Apologies for the delay – again – life and all that comes with got in the way :x

A/N: For Christie, sorry it took so long bb, hope I did your idea justice and that you like it
Jassy, your part's in here too (near the v. end) hope you like it
Also, because I'm a tool, I forgot to mention that the dream sequence in the last chap for all the lovely puckleberries over at the Lea board on ff :D
And on that note, if you don't know what fanforum is or you lurk there you should def. come join in with the chat on the Glee board or the Lea board – I pimp this over there, an I've been told it's only fair I do the same for it over here ;) Plus, we always like new recruits :P And it's hella fun xD

Hope you enjoy…


Chapter Nine: You're Vulnerable, You're Vulnerable

"I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone."
Javan

.

"Don't look at me like that," he told her, frowning. "How the Hell am I supposed to know what to do? I'm not a freakin' doc, Berry – you're the girl. Why don't you jus pull out all the mom-stuff you're all meant to have going on?"

"Your mother is receiving cancer treatment," she stated at that. "How can you not know what to do when your sister is vomiting repeatedly?"

"Oh, that's real sensitive of you, Berry," he said in return and shot her a look. "Bringing up the cancer-angle."

He rolled his eyes at her and heaved a sigh.

"As if I don't feel bad enough about not being able to look after my sister, now you go an' through in a comment 'bout me being a useless son too," he threw his hands in the air, all about the dramatics. "Way to make a guy feel better."

She ignored his remarks, because he was just doing it for show. Well, there was truth in his words; but the way he was expressing them was most definitely for show.

"Your sister is the one that needs to be made to feel better," she countered easily. "You just want attention."

"And what's so wrong with that?" he returned, and raised an eyebrow at her, that smirk appearing on his face instantly. "I mean, you're here, I'm here. What else we gonna do?"

"Not that," was her immediate retort, and she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs; well, as emphatically as one could stomp when they were attempting to make as little noise as possible to avoid disturbing the sickly seven-year-old lying on her bed on the level above.

.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed when she felt his presence in the doorway behind her.

"You know this is probably all your fault," she told him, and turned to shoot him a disapproving look.

"My fault?" he spluttered at that, looking aghast. "How'd you work that one out?"

"Well, if you hadn't instigated the whole slushie-war then your sister would never have been drenched in icy water and left shivering for goodness knows how long before I was sensible enough to put an end to the whole act and take her to get cleaned and warmed up," she told him in a flurry of quiet words.

"The last time I tried to take her into the guys', you shouted at me an' told me it was no place for a girl!" he shot back, incredulity evident in his voice even when he mimicked hers.

"That's because it's not!" she returned; staring back at him, gaze equally as concentrated.

"You know that totally jus' goes against your whole point, right?" he remarked.

The smirk was back and she rolled her eyes.

"How's she doin' anyway?" he asked then, and nodded towards his sister's sleeping form. "She stopped pukin' yet?"

"Well, judging by the smell, I'd venture a guess at no," she responded at that, and she reached out a hand and gently swept some of Sarah's bangs from her eyes.

He wrinkled his nose at her remark.

"She's burning up," she told him then, and turned to look at him, eyes beseeching.

"I'll put her in the shower," he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him at that. "I was going to ask you to simply bring me a cold compress," she enlightened him. "However, if you think your approach would be more effective – "

He shrugged, "This way's quicker."

And then he took about three strides to reach her, leaning over to scoop up his sister into his arms, as Rachel pulled back the covers to make it easier for him. Sarah mumbled something incoherent and twisted her body, burrowing her head into his chest trying to avoid the bright light.

"You've got a temperature, Sarah," Rachel soothed, and gently rubbed the seven-year-old's arm. "Your brother's just going to take you into the shower so we can try and cool you off."

The little girl groaned and fisted her hands on the material of her brother's shirt. Rachel followed them into the bathroom, adjusting the temperature gauge as Puck stepped into the tub, shifting Sarah in his arms. The seven-year-old coughed and spluttered as the water rained down on them, lifting her hands to her face to sloppily wipe at her eyes and swipe the wet tendrils of hair off to the side. Puck reached up and placed his larger hand over one of his sister's smaller ones, effectively bunching her hair and pulling it back, holding her steady as she hiccupped.

"What, Berry?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her, and then he smirked at her. "You wanna join in the fun?"

