AN: Thanks so much to all those who reviewed, favourited or added this story to their alerts. You're lovely! This chapter was a lot of fun to write, but I feel like it fluctuated between funny and angsty and fluffy a little too much, making it seem unbalanced. Hopefully it won't annoy you guys... Let me know if it does. Even though I wrote this months ago, I still want to know if there are areas in which I can improve.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block.

Puck sat on the gym bench, listening to Coach Tanaka yammer on about their game against Carmel in two weeks. He was bored out of his mind, watching as Coach's spittle landed on his black Adidas shirt (his bulbous belly rising and shrinking with every sentence), his bright blue short shorts clinging to his thighs. It was hard to take the coach seriously most times, but when he was angry, it was best to stay quiet. Coach wasn't against physically assaulting his players if the time called for it.

"After we were defeated, again, by the school for the deaf last week, we have to win the next game against the Carmel Rams," he berated them as he walked. "Now, I want you to work harder, concentrate and," he turned to Finn, "pass... the... ball! We're a team, Hudson." Coach Tanaka bent down to be at eye-level with the basketball captain. "I don't want any more of your attitude. Got me?"

Finn scowled at no one in particular, obviously annoyed by his coach's remark. Coach rose to his full height and walked to the other end of the bleachers. Finn glanced at Puck and muttered, "Guess it would be easier to believe in the team if there weren't so many backstabbers on it."

The jocks all gave a sharp intake of breath ("That's cold!") and Puck's nonchalant expression quickly transformed to show his incredulity. He rolled his eyes and both he and Finn stood, preparing for a fight. Coach was between them in a heartbeat.

"This is not the time or place. Sit down." When neither of them made a move to sit, Coach pushed them down by their shoulders, forcing their behinds back onto the wooden bench. "All right, practice is over. Hit the showers… Except you two." He added, pointing at both teens. The rest of the team reluctantly left the gym. They wanted to be present when the fight between the former friends broke out.

"Keep walking, gentlemen. Azemio, I told you to keep walking," the coach hollered at his players. "Ellis, do you speak English? Yeah? Well then get out of my gym. NOW!"

Puck watched Finn, who sat with his hands between his knees, glare at the players as Coach pushed them out of the gym. It was unusual for Finn to be so angry. This was the guy who was more like Andre the Giant than Frankenstein. The guy who smiled during uncomfortable situations. Now he was the guy who kicked over chairs and had a permanent scowl on his face. Puck turned his attention from Finn to the coach. He smirked when he saw the coach yank Ellis by the jersey, shoving him forcefully back into the locker room. Idiot.

Puck leaned back on the bench, supporting his body weight on his hands. He was beat. Coach had made them do burpees in addition to the usual 20 laps around the gym. His entire body was killing him; his pecs felt like they were on fire, his arms felt like rubber and he knew that walking would be near impossible for the rest of the week. He straightened up once he saw that the coach was on his way back.

"Gentlemen." Coach placed his hands on his hips. "I see that you two are having a bit of trouble seeing eye-to-eye. I have no qualms with you hating one another's guts, but I don't want it to affect our chances at State."

"Coach..." Finn began, but Coach just raised a hand to silence him. He raised his eyebrows and continued.

"Puckerman is our best player, Hudson. I don't care if you like it or not. So, unless you want me to relieve you of your captaincy, I suggest you start acting more like a team player." Puck smiled to himself. That's right little bitch. I'm better than you for once in my life. Suck it.

Finn clenched his jaw, yanking his water bottle off of the bench, and stalked out of the gym, forcefully pushing the shower room doors open, creating an echo that bounced off the walls in the gym. Coach turned to look at Puck and nodded once to show that their little meeting was over. He pulled his pants up, revealing more of his thigh, and walked to his office. Puck watched his coach leave the gym, indifference etched on his face, before peeling himself slowly off of the bench. He walked to his gym locker, already deciding he would shower at home. There was no way Puck was going to risk being in the shower room alone with Finn. He knew that he could take him (sure, Finn was big, but he didn't have much fighting experience. Hell, I'm the one in the fight club, he thought with a smirk), but he wasn't about to prove it. Puck knew that what he and Quinn had done to his former friend had been terrible, but he just didn't get how an understanding and all-around nice guy like Finn wouldn't just get over it. It had been four months. Talk about holding a grudge.

Puck grabbed his clothes and bags from his locker and walked straight to the main hallway, hoping to catch up to Quinn and give her a ride home. He walked to the choir room, saw that the lights were off and headed to her locker, instead.

