A/N: thank you for all the support i've got for this story :)

When there was an impatient knocking at the door at half six, Puck expected it to be Rachel turning up insanely early to organise things. Which, considering the fact that she'd already phoned him thirteen times that afternoon to make sure that he'd bought enough food and drinks and had successfully got Finn to attend without giving the game away, was a pretty natural assumption.

So when he pulled open the door and saw Quinn standing there with a hand on her hip and a "you'd better start explaining yourself" kind of look on her face, what he felt wasn't disappointment, but surprise. At least, that's what he told himself anyway.

"What you doing here?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow at the cheerio. "Party starts at seven and Finn's not getting here until half past."

Quinn rolled her eyes – something she did frequently in his presence. "I know that dumbass. Just let me in already."

Unwillingly Puck stepped back to let her past and Quinn stalked into the hallway, dropping her bag at the foot of the stairs as she headed on in to the kitchen. He closed the door and followed after her, wondering what the hell she wanted. Yeah they hung out at school, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that their friendship was based on anything other than the fact that he was in the football team and she could use this to cultivate her popularity. She came to him whenever she needed a kid dealt with – slushied, dumpstered or beat up depending on what they'd done to offend her – or if she wanted him to stop flirting with a certain cheerio because she was trying to cut them out of the team. He always agreed, because being on good terms with the head cheerleader meant that girls lower down the pyramid – pun definitely intended – who were trying to work their way up the McKinley high social ladder would try and use him to increase their status. And by use he meant have sex with. Which, duh, he was totally cool with. Exploitation never felt so good.

He and Quinn had even hooked up a couple times before she'd managed to pussy whip Finn into a relationship, but they didn't exactly do the whole talking thing. So he was guessing this wasn't a social call.

When he entered the kitchen Quinn leant against the counter and folded her arms.

"I was just on the phone to Brit" she told him, her voice accusatory, "and she seems to be under the deluded impression that the entirety of the glee club are going to be at this party tonight. Whatever could have made her think something like that Puck?"

He tried to ignore the fact that her eyes was zeroed in on his face like it was a target – seriously, she was kind of scary when she got pissed and kept his expression casual.

"Maybe because they are?"

Quinn took a menacing step forward and if he hadn't been such a badass, he would have instinctively taken one back.

"And you're ok with this are you?" she asked coldly. "Or, don't tell me, you invited them yourself?"

He shrugged. "Rachel did, but I'm cool with them being here. It's Finn's birthday and he's friends with all of them. Why shouldn't they be here?"

"You let manhands sort out the invite list? No wonder it's full of losers." Quinn spat. "In fact, I'm surprised she had anybody to ask. It's not like she has any friends."

Puck felt a surge of anger at the way she was talking about Rachel and had to clench his fists in order to stop himself from growling back at her (And Mr Schue said he had no self-control). There was only a small part of his brain that noted the fact he was about to defend Rachel; the rest of his attention was taken up with the smirking girl in front of him.

"Just because she hangs out with people you don't give a shit about doesn't mean they're not her friends" he ground out. Rachel might be a freaking pain in the ass and completely demented when it came to glee club, but she didn't deserve to be bitched about. In fact, she didn't deserve a lot of things – the first of which was Mike Chang sniffing round her every god damn second (actually, screw that. Chang didn't deserve her.)

Quinn's smile turned mocking. "Jesus, Puckerman. I didn't realise you cared so much. Do you feel like this about all the people you slushy?"

He felt a stab of guilt, because yeah, up until a few months ago nothing could have given him more satisfaction than watching Rachel Berry wipe ice out of her hair. But this might have had more to do with the fact that the melting water turned her tops see-through (he knew her bra collection pretty fucking well by now).

And he'd stopped doing it, hadn't he? One day she'd been standing by her locker, biting down on her bottom lip in a way that had made him want to do things to her until she forgot her own name and he just hadn't been able to chuck the drink he was holding over her. Since then Ben Jacob Israel had been getting more than his fair share of slushy facials to make up for it, but the point was, since he'd stopped humiliating her every day, he'd actually started to get to know her. And there was something about her – something which Mike fucking Chang had obviously noticed too – was pretty awesome.

