It quickly became apparent to Rachel that if there was one thing that Noah Puckerman was an expert at, it was pretending that kisses never happened. As Rachel sat on the picnic table, her Excel spreadsheet open to their trip planning worksheet (she was always prepared), she eyed Puck out of the corner of her eye. He was several yards away, talking quietly into his phone to, Rachel assumed (hoped), his mother and not Santana.

While she worked to focus on the numbers in front of her, she thought back to overnight, backseat kiss. It has been deep and heated for a few seconds. His mouth was needy, his lips rough and wet as he came in again and again, sampling the curves of her lips and the slickness of her tongue before intensifying and backing off only to start over again. But just as fast as it started, it ended. He'd pulled away abruptly, announced that he had to take a piss, and bolted from the car. When he returned, he tugged Rachel against him without a word, threw a blanket over both of them, and fell asleep like he hadn't just shaken her to a her very core with a kiss that left her uncomfortably aware and aroused. She couldn't understand how he acted as though nothing whatsoever had transpired between them.

When Puck ended his call a few minutes later, he dropped down onto the bench next to Rachel, straddling it, and stared at her. "So what's the verdict?"

Rachel let out a small chuckle. "The money is dwindling quickly and we have no destination in mind." Looking him squarely in the eye, she asked, "Where are we going, Noah?"

Puck pulled out his map from the stack of papers on the table and spread it open. He stared at it carefully for a moment and then said, "Well, we're just hundred miles or so outside of Denver now." He eyed the map again and then his gaze wandered across the large page. A smile crept onto his face and he jammed his finger down onto the map. "I think we should go here."

Rachel stared at where he was pointing before looking up at him. "Los Angeles?"

"Fuck yeah! LA, baby! You wanna sing, right? LA's your place."

Rachel chewed on her lip for a moment and then looked back up at him. "I will admit that Los Angeles does sound nice. And we couldn't possibly be any farther away from Lima at that point and that's a wonderful thing. But...we don't have enough money to get there and actually have a place to stay once we arrive unless we make some changes to our travel plans."

Puck sat back down next to her and stared at the number blinking at him from her Excel spreadsheet. "Shit… gas is fucking expensive," he observed.

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "So are those disgusting fruit pie things you keep insisting we buy."

Puck glanced down the empty wrapper to the Hostess Apple Fruit Pie he'd eaten for breakfast and shot her a grin. "Whatever. That shit's delicious." His eyes darted back over to her spreadsheet. "So what's your plan?"

Smiling, Rachel said, "How'd you know I had one?"

Puck stood up and crossed his arms. "Baby, you plan everything. So what're we doing?"

"Well," Rachel began, "since you had the foresight to bring your camping equipment, we can stay at a campground and save money over a hotel. Before we left, I grabbed one of my father's travel magazines as a reference tool and when I was flipping through it this morning, I noticed that there was a campground guide in the back." Rachel grabbed the magazine and tossed it toward Puck. As he flipped to the Colorado section, Rachel said, "We should pick one of the small towns outside of Denver with a campground and see if we can't get some day work for a day or two. We should be able to make a fair amount of money and if we spend minimally, our funds won't be impacted. Now, I'm admittedly not thrilled about the idea of sleeping inside a fabric room within feet of potentially hundreds of other people and wild animals…but we all have to make sacrifices, I suppose."

Rachel sat back and looked at Puck expectantly. Looking up from the magazine, he said, "Rach, you're a fucking genius." Then he reached over and planted a kiss on her cheek before casually flipping through the guide. Rachel stared at him for the longest time before tugging her gaze away, confusion coursing through her all over again.

"You sure, Rach?" Puck's voice was full of doubt as Rachel drove them down the main street of Strasburg, Colorado. "This town is a shithole. It makes Lima look like Manhattan."

