A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! Oh, and the title of this chapter is from Tik Tok by Ke$ha.

Rachel bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as she listened to Principle Figgins introduce the police chief. She was in a wonderful mood. Her date yesterday with Blaine was perfect (she had already started researching local bakeries for Kurt's reference), and she had an excellent feeling about the assembly today, in large part to the bottle of her own special mix of alcohol that was currently making its way through her system.

Yes, she had finally thought of a way to help with Brittany's (and everyone else's) nerves. After all, hadn't alcohol given her the courage to call Blaine? And to finally speak her mind to Finn?

Of course, she took a little creative license with her concoction, adding a few touches here and there to give it a unique flair. Personally, she thought the addition of the Oreos was particularly inspired (and it helped assuage her guilt, as she never actually got around to making her 'I'm sorry' cookies.)

Certainly, it was an… acquired taste, but it went down quite smoothly after a dozen or so sips. Best of all, she now had a tingling warmth radiating through her, and her limbs felt wonderfully loose and relaxed.

That's right, Mr. De Mille, she was ready for her close-up.

Unfortunately, the police chief's slide show seemed to be going on for an interminably long time. (Someone clearly needed to explain to him that sometimes less was more, especially when trying to create a dramatic effect.)

Not wanting her muscles to go cold, Rachel decided to find a quiet, secluded corner to do some stretches in the meantime.

As she walked by the rest of the glee club, she was very aware that certain pairs of eyes were boring holes into her. It would've been unnerving – if she allowed nothing to unnerve her right before a performance.

Still, she was somewhat pleased to see Mercedes and Tina coming toward her a few minutes later, if only because she had spent the latter part of yesterday practicing what she would say if and when she was confronted about her drunk dialing. (While her talent at improvisation may have saved her from disaster with Finn, she wasn't leaving any other conversations to chance.) Her hard work paid off, too, because she now felt supremely confident that she could handle whatever they might say.

When they were only a few steps away, she gave them a winning smile and launched into her speech without preamble.

"Mercedes, Tina. Before you say anything, I would just like to apologize for any comments I made to you the other night on the phone. I was clearly not in a right state of mind. Mercedes, if I believed what Coach Sylvester said about you, then I suppose I should not hold it against you that you did the same," she conceded graciously as the words bubbled forth. "And Tina, I was greatly wounded when you called me a liar, but, as the entire school seems to be under some delusional spell where Brittany is the creator of what clearly has been my signature look for years, I am willing to overlook it. Especially in light of my, ah, admiration of Mike the other day."

The two girls exchanged confused (and maybe slightly annoyed?) looks. "What are you talking about, Rachel?" Mercedes asked. "We're here about Kurt."

"But now that you brought it up, keep your paws off my man," Tina warned. "And his abs."

Rachel nodded vigorously, in complete agreement with her. "Yes, I truly regret my actions. But I assure you that I have no romantic interest in Mike, nor have I ever. Not that he's unattractive," she added hastily, not wishing to inadvertently insult Tina's taste in men (or Mike himself, for that matter) in her effort to make amends. "He's quite handsome and extremely talented, and as you mentioned, he has quite impressive ab-"

"Stop," Tina interrupted, holding one hand up while using her other hand to rub her forehead. "Just. Stop."

Taking this as acceptance of her apology, Rachel beamed as she swept Tina up in an embrace. Tina, for her part, echoed Rachel's enthusiasm at their ability to resolve their differences (though Rachel secretly thought that Tina might want to work on developing her emotional range, as the strangled gasps she was currently making weren't the most effective way to convey joy).

"Uh, hello?"

Rachel looked over Tina's shoulder and blinked in surprise, for there was Mercedes, staring at her, hands firmly planted on her hips. Then Rachel blinked again, and Tina somehow materialized next to her, her mouth opening and closing almost comically (especially when Rachel realized that no words were coming out).

"Can we stay on topic, here?" Mercedes asked exasperatedly. "We want to talk to you about Kurt. He told us about you and Blaine, and we don't think it's right."

"Yeah," Tina chimed in (her voice apparently in working order again). "How could you poach his crush like that? He's your friend."