Sarah lurched forward at that, and threw up all over the tiles on the opposite wall. Her brother looked like he was about to mimic her actions, if the widening of his eyes, scrunching of his face, or gagging noises currently spitting from his mouth were any indication. She had to stop herself from laughing at his reaction; laughing at another's misfortune was wrong; so she was trying to instill in his sister anyway since he was most notably a lost cause in that department. Sometimes, however, when the parties involved were just the two (three) of them, even she herself couldn't always adhere to her own rules.

"Oh no," Rachel responded brightly, sending him a smug smile. "I happen to be of the opinion that it's much more fun on this side of the tub."

He swiveled round to look at her, and he was laughing then, as he said, "Yeah, have fun with that. At least when she barfs in the shower, I have the running water to wash it away."

She blinked at him.

"There's a bucket and sponge under the sink," there was a wide grin spread across his face, and it grew with each passing moment as the words were transferred from his lips to her ears. "Make sure you change her sheets too, would you?"

"I absolutely abhor you," she replied instantly, glowering at him.

He simply laughed, "Not a chance, Berry. You care for me too much."

"Do you even know what abhor means?" she raised an eyebrow in question.

He pretended to look offended by that. "You dare to question my brilliance, Berry? I am bad-ass."

"I'm top of our class," she returned with a smug look; ignoring the way he'd slowed his speech for the last part of her statement as if it would take her longer than the average bear to understand such an admission.

He rolled his eyes, taking his hand from his little sister's shoulder to wave it around dismissively. "Book smarts."

"I like books," a small voice rasped, and Rachel turned to the girl endearingly, though it was Puck who answered her.

"I know you do, munchkin," he told her, and there was affectionate teasing in his voice. "You drag me to enough book stores on my days off I could map out the whole advanced reading section of Lima's finest."

Rachel nearly choked on those words. "You go to bookstores?" she asked in sheer disbelief.

"Control your bug-eyes, Berry, it's not that crazy a thought," he told her with another roll of the eyes. "I know you may be planning study sessions in your head right about now, but I can actually read, you know."

"Oh, I know," she answered chirpily. "I just wasn't aware you exercised the ability."

"Whatever," he blew her off. "Go clean my sister's bedroom, an' get her some new clothes to wear, an' pick out a book for her – an' not one with pictures, they're for retards, an' she's not Finn."

She raised her eyebrows to the sky as he continued to ramble; it was actually more amusing than anything else, in all honesty.

"I mean, dude's my best friend and all, but he can be dumb as shit sometimes," he told her, as if she wasn't fully aware of Finn Hudson's intellectual ability. "And Sarah is nothing like him. She's smart."

"I am," the seven-year-old chose her moment to jump in again.

"See?" he raised an eyebrow at her, and flashed her a grin. "She's like you – she knows to amp up her talents."

"I'll take that as a compliment to counter your extremely sexist and presumptuous comment just prior, shall I?" Rachel asked.

He shrugged, sent her that dastardly smirk and said, "Take it however you want, baby, but you already know I appreciate your…" he licked his lips and looked her up and down, "… assets."

She pursed her lips, hands on the hips, eyebrows raised. He lifted his own in return and sent a pointed look at her chest. She followed his gaze and saw that her previously pristine white top was now virtually clear as it stuck to her bright pink undershirt, the outline of her breasts clearly evident under her sodden attire.

She hadn't realized she'd gotten so wet when she'd taken it upon herself to check the levels before he'd stepped in the tub behind her.

Apparently she said that out loud, because the boy before her looked about ready to burst with the restraint he was no doubt having to induce to stop himself from commenting on her choice of words. She'd have commended him on his apparent high level of self-control, but she didn't think it wise. Plus, she was already well aware of impressive ability to keep a hold of himself. They may have only dated for a week; but she was, as he himself put it, hot and he was a stud (McKinley High's biggest – though to tell him that would only be to inflate his ego even more, so she knew better than to fall for that trick). And, while she might not have allowed him to touch her boobs (his words), she knew fine well he grazed them often enough, and their make-out sessions – on her bed, no less – were certainly pushing the PG-13 boundaries at times. And yet, he'd never once pressured her; even when she knew it would have been all too easy for him. Yes, she knew all too well of Noah Puckerman's self-control.

"I'm going to change your sister's bed sheets," she told him primly at that, and turned on her heel and promptly marched from the room, arms held tight by her sides.

She would not give him the satisfaction of embarrassing her further by crossing them over her chest.

"Feel free to change mine too," his voice called out to her just as she stepped into the corridor, and there was no mistaking the amusement coloring his words. "Unless you'd rather leave them like they are jus' now – whatever you want, baby!"

She made a non-committal noise in response and allowed his laughter to become the background music until she continued out of earshot.

.

