Puck felt like shit as he walked through the doors of McKinley. How did a hangover last two days? And yet his head was the least of his worries. It was the dull ache that radiated throughout his body, the feeling that had blown through him at full force when he saw Rachel at the party, realized what she'd done, what she was doing, just to talk to him. And he couldn't bring himself to give her the time of day.

He felt like such a schmuck, and it was only heightened when he'd watched Finn whisk her to safety; it should've been him to do that.

Somehow he found his way into the auditorium, sitting in the back row in the cool and quiet. It was comfortable, and it reminded him of Rachel. Under normal circumstances this was something he avoided; but now, with his body throbbing, it seemed okay.

Of course, such peace was never meant to last, and he heard the shuffling of a body onto the stage. He heard the flitting on the piano and didn't even have to look to know who was there. Go fucking figure.

The song she played seemed kind of soothing (for a rock song, at least) until he realized he recognized the lyrics.

"Will you listen to my story?" she opened, the raw emotion all but killing him.

It'll just be a minute

How can I explain?

What ever happened here

Never meant to hurt you

How could I cause you so much pain?

Puck couldn't take it anymore, especially knowing that she was taking the blame for something that was completely his fault. He stood and made his way to the stage.

"All the words that I come up with," His bari-tenor filled the room, expressing the guilt he'd pent up since this mess had started.

They're like gasoline on flames

There's no excuse

No explanation

Believe me

If I could I'd undo what I did wrong

I'd give away all that I own…

When their voices melded together for the chorus, Puck couldn't help but note how they sounded—rich, awesome, and way better than her and Finn. It just sucked that the circumstances that brought them together were this shitty.

When I say I'm sorry

Will you believe me?

Listen to my story

Say you wont leave me

When I say I'm sorry

Can you forgive me?

When I say I'll always be there

Will you believe

Will you believe me?

She remained still on the piano after her fingers finished their work. Unable to stand being away from her any longer, he took her into his arms and held her close, pulling her tighter against him when he realized she was now crying.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffled into his shirt. "I've ruined everything."

" Fuck Rache—it's my fault," he told her. "You couldnt've known." He wanted to tell her everything, knew he should; but he was too afraid of her hating him.

She shook her head as she buried her face further into his chest. Puck wasn't particularly fond of being exposed the way they were, so he took her hand and led her to the prop closet just off stage, turning on the light and sitting them on a white bench against the wall.

He held her for awhile, saying nothing; just rubbing small circles against her back as she tried to regulate her breathing.

He was surprised when she looked up at him, giggling softly. "This seems familiar. I think one of us may have an affinity for tight storage spaces."

He chuckled with her, mussing her hair a little. He was grateful she'd stopped crying; and more grateful still that he was holding her again.

"I don't suppose things can ever go back to how they were though," she whispered, her head resting on his chest again.

Puck sighed dejectedly. "Probably not," he agreed. "People'd talk shit for the rest of our lives. Plus," he added in a voice barely audible. "You deserve better than some Lima loser."

Rachel may have opened her mouth to argue the first point, but at the second, her head snapped up, her eyes wide as she locked with his. "Noah Puckerman," she said harshly, and Puck didn't miss the slight relish in her voice at saying his full name. "You are not a Lima loser."

"No, babe—you're not a Lima loser. You're going to get the hell out of here and go set New York on fire. Me? I'll be lucky if I graduate high school."

Rachel pushed him away to sit up on her knees, raising herself eye-level to him. "You have all the promise in the world, Noah. You just need to apply yourself. Get the hell out of this closet, out of this school, figure out what you want and go get it!"

Puck stared at her in awe, too turned on by her swearing to comment on the advice itself.

He suddenly flashed back to them in her bed, to the words she'd told him so many times: "You have so much potential Noah; you don't even know. There's so much outside of McKinley, and it will embrace you if you let it."

She really believed in him, even now that she knew who he was. It was weird knowing that meant so much to him.