Rachel looked back and forth between the two in complete surprise. "But Blaine might not be gay," she protested. "It's not like I'm trying to steal him from Kurt."

"Girl, are you serious?" Mercedes asked, her eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"Of course. Are you?" Rachel replied, almost automatically. (Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought that this wasn't the best or wisest response, but once again the words seemed to slip out without warning. Besides, it was an honest question. After all, she had talked to Kurt, and he was okay with this. He needed to know whether Blaine was gay, right?)

Mercedes gaped at her for a moment before throwing her hands up in the air. "We're wasting our time here," she huffed, shaking her head as she walked away.

Tina looked like she was on the verge of saying something, but she turned around, too, without another word.

Rachel watched them leave, idly noting that they seemed happier the last time they were drinking. (She was having serious doubts about Finn's understanding on the entire 'drunk girl' classification system.)

Then she grinned. She didn't drunk dial them after all. It was like a huge weight was just lifted off of her shoulders. Really, it felt better just knowing one way or the other. In fact, why should she sit and wait until people approached her? If she wanted to know so badly, she should take matters into her own hands.

Feeling particularly emboldened, she scanned the room, determined to resolve this and clear the air once and for all.

Her eyes lit up as they fell upon Sam and Mike, who were talking to each other. This was perfect! Sam was still acting skittish around her, and she really should apologize to Mike regardless. She had the words all committed to memory already, except – Rachel began to panic when she couldn't recall the speeches she had so carefully laid out the night before.

Then she shook her head at her own ridiculousness. She never forgot her lines. The words would undoubtedly come to her when she needed them. (Besides, was she or was she not a firm believer that a heartfelt hug could often work wonders, as it did with Tina?)

Confident in her plan, she took a moment to prepare herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath. Then, she began moving toward them in determination – and ran smack into someone, or more specifically, his chest (because judging by its solidness, it was definitely a male).

As she bounced off of the mystery person, she felt his hands grab her by the elbows in an effort to steady her as her own hands instinctively grabbed onto his arms to avoid toppling over.

"Jesus, Berry!" a gruff voice said. She looked up to see Puck scowling down at her. "How does such a tiny person move like a fucking freight train?"

"Oh! Noah!" she exclaimed, stepping back to look him up and down (though as she released him, somewhat reluctantly, she couldn't help but notice that his arms really were rather magnificent). "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

He just gave her this look like she had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. Then he nodded in the direction of Tina and Mercedes, who decided to give her one last look before joining some of the others. "'Sup with them?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, really," she murmured.

Or at least she thought she did. To be completely honest, she was somewhat distracted, having glimpsed Sam and Mike, along with the rest of the glee club, walking toward the wings of the makeshift stage and disappearing. Since she could also hear a series of shocked gasps coming from the audience, she could only assume that the macabre nature of the slide show got the better of their curiosity.

Rachel bit her lip as she stole another glance toward the wings, disappointed that she had missed her opportunity to confront Sam and Mike. When she looked back at Puck, she saw that the scowl on his face had deepened.

She blushed, realizing that she had been extremely rude. Focusing all of her attention on him, she smiled apologetically.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked politely.

It was the wrong thing to say. (Or maybe it was the right thing? For some reason, it was difficult to tell at that exact moment.) Either way, Puck's gaze suddenly became intense as he stepped closer to her, so close that their bodies were practically touching.

"No, but there's something I can do for you," he said suggestively, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "How about it, Berry? You, me, your house? Tomorrow after school?"

Rachel's eyes grew wide, her breath catching in her throat. Certainly he wasn't proposing— He had Lauren, and she had Blaine (well, possibly). Then she saw the laughter in his eyes.

"You know, so I can replace all your dads' shit," he finished, as he stepped back ever so slightly.

At first, Rachel felt embarrassed (yes, that was it, embarrassment and nothing more) when she realized that he was just teasing her. Then his words sunk in, and she threw her arms around him.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" she breathed. She pulled back and beamed up at him. "Thank you, Noah! My fathers would be livid if they discovered their entire liquor cabinet emptied! I can't even imagine what excuse I could give them that would have a shred of believability. Well, at least not without some additional resources… or a minor natural event, though that's probably too much to hope for… regardless, I suppose some property damage would be inevitable…"

Rachel frowned. She really would hate for it to come to that, though. Maybe— Puck's snort of laughter broke her train of thought, and she blushed.