"Look" he said Quinn, slightly surprised that it had taken him this long to figure it out. "Rachel's cool, ok? And it's my house and my party, so you're just going to have to deal."

Quinn's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak, but before he could tell her to just leave already, she was closing it again and smiling brightly at him.

"Ok. Well, I suppose it'd better let you get on" she told him cheerfully. "I have to go pick Santana up and then we'll be back at half seven. See you later."

Puck gaped as she walked past him and out into the hall. At the stairs she picked her bag up and then called out a departing goodbye over her shoulder before closing the front door behind her.

He watched her pull out of his drive from the window, trying to figure out what the shit had just happened. He knew it was an act – Quinn was obsessed with the hierarchy and she wouldn't take his acceptance of Rachel lying down – but he couldn't work out what her angle was.

He guessed she'd make it clear to him that night. But whatever. He was a stud. He could deal with it.

Rachel sat in the passenger seat of Kurt's car, trying to the best of her abilities to keep her breathing steady.

It should be something she was used to considering the amount of vocal exercises she went through each morning before school, but for some reason the thought of everybody – and by everybody she meant the boys, and by the boys she meant Puck – seeing her in this pathetic excuse for a dress that Kurt had put her in, was causing her to hyperventilate.

"Stop fiddling with it. It's fine" Kurt berated her, for about the millionth time that night.

She ignored him.

"It has no straps" she moaned, hitching the dress up to cover as much of her exposed chest as was possible. It wasn't really that she was nervous about whether she looked good or not. Kurt was true to his word and she was well aware that the bright red colour of the dress contrasted strikingly with her dark eyes and hair. It was made of a stretchy material that clung to her curves and gave her a much more spectacular cleavage than her cardigans and jumpers usually allowed for and the fact that the dress barely brushed the top of her thighs – Oh God, perhaps Kurt would open a window so she could get some air – only enhanced the effect. But this was where she was concerned.

"I look like a slut" she informed him, now trying to breath through her nose to see if that might calm the queasy feeling in her stomach. "I look utterly desperate!"

"For god sake Rachel." Kurt had had enough. "Quinn and Santana wear less than that to school on a regular basis and nobody calls them sluts."

She turned her head and looked at him pointedly.

"Ok fine, they do" he conceded. "But it's not because of their clothes, or lack thereof. And I can guarantee you that every other girl there tonight will be wearing something just as revealing. It's a party. You're supposed to look desirable."

"This dress doesn't say "desirable"" she snapped. "Desirable implies a certain degree of subtlety. This dress screams "take me now"".

"Isn't that the idea, sweetie?" asked Kurt, raising an eyebrow.

Rachel felt herself flush the same colour as her dress.

"No! This is simply a test – I don't want anything to happen, I'm merely trying to ascertain if he wants anything to happen. Which I'm perfectly aware that he doesn't. I'm just trying to prove it to myself so I can stop..." she trailed off. She wasn't sure if she wanted Kurt knowing just how much she thought about Noah.

"Ah yes" said Kurt, turning to look at her (she barked at him to keep his eyes on the road). "I forgot about your total inability to recognise that Puck has feelings for you."

Rachel ignored this, as the words sent her head spinning in a direction that she shouldn't allow herself to consider.

Five minutes later and they had pulled up outside Puck's house – she'd been there only once before when she was much younger and her father's had thought it would be a nice idea for her to meet some other Jewish children in the neighbourhood (it hadn't gone well).

So she was momentarily distracted by an interest in what his house looked like; average size, two floors with a skylight in the roof that suggested he had an attic – she wondered idly if that was where he slept, before the thought of him in bed actually registered, causing her nerves to flood back again.