Rachel scoffed. The town wasn't exactly breathtaking but to Rachel, it looked comfortable. The main street was lined with old brick buildings that had obviously been kept with care. There were large barrels of potted plants along the narrow sidewalks and brightly-colored awnings providing shade along the streets. "Hardly, Noah. Besides, this 'shithole', as you so eloquently described it, is the only campground between here and Denver that meets our meager budgetary requirements. Besides," Rachel added, "I think it's quaint."

"How're we supposed to find work for a few days in a place like this?"

Rachel's eyes scanned both sides of the street and her lips curved into a smile. "Right there," she said, pointing. "There's the center of this town."

Puck's eyes fell on a small, white building with a full parking lot. The local diner. "The Crispy Fritter", to be exact.

As Rachel pulled to a stop in front of the building, she was beaming. "We'll go in, inquire about some work, have some lunch, and then go set up at a campsite. I want to make sure we're all settled by nightfall."

Puck climbed out of the car and followed Rachel inside the diner, his eyes tracing the way her hips and thighs moved as she purposefully strode inside the diner. She was wearing a pair of red shorts that came to mid-thigh and hugged her in all the right places. He'd forgotten how distracting her backside could be (which was just as distracting as the rest of her.)

When they stepped inside, Rachel stopped and eyed the woman behind the counter. Puck nearly groaned as he watched Rachel veer toward the woman because he knew what was coming.

"Excuse me? Hi, I hope you can help me," Rachel began, sliding casually down onto the stool that lined the old, 50s-style counter. The woman behind the counter was older and she had deep, tired lines around her eyes. Her lips were puckered in a way that told Puck that she was a lifelong smoker, too. "My friend and I," Rachel motioned toward Puck, "are from out of town and were hoping to secure employment for a few days. Do you happen to know where we might do that? I'm a skilled waitress and my friend is very strong and intelligent and could be helpful in a myriad of ways."

The woman smiled at Rachel like she had just given her a present. "You waitress? Oh, thank Jesus. Julie went off and got herself hitched in Vegas to that moronic Johnson boy. That kid doesn't even have shit for brains. Shit's too good to be in that head of his…. Anyway, she hasn't been here in four days. We're slammed because there's a rodeo in town. Stupid Julie and her stupid shithead husband will be back in two days but if you can waitress, you're hired."

Rachel beamed brighter and nodded eagerly. "And my friend?"

The woman grinned again. "My husband, Lucas, is the rodeo organizer. I bet he can find some work for your friend, easy!"

Rachel practically squeaked with excitement and wrapped her arm around Puck's bicep, tugging him down on to the stool next to her. "Don't you love when I'm right, Puckerman?"

Puck just nodded, his eyes on the words "country fried steak with gravy" that were written in under "daily special" on the chalkboard. "Yeah, Rach," he said absently as his stomach growled, "you're always right."

A few hours later, Rachel was organizing their camping equipment as Puck put up the tent. They'd stopped at a grocery store and got a few bags worth of food so that they wouldn't have to spend their money on dining out. Rachel was working at the diner from 10a-6p the next day and the waitress, whose name Rachel had learned was Betty, had arranged for Puck to catch a ride to the rodeo out at the fairgrounds with her husband in the morning.

Rachel hummed as she worked and Puck watched her out of the corner of his eye as he tried to remember which tent pole went where (it had been a long time since he put up a tent.) He hadn't seen her that happy in a while and he knew it was because she was so pleased that her elaborate plan to make them some more money was working out so well.

Once Rachel was done, she kicked her sandals off and sat down on the picnic table. Puck watched as she flexed her toes and then closed her eyes and stretched. When her shirt rode up and bared a few inches of her bronzed skin, he inwardly groaned and looked away. He'd never get the damn tent up if he sat around mentally undressing her all day.

Minutes later, the tent finally popped into place and Puck stood back triumphantly. "Hell, yeah!" he said, pumping his fist. "I may have gotten kicked outta the Boy Scouts but you don't forget this shit!"

