A/N: Again, thank you for all the feedback on this. I'm so glad you're all enjoying it. Special thanks to Paceismyhero for the handholding as I continue to stretch these characters into the mold I want them to fit into. Just by way of a brief explanation: I've kind of altered the show's timeline to fit my own agenda. This is probably early October or so of their junior year (so early season 2). The whole situation with Finn/Kurt's families has been condensed for my own purposes to fit here instead of as it actually happened. Kurt is not yet at Dalton. This song was inspired by I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You) by John Mayer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and I never will so stop asking.

Get It Under Control

Rachel's hand was shaking as she reached it out to place it gingerly on Finn's thigh. The party at Brittany's house was as raucous as any of them were, but neither glee club captain was in the mood for it. They showed up for appearance's sake but that was about it. It was kind of natural that, in their depressed states, they had drifted upstairs to the small family room with the super comfortable couch.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He rested the side of his head against hers and sighed, closing his eyes. He shook his head and she could feel her hair moving underneath it. "Do you just ever wish you could rewind time and, like, close your mouth?"

She let out a harsh laugh. Of course she understood that feeling, even if she would never admit it. "No. I'm always perfectly prepared for the consequences of my verbal tirades."

He laughed and she had to admit it was good to hear. He'd looked a little storm cloudy since he arrived a bit ago, and though he grabbed a beer, he had pulled her aside and asked for insight into Kurt considering the tentative friendship that was forming between Kurt, Rachel, and Mercedes. They had been a near-constant threesome for close to a month since their first performance together in New Directions. It had been a really intense time for Kurt; as he was making those new friendships, he was going through a lot of stuff. Finn was finding it hard to be there for him. That meant Finn was going through a lot of stuff, and apparently, he and Burt had unloaded on each other (although she got the impression it was mostly Burt speaking, because Finn was never the more loquacious party).

"C'mon, Finn. You're always the one who tells me how to fix it when I act out. What would you tell me to do?"

It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did his voice was full of shame and it was unsteady. "I wouldn't have to tell you what to do. You wouldn't have ever used that word."

She felt bad for him because she knew he was right. Even with some of her more massive screw-ups, she hadn't been so aggressively offensive. "No," she allowed. "But I think Burt blew it out of proportion because he didn't hear everything and I think Kurt is a little too willing to play the victim because of all this other stuff that's going on."

He sighed. "Either way, I screwed up. That's just obvious."

"Yeah," she said. "Would you rather see if you can sleep on the couch at my house? It's got to be better than a sleeping bag on the floor in your old room and it'll just be a matter of time until you've made it right."

He sat upright a little bit and rubbed at his eyes. He pulled the hand furthest from her up to his mouth to take a pull from the red plastic cup. "Probably not a good idea. You're taken," he muttered.

Now it was her turn to sigh. "Well…I'm not sure exactly how taken I am."

"What do you mean?" He asked. He immediately wanted to bash his head against the wall if it would help take the hopeful tone out of his voice. The goal here was friendship after all. As their friendship had renewed and he remembered that she was a pretty damn good best friend, it was easier for him to shove his own feelings aside if it meant she would be happy with Puck. True to his word, however, he was on the lookout for any signs of heartache. He would at least make sure she was happy. He'd learned how to walk this line when she was with Jesse, after all, and he knew he could do it.

She didn't respond, just offered a shrug.

One of the hardest things for them to get back on track was discussing their relationships. While they had never exactly stopped being friends, it was like a wall was erected between them when she passed on what he offered and then didn't own up to dating Puck right away.

She had found out in passing, from Puck during an argument, that Finn had walked into the auditorium while they were en flagrante. It had only been a week since Puck had let that slip and she hadn't had the nerve to say anything to Finn about it. She didn't think she would ever have the palette for that particular conversation. It was one time (perhaps the only time) in her life that she was a strong advocate of avoidance.

