Author's Note: Sorry. I think I uploaded the wrong file at first. How embarrassing lol. Again, thank you guys so much for the feedback. I was unsure about the last chapter but I'm glad you guys are behind it—it means a lot!

Chapter 10: Say It Like You Mean It

"Thanks for coming in."

It's two days later and Tina finds herself walking into Schue's office. Her normally cool and collected mother, with her short dark waves flying and her green eyes set in determination, had barged into Figgin's office yesterday morning, fuming and ready to fight whoever got in her way. Although Tina probably won't admit it, she's comforted by her mother's presence; both her parents are wonderful, they just aren't around enough to count on. As she sat there stock-still in her seat, answering their questions quietly, she watched her mother turn towards with warm eyes and thought of Puck asking if she was okay; she never felt so cared for in her life.

As she obliges Schue's gesture to take a seat, though, she feels her wary self resurface.

"I've noticed things haven't been all that easy for you lately," Schue began gently, sitting while resting his forearms on his desk and lacing his fingers together in thought. "I know it's not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Tina relaxes a little and manages a small smile of appreciation. She really is grateful for his concern, but she honestly doesn't know how to answer that. I'm fine? I'm not? I think I might be going insane?

Will takes one look at her mouth hanging open in a sheer loss of what to say, and he chuckles a little.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it. Just know my door's open if you need to vent—Ms. Pillsbury, too. She's better at this than I am."

Tina grins a little at how his voice gets pitchy and his eyes downcast when he mentions her name. She begins to stand cautiously, not wanting to be impolite but assuming that's all he has to say.

"Thank you, Mr. Schue."

"For what?" he asks, standing and looking like he missed a step.

She begins to speak, but then falters awkwardly.

"Oh," he replies, nodding in realization. "It's my job to protect my students."

She nods too, looking down, and he realizes how that must have sounded.

"I care about each and every one of you," he continues, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to look up at him. "You have no idea how furious I was when I saw…"

He stops for a moment, shaking his head. Understanding without wanting him to go into detail, she nods with a tightlipped smile.

"Luckily Figgins finally did the right thing and suspended them. From what I've heard, you got yourself one determined mother," he adds with a chuckle, half-leaning, half-sitting against his desk as he regards her and the small laugh and nod she gives in agreement. His arms cross and his grin gives way to a more a serious expression.

"I'm just glad your friends got there when they did," he continues, a sincere glimmer lighting up his eyes. "You know, I know how things can be in high school and how this club was when it started—it was tantrums left and right—even when it was just the five of you."

She laughs at that.

"I'm just glad that you guys have each others' backs when I'm not around. I mean, I thought the Rachel-dating-Puck thing was unusual but I've never seen him act like…"

He notices her looking down again, biting her bottom lip.

"Sorry," he chuckles, putting his hands up a little in mock defense. "Like I said, not my place."

She smirks a little and nods, picking up the strap of her bag, preparing to leave again.

"Actually Tina, that's not the only reason I called you in here. After the diva-off last month and your performance with Puck the other week I got to thinking."

She stares at him, mildly afraid of what he was going to say next.

"How would you feel about another solo?"

Her eyes widen in surprise and once he begins talking specifics, he's glad the smile on her face is gradually stretching into something more genuine. She's turning to finally leave when he speaks again.

"I'm really proud of you, Tina."

When she turns around she notices he has the same knowing look from when he spotted her alone after a rehearsal last month, casually asking how her speech therapy was going and curious as to why she wasn't pushing Artie around anymore. She thought telling Artie the truth about her fake stutter was difficult, but she found telling Mr. Schue was even worse. She remembered that proud, encouraging gleam in his eyes when she was singing her "Tonight" solo. She watched it disintegrate in front her then and she tried to swallow the guilt entirely.

He had been disappointed in her, but true to his character, he accepted that she was a scared kid trying to protect herself. He had told her that being yourself can be the scariest thing in the world, especially when you're a teenager and not only can others be cruel, but you also have no idea what 'being yourself' truly means yet. He was glad that she told him the truth personally, and said that he's proud to see her opening up to other people. Forgetting how uneasy she felt, she was overcome with gratitude and hugged him.

"Thanks, Mr. Schuester," she replies softly now before heading out the door.

She had walked into his office feeling uneasy and walked out with a solo. She's not sure if she feels better or not, but she's relieved to know that the world hasn't completely turned on its axis. Maybe there was hope for her and this mess she calls her feelings after all.

She sighs a little, though, thinking of Puck and how he's been avoiding her for the past few days. She felt awful for recoiling when he tried to reach out to her and had continued to wait for him in the morning. She'd stand there until her mother, now preferring to run late to work than to let her daughter walk alone, would usher her into her mini cooper, flashing her an apologetic smile and insisting they both were going to be late.

Feeling a sudden sense of empowerment wash over her now, Tina finds herself heading toward the lockers.

Puck can't figure out what to do right.

No matter what he does, his brain can't shake the image of Tina being shoved up against that dumpster, flinching when he tries to touch her. He hadn't really seen much of her since then; her mother came to the school yesterday to raise hell and although he's glad she has someone to have her back when she really needs her, he feels a little relieved—and guilty—that he didn't have to face her himself just yet.

