to tell her that she'd have to find her own way to the party. And she'd already been close to blowing a gasket before that.

Puck used his hands to move her hips with his, answering for her as another fast-paced song started. His teeth grazed the sensitive nape of her neck, Puck placing wet kisses on her shoulders until her head sagged back. The rhythm of the song pumped into their veins, their bodies moving absently to the tune.

Rachel ground her ass into Puck's front, the song requiring a certain amount of friction. Her small hands gripped his, removing them from her hips to rise at their sides. She circled her hips and hinged her torso forward, flipping her hair forward and then back before moving back to press into his chest. She slid tortuously slow down the length of his body, taking time to swirl around all the appropriate erogenous zone before she sprung back up to her original position

"You trying to kill me?"

Rachel smiled over her shoulder at his strangled question. "Just showing you what Blondie can't offer."

"Maybe you should take off your shirt." He circled their arms tightly around her waist, holding her close even while they continued moving together. "Then I could make a fair comparison."

Rachel slowed her movements to a stop, turning and facing Puck with fire in her eyes. "I believe the correct response from the boyfriend should be that there is no comparison."

Puck straightened his posture, trying to hide the surprise from his expression. What just happened? One minute they were practically fucking in the middle of a crowded room, and now she had stepped far enough away that they weren't even touching. What happened to the lap dance?

"What the Hell is your problem?"

"You have no idea, do you?" Rachel more than made up for the distance between them, letting her voice carry. "I told you tonight was important to me. I wanted us to spend it together."

"We are together," he yelled back defensively, noticing the crowd of students around them increasing in size.

"I had to call Mercedes to bring me. And then you weren't even waiting for me. You were too busy eye fucking some rival cheerleader."

"I was just playing poker," he answered on a sigh, noting her word choice warily. She hadn't been there long, but he knew now that she managed to have at least three drinks. Three drinks made Rachel bolder, but two more and he'd have to carry her home.

"Oh, so everyone was just taking off their clothes for fun." The way she drawled out the last word managed to piss him off more than the argument itself. It was bad enough they were having the fight with the whole school as an audience, but Puck knew they hadn't even scratched the surface of why Rachel was actually mad.

"It started out as poker," he said evenly, doing his best to keep his anger in check. "Then I started kicking ass and they decided they'd rather lose clothes than money."

"So … it was just good, clean fun?"

"Yeah," he breathed in relief, smiling that she finally seemed to understand.

"Well, fine." Rachel nodded her head once. "I want in."

Puck's smile quickly faded, his feet moving to follow Rachel as she made her way back to the room even though his brain hadn't quite caught up yet. Many of the same people that were playing with Puck were still in the room, all of them looking up when the couple barged in with little grace. He tried to say something, continue their conversation, but Rachel turned her torso and placed her hand over his mouth. Then, without a second thought, she turned back to address the table.

"Room for one more?" Those around the table passed a look of confusion between each other, some not knowing who Rachel was and others knowing exactly who Puck was. Puck had never been prouder of his reputation than at that moment. Finally, it was doing him some good.

"We already started," the dealer finally answered.

"What do I have to take off to get in?"

"Oh well. Maybe next game."

The end of Puck's sentence came out almost the same time Rachel's question ended, causing him to choke on his inhale. His eyes practically burned a hole in the back of her head, but she didn't turn. She simply waited for the table to silently debate her question, and then raised her shirt high over her head and tossed it into the middle of the table. Her and the blonde slut from before shared a look, Rachel relishing in her own dose of whistles and cat calls.

"W-we're playing f-five card draw," the dealer stammered, the other guys practically tripping over themselves to make room for Rachel. One guy was only wearing his underwear and a sock, but everyone else was at least moderately clothed. Puck mentally tallied Rachel's remaining clothes – two knee socks, her skirt, a camisole with what looked to be no bra, and hopefully underwear (seriously? When had he ever prayed for that?) – all while forcefully grabbing a stool and making himself a spot across from her.

The two stared each other down, Rachel's jaw set tightly while Puck's clenched uncontrollably. His girlfriend barely knew the fundamentals of Go Fish and now she was going to play strip poker? This was going to be worse than when she'd tried to learn how to play Call of Duty at the beginning of the summer – a terrible, long night that only ended when Puck distracted her with something they both were good at. He smiled, the proverbial light bulb going off above his head.

"Fold," he announced when his turn came, throwing away what was actually a decent hand. He had a pair of kings, which was pretty good in a group of seven. Rachel squinted her eyes, trying to read him but failing when the others demanded to know whether she was in or out. Puck raised his eyebrows, smiling wider when she announced she needed two cards. The others knew it didn't really matter now that Puck had folded, but Rachel was too competitive to understand anything besides winning.