The light flipped on, and before she could even process what was going on, Puck was flying across the room at Finn with Mike barely managing to hold him back.

"I will kill you!" Puck yelled. Finn and Rachel both pressed back against the couch in surprise, their eyes still adjusting and their processing skills easily seconds behind their vision.

"Puckerman, stop it!" Mike said as Rachel caught sight of his arms that were wrapped around Puck's waist and visibly straining with tight muscles to hold him back. Matt was, thankfully, not too far behind them and got a good grip on one of Puck's arms. Sam stood in the doorway to the small living room with wide eyes but apparently willing to jump in if necessary. Once there was even a little space between Finn and Puck, Finn jumped up.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?" Finn yelled. "Nothing is going on!"

"Damn straight nothing is going on!" Puck yelled. Sam was in no-man's land as the two guys began calling each other out, his arms spread wide and his eyes wild because he was half afraid he was going to get crushed.

Rachel was a little uncertain what would happen if she tried to get in between the two of them; blows had been coming for a long time and that was no major secret in her world. But in this instance, she hadn't done anything wrong and damned if she was going to let any of it be related to her. Even if she knew, somewhere deep down, whenever it happened she would be the cause.

There were those who said she thrived on drama, but this was even just too much.

So she gathered up her courage and she stood, shooting a warning glance at Finn as she took two steps to stand directly in front of Puck.

"Don't you fucking look at him," Puck spit out.

She frowned and stared him down hard. "You might want to rephrase that, Noah."

"No, I don't think I want to at all."

He gave a violent shudder, and as Matt and Mike had been loosening their grips on him, it shook their hands off entirely. His eyes were locked on her and his jaw was steel. Rachel folded her arms and pressed them against her chest. Finn was herded out of the room under a tight bodyguard of the other three as they all left to give the couple—viciously staring each other down—some privacy.

Rachel fought the urge to ask what his problem was; he already smelled like Jack Daniels, and she thought it kind of a sad commentary on their relationship that she could differentiate that smell. He had been drinking. He liked to do it a fair amount, whenever he could get a hold of anything. Given the connections he had with the adult female community, he could get a hold of whatever he wanted generally whenever he wanted. It had been the subject of a couple arguments already.

She maintained her steely gaze and passive face as she looked at him. Her arms were still folded and she did what half the free world thought impossible for Rachel Berry—she kept her mouth shut. She watched as his fists finally relaxed, and his breathing very gradually evened out. His cheeks were flushed; he was still angry, but his eyes were losing their desolation.

Once she saw his shoulders slump, she exhaled but her tone was still tight and unforgiving.

"Explain yourself," she said simply.

He could barely hear her over the rush of blood in his ears. "Why were you touching him?"

"T-t-touching him?" She stammered in disbelief.

"Your hand was on his leg," he said. "You were touching him."

"He's my friend. He's upset."

"You can't possibly be that fucking stupid," he muttered, shaking his head. "You know, I knew you didn't have a lot of experience with this shit, but I never thought you were actually dumb."

Her eyes narrowed.

He had never actually felt the feeling that was still clawing at his chest before. He wasn't sure what it was. He only knew that it flashed instantly when he saw them huddled together in the dark on a couch, detached from the party. The next thing he knew, his hands were inches from Finn's throat and he wasn't totally against the idea of homicide. And while the rage was something he at least knew about, the other feeling…well, that was something else altogether.

Her eyes widened and she barely fought the urge to smile. "You're jealous," she concluded simply.

"No," he said immediately, like it was a knee-jerk response.

"Oh, you're jealous," she said with a nod. "I'm not stupid. I may be new to a lot of this, but I'm not stupid."

He frowned. "No. I'm mad." But he didn't sound so certain.

She couldn't fight the smile. "Did you see it and feel like maybe I was strangling you, just a little bit, and the only way to breathe was to get him away from me?"

He looked down. Yes, that was exactly how he fucking felt. Was she inside his head?