"'S cool. I don't want you to get into trouble," he said nonchalantly. Then he gave her a sly look. "'Cuz then you won't want to throw a party the next time they're gone."

She stared at him, rendered speechless by his suggestion. Another party?

Puck raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh, please. You can't tell me that you brought a fucking gallon of booze to school behind Officer Scared Straight's back, but you're not up for another party?"

A tiny giggle escaped from her lips and she looked down. That's when she realized that she had never quite fully disengaged from her hug. And that, in mere seconds, her hands had somehow moved down from around his neck and were currently drawing patterns on his chest, as if they had a mind of their own (but really, who knew his chest was just as lovely as his arms?).

She thought she heard him give a low laugh and looked back up at him in alarm. Had she said that out loud? When he gave no indication that she had, she relaxed into him a little (as her hands resumed their activities).

"Oh, all right. I might be," she conceded, absently wondering if he knew just how hypnotic his chest really was. Another party could be fun, and drinking was much more enjoyable than she imagined– she blanched as she remembered the cause of all her recent angst. "As long as you take my phone away from me."

"You're not still hung up on your drunk dial to St. Douche, are you?" he asked with a smirk.

Her hands stilled as she gave him an affronted look. "Of course not," she pouted.

At his look of disbelief, she gave a quick look around them. Once she was satisfied that no one else was listening, she stood up on her tip toes and leaned in.

"I don't know who else I might have called," she said in a dramatic whisper.

He rolled his eyes (quite infuriatingly, she might add). "So? Why do you give a shit?"

She took a step back and put her hands on her hips. "You must be joking! Aside from potentially causing strife between myself and everyone else right before Regionals when team unity is of the utmost importance, there's also the tremendous personal embarrassment, especially since I don't know who I called or what I may have said!" she exclaimed.

He just shrugged. "It's not like they don't make fun of you anyway," he said bluntly.

Rachel winced. Though she thought it a bit harsh, he had a point. And if they cared at all, they certainly would've brought it up by now, wouldn't they? She was being incredibly melodramatic about this. Again. She heaved a sigh and looked down at the ground.

"I suppose you're correct. And at least the damage seems to be restricted to glee club members, as I really don't have the phone numbers for the other potential 'candidates' that were on my list. Can you imagine if I had Karofsky's phone number?" she said ruefully. "Though I can't deny that I would relish the opportunity to give that unenlightened, fair-weather brute a piece of my mind, it would pretty much guarantee that I'd be slushied for life."

She let out a squeak of surprise when she felt his hands grip her arms tightly. Her eyes snapped up to see him giving her that intense look again, his casual demeanor gone.

"Stay away from Karofsky. Something's up with that asshole, and I don't want you anywhere near him," he bit out.

She opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by scattered applause coming from the other side of the curtain. The slide show must have ended. Peering over Puck's shoulder, she saw the rest of New Directions returning from the wings. It was show time.

Perhaps seeing that he didn't have her full attention, Puck gave her the tiniest shake. "Berry… Rachel… listen to me. Stay away from him, especially today," he said as he studied her through narrowed eyes. Then he seemed to think about something before adding, "Actually, if he so much as fucking looks at you, tell me."

"Okay," she said agreeably, smiling brightly up at him.

She had forgotten how protective he could be. She was on the verge of telling him how sweet it was when the sound of Finn's voice prevented her from doing so.

"Everybody ready?"

Puck immediately released her. "I mean it, Berry," he warned before walking away.

Rachel sighed and got to her mark, thinking it was a shame she didn't get the opportunity to express what was on her mind. (And yet, at the same time, she had a strong sense of déjà vu…)

Then curtain rose, and everything but the performance flew out her mind.

She really did have an excellent feeling about this.

A/N: Yep, that's right. I saw another opportunity for drunk!Rachel (well, tipsy!Rachel), and I took it! :) I'm not totally sure about this chapter, though, so I'd love to hear what you thought, good or bad. *gulp*