"Watch out, boys," she announced as if there weren't three other girls at the table, "I've got all the same color."

Rachel revealed her hand with a bright, wide smile. The red of the cards matched the slight tint of color on her cheeks, flushed from the body heat circulating in the room as well as the amount of alcohol she had consumed in haste. But the red would only get darker when the table suddenly burst out laughing, pointing out that the best she had was ace high.

"Puckerman folded, though, so he still loses," the dealer said, shaking his head while everyone tossed back their cards.

"A flush is when you have five of all the same suit. Not color, babe." He rolled his eyes, peeling his shirt from his body with ease while everyone else just kept their same discarded clothes in the pile as their ante.

"Well …"

Rachel trailed off, clearing her throat to push down the embarrassment and the flood of desire she felt course through her. Pairing Puck's pool cleaning business with football two-a-days and he more closely resembled a Greek god than a teenage boy. His bronzed skin somehow managed to shine in the dimly lit room, his perfectly defined muscles toned specifically to torture her. He'd gotten rid of his nipple ring after a mishap this summer regarding her tendency to bite, but he didn't need it. He was still the sexiness man she'd ever laid eyes on.

"I'm amazed you can remember something as complex as the rules and regulations of such an evolving game as poker, Noah," Rachel sneered, focusing on her anger instead of the contours of his chest and abs. "You know, considering."

"Considering what, exactly?"

Rachel lifted her card one by one, noting four cards of the same number with a wide smile. Maybe she didn't know everything about this game, but she knew her hand was almost unbeatable. She ignored his question, asking for one card and waiting while the dealer moved around the table. Puck was the last person this time.

"Fold." He dropped his cards to the table. "Considering what?"

"Considering," she began in the same snarky tone, "you can't even remember something as remedial as the date and any perceived significance it might have."

"You lose again, Puckerman," the dealer announced grimly, catching on to Puck's plan as quickly as the other guys. "Maybe you should sit the next one out."

"Can it, four eyes." Puck ignored the dealer, kicking off his shoes and adding them to the pile. He kept his gaze on Rachel, watched her win the hand but realize that winning wasn't necessarily the point of strip poker. They shared another heated stare down, two people actually leaving the game while the cards were being dealt. "Fold."

"Me too." Rachel didn't even look at her hand, instead kept Puck's gaze defiantly while managing to wiggle out of her panties. The two guys that had left quickly returned, one knocking over his chair and falling to the ground he'd been so eager to return to the game.

"That's it!" Puck stood up, pointing to the door. "Everyone out."

"Noah! We're in the middle of a game and you are being very rude not to mention completely barbaric and …"

"I'll get to you in a minute," he growled, literally pushing people out the door. The second the last one crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut, turning back to face his girlfriend. Like a lion stalking his prey, he took slow, pointed steps back toward the table, his palms resting flat on the felt. His shoulders fell down his back, his head moving forward just slightly while his eyes stayed trained on her. "Tell me this whole thing is …"

"This whole thing?" She asked in fake innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Playing strip poker, dancing with Finn …" Puck cleared his throat, pushing the anger back down. "All because I forgot some stupid anniversary?"

"If you can't remember, then I'm certainly not going to tell you." Rachel stood up from her chair, walking around the table and toward the door. They both weren't in the right mindset to having this conversation. Alcohol aside, she could see the desire swimming in his eyes and knew it had to mirror her own. Having sex would only perpetuate the problem. "Maybe I'll see you at school on Monday."

"Wait."

Puck knew better than to let her leave. He pressed his hand into the door, keeping it closed and her trapped all in the same motion. He moved his other arm to settle against the wood, Rachel pressing herself into the door just to put a few extra inches of space between her body and his. He bit back the urge to attack the bare expanse of her neck, still focusing on her words from before.

"I thought I was taking you to school Monday?"

She tried to get away then, but Puck pressed his lower body into her to keep her still. Their eyes met again and in them he saw everything she wasn't saying. She wasn't interested in Finn or taking her clothes off for the entire school. She was scared. School started in a few days and she was worried the same thing that happened between her and Finn last year would happen between them. Those two had shared a wonderful summer together just like he and Rachel had this year, and now they were reaching the same time frame where it all went to Hell.

"Did you know that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory?" He eventually asked, his voice low now to keep their conversation intimate. With the door closed, the back room was far enough away from the stereo that they didn't have to scream in each other's ear just to hear one another. It was like a private cocoon, sheltered from all the drama and debauchery waiting for them on the other side of the door. "You smell like strawberries."

Rachel gasped softly when his lips pressed against her pulse point, her head falling back against the door. She pressed her thighs together tightly, trying to fight through the ache she felt building in her core. Thanks to her spiteful participation in the game of strip poker, she was down to a thin camisole and her skirt and knee socks. She felt utterly exposed in every capacity of the word, his attention to her body and her mind making her breathless.