"Noah, you're a total hypocrite," she muttered. She placed her hand on his chest, leaning close and reaching into the front pocket of his jeans with her other hand.

"What?"

She shook her head as her hand landed on what she was looking for. She pulled his cell phone out. She knew she could only get away with it because his reflexes were dulled by alcohol. She and Finn hadn't been upstairs for very long, but she knew Puck had arrived after they'd already gone up. The kids were all using a downstairs entrance for the party, so she wasn't sure exactly when he'd arrived. He'd had a detention and makeup test this afternoon, following a longer-than-usual football practice no less, so they hadn't seen each other at all since school let out.

Anyway, she took the phone and broke the intense stare they had maintained this far to look down at it and maneuver her way to his text messaging inbox. She scrolled through them until she found the thread she was looking for, the one she'd known was there. In her efforts to figure it all out and not smother him (still trying to learn from her first real go-round with Finn), she knew he'd been exchanging sexy text messages with Santana but she hadn't called him on it.

Saw you back in uniform, sexy. Reminds me of the locker room and you.

She swallowed hard. Seeing his replies on the screen made her feel a little less certain like this. It was certainly just a reminder that she was a little girl playing in a new sandbox. Of course, this sandbox was more like a martini bar (or something fancy and grown up that she wasn't quite sure of yet). As she scrolled through the two dozen or so messages that were tied together, she fought back the urge to cry. She was in so far over her head here, and she really, really hated that feeling.

I'm bored. Say something dirty.

That one was from the party tonight. Santana was here somewhere. She had sent that while they were all under the same roof. Thank God there was no reply to that one.

She turned the phone around and held it out for him to take.

"I think she's waiting for you to answer with something naughty," she said. "You wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?"

"Rachel," he said softly.

"You were just accusing me of doing something inappropriate, right?" She asked, her voice still small. "Well, you've been doing inappropriate things, too. So let's figure out some boundaries."

He raised his eyebrows. So…Rachel knew about it. Rachel wasn't going to dump him for it? Wait…what?

"Are you going to make me talk about feelings or some girly shit like that? I'm not sure I've had enough to drink for that yet."

She sighed and her answer practically shocked him. She kept doing that; who knew Rachel was so full of surprises?

"Me, either, but let's give it the old college try," she said. It was more like a question than a statement and she reached for his free hand, the one dangling uselessly at his side instead of holding his phone and staring at it blankly.

"The what?" He asked as she began pulling him out the living room. It was more like dragging him. The last few minutes were starting to catch up with him as the alcohol (the two shots, that was) that he'd had on arrival was wearing off.

She settled on a bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall, the darkened level of the house a perfect place to hide and the unoccupied room even more of an insulated cave. There were the distant sounds of music and laughing floating up through the air vent, but otherwise they would've had no idea the party was going on downstairs.

Puck knew this room. He looked around uncomfortably. Rachel looked a little uncomfortable here, but she was never one to avoid changing that. She flipped on the light (it had a dimmer switch because this was Brittany's older brother's room and he was a bit of a manwhore), frowning as she realized what she was doing. Then she just settled for leaving it at less than full brightness before she moved to stand in front of him. He'd plopped right down on the bed, the only flat surface in the room other than the tall bureau of drawers. Jason had taken his desk with him to college and the room was still furnished but everything was emptier than he remembered.

She twisted her hands around as she looked at him seriously. He leaned back on his palms and waited. He could read that look on her face—she was preparing her monologue. No, really. She had told him before that's how she thought of it.

"Noah," she started, her voice remarkably steady considering how rattled she looked. "I know you suck at this part of a relationship." He scowled but stayed silent. "So I'm going to lead by example and remind you of the first time we….did it."

He smirked. He had stumbled upon a rare thing—a girl who talked non-stop, used words bigger than a fucking dictionary, but still stuttered if she mentioned sex.