He knows he's a prick and has done a lot of things to keep himself that way. He has his share of bullied victims and selfish conquests, but he's never dream of stooping to Karofsky's level, he never thought of tossing a girl into a dumpster—granted, he's thrown his fair share of slushies at girls and he's definitely not the picture of a gentleman, but even he has his limits. Regardless, he couldn't shake the feeling that he might as well as be Karofsky; nothing good would ever come from this strange thing he'd somehow developed with her. He's already tired of the age-old gossip wafting through the halls and he realizes that he can't force himself to not care—no matter how determined he is.

And yet, he didn't have the courage to face her anyway.

When did he become such a wuss?

He finds himself afterschool, carelessly emptying the contents of his bag into his locker. Glee didn't have any rehearsal today and the only period they both share is math—which he never attends anyway—so he's guaranteed full Tina-avoidance for the time being.

"Puck?"

Maybe he spoke too soon.

He turns slightly to find her standing there, arms crossed and resting against the front of her magenta cardigan, her face set with quiet determination.

"Why didn't you show again? I thought that—"

"It's cool, Cohen," he cut her off, simply hoisting his bag over his shoulder and walking around her. "I was there. I get why you wouldn't wanna be around me."

She watches him trudge down the hall, blinking as she thinks of that hurt look on his face yesterday and realizes something. She knows she shouldn't have backed away from him the way she had. She also knows that not too long ago she would've been the one deeming him horrible but it feels like forever ago that she felt that way. Ever since they became friends, she no longer classified him as one of the Karofsky-esque jerks that were dime a dozen at Mckinley. She didn't think he would either.

"You're not him, Puck," she says, the soft words flying out of her mouth before she realizes it.

"Is that so?" he calls out in a brisk voice. She noticed him pausing a little but before long he's chuckling humorlessly to himself, tossing a hand hastily in the air, as if that proves his indifference.

"You're wrong," she tries, her voice getting a little throaty, but the distance between them keeps on increasing. She lets out an exasperated sigh and rakes her fingers through her streaked hair. Watching him walk stubbornly away, the fleeting guilt is soon replaced with something else entirely.

"Puck, you're a manwhore."

That one stops him dead in his tracks—he really wasn't expecting that.

"You can be the biggest jerk around—I mean you've honestly made a recreational sport out of locking people in port-a-potties."

She pauses to breathe and he takes that moment to find his voice.

"Seriously?"

By now he had turned around to stare at her as she speaks like she's tacking off a list. He really might've laughed if her voice didn't sound so imposing. So instead he stands there frozen, his mouth slightly open and vaguely thankful the hall is empty.

"You throw slushies at people—"

"Are you even arguing with me?"

"Catapult people into dumpsters—"

"You'd make one shitty defense attorney."

"But whether you realize it or not, you're one of us," she finally takes a breath, her fervent demeanor both impressing and scaring him into silence. "And I know you would never do what Karofsky tried to…"

Her voice falters a little, but she exhales and keeps going. "Well, you'd never do that to me—to any of the girls."

Puck just realizes how close she has gotten during her little tirade and doesn't know how to respond, so he say the first thing that comes to mind again: "Karofsky's a tool."

The comment is enough to stop and surprise a laugh out of her, and in a flash she has her armwarmer-clad arms snaking around his back and her head is resting against his chest. Before he registers what's happening, she's already pulling away.

"Thank you," she says, her calmer voice barely above a whisper.

He recovers enough to respond, realizing he had left a hand gently gripping her arm.

"If you think about it, I didn't do squat. You're the one with the badass right hook, remember?" he replies, silently grateful his voice masks how unbalanced he really feels.

"Says the boy with the shiner above his eye."

"Shiner? Are you like from the 50s now?"

She laughs again, allowing him to tuck a blue strand behind her ear. Her smile easily lights up her entire face. She looks at Puck and her stomach is doing flips again—this time, for another reason entirely.

He stands there shoving his hands back in his pockets, unsure what to do now. No matter how many girls he's been with, Puck isn't used to this; he never really receives appreciation from anyone—mainly because he never does anything people are grateful for. On top of that, he's never really had a friend or relationship or whatever-this-is that's of the female persuasion—friends-with-benefits totally count, right? Nor had he ever been a great friend to begin with—Exhibit A: the pregnant Quinn Fabray. So all in all, he didn't have the faintest idea what he's doing.

Tina doesn't seem to mind, though, because before he knows it she's rolling her eyes and pulling him towards his truck, asking if he'd rather watch Friday the 13th or The Shining tonight. Before they get very far, his phone begins buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. Mainly since Tina is smiling at him constantly, as if he'll disappear at any moment if she looks away just once, he ignores it.

Her mood seems to be tremendously higher today, because she even offers to run to the store across the plaza from the station to load up on the necessary junk food items while he pumps his gas. He faintly remembers making a sexist joke and receiving a jab in the shoulder for it, but he can't be certain.

Laughing a little to himself as he watches her basically dance her way across the parking lot in her too-big combat boots, his phone vibrates once more. Reaching into his pocket to fetch his cell, he flips it open to the first message.

u wanna tell her ur dirty little secret or should i?

—Mercedes

Reviews are love! I start school again on Monday, so I'm trying to stay consistent enough with these updates. Thanks again! :]