Without her really noticing where she was going, Kurt was shepherding her over the front lawn (which was already strewn with beer cans) and had rung the front door. Her heart was pounding so hard by the time that Brittany pulled it open, letting warm light pour out onto the porch and light up the surrounding darkness, that she thought she might be sick.

"Rach, you look amazing!" Brittany smiled as she pulled her into a hug, while Kurt looked at her in a told-you-so kind of way. She still had enough sense to register that Brittany was wearing a sparkly silver dress that was just as short as hers and this seemed to relax her breathing, so by the time they got into the kitchen she was feeling almost normal.

"Want a rum and coke?" the cheerio asked her, having to shout over the loud music that was pumping from a set of iPod speakers in the corner. It looked like her music suggestions weren't going to be necessary.

Rachel was about to shake her head when she thought better of it. She didn't usually consume alcohol, but right now a little bit of Dutch courage might not be a bad thing.

"Yes please" she said, allowing Brittany to mix her a strong drink.

With a glass in her hand she felt like she was playing a role and this, more than anything Kurt could have said to her, calmed her anxiety. Once she'd downed at least half the drink in one gulp she looked round to find that Brittany had drifted away to where Santana was flirting with a guy by the patio doors. Kurt was already preoccupied, deep in conversation with Mercedes – she tried to ignore how often Puck's name seemed to come up in their conversation and the way Mercedes' eyes kept flicking over towards her.

She was about to go and strike up a conversation with Artie and Tina, who were looking somewhat out of place next to a group of rowdy guys from the football team playing beer pong, when an arm wrapped around her waist and Mike was kissing her on the cheek.

"Wow, Rach! You look – wow."

She giggled (apparently the alcohol had gone straight to her head) and thanked him, noticing that when he pulled away from the hug his fingers lingered on her hip for a few seconds longer than was necessary. The conversation she'd had the other day with Brittany suddenly popped into her head. I thought you wanted help with Mike – he likes you too, you know. And even though she didn't like Mike in that way, it was nice to see that her make-over was at least having an effect on someone.

"Where's Finn?" she asked him, thinking that considering it was his birthday, it would be polite to go and wish him many happy returns before she did anything else.

Mike shrugged. "Not here yet. Puck told us to turn up half an hour early so that we'd all be here when he arrived."

"He actually took my advice" she said in surprise. "I told him to get everybody here first so it would create more of an impact on Finn when he came in. I didn't think he'd actually do it though."

"And he got loads of snacks" said Mike appreciatively. "Got to admit, he knows how to throw a good party. Anyway Rach," he was suddenly looking very serious and he had stepped forward so that their bodies were almost touching. He reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "You really do look amazing."

She was more than slightly uncomfortable by his sudden proximity and the intensity of his gaze, so decided she needed to take evasive action. She forced herself to smile.

"Thanks Mike. It's sweet of you to say so. But do you know where Noah is? I have to make sure he's got everything under control."

Mile dropped his hand, looking disappointed. "Sure. I think he's outside. You want me to take you?"

"No, I'm sure I'll manage."

Rachel turned away from his sulky expression and walked over to the backdoor, ignoring the snide look Santana shot her as she passed. As she stepped out on to the veranda she felt a sense of resolution wash over her. It was good that she was getting it over and done with and letting Puck see her outfit now. It had been the intended aim of the evening after all.

She was aware that the whole thing was ridiculous. She knew that Puck irritated her beyond belief and, if his year's of slushying were anything to go by, that he felt exactly the same way. But he'd let her organise this party, and the little – moments? (she wasn't entirely sure what to call them) – they'd had over the last week had made her start to think that behind the crassness and insults, there was a person she could like a lot. The fact that he had certain physical attributes that she would have to be practically dead to ignore just made it all the more easy to want him to notice her. To want him full stop.

He was sitting in a lawn chair with his feet propped up on the rail in front of him, head tipped back and eyes closed. She almost didn't want to disturb him, but when she shut the door behind her, he looked up.