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I told you I just jumped into it and the truth was that I was, and I have continued to be, very confused. The way I feel about you is so different from what I've ever expected. But I've come to realize that I love you." His eyes widened and his stomach dropped out a little bit. She noticed his reticence but she continued. "I don't want to be with anyone but you." She wanted to choke the tears out of her voice and be composed, but she couldn't do it. "And I think I can trust you, but you have to know that's what I'm expecting first. And I have to know that you're on the same page and willing to trust me the same way, Noah. Otherwise…otherwise I'm afraid we're fooling ourselves and this just isn't going to work."

This is normally where he would cut her off and tell her to have a nice life. Instead, he just watched her, his stare unreadable and uncertain.

"I kind of need an answer," she demanded eventually, tears still standing in her eyes.

She trusted him… she loved him. And as much as he was usually over that garbage pretty quick, she had thrown him into a whole new world. He felt guilty, almost dirty, when he got the messages from Santana. He had immediately fast-forwarded to imagine this moment and, truthfully? He was pretty sure he had failed the test he'd taken because he was so distracted and worried. That worry, that feeling, was the whole reason he had started drinking fast and hard as soon as he got here. And then he hadn't been able to find Rachel, and Santana had pressed herself against him to offer the suggestion that Rachel and Finn had gone upstairs. And then everything just kind of exploded on him.

"I don't trust myself," he finally said, his voice low. Her stare continued, the same intensity she always had holding firm. "All right?"

When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, she frowned and pressed her hand to her hip, jutting her leg out at an angle. "What do you mean?"

"You can't love me," he spit out. "You love the idea of me. What would it do for your rep to tame the bad boy? It would make you the hottest girl in school."

Her careful frown had crumbled into anger. "Get over yourself," she spat out.

"Why would you choose me over Finn? It doesn't make any sense. He's the nice guy. I'm just…I get bored. I move on quick."

She took a deep, steadying breath before she smoothed her hands over her skirt and sat down right next to him. She took his hand and looked over him.

"Are you bored?"

He hadn't really moved his arm, had just kind of allowed it to go the direction she pulled, so his forearm was exposed to her. She held his hand in one of hers, and the fingers of her other hand danced over the underside of his arm.

"N-no," he stammered. He couldn't stop looking at her. Her eyes were changing constantly and it was almost fascinating as he realized he understood every single shift, every single thing she wasn't saying.

Her breathing was slow and even. "This isn't about my reputation…or yours. This is about my gut instinct telling me you are nothing like your father through sheer force of your iron will." His arm tensed and he tried to pull away. She met his icy grip with a tight grip of her own and kept his hand right where it was.

Another surprise? She was freakishly strong.

"I didn't say anything about my father," he said, his voice edgy and his lips barely moving.

"You didn't have to," she whispered. She closed her eyes. "I've watched you try to be honorable, albeit in your own screwed up way. And I've watched you push away everyone who is good to you in your life. I'm not going to let you do it to me, Noah. Especially not over some silly misunderstandings or insecurities."

He swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. "So what do we do?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him steadily. "Well, you have to be honest with me. Tell me exactly what you want. I will do my very best to make sure you get it."

He was trapped by her gaze but it didn't feel like it was choking him or strangling him. It was like all the words he needed were hidden there and she would give them freely if he just looked hard enough. "You," he finally managed.

"What about me?" She finally asked.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. He reached up the hand she wasn't holding to tangle it in her long hair. "You're everything, babe."

"So you don't need to send Santana dirty messages," she muttered, her voice low.

"I don't want to," he admitted. "But I'm kind of afraid she's going to shank you if I stop."

Rachel chuckled. "Well…I'm not afraid of her. She's been pulling stuff like that since grade school."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"Do you want to know a secret?" She whispered, still pressed close to him and still dragging her fingers along his arm. It was so hard for him to focus when she was doing that. Plus, his fingers were starting to ache for the touch of her warm skin.

"Hmm?" He asked, the word barely more than a rumble from his chest.

