Chapter 7

Noah Puckerman had never pursued a woman for any purpose beyond a quick one- or (at most) two-night stand. At an early age, he had learned how to "charm the pants" off just about any woman he found remotely desirable, and the women who flitted in and out of his life became objects rather than people, prizes in a game of cat-and-mouse that became boring quickly and had begun to wear thin. There were no allusions of affection or commitment; hell, there was usually no transfer of last names or personal information beyond a bare minimum. With few (probably none, if we're being honest) exceptions, it was completely superficial, relatively meaningless, physically releasing and emotionally numbing gratuitous sex. Both parties walked away momentarily sated if emotionally bankrupt, each moving on to their next liaison with little thought about the prior one.

Rachel had been the first woman who mattered (outside of his family) in a very long time, maybe ever. She listened to what he had to say and didn't withhold her opinion when she was of a different mind. She seemed to care about his well-being and, strangely enough, he was concerned about hers. He felt protectively toward her; perhaps it was due to the circumstances under which they met; after all, he did kinda save her life. Regardless, he called every night to make sure she got home safely and they would discuss their respective days. She was beautiful and smart, had a cool dog and baked awesome cookies, and the realization that he was quickly falling in love with her wasn't nearly as frightening as he would have imagined.

For once, he wasn't in (much of) a hurry to jump into bed with her. Although the idea was infinitely appealing and something he had thought about (at length, no pun intended), he realized that it was better to move at her pace rather than push that specific agenda. Based on the increasing intensity and duration of their kisses, he probably wouldn't be waiting much longer. And, since the first cougar took his virginity in lieu of a tip for mowing her lawn, a woman would be having intercourse with Noah, rather than "Puck".

Rachel, on the other hand, was starting to "freak out". She was falling hard and fast for Noah, and was afraid to truly open her heart to him. She had been burned badly by her last serious relationship and had been reluctant to get involved with anyone since. Rachel had met Richard during a particularly bleak period when she was working wherever she could to stay afloat while being rejected from seemingly every audition she attended. Rather than encourage her, he tore her down, insisting she give up her dreams to pursue a "normal" line of work. He wasn't Jewish and didn't understand why she chose to be with her family in Ohio for the "her" Holidays, yet refused to call in sick on an (unfortunately very short-lived) off-off-Broadway play to attend one of "his" holiday parties. She had seriously begun to question herself, her talent and her career choices when she caught him "in the act" with a (female) co-worker at an office party where she had accompanied him.

Now, Rachel was finally in a good place; her career was exactly where she had hoped it would be yet beyond what she had expected. She had good friends, a wonderful family, and she was comfortable in her own skin. Aside from the obvious physical attraction, she liked and respected Noah, enjoyed his company, and valued his opinions. She had never felt so strongly for a man in such a short period of time, and was seriously concerned that it would end just as quickly as it had begun. She expressed as much to Santana when she came over on Saturday to "help" (i.e. critique) Rachel in her choice of attire.

"Seriously, Rach," Santana began, "put the past where it belongs, grab the present with both hands, and enjoy the ride," she advised. "Now, take a couple of deep, cleansing breaths," she instructed, pausing while Rachel did just that," and let's get you dressed before Kurt and Blaine are here and we spend the next two hours in 'makeover land'." Rachel giggled, appreciating all that her girlfriend had said, and fully realizing that a side trip to "makeover land" with Kurt would take up a good part of the evening. If she was fully dressed, there would be nothing he could do beyond voicing his opinion.

Rachel had laid out her choice on the bed: a black denim pencil skirt that hit about two inches above the knee, a cobalt blue cardigan, and black pumps (on the floor, not the bed). "That's OK, Rach, but just OK," Santana commented. "If ya' really wanna fuck him, wear red," she confided with a devilish smirk.

"Really, Santana," Rachel managed to retort weekly, blushing deeply as she spoke.

Santana had gone to Rachel's dresser and removed a similar sweater; however, this was a true red with faceted red buttons and a dusting of tone-on-tone beading. "This is what you should wear," she advised, holding the sweater up to herself. "It'll show off your figure without revealing too much, and it says 'fuck me' like a pair of six-inch stilettos. Ya' need to wear this, Rach; trust me; 'Auntie San' is never wrong."

"OK, Santana," Rachel acquiesced, "I'll wear the red sweater."

By the time Kurt and Blaine had arrived, both Rachel and Santana were dressed, primped, and ready to go. Rachel had buzzed them in, waiting at her opened door and grinning like a child in a toy store when the boys appeared. "Blaine!" she called out, running into his arms. He laughed, returning her embrace, and lifting her off the floor in the process, spinning her around before letting her settle on her feet once more.

"Could we possibly see a little more enthusiasm, Rachel?" Kurt asked sardonically. Rachel kissed Kurt on the cheek and linked arms with both of them, drawing them into her apartment.

The four friends sat about, munching on the crudités platter and hors d'oeuvres that Rachel had put out (in the kitchen, out of Maisie's reach), and catching up with Blaine, who had been on the road for the past four months. Since the evening's destination was to watch Noah's band perform, discussion soon turned toward Rachel and her new "leading man".

"Rachel, Kurt tells me that in this great state of New York, you met somebody from Lima, Ohio," Blaine prompted Rachel.

"Yes, Blaine; actually, he went to school with Cooper," she explained.

"What's his name?" he inquired.

"Noah Puckerman," she answered, shyly smiling and blushing slightly as she said his name out loud.

"Not 'Puck' Puckerman?" he incredulously replied, Rachel nodding her head in response. "Rach, he was bad news back in the day," Blaine retorted. "They called him the 'Man-Whore of McKinley', and he slept with most of the girls, at least half of the female substitute teachers, and, rumor had it, several of the full-time teachers." Rachel was nodding patiently, indicating she was listening; although Noah hadn't been specific, he had alluded to his past behavior, so she wasn't surprised by Blaine's admission. "He had a kid out of wedlock when he was a sophomore and did some time in 'juvie' his junior year," he continued. "I don't know, Rach, leopards seldom change their spots," he concluded.

Although Santana and Kurt were taken aback, Rachel was not. "Blaine, although I appreciate your concern for my best interests, I don't think there's anything to worry about," Rachel responded. "That happened over 15 years ago, and people do grow up eventually," she gently admonished him. "He's told me quite a bit of that himself, already, and the rest just fills in the blanks." She smiled gently, looking into Blaine's eyes. "I think you'll like him when you meet him. At least, please reserve your judgment until you do; you may be pleasantly surprised." Topic effectively closed, conversation moved on until it was time to leave for the bar, which was within walking distance, about six blocks away.


Author's Note: Next time, we head to the bar.