Rachel giggled at his exuberance and then offered him a bottle of cold water, which he took eagerly. He quickly popped off the cap and took a drink and Rachel found herself staring at the way the muscles in his throat worked as he gulped down the cool liquid. When a drop of water ran down his chin and then down his neck and into his shirt, Rachel practically shivered and pulled her eyes away.

"It looks good, Noah," she said of the tent. "Now, let's just put the sleeping bags in, start a fire, and relax. We actually have to get some rest tonight since we're supposed to be working tomorrow."

Puck nodded and grabbed the rest of the gear. When Rachel started humming again, he almost felt like humming along with her.

Tears streaked down Rachel's face as she laughed, her sides hurting. It was dark now and the fire in front of them crackled. Puck grinned and sipped from his Dr. Pepper as he watched the fire light flicker over Rachel's face. "Rach, d'you remember how, when the cops finally found her, Brittany told everybody she just wanted to see if there were alligators in the New York sewers?"

Rachel nodded, remembering their junior year trip to New York City for Nationals and how Brittany had wandered away from the group when they were in Times Square. She'd been found hours later, ten blocks south, covered in dirt and clutching a baby rat.

The two of them had spent the last several hours reminiscing over old times. Puck filled Rachel in on all he'd heard of their old Glee mates and she'd done the same. Rachel had to admit, as she watched Puck lean back on his elbows and stare up at the sky, that she was finally having a good time on this trip. When she felt Puck's eyes on her, she blushed in the darkness. His gaze was disarming. She continued to replay that kiss in her mind and she wondered if he had, too. And a huge part of her wanted him to do it again.

Puck pulled out his cell phone and looked at the clock. "We better turn in, Rach." He stood up and gathered their trash as Rachel tossed sand into the fire to put the flames out. When he crawled inside the tent and offered Rachel his hand, she took it and slid inside.

The tent was smaller than Rachel had realized and there wasn't much room for the two of them to spread out. Puck took the sleeping bag nearest the door but since it was warm, he stretched out on top of it. Rachel scooted in next to him and lay down flat on her back. It certainly wasn't comfortable, she realized quickly.

"G'night, Rach," Puck said softly as he shifted and rolled onto his side facing her.

Rachel could feel his breath on her face due to their close proximity and the kiss from the night before rushed back into the forefront of her mind. She sighed quietly and then said, "Sleep tight, Noah."

Ignoring the smell and the heat and the pull of the man who was so close by, she rolled as far away from him and possible and closed her eyes.


Rachel was never so thankful for rodeo cowboys as she was once her shift was over at the diner the next evening. Customers had been steady and the cowboys had been flirty and generous with her tips. When Puck walked into the diner and waved a $100 bill at her, Rachel beamed and took off her apron.

"See ya in the mornin'," Betty called. "And thanks again, Rachel!"

Rachel waved at her and then met with Puck as he stepped back outside. "How'd you do?" he asked as they climbed into the car.

Puck tossed his money at Rachel and she grabbed it and pushed it down into her purse. "I made $120, which isn't bad."

Puck nodded. "Shit, yeah. $220 for a single day? Awesome!"

Rachel smiled as she drove them back towards their campground. It had been a good day. They still had another day in town and then they'd be leaving. Rachel was relieved that they finally had a destination and she couldn't wait to get there. But right then, she was still having fun. Ever since they'd had their blowup, she felt like she was in a much better place where Puck was concerned.

When they got back to the campground, Puck excused himself and went to shower. Rachel tidied their campsite and then called her fathers to check in before digging out their dinner that consisted of fruit, crackers, and the copious amounts of junk food that Noah had insisted they purchase. She was rummaging through her own bags when Puck returned. His short hair was still damp and his skin glowed and for once, she allowed herself a moment to just appreciate the view. She was clearly attracted to him and was tired of denying it to herself. Her body stirred whenever he was near and since that was virtually all the time, she felt like she was on edge constantly. Had she had ten minutes to herself, she'd finally dig out her vibrator and relieve the never-ending ache that seemed to haunt her. But there was no time and not enough privacy and so she was forced to just deal with every brush of his arm against hers making her gut burn. Or the look in his eyes that made her breath quicken because she knew that he wanted her. He was easy to read when it came to that. He always had been.