Puck took out his cell and text Quinn.

You still here?

Moments later, Quinn responded.

Yeah, we're in the cafeteria. I was hungry.

Puck smiled to himself. There was nothing cuter than Quinn's psychotic food cravings: chocolate dipped pickles and bananas covered in orange jam were now normal snack choices for her.

He text Quinn, again.

Great. Do you need a ride?

He pursed his lips, shaking his head at the memory of Finn's anger. Why couldn't the dumbass just get over it? His phone beeped with Quinn's reply.

No thanks. Rachel offered me a ride.

Puck sighed and walked to the exit, still wearing his sweaty clothes from practice.

Quinn sat across from Rachel in the cafeteria, biting into a potato chip and taking a bite out of a chocolate bar. It was a strange mix, but Quinn wanted something sweet and salty and, since the cafeteria was closed, she had no other choice than to eat chips and a candy bar.

Rachel watched her, smiling uncomfortably, a look of disgust creeping on her face every so often. She cleared her throat and stared at her notebook.

"Okay Quinn. We've narrowed it down to two songs: Dionne Warwick's 'Heartbreaker' and Leona Lewis' 'Bleeding Love'," Quinn nodding as she chewed. "To be perfectly frank," Rachel continued, "I really don't think that Dionne Warwick is a very good choice. For one, this song is antiquated and second, a song by Leona Lewis will be much more accessible given our fellow glee clubbers' limited musical knowledge and taste."

Quinn was mid-chew when Rachel started to veto her song selection. She swallowed, glared at the other girl and said, "Rachel, why does everything have to be about you?" Rachel was caught off-guard, her mouth popping open in surprise. Quinn continued, "The world does not revolve around Rachel Berry. And what do you know about Dionne Warwick when most of your music knowledge comes from Broadway?"

Quinn stuffed her face with more chips, biting down on her Hershey's chocolate bar again. She wanted to intimidate Rachel, but looked more like a chipmunk, instead.

Rachel's huge brown eyes were perfect circles of surprise. She swallowed hard and smiled, "You're right, Quinn. I shouldn't be so bossy." The smile left her face and she raised one of her eyebrows. "But please don't bite my head off like that. I understand that you're stressed out and unhappy and confused and alone, but I do have musical knowledge." Rachel tapped her fingers on the table and bit her lower lip, avoiding Quinn's eyes. Just then, her face lit up and she smiled excitedly. "I've got it! As a compromise, we can do a mash-up of these two songs. You'll sing the 'Heartbreaker' parts and I'll sing 'Bleeding Love'. How does that sound?"

Quinn raised her left eyebrow, contemplating Rachel's compromise.

"Deal."

"Perfect!" Rachel hugged Quinn and the other girl tensed. Jeez, what is with Rachel? She gets too excited too fast. When Rachel finally released Quinn from her tight embrace, Quinn blinked several times, her face showing her discomfort. Rachel, however, looked ecstatic and had tears in her brown eyes. Uh-oh… I sense a Hallmark movie moment, Quinn panicked.

"Quinn," Rachel began, grabbing Quinn's hands in her small ones. "I want to say that I'm so glad we're finally friends." Rachel smiled (She thinks we're friends?). "After the rough times we've had since I moved here from Connecticut with my two dads in grade three and you told everyone in our class to ignore me if they wanted to save themselves from fire and brimstone in the after-life," Quinn smirked, but Rachel kept talking, oblivious to Quinn's reaction. "I can safely say that I treasure our friendship." Quinn looked guilty and the expression on her face softened. She looked down at her hands, her long eyelashes hiding her shame.

Rachel continued. "I know I'm selfish and bossy and grating and too ambitious, often ignoring everyone in my life, but I know that I'm also kind and loyal and willing to admit when I've done wrong. So," there was a slight catch in Rachel's voice. "I'm sorry."

It felt like an eternity before Quinn looked up, her eyes full of guilt. She swallowed and smiled at Rachel.

"No, Rachel. I'm the one who's sorry." Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn silenced her with a smile. "I've made your life in Lima a nightmare. I spread rumours about you, coerced people into ignoring you and relished every one of the slushie facials Puck gave you."