"Every time I smell strawberries, I think of you." Puck moved to the other side of her neck, paying the other side equal attention. "Remember the weekend before finals?" He moved his knee between her legs, Rachel's hands clutching his triceps when she felt her balance waver slightly. "Orange juice, honey, chocolate … all those smells remind me of you."

She whimpered when he broke away from her, shivering at the loss of his hot rush of breath on her neck while he pushed her shirt above her head. They moaned together when he pressed back into her, the feel of his bare chest on the bare skin of hers sending another jolt straight to her center. Her nipples hardened at the contact, figuratively taking a number in the long list of places Rachel wanted – scratch that, needed – him to touch.

"Sweat," he mumbled against her collarbone, sweeping his tongue into the hollow area before moving to the other side. "Chlorine from the pool and sweat from the gym." Rachel dug her nails into his arm as his breath wisped across her breast. "Grass from the park and dirt from my cleats after baseball practice."

"Noah," Rachel moaned when he finally sucked the tiny bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nipple. She arched into him, rolling her hips against his knee while one hand cascaded down his chest. He felt like he was on fire but she felt goosebumps rise on his skin in her wake.

"Leather from the coatroom at the performing arts gallery," he growled, hiking his knee higher while moving to bathe her other breast with his tongue. Rachel legit had the best tits ever, but she didn't quite take to the compliment the last time he'd said it. So, instead, he just continued his previous thought. "Peppermint, when you were trying to make Finn jealous."

Rachel couldn't take it anymore. He was seriously driving her crazy, and it wasn't a far trip. She'd already been worked up long before this started, their session on the dance floor and the minimal amount of time she spent playing poker more than enough foreplay. In his own Puck way, he had just let her know that he constantly thought about her – that everything reminded him of her – and she didn't want to waste another moment thinking about the date he hadn't noticed. She wanted to make another memory.

She pressed her hands to his cheeks, pulling him up to her mouth and devouring him. She allowed herself a few moments of sliding her tongue along his before she moved her focus to her hands. Rachel unbuckled his belt and undid the button and fly of his jeans, eventually pushing against the hard plane of his stomach. They stumbled back awkwardly until the back of Puck's knees hit the swivel office chair Rachel had been aiming for, but their lips never parted. Rachel continued to explore the well-traveled area of his mouth until the last possible second, when she had to bend down to push his jeans and boxers over his hips. She had intended on following the garments to the floor, but Puck gripped her upper arm in one hand and the bottom of her opposite thigh in the other. He slowly dropped to the seat, effortlessly lifting Rachel up enough that her legs were propped up on the arms of the chair.

"Fuck," they both breathed, replacing their lips against one another. Rachel could feel his tip brushing against her clit, and she couldn't help but rock into him. The music from the other room was faint but it still could be heard, and in the erratic beat she found a matching rhythm, bringing them together for a whole different kind of dance.

Puck grunted when their bodies connected, his hands clenching at Rachel's tiny waist. He could tell she was using the song as her basis for movement, and if there wasn't a slow part soon, he was going to blow his load far too quickly. He bit the inside of his cheeks as hard as he could to give at least an extra minute, focusing on the taste of blood instead of the expert sway of her hips or the subtle bounce of her breasts (right in fucking front of his eyes). Girl on top was legit the best invention ever, but with Rachel it would also be the death of him. This was a woman who liked to be in control, and with her in the driver's seat, she always went full speed ahead. Sure, it started out with slow, methodical plunges, letting him in millimeter but gloriously painful millimeter, but that never lasted long. Eventually she needed more friction. She wanted everything faster and deeper, alternating between quick, erratic gyrations and shallow up and down thrusts. Sometimes she would circle her hips and sometimes she managed to combine all three moves into one, and that's usually when he lost it.

"I'm … I'm going to …" A long squeal replaced the missing word, her eyes shutting tightly.

"Right behind ya, B," he forced out, pushing her frame down for a few more powerful thrusts. He could feel her walls clench around him, the aftershocks of her orgasm triggering his own. Rachel's entire body went limp, her head falling to his shoulder, ragged breaths dancing across his skin. They were both completely and utterly spent.

"Now there's a moment worth remembering."

"Nothing quite like the smell of beer and vomit to get you in the mood," she said, rolling her eyes while lifting her head off his shoulder. Rachel moved to stand, but he gently placed his hands on her hips, keeping them connected by more than just his intense stare. The desire from before was still swirling around the brown depths, but in them Rachel also saw the love that she couldn't quite ignore even in those spiteful moments. He kissed her softly, and then pulled back with his trademark arrogant smirk.

"Happy anniversary."