After Rachel showered, they sat around the fire and ate. The sun was going down over Strasburg and the campground was starting to get busy with the noise and bustle that would keep it loud until the "quiet hours" were enforced at 11pm.

Rachel grabbed a book out of her bag and read through it while Puck sat on the other side of the fire, flipping through some old sports magazine he'd found crammed in the back of the trunk. Every few minutes, he found his eyes on Rachel, though. The small bit of wind that was blowing through the campground rustled her hair from her face long enough to expose her long, slender neck. He was avoiding her, yes. Had he not stopped himself two nights before, he would have fucked her in the backseat of his car like some horny teenager. And sleeping next to her last night had been absolute torture. The way she'd eagerly kissed him back told him that the desire wasn't one-sided but he still wasn't sure how to approach the subject. He didn't think "hey Rach, I'm sober this time. You wanna fuck me?" was a good opening line. But damn it all, if he didn't do something soon, he felt like he was gonna lose it. He'd never spent so much time around a hot chick and not fucked her. He was on new ground with Rachel and he really didn't fucking like it.

Rachel felt Puck's eyes on her and she turned toward him. When he winked at her and went back to his magazine, she sighed and closed her book. It was early but she was exhausted. And maybe, she could fall asleep before he did and forget that he was sleeping beside her.

"Noah," Rachel said as she stood up. "I'm going to go ahead and go to bed. I'm really tired."

Puck nodded. "I'mma stay out here for a while longer."

"Okay… Goodnight."

Puck watched Rachel disappear into the tent and he sighed in relief. Once he made sure she had zipped the tent up tight, he stood up and stretched. He was gonna take a walk and not go to bed until much, much later. Maybe it would be easier to ignore how close she was if she was already asleep.

Hours later, after Puck had walked all around the campground and even stopped to play a game of late night basketball with a couple of other guys, he finally let himself into the tent. Rachel was curled into a small ball near the back end of the small enclosure. After kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweatshirt over his head, Puck settled in next to her and tugged the blanket over his body. Even though he wasn't touching her, the smell of her shampoo and the heat radiating from her body kept him company until he drifted off.


When Rachel woke up the next morning, she felt warmth against her back and realized that Puck was pressed against her. She turned her head toward him and saw that during the night, she'd somehow scooted back against him and he'd curled around her. His arm was now draped casually across her waist and his other arm was below her head, his hard bicep functioning as her pillow. His head was tilted down toward her and his lips were almost touching her hair. Rachel shifted slightly, her cheeks flushed at ending up in such a position with him when she felt like they were already teetering on the edge of the danger zone. As she moved, Puck woke up. He let go of her quickly and rolled away, turning to face toward the top of the tent.

"I think we should sleep in a hotel tonight," Puck rasped. "The ground is too fucking hard. I think my back's gonna break."

Rachel bit her lip as she stared upward. She wanted to ask him if he was as uncomfortable being as close to her as she was to him. And part of her wanted to roll over, straddle him, and tell him that they were two adults and there was no reason they couldn't have a physical relationship when they both obviously wanted it. It would make sense, after all. Actually, it would probably make them both feel better. She was beyond frustrated and she couldn't imagine that he felt any better if he was enduring even half the attraction for her that she was feeling towards him.

Puck and Rachel both stayed flat on their backs for a few more minutes, their ears tuned to the sound of the campers around them. Rachel's mind raced for a way to broach the subject of their obvious magnetism and Puck tried to figure out the most clandestine way to get a chance to jerk off before he exploded. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh because there was no way in fuck he was jerking off in a campground bathroom and crawled out through the tent's front flap, tossing over his shoulder that he had to piss.