"I trust you to protect me. It's one of my favorite things about you. You are fierce and you defend the things that are precious to you." She couldn't take it anymore, even the distance of centimeters just too far. She gave him a soft kiss. "You will stand up for me. You will fight for me. Finn…Jesse…they never did that. It's one of the many things that makes you an individual."

He swallowed hard, trying to back down all of the things that were threatening to overwhelm him and strip away any of the dignity he was so anxious to hold onto. "You don't need me to, though."

Her free hand drifted up to his chest and rested right above his heart. She kissed him again, softly. Her voice was so low, so soft, he could barely hear her. "But I want you…"

She left a word he was waiting for off the end of that sentence and before he knew what he was doing, he was pushing her back on the double bed. Once she laid down, still kissing him, she released her grip on his hand and brought both her hands up to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her with him until her head was resting on the pillow at the top of the bed. He kept his kisses soft and tender, trying to use the best way he could to tell her all the stuff he was really no good at saying. Finally, he brought one knee up and nestled it between her legs so he could kneel above her on it. Once he did, she reached for the bottom of his shirt.

"This is probably totally inappropriate," she said when she had to break away from his kiss to pull his shirt over his head. As she smoothed her bare hands over his chest, he lowered his mouth to her ear.

"I'm pretty sure hooking up at a party is hot," he said. He let his tongue dart out to trace the inside curve of her ear. "And it's never bad when it's me. But only me from now on…got it?"

She turned her head, keeping her ear out of his reach and pressing her cheek against his. "Got it. A long time ago." As the words left her lips, he had to admit that he was pretty sure it had been the case, but…well, it was never bad for her to say it again.

Her leg nudged his other one out of the way so he was kneeling in between her legs—without a fucking doubt his new favorite place in the world. Well, new since the first time she'd let him. Before he could drop down to press against her, her hand was at the waistband of his pants and his hand was sneaking underneath her shirt to rub an index finger over the smooth satin of her bra. He straightened his legs out to balance on the toes of his boots so she could push his pants down to his ankles. While he was pressed into the extended push up, both hands sinking into the mattress and plaid comforter and his abs totally engaged to hold him up, she took her time sliding back up his body—tongue first. He closed his eyes in concentration so he didn't fall and kill her, but she lingered around his thighs, then drew a careful half-circle around everything he wanted her to take into her hot mouth, finally dipping her tongue in his belly button as he released a guttural groan.

"Fucking tease," he muttered. As her tongue was still working up his body, he could feel her lips curve into a smile. She flicked at his nipple ring when he said that.

"I don't like your tone," she said, the iciness in her voice totally forced. His abs clenched tight and his hips thrust against his own will. Once she was settled beneath him again, he collapsed on top of her as carefully as possible. Her hands slid up his bare back, and once they hooked around, he saw something out of the corner of his eye as it slipped closed when he bent to kiss her again.

He opened his eyes and rolled them to the side, turning his head slightly and hearing her giggle right in the ear he'd pressed to her mouth. She was holding the condom that had been in his back pocket pinched between her middle and index fingers.

"When did you turn into a thief?" He demanded. She gave a small laugh and nipped at his ear, her teeth scraping over it before her lips found the spot immediately behind. He had never been nibbled by another woman quite the same way, and each new press of her teeth sent a jolt of electricity straight through him.

"When did you start complaining so much?" She demanded.

He took his opportunity to raise up and unbutton the red, white, and pink sweater she was wearing. "When did you start wearing so many clothes?" He asked. He pulled back a little more and raised his eyebrows as her hands pushed his out of the way and she began unbuttoning the sweater at twice the speed he'd been doing it.

"Excuse me, Princess? I thought I was in charge here."

"Get used to those days being over," she said matter-of-factly as she pulled her arms out of the sweater, leaving her in a pale pink lace bra. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the deep pink-brown color of her nipples, teased to tight little peaks under his wandering fingers.