And then his mind was pulled back on that bench with her, watching her chocolate eyes darken with desire.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he eagerly complied, reaching out to flip the switch.

"No," she told him, grabbing his hand. "Leave it on; I need to see you."

Honestly, Puck couldn't remember having sex with the lights on since…okay, he really couldn't ever remember having sex with the lights on. Especially in the last year or so, when he started working his mojo for a fee, it was important that he kept his chicks in the dark (both literally and figuratively). The light made him feel exposed, especially as he recalled his past, his reputation. Here in the light he felt people (mainly Rachel) would see him for what he was: a delinquent man-whore that was going nowhere.

But with Rachel, it surprisingly felt…right. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she kissed along his collarbone, gripping his arms, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Her hair was glossier in the light, and her skin practically glowed. Her eyes penetrated his, and he could see everything she seemed to see in him: his capability; his worth. She kissed his nipples, biting them gently, and moved her tongue along his torso, tracing patterns down his midline.

He couldn't stop watching her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. His cock was equally impressed, fighting against the confines of his jeans. As she pushed him back against the bench and all but ripped off his jeans, his mind flashed back again to the first night, and he gasped as she locked eyes with him, confirming that he was watching her before she peeled off her shirt and reached around to unclasp and slip out of her pink lace bra. His eyes widened as she leaned her naked chest forward, grinding his erection between her breasts. Her chocolate eyes burned with lust as she pressed her tits together, massaging the nipples with her thumbs as she smothered him between them. She then offered him a sultry grin as she slid further downwards, her lips now on his tip, placing a small kiss on the head of his dick and licking the slit in his flesh as she traced her way down to his balls.

Never breaking eye contact, she took him in her mouth completely, swirling her tongue around his erection as she surrounded him. He felt the back of her throat, felt his cock vibrate as she groaned in pleasure, and couldn't help but lean back and let his head drop behind him against the wall.

Suddenly she was back on his lap, their eyes level. "Noah, look at me," she whispered urgently.

He groaned and pulled her roughly into a kiss. When they pulled apart, he took in her face, flushed and bright, those chocolate eyes boring into his with an intensity to match the one pulsing through him. He slid his hand under her skirt and grasped the waistline of her panties, rubbing his thumb along her hip beneath the elastic before pulling them off.

He trailed his fingers up the insides of her thighs, pinching along the artery and causing her breath to hitch. Their eyes remained fixed as his thumb flicked her clit, progressing to deliberate strokes. He slipped a finger inside of her and kissed her as she opened her mouth to gasp.

She clasped her arms around his neck, moaning as she buried her head in chest and raked her fingernails down his back as added another finger into her pussy and drove against her again and again.

"Noah," she moaned into his skin. "God, Noah, yes…"

He used his free hand and cupped her jaw with his fingers, lifting her face toward his. "Look at me," he whispered her words back to her. She nodded, panting softly as he removed his fingers and plunged his cock deep inside of her.

Her eyes widened, and her lips clasped tight to hold back something he guessed would have been loud. He couldn't look away from her—as the light captured her face, her body.

"You're beautiful," he murmured into her ear, heart racing when he felt her shiver at his touch. "Don't hold back. I wanna hear you."

She nodded, eyes locked into his and he could hear her building as he began pumping into her.

"Noah—my god, Noah—Noah!"

Puck's eyes flew open and a groan escaped his lips as he regained his bearings, feeling like an idiot when he found himself in a position he'd not been in since his voice first cracked. One look at the clock told him it was Sunday, and not quite one in the afternoon. Laying in bed, he managed to dredge up the memories of the previous night and cursed himself for being such a prick.

As he made his way into the shower, throwing his sheets and boxers in the wash and starting the load before his ma would notice, he swore to himself to find a way to flush this shit out of his system so he could see Berry the way he used to and stop giving a shit whether she was hurting or what the fuck she thought about fuck-all. As he cleaned himself off, however, he couldn't stop his subconscious from its last observation.

Dream was right on one count: she's way too fucking good for you anyways.

A/N: Song was Sorry by Daughtry