When Puck came back, Rachel was rolling up their sleeping bags. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when he approached her and said, "I think you're right about the hotel. We can spare $40. We both need a good night's rest before we get back on the road."

Puck nodded, scratching his belly, and then ducked inside the tent to get dressed. They ate their breakfast quietly, both watching the movement of other campers around them instead of each other. Rachel couldn't help but wonder how long they'd last before they snapped. Puck wondered if he'd spend the entire trip thinking about fucking her without ever actually getting to do it.

9 hours and $153 dollars later, Rachel's short stint as a waitress at The Crispy Fritter was over. Once Lucas dropped Puck off at the diner, Rachel put all their money away and drove them to the tiny hotel on the edge of town. Puck checked them in and then they both walked into the small room, collapsing on the beds.

"I'm gonna go grab the bags," Puck said gruffly. Rachel threw her arm over her eyes, nodding silently. Her entire body ached from two nights of sleeping on the ground plus waitressing. She couldn't wait to fall asleep.

When Puck came back in, Rachel opened her eyes long enough to ask him to close the blinds. He did as she asked but then plopped down on the edge of her bed. "I'm bored," he whined.

"I'm exhausted," she countered.

Puck's hand fell to her knee, closing it around the soft skin he found there. When she didn't glare at him and shove it away, he suggested, "So let's get outta here for a bit. It'll wake you up, Rach. We're not leaving 'til morning anymore and if you wanna sleep in, we can. I saw a bar up the street. We could go there."

Rachel shook her head back and forth quickly, apprehension in her eyes. "No, that's not a good idea. You and a bar are a horrible, detrimental combination and I don't want a repeat of the other night."

Puck glowered at her and then reached for her, his fingers circling around her wrists to tug her into a sitting position. He ignored the deathly cold glare she shot him as she sat up and adjusted her shirt and said, "I'm not gonna fuckin' drink, Rach. But maybe we can play pool or some shit. Just to pass the time."

Rachel eyed him, her teeth pinching her lower lip with worry.

"C'mon, Rach. I promise I won't fuck up. Please?"

Puck's eyes were wide and she could read the honesty in them. Finally, she relented. "Okay, Noah...but don't make me regret this."

"I won't," he assured her as he offered her his hand to help her up off the bed.

Rachel wasn't sure why in the world the local bar was named "Johnny Reb's" considering the racist connotations that the name conjured up but, she supposed, every small town had a history and this seedy little dive must be part of Strasburg's.

The dark room was thick with smoke and Rachel immediately regretted coming inside but Puck just tugged her along, her small hand locked inside his larger one. She let him lead her to a table near the pool tables and within minutes, he was engaged in a spirited game while Rachel sipped on a diet Coke and munched on pretzels.

As it turned out, Rachel realized, Puck was pretty good at pool. He sunk nearly every shot he took and Rachel found herself meeting his eyes more than once across the dank space. He'd grin and wink and she'd find herself blushing like a teenager before berating herself for having such a ridiculous reaction to someone she'd known since they both were tiny children.

After winning two games, Puck took a break and walked over to Rachel. Bending down, he grabbed the glass of soda he'd ordered earlier and took a big gulp. Once the glass was empty, he stopped over Rachel to drop the cup back on the table and without thinking, dropped a kiss against the top of her head. They both froze in place, her eyes on his and his, wide and stunned, staring back at her. Then, in the same frustrating manner as every other kiss they'd shared, he abruptly turned away without a word and went back to the pool table. If she didn't want to kiss him so badly, she'd throttle him for playing head games.

Despite the fact that Rachel was distracting him every single time she moved, Puck was still pretty proud of his game. He managed to kick some ass and make a little bit of money. But once he noticed a few of the guys in the bar eyeing Rachel like they wanted to claim her, he kept one eye on her and one eye on the eight ball. No, she wasn't his girl or anything but she was with him and he felt the need to protect her. And besides, she was his fucking territory in a way. She just didn't know it yet.