He lowered his head to her neck and she pressed against him more insistently as she dropped her head back into the pillow to give him easier access. He felt totally bad that she almost always had hickeys on her neck; then again he totally didn't feel bad.

His hands wandered freely over her skirt, knowing there was no way she was going to get totally naked on the party at some random bed. His hands hit the white tights she was wearing with her dress and he withdrew his lips from her skin with a groan.

"What in the hell am I supposed to do with these?" He asked, pinching at the thin material. He rose up enough that he could look down between them, and it was just in time to watch her smooth her hand over the curve of his ass, clamp it over his fingers and then slide his hand up her leg quickly until he felt….wait, what? He wiggled his hand enough to flip her red, pleated skirt up just enough to see….garters?

Oh, fuck. She was trying to kill him. If she was wearing shit like that to school he was a dead man. He pressed his erection into her thigh a little harder, unable to take another second without some sort of friction because his balls felt so tight. She wasn't kidding—he would never have control again. In this moment, when it was just him and her and their breathing, he was okay with that if this was the kind of shit she would do with the upper hand.

He fingered the garter lightly one more time, releasing it with an audible snap against her thigh. She gave a little squeak and he smiled at her, trying to appear innocent even if she knew better. He moved his hand over, slipping one finger into the side of her panties, unsurprised to feel the same lacy texture that he'd felt on her bra. She was a totally OCD freak about her underwear matching, so he was sure they did. She was moving underneath him, this little wiggle that, again he thought would kill him if she didn't stop.

She couldn't handle how slow or gentle he was being anymore, and she thrust up, pressing his crooked finger into her slick folds. His smile was as slow and sexy as the rest of him as he straightened his finger out and ran it down the length of her slit, finally pushing the one finger inside her as far as it would go. She thrust against him again, forcing a second finger inside her even as he'd been holding it back for a second. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out a loud gasp. He began moving his fingers inside her, lost again in depth of her heat and how wet she was. He could lose himself there forever. All his uncertainty, all his buried doubt, disappeared when she was underneath him or letting him inside her.

Her breathing deepened into a raspy series of pants.

"Please…more…. God, Noah…. Don't stop. Don't stop. Harder…" she was thrashing her head back and forth and he dropped his free hand to her stomach, pressing just below her belly button to hold her still. He circled his thumb around her clit one last time and she came, her sweet voice belting out a list of swear words that made him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"I want to taste you," he huffed out. "Please?"

There was no denying the short skirts she wore provided easy access, but he hardly ever got her all the way naked. They were always rushed and rarely truly alone. "Not here," she said, her chest still heaving as he backed up to get the condom wrapper from where she'd dropped it on the blanket and opened it. She took two swallows of air, punctuated by grunts. "Tomorrow." She squeezed her eyes shut. "My room."

He slipped the condom over himself. While it was true there were plenty of other things he wanted to do, he wasn't going to complain or wait any longer for the main event, either. He edged her underwear out of the way as much as possible before he rubbed his thick head everywhere his fingers had just been. He was still kneeling, intending to lean forward and kiss the hell out of her already-swollen lips, but as he gave the thrust that pushed him inside her, she lifted her leg up to prop her ankle on his shoulder.

"Noah," she said, her eyes still closed and her voice no more than a breathy gasp. She motioned her hands forward until, unsure what she was after, he leaned forward enough she could slip her hands over his shoulders to the back of his neck, her leg pressing down in between them as he went so that she was basically doing the splits while he was on top of her. Her foot was in the air but not that far off the bed.