Rachel tightened her grip on Quinn's hands. "I understand why you did it, Quinn. Your family's background is even more conservative than the Bush family's." The girls shared another smile. Quinn remembered all of the times she and Santana had called Rachel a tranny. Or the times she bad-mouthed Rachel to Finn in the hopes of making his "crush" on her evaporate. Though, the more Quinn thought about it, the more she realized that Finn's feelings for Rachel were deeper than a schoolboy crush: his smile was wider, his eyes more tender and his overall disposition was happier when he was with Rachel. Realization dawned on Quinn: ever since the third grade, Quinn had always seen Rachel as competition. It was because of that knowledge, knowledge that Quinn had managed bury deep inside, that she had clung to Finn.

Looking at Rachel, a girl whose emotions were proudly put on display like a work of art, fluctuating from supreme bliss to the depths of despair, Quinn realized that she could learn from her. If she envied Rachel's ability to be so open and free, shouldn't she at least try emulating Rachel's disposition?

"I never loved Finn," Quinn confessed, breaking the silence. She looked at her hands in Rachel's hands, wondering why she didn't pull away. Looking up at Rachel, Quinn saw that Rachel's face showed understanding and empathy. How can she look at me like that when I've been so terrible to her? Quinn pressed her lips together in the hope of keeping the tears at bay. "I saw him as my key to success in high school. You know, my parents were homecoming King and Queen when they were in their sophomore year here at McKinley. They always pressured me about being popular—stressing how it helped them get ahead in life." Quinn laughed mirthlessly. "I think my popularity was the one thing that they truly prided themselves on and without Finn, I was scared that I wouldn't have that approval or affection."

Quinn bit down on her lips, her eyes brimming with shiny new tears.

This was a rare moment for both girls; one had never had a real friend who trusted her with their secrets, while the other, more popular girl, never trusted anyone. Both were taught to fend for themselves and be independent, but 16 year-olds have the right to lean on others and the kinship that they found in one another was to be expected.

The girls stayed quiet, both wondering how their relationship had taken this turn after the events that happened in December, when Rachel's love for Finn, her first and only friend, combined with her romantic ulterior motives had led her to reveal Quinn and Puck's dreaded secret. If Quinn had never loved Finn, the fact that she'd slept with Noah made better sense. But it still didn't explain why the President of the Celibacy Club had lost her virginity to the Jewish playboy. Worrying her lip nervously, Rachel took a deep breath.

"Why did you sleep with Puck?" Rachel's direct question startled Quinn. She pursed her lips, contemplating how she could answer Rachel's question truthfully. No one had ever asked her that and she had never had the courage to be honest with herself in that respect, either.

Quinn sighed, her breath catching in her chest when she realized she didn't quite know how to answer her... didn't know if she wanted to, either. She exhaled slowly, a mirthless smile creeping on her face, as she thought back to that evening in early August.

If I'm being honest, I guess I never would have had sex with Puck if three things hadn't happened:

1) Mom and dad hadn't gone to visit my sister Kate last summer, leaving me home alone.

2) Santana, Brittany and Finn hadn't ditched me for "family time".

3) I hadn't run into Puck that day.

I was running out of food for the week, so I went grocery shopping. I saw Puck almost as soon as I entered the store. Since he constantly insulted Finn whenever he saw me, annoying me to no end, I avoided him. Puck was Finn's best friend, but he was an asshole. He loved pissing me off and would do anything to make me angry.

It seems that he hadn't seen me and, after he'd grabbed the fabric softener from the rack, he bee-lined for the checkout. I was in no hurry, so I browsed through the fruits and veggies, checking over my shoulder every so often to make sure that Puck was in fact leaving.

When I couldn't see him anywhere in the store anymore, I made my way to the check-out.

"Hey, Fabray," came a deep voice from behind me. "Fancy bumpin' into you at the Quick-N-Go." I slowly turned, my face already twisted into a condescending smile.

"Hello, Puck." He smiled, revealing his white teeth.

"You need a ride home?" He asked, motioning to my shopping bags.

"No thank you," I replied, avoiding his hands as he reached out to grab my bags. I kept walking, but Puck was right behind me the whole time.

"So, have you heard from your loser boyfriend? He emailed me the other day about really missing you." Puck grinned, laughing to himself about Finn. "He wanted me to make sure you weren't too bored now that your worshippers are gone."

"Worshippers?" I asked, my bags weighing heavily in my arms.

"Yeah, Satan and Bitch are gone... Finn's gone. Hell, do you have any friends?" He jumped on my car's trunk, smirking at me as I rummaged through my purse for my keys. I shot him a glare, setting my bags on the concrete. Finally fishing out my keys, I was thankful that I would be leaving Puck soon.

"Leave me alone," I stressed. He jumped