The evening turned to night as they sat around the bar. It got more and more crowded due to the visiting rodeo participants and spectators and, when it was nearing 10pm, Rachel began to yawn. Puck held up a finger to indicate that he just wanted to play one more game and Rachel nodded. When she heard a chair scrape across the floor, she looked to her right and noticed that a man was sitting down next to her. He was unshaven, older, and his eyes had a yellowish hue about them.

"Hey, darlin'," he wheezed. "You here alone?"

The hair at the back of her neck prickled and Rachel stiffened and shook her head. "No. My friend is playing pool."

The man glanced toward the pool table and then back at Rachel. She looked at Puck out of the corner of her eye and noticed that his movements had stilled, his eyes on her.

"You're pretty," the guy said. Rachel ignored him, pretending to be interested in the scratch patterns across the surface of the table in front of her. A few minutes passed where Rachel could feel the man's eyes on her and when he leaned in closer to her, her pulse quickened nervously. She didn't say anything, just met Noah's eyes across the room with a pleading gaze. "You wanna come home with me?" the man asked.

Rachel began to stand up, her senses screaming at her to remove herself from the situation, when the man's worn hand wrapped around Rachel's thigh. "I said I wanted to take you home, pretty lady," the man insisted. "You just gonna be a bitch and leave me?"

"Let go of me," Rachel ordered, her voice rising. "Let go of me right this instant, you drunk asshole."

The man laughed and Rachel heard a pool cue hit the ground behind her. "Get your fucking hands off her."

Relief flooded through her at the sound of Puck's voice. The man, however, was undeterred. He stood up fully and his free hand settled on the base of Rachel's neck. "C'mon, baby," he pleaded.

"Let go of me!" Rachel demanded. When he didn't budge, Rachel swiveled quickly and kneed him in the groin. Her aim was off, though, as he moved and she ended up kicking him in the thigh.

"You little cunt," the man barked as he lunged for her. But before he could make contact, he went stumbling back across the room as Puck's fist made contact with his face.

All it took was one punch and a full-scale bar brawl erupted. Glasses went flying and Rachel watched in horror as the vile man's fist made contact with Puck's jaw. Puck broke free and tried to shove Rachel out of the way before he was dragged back by the man and then punched in the side.

Rachel watched in horror as two men ran behind Puck and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away. The drunken man then turned and punched Puck in the stomach. Rachel felt sick, her eyes darting around frantically as she searched for something – anything – to help him. When she nearly tripped over his discarded pool cue, she snatched it up, zoomed over to where the toothless oafs were holding onto Puck, and smacked one over the head as hard as she could with the cue. The man howled in pain and let go of Puck, rubbing his head. The other one looked momentarily shocked but before he could react, Rachel took the blunt end of the cue and poked the man as hard as she could between his ass cheeks. He yelped and darted away and Puck used the distraction to slide away from the man who was coming after him again.

Behind her, Rachel heard a table crash and heard a loud, cursing yell. And then the door opened and two officers ran in. The fight stopped as quickly as it started.

"Earl!" the drunk who had hit on Rachel yelled. "This little motherfucker tried to kill me!"

The cop eyed Puck suspiciously and stepped forward. Rachel gasped when she realized that Puck was now bleeding from the cut on his cheek and another on his forehead. He was breathing heavily, his fists still balled and his jaw clenched, his eyes trained on Rachel.

"You starting trouble, son?" the sheriff asked.

"No, sir," Puck answered, looking away from Rachel long enough to answer. "Just defending my girlfriend."

Rachel had no time to even process what he'd just said, though, because the next thing she knew, the officer was tugging Puck's arms behind his back and locking metal handcuffs into place.

He was under arrest.


A/N: Johnny Reb's is the name of the bar in my shitty hometown. I've always hated it but it seemed appropriate here.

Next up: Steps in the right direction.