"Rachel?" His voice was husky and it caused a warmth that had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol spread across her skin.

"Hi."

He brought his feet down to the ground – she noticed that he was barefoot – and turned properly to face her. The moon had bleached all the colour from the evening so his face was a study in shadows, dark apart from his eyes, which were reflecting the silvery light of the stars. He looked her slowly up and down and in any other context she would have berated him for being so sleazy. But right now, it was kind of the point. So she stood still, holding her breath.

"Fuck Rach. You look stunning."

The sound of his low curse caused the butterflies in her tummy to disappear. A dull ache between her thighs took their place. His eyes were now on her face and she was surprised that she hadn't dropped his gaze. He was looking at her through hooded lids in a way that would ordinarily have caused her to blush.

"Thanks" she said softly.

"So, you think Finn's going to like the party?"

Puck's attempt at small talk made her smile.

"Yes Noah. He's going to love it. You've done a great job."

Silence fell between them and she began to shiver as a cool breeze blew across the back yard.

"C'mere."

Puck was patting the seat next to him and after a slight hesitation, she walked over and slid into it. Once she was settled, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked, his tone full of something she couldn't quite recognise.

She could feel the heat radiating off him and it took all her will power not to turn and bury her face into his neck. Half her mind was taken up with thoughts of what his lips would feel like against hers and the other (rational) half was wondering how he had managed to sit out here with only a t-shirt on. She knew which half her body was responding to as she leaned in closer to him.

"Much better."

He began to trace patterns on her shoulder with his fingers and the places where he touched her bare skin seemed to tingle with a million nerve endings.

"What are you doing out here Rachel?" he asked quietly.

Her answer was painfully truthful.

"I – came to see you."

If it hadn't been dark she wasn't sure she would have been so bold. But the fact that he couldn't see her blush or read the expression in her eyes, was allowing her to say the things she'd been stopping herself from thinking all week.

Puck spoke into her hair, his mouth just above her ear. "To ask about Finn or for something else?"

She felt the urgency in his question and closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing steady. "I think you know the answer to that."

"Rach…" he groaned her name and then his hand had moved to the back of her neck so he could gently turn her face towards his. She was lost in his eyes, his own pupils dilated and dark with something she'd never seen in them before. His other hand came up to cup her cheek and her lips parted in surprise as he started to lean in.

"Puck!"

Santana's voice caused them both to jump and him to pull back. His hands fell away, leaving Rachel free to turn and see the Latina girl coming through the backdoor, her expression impatient. She couldn't think straight to really take her in. Her heart was racing, her cheek burning from his touch.

Santana's eyes swept over the scene in front of her and she arched an eyebrow.

"I need you inside" she told Puck, blanking Rachel completely. "I'll be in the den."

A second later she was gone and there was silence save for the low pounding of music that was coming from the house. Rachel felt suddenly exposed and folded her arms across her chest. A chill was spreading through her body, causing goosebumps to erupt on her arms.

Puck ran a hand over his head. "Look. Stay here, ok? I'll be right back."

He got up and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead before following Santana inside.

She watched him go, feeling the rejection like a crushing weight on her chest. His words echoed round her head. Stay here.

Stay there. To be what exactly? Second best? A consolation prize when he'd had enough of Santana?

She sat for a moment longer, trying to ignore the tears that were filling her eyes, blurring her vision.

Then she got up and left.

Puck walked through the house, ignoring the laughter and dancing of the people around him, in search of Rachel.

When he'd got back to the veranda and found her gone, the first thing he'd thought was that she must have gone to get a drink. Which was kind of stupid seeing as he'd just come through the kitchen and she hadn't been there, but fuck it, he wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't been thinking straight since there nearly-but-not-quit cock blocked by Santana moment.

