Notes: Ding Dong my midterms are done! I'm excited. This chapter is on the short side, but it's kind of necessary as a bridge. Also, this story is winding down. I said eleven parts initially and it'll end up being more like 12, or possibly 13. There will likely be a follow up, though. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It's really great to hear all of your thoughts. I'm glad so many of you like my take on the characters.

x. This will all blow over in time

When Puck left his house on Thursday, the day after Artie had basically threatened him with cement shoes, he nearly had a heart attack.

He had his back turned and was digging out his keys when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled and dropped both his keys and his pop-tart.

His mother, he knew, had left an hour earlier. And he hadn't noticed anyone outside when he had walked out the front door. But then, Puck wasn't what you'd classify as alert, before at least 11AM.

He looked down, and there was Rachel Berry, holding a paper bag and two paper cups.

"Holy hell, Berry! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Good morning, Puck."

"Where did you come from? The bushes?"

Rachel spared a glance for the shrubs that sat on either side of the cement steps. "No. I'm parked over there."

Puck followed her pointed finger and, sure enough, there was her car. Huh. How had he missed that?

"What are you doing here? Besides scaring the shit out of me?"

"Are you always this skittish in the morning?"

"I am not skittish. Could you have picked a word that was any more girly? I just don't expect anyone to be on my front step at 7:30 am."

"Oh. I apologize. I just thought we should talk. And we seem to relate to one another better while away from school and the pressures associated with the McKinley High social hierarchy."

"So you decided to put on your stalker hat and stake out my house? That's just weird, Berry."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, "Excuse me for considering your reputation."

"You're excused. How early did you get here anyway? I don't usually leave for another fifteen minutes."

"About ten minutes ago. I wanted to be sure to catch you."

That was… creepy. But very Rachel. Puck gestured to the cups, "Is one of those for me?"

"Yes. Here," she handed him the bag, and one of the cups. "Coffee, three sugars, right?"

"You actually remembered that?"

"I have an impeccable memory. It will serve me well on Broadway. I also brought pastry. Observational evidence suggests that teenage boys are more pleasant when fed."

"So you're bribing me?"

"I prefer to think of it as using all the tools at my disposal to facilitate an accord."

"Truce, Berry. Just say truce."

"Fine. Broker a truce. Better?"

"Yep."

"Why did you need to leave early? I don't want to keep you from a prior engagement."

Puck gestured to the street, where his truck was not currently parked, "Walking. I dropped my truck off last night; it's getting new winter tires."

"I could give you a ride? If you wanted. I mean, it kind of defeats the purpose if my showing up here so people don't see us talking, but I could drop you off a block or so away, so people don't see, if you would prefer?"

Huh. Funny how that little speech made Puck feel like such an asshole. "A ride would be great." More proof that Rachel Berry's hard outer shell was much more permeable than he'd ever guessed.

"Alright then," she walked over to her car and Puck followed.

He got in, only to have his knees wedged up against the glove compartment. He fumbled underneath the seat for a second for the lever to push the seat back. "Sorry," Rachel said, "the last person who sat in that seat was Tina..."

"And she's only slightly less short than you are." Puck fit his coffee into a cup holder and opened the paper bag Rachel had handed him. Danishes. Score. Way better than his pop-tart. Which he probably shouldn't have left sitting in front if his house. Maybe the neighbor's cat would get to it. Did cats eat refined sugar?

Rachel started the car and pulled away from the curb. "Does it take you awhile to get into character in the morning, or something?"

"What do you mean?"

"In the last six minutes you've insulted me one time, fairly anemically. Aside from your usual digs at my vocabulary."

"Fine. Your skirt is ugly." That could have been a lie. The only thing he'd noticed about her skirt was that it might have been the longest one he'd ever seen her wear. Stupid winter.

"Okay, Kurt. I wasn't complaining about the lack of insults, exactly. I was just commenting that you typically throw a couple in my direction before reverting to civility."

"Did you swallow your SAT prep book? I'll give you twenty bucks if you can go an hour without using words with more than three syllables."

"Do you have difficulties comprehending what I am saying?"

"No. I'm not an idiot. Or Finn."

"Trust me, I am well aware of that."

Okay. So that kind of pissed him off. It hit a little too close to the part of him Quinn had ripped out when she'd called him a 'Lima Loser.' And when Puck got pissed off, Puck lashed out. This time, he went with a full frontal verbal attack, "You do know that you're totally wasting your time there, right?"

"I don't know have the foggiest idea as to what you're referring."

"Seriously? Berry, I may be pretty but I'm not dumb. A blind, deaf, Martian with no knowledge of earth's customs could see you panting after Finn."

"While I may have harbored some... feelings for Finn, feelings that are perfectly natural given our leading roles in Glee, and the need for us to project a certain believable chemistry, I never 'panted' after him, to use your vernacular. Finn is dating Quinn and they're having a baby. I respect that and have moved on."

Out of all the things that she'd just said, only the fact that Finn and Quinn were still dating was true. "I don't believe you. At all."

"I am unconcerned with your opinion, Noah Puckerman."

"Whatever. Like you have a shot. Quinn Fabray is a wet dream in a cheerleading uniform. And, hey, the celibacy thing isn't even an issue anymore. It's not like she can get pregnant again, right? Finn's a lucky guy. So why would he want you?"

Oh shit. Had he really just said that? While he'd said worse things to her in the past they had all been before he'd joined Glee and spent four afternoons a week with her.

And, oh fuck he wouldn't deny in anymore, before he'd actually gotten to know her. And like her.

She pulled the car over to the side of the road. They were about three blocks from the school, "You can get out here."

He looked over at her, preparing to say something, perhaps a joke to ease the tension, but the words died in his throat. Rachel was looking straight ahead, face absolutely stony. Expressionless. Rachel was never expressionless.

"Berry, I..."

"I said, get out."

Puck got out. Artie was so going to arrange for Puck to be killed.

And they never did get around to that whole truce thing.

Rachel pulled away and Puck began walking towards the school. So, he'd been a little harsh. He was a harsh kind of guy.

He felt guilty. Why the fuck did he feel guilty? Technically, he'd lied, because he was pretty sure that Finn did want Rachel. Totally sure, actually. The guy was just so obvious about it. But then, Puck was no stranger to lies and they rarely made him feel guilty.

Excluding, of course, the lie he was aiding Quinn in telling Finn. But that was a huge, mondo lie. Only a totally psycho wouldn't feel guilty about a lie of that magnitude. Puck liked to think that he wasn't a total psycho.

Maybe guilt procreated. Like bunnies.

Was what he'd said to Rachel really all that worse than a slushie in the face? Rachel had never seemed particularly affected by the slushies. At least, they'd never caused her to alter her behavior in any noticeable way.

She'd seemed affected as she'd kicked him out of the car.

Ugh. He was going to have to apologize. Again. To Rachel Berry.