It didn't take them long to get Sarah settled once more after they'd got her changed and back into bed. She fell asleep soon after, exhaustion overcoming her slight frame, and she observed from the doorway as Puck tucked his little sister in, running a hand through her dark locks, a small smile curving his lips as he watched the seven-year-old release a slow, steady breath.

She'd once stated that being a part of something special makes you special and she felt it then; not in the same way as when she sang in Glee, but the difference only made the feeling more profound.

She was honored, truly, that she was able to lay witness to moments like those between the two siblings. That she was one of the chosen few who were privy to the other side of Noah Puckerman; the one he kept hidden most of the time from public scrutiny and opinion.

And it did make her feel special.

She'd been welcomed into their family; she was adored by his little sister, respected by his aunt, and sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking she caught sight of something in his eyes as he watched her.

It made her feel special.

He made her feel special.

That was quite a scary realization.

Especially when they were yet to actually discuss what was happening with them, were yet to even broach the subject of what they shared or where it might lead.

When he stood up and made his way out of the room, she followed him downstairs to the living room, and took up the standing spot where he'd promptly thrown himself against the cushions of the sofa.

She opened up a small bottle; tapped two minute round pills onto her palm and swiftly put them in her mouth, swallowing them down with a quick gulp of water from her bottle.

"What was that, Berry?" he had turned to look up at her, eyebrow raised as he stared at her in question.

"Preemptive methods," she replied simply, and struck out her hand towards him where another two tablets lay, and prompted, "I expect you to take them in accordance with the timing of my own. I'm not aware of how well your immune system functions, but I think it best that we follow the same guidelines in order to ensure we, at least, remain physically fit."

He continued to stare at her as if trying to gauge if she was being serious or not. Of course she was; she knew he was well aware of this fact, even if he appeared to be currently pretending otherwise.

"If not for your sister's sake, then for Glee," she told him. "You know it wouldn't do either of them any good if we were struck down at the height of our prime. I dread to think how they'd continue on without two key members. I realize you may not play as integral a role as I do, what-with you not taking lead on any of the songs – we're really going to have to talk to Mr. Schue about that by the way because you should be having at least one lead – but New Directions would undoubtedly suffer with the loss of both of us."

"Well, would you look at that," he remarked, his expression amused. "You actually just put someone else above your fascination with our puppet choir of misfits."

She frowned at him, and he smirked in return.

"I'm sensing the end of the world is near," he quipped then, eyes alight with mischief. "Which'd be why I'm about to do as you say."

And with that, he reached over and plucked the two white pills from her grasp and threw them into his mouth, swallowing them dry a moment later; grinning at her triumphantly as he did so.

He really was insufferable at times.

.

When Sarah called out to him, she saw him leap from his seat like he'd been burned. And then he seemed to remember that she was there, and for whatever reason, maybe years of acting that way, he slowed his steps and threw a hesitant look her way as he drew his hand over his Mohawk.

"I'll be back in a few, ok?" he said to her.

She smiled and nodded.

"Just… " and he trailed off, as if unsure of what to say. A first, "… stay here, ok?"

Again she nodded.

Sarah had called his name another two times before he'd reached the top of the stairs. When she heard her own name being called out, Puck having already disappeared from view, she couldn't stop herself from moving in the direction of the little girl's bedroom.

"I want Mom, Noah," she heard the seven-year-old sniff. "I don't feel well, an' Mom always knows what to do to make it better. I want her to make it better, No."

"I know, kiddo," she listened to him as he obviously tried to pacify his sister, and she heard the blankets rustle. "But she can't come home right now."

When she reached the doorway, the pair were lying on Sarah's bed, the girl's arms looped around her brother's neck, her face pressed against the niche by his collarbone. He rubbed her back in a manner she knew was an attempt at soothing his sister and tightened his hold on her.

"I want to see her," the seven-year-old impressed on the elder, and Rachel saw as Puck stiffened slightly at his sister's words, his back to her. "I want Mom to make it better, I want to see her. I miss her. I want her to come home."

"I know, Sarah," he replied, his voice impossibly low, and he sighed. "But she can't right now, you know she can't."

Her hold tightened around his neck, and Rachel saw the girl's small fingers digging in to the skin as she pulled away from him then, frowning.

"But why can't I see her? I want to see her," the seven-year-old said. "I'll wait till I'm better, and then we can go – together – and she'll be happy, you'll see. She wants to see me. Why won't you let me see her?"

She knew it was going to happen; her early suspicion answered only moments later when she saw him yank his head back, shoulders stiff.