On top of that, fucking nobody seemed to have seen where she'd disappeared to. He'd have thought that the guys as least would have been paying attention to her in that dress (that dress) that had him wanting to go up to his room and knock one out there and then – if Brittany and Matt had finished making out in there anyways. But most of them had shrugged and told him to try a different room and Finn had just laughed and shook his head, too excited by the fact that he'd been thrown a party to notice anything else (Puck would have been happy that he was enjoying it, if he hadn't been so intent on finding Rachel and kissing her like he should have done shitting months ago).

Because seeing her looking so insanely beautiful had made him realise what a fucking idiot he'd been.

He'd spent weeks thinking about her; sometimes because he wanted to set himself on fire after she bitched out at him and sometimes because he felt guilty that he'd snapped at her, but always because she was driving him crazy with her short skirts and amazing legs and gorgeous eyes. And all of this had led him where? Not going after her as he didn't want to be in a relationship. Which was ridiculous, because the amount of time he'd spent trying to decide whether sleeping with her would be worth the hassle had completely destroyed his game, so he might as well have been dating her anyway.

She shouted at him, she refused to give up when she wanted something her own way and she drove him shit crazy. But the truth of it was, he actually looked forward to his run ins with her. He loved the way she stamped her foot when he said something particularly aggravating and how scandalised she looked whenever he swore. He knew that half the reason why he spent his time annoying her was because it was the only way he got to talk to her.

So he needed to get his ass in gear and stop trying to avoid what the universe was practically shoving in his face – the fact that Rachel Berry was perfect for him.

He knew that this realisation would whip up a shit storm. If Santana's earlier reaction was anything to go by, he wasn't going to be popular with the cheerio's for a while.

The second he'd walked into the den she'd grabbed his arm and pulled him over into a corner.

"What do you want, San?"

Santana smirked and pressed herself against him. "What do you think?" she murmured.

Not even stopping to think about it, he'd pushed her away. "Not now. As a matter of fact, not ever. Whatever this is that we had, it's over."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell Puckerman?"

He didn't care that when most people got Santana Lopez looking at them like that, they apologised immediately – for anything and everything. He just needed to get back to Rachel as quick as humanly possible.

"I'm done, ok? You can keep fucking as many guys as you like, but I'm through with you."

"This is because of manhands isn't it?" Santana hissed. "Fucking unbelievable. I should have listened to Quinn."

"What's Quinn got to do with it?"

"She said you liked her. Of course, I didn't believe at first. Couldn't believe that even you could be quite so stupid."

"You're a bitch, you know that?" he growled.

Santana laughed nastily. "Yeah. But at least I'm not hung up on a freakin' musical midget."

He didn't even bother to reply, just turned and walked away.

"Fine!" Santana called. " Go back to her. But don't come crying to me when she won't put out and you need sex."

So yeah. It didn't look like they were going to bake him a cake.

But Finn would be on his side – he'd always thought Rachel was nice, had told him so every time he'd chucked a slushy in her face. And he'd just been too fucking blind to realise the truth in what he was saying until now (because yeah, it didn't happen very often, but sometimes Finn was actually right).

He was starting to get really frustrated. She couldn't have gone home – he knew that she'd got a lift with Hummel, and as he'd just seen him all over Nate Lawson in the kitchen, he was very much still here.

Walking back out of the den – no sight of her there, just Santana looking like she wanted to rip his balls off – he was distracted by the sound of Matt's booming laugh and turning, that's when he saw her.

She was standing a few feet away from Matt in the doorway that led into his mom's study. Though she was facing away from him, but there was no mistaking that dress.

Or what she was doing.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around Mike's neck and they were kissing, Mike's hands running through her hair, down to the small of her back so he could press her body tighter against his.

Puck felt as if somebody had punched him in the gut. It was one of those weird moments when time seemed to stretch out and he just stood there staring at Rachel, his chest constricting with every second that passed and she didn't break away from Mike.

And then he silently turned and walked away.

Because really, what else was there to do except get so drunk that he passed out?

Cliffhanger!

Will it ever be resolved? (It will, don't panic) :D

Please review! And let me know if you have any ideas for what should happen next...