"Damn, Berry." He gasped out. He let his hand trace up the underside of her thigh, finally wrapping his arm around her leg and hugging it close to his bare chest, his fingers rubbing against her smooth shin. She was doing the splits while they had sex. He couldn't even choke out words to mutter how impossibly hot that was. He leaned forward just a little more, feeling the joint in her hip give way to easily allow it. With the slight change of angle, he was brushing against her clit with every stroke and it was about three seconds before she pulled her head up off the pillow, using every muscle in her tight little body to place a wet, open mouthed kiss right on his mouth. As her tongue slipped inside his mouth with an insistent thrust, she let out a whimper and bit down a little bit, just enough to scrape his lip and maybe draw blood. He didn't care because then she came so hard it drained his own orgasm from him almost immediately. He leaned his head against her ankle, turning his head to place a gentle kiss there before he pulled back. He frowned a little bit, wiping a trace of blood from the spot he kissed before he held a hand out to her to pull her up to sitting as well. They sat there in the middle of the bed, looking at each other, still breathing heavy. She eventually broke the moment by turning to reach for her shirt. He took that as a cue they had all the girly shit and the horniness under control for a minute, or at least as much as was going to happen right now.

They rejoined the party a short time later, after a quick trip to the bathroom to resituate clothes and smooth hair (for her). He was a pro at this kind of fixing up and got all her lip gloss off the side of his neck. She had left a faint mark under his ear, but his lip was starting to swell up where she had bitten down as she came. He pressed his fingers to the tender flesh hesitantly, offering a small hiss as he did so; however, the hesitant motion recalled the moment it happened and it wasn't like he could be anything other than totally turned on and ready to do it all again. She watched him out of the corner of her eye with a smile.

"Sorry," she said. Then she looked in the mirror again, her cool fingers pressing into the red mark on her neck that was starting to turn purple. "You know, I'm running out of ways to hide these from my dads."

He offered an arrogant smile. "Then stop liking it when I suck on you so much. I'm just here for your pleasure."

Someone knocked on the bathroom door and they exited quickly, deciding without talking about it to rejoin the party downstairs. He led, walking with his chest out and a bit of an arrogant strut that made her want to trip him, but she let him pull her anyway.

A quick sweep of the room revealed that Finn's coping mechanism for both his remorse and the unprovoked attack was copious drinking. His cheeks were flushed and he held up a red cup to them.

"Hey, guys! There you are!" He said, his grin quick and dopey.

"God," Quinn groaned, her eyes trained on Rachel's neck. "It's like he peed all over you." Rachel just looked down and didn't say anything, as Artie noticed Puck's lip at the same time.

"Looks like she punched you at least once," he said. Puck shook his head and turned to look at her with an affectionate smirk.

"Yeah, she always gets her shots in," he admitted. Mike approached him with another red plastic cup.

"You stayin' dude?"

No one missed the casual glance he shot to Rachel. She leaned forward and spoke just quiet enough for him to hear.

"Let me see your keys for a minute," she requested. He pulled them out of his pocket and watched, unsurprised as she removed his car key and then handed them back. "I'm keeping this one until tomorrow." She leaned over so she could see Sam around Puck where he stood between her and the room at large, already trying to kiss her again. She went up on her tiptoes.

"Sam, you driving?"

"Yes, ma'am." He agreed. In his brief time in glee, Sam had already started showing an interest in Quinn and abstinence from a lot of things was part of that deal. He was usually the chauffer for his less inhibited friends and he seemed to take it in stride. "I'll get him home."

She nodded and mouthed her thanks at him. "Have fun," she said softly, reaching up to press a goodbye kiss to his lips. She let her teeth tug on the spot she'd bitten earlier and he grunted. "I'll see you tomorrow." He just closed his eyes and nodded before she turned to go upstairs so she could be on time for her midnight curfew.

He took a long pull from his drink as she left, watching her ass as she went (what? He was officially her boyfriend now so that shit was legal). A few minutes later, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

I miss your tongue already.

His eyes widened as he looked at it. He swallowed hard when it was followed by a picture that showed flesh with a hint of pale pink fabric. It looked like he was just changing sexting partners. And it looked like he might spend the rest of the night uncomfortably hard because he was definitely not in control here.

"Dude, what the hell?" Mike said, watching him closely. "I wanna see that!"

And thus began the fight for an entirely different kind of control.