"Dammit, Sarah, because I don't want you to have to see her fu– "

"Your mom's not at her best right now, sweetie," Rachel cut in to explain, as she breezed into the room. "Your brother just doesn't want either of you getting upset if you can't do the things you might usually do together."

She laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezed gently to try and reassure him of her presence, to reassure him of himself and his place. She knew what he'd been about to say, and she knew the deflation of his shoulders beneath her touch meant he was already feeling the regret at even having thought the words, at even having considered saying them to Sarah.

Because I don't want you to have to see her fucking dying, like I do every time I go and fucking see her lying there in that hospital bed was not the best thing to say to a seven-year-old. Not the best thing to say to anyone, really.

"But everyone's hoping that when you get to see her that won't be the case," she tried to appeal to the girl, while watching her words; because the last thing she wanted to do was put her foot in it completely. "So even though it hurts to be apart now, hopefully it'll be even better when you get to be together again."

Sarah blinked at her, and then her gaze flickered over to her brother, who simply nodded at her in a show of agreement with what Rachel had just said.

Slowly the seven-year-old nodded as well, and the two older inhabitants seemed to release a breath in sequence with one another. After a few tense moments, the momentary uneasiness in the air seemed to dissipate and Sarah snuggled back in against her brother.

Still with her hands on his shoulders, Rachel felt him relax under her and smiled at the feeling. She squeezed him again… ok, so maybe she just felt like showing him some support.

"Rachel?" the little voice asked then, her head peeking up from behind her brother's shoulder.

"Yes, Sarah?" she replied, tilting her head to meet the younger's eyes.

"D'you think you could sing to me?" Sarah said then; and she sounded so impossibly young that Rachel wanted nothing more than to just take her in her arms and hug all her fears and worries away. "Just until I go to sleep again?"

"Of course," an easy smile graced her lips then.

The girl returned it, and started to say, "You can snuggle up with us – "

"We're not snuggling, Sarah," her brother cut in at that.

" – Yes we are," the seven-year-old replied with an unaffected bright smile, and she pulled the covers back and nudged her brother to make room for Rachel on her other side. "But don't worry, No, I bet if you ask Rachel nicely she won't tell anyone."

He glared at her over the top of his little sister's head as she moved from behind him to join them cuddled up in Sarah's bed.

"Any requests, Sarah?"

The girl shook her head, saying tiredly, "Nope, you choose, Rachel. I'm sure I'll like anything you sing."

Her brother rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Suck up," but there was a light teasing tone to his voice; and she marveled briefly at how easily the pair could slip back and forth in their emotions and regard for one another. She supposed love really did conquer all with them. She couldn't blame them. It was an enviable trait to possess.

She racked her brain for but a moment to think of something suitable. She threaded her fingers through the little girl's hair as she started to sing.

When I look up from my pillow
I dream you are there with me
Though you are far away
I know you'll always be near to me

I go to sleep, sleep
And imagine that you're there with me
I go to sleep, sleep
And imagine that you're there with me

He looked mildly surprised by her song choice; she didn't suppose he himself chose I Go To Sleep by The Pretenders as his sister's bedtime lullaby, but it fit too perfectly for her to ignore it. He didn't seem to miss the lyrics and the connotations to their situation either.

She finished the song, even though Sarah was asleep before she even got to the last verse and looked up to find Puck's eyes on her.

She was about to question it when she suddenly started to topple backwards. He moved his hands to catch her and pull her in closer so she wouldn't fall off the side, chuckling when she narrowly caught her balance before tumbling off the edge. His arm wrapped around the small child sleeping soundly between them to encircle her and she welcomed the warmth it brought. With one of her hands gripping his bicep and the other resting on the pillow by his head, her fingers buried in the peak of his Mohawk, she nuzzled into the pillow and closed her eyes.

She wasn't even thinking about going to sleep. Honestly, she was only trying to revel in the moment while it lasted.

It lasted longer than she expected, and she eventually woke up to a pair of strong hands shaking her awake and then guiding her out of the room and to the stairs.

.

"You can talk about it, you know," she said to him, finally gathering her bearings. She curled her fingers around his bicep as far as she could, stopping him in his tracks, and causing him to acknowledge her once again when she dug her nails into his skin.

"No, I can't," he replied gruffly and shrugged out of her touch to storm down the stairs.

She'd barely taken the seat next to him when he threw a controller onto her lap and settled back against the cushions beside her. His legs were spread apart, in that decidedly uncouth way she detested, and he knew she detested, and her knee was pressed close against his thigh. When she sat up a little to tuck her leg underneath her, she ended up even closer against him than before. He didn't seem to mind however, since he didn't complain. In fact, she could've sworn that when he readjusted his own position in the seat, he actually moved nearer to her. Well, at least his attitude against her seemed to have diffused.

She knew that he was a guy, that he was against talking about his feelings at the best of times, that he felt if he spoke about it, it would be like opening a dam that he'd be unable to plug again. It still hurt when he closed himself off from her though, especially when she felt they were making definite progress with whatever it was they were doing.

"What is this?" She looked from it to him, pronouncing the words slowly. "And why have you given it to me?"

"Controller," he replied simply. "I'm gonna beat your ass at sports – every kind you can think of."

He turned his attention back to the TV, while she simply blinked at him.

"You are proposing we play video games?" she asked.

"Well, you're the one who's making us stay on house arrest, you got any better ideas?" he returned, with a raised eyebrow.

She remained silent.

He threw a grin at her, "That's what I thought."

And then he started to rattle off the controls and the best technique that she'd do well to adopt for each sport and… she wondered how a boy could harvest that much information about such trivial matters, and yet have no interest in expanding his knowledge even in matters such as current affairs.

She told him as such.

"This is current," he replied. "We got it going on right now."

She rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at relating the two.

"An' if you were still all dopey over Finn, I'd totally be your hot piece of ass on the side," he winked at her and when he smirked she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled over.

She fell to the side laughing; fell into him, oh, how convenient. What? She never claimed not to be a strategist. And besides, he started this whole thing, she was merely continuing along the same breadth of thinking.

She sucked in a breath when he lifted his arm and looped it around her, his hands gripping his own controller just in front of hers. She watched the quick movements of his fingers; the dexterity he possessed never failed to fascinate her. She could think of some other things he could use those nimble fingers for; and it wasn't the first time she'd thought as such.

She flushed in his embrace; she had no doubt he'd be only too happy to oblige, and indulge her in this little fantasy of hers. She daren't voice such a thing.

She wondered if he was the psychic one when he tilted his head and she found his smirk pressed against the curve of her cheek. And then she dismissed the thought; no, she was probably just transparent. He had a habit of being able to look right through her; it was unnerving, to say the least.

But… it was also rather enticing.

.

"What're you doing?" she asked, as he moved behind where she was standing in the space in front of the TV.

He let out an exasperated sigh, "As much as I love beating you; your retard skills get annoying after a while."

"Excuse me?" she practically squeaked at him in disbelief, eyebrows rising towards her hairline.

He rolled his eyes, waving away her dramatics. "You're not giving me any competition here, Berry, an' it's getting boring."

"Oh," she voiced.

"Right," he replied, "So, I'm gonna teach you how to bat. 'Cos seriously, you suck."

He positioned himself behind her; arms wrapping around her small frame, body pressed tight against her own as his hands clasped over hers on the controller.

"Just remember," he told her, his breath hot on her skin, her body tingling as strands of her hair danced in the air around his lips. "It's all in the hips."

He pulled her arms back with his, his hips thrusting forward and nudging her into imitating the movement.

"Like that?" she asked, her breath hitching as their hips rolled in perfect synchronization.

"You know it," he smirked against the shell of her ear.

At some point she was sure her eyes rolled back into her head, because what he was teaching her? Well there was no way that was simply for the purposes of a video game. Oh no, this had long-term-life-experience-by-Noah-Puckerman written all over it. Except, when he pressed against her like that, and squeezed her arms together so her breasts pushed in-and-up (no, she was not oblivious to that particular outcome of his teaching), she found she didn't really care for the reason. He made her feel good. When she thought about the situation they were in, the reason that drew them together in the first place; she realized maybe that was all that really mattered.

He made her feel alive, wanted, safe.

And if there was even a smidgen of the prospect that she instilled the same in him; even if her participation only amounted to taking his mind off the chaos that surrounded him on a daily basis; she'd embrace it with open arms.

Noah Puckerman made her more accepting, more giving; selfless almost: who knew?

Apparently what they shared, 'officially' undefined or otherwise, really was special. That, at least, was something she could hold as being true.

TBC…


A/N: So, I'll warn you all now – there's probably gonna be some angst in the v. close future, mainly because WTH? I am totally fluffing this thing up something crazy – an yeah, I gotta mix it up with angst, sorry!
Sorry for the throw in of angst in the middle of all the 'nice-ness' lol, but I seriously just HAD to do it.

Thank you to ALL who read, review, alert, favourite! It means so so much to me, so please continue to do so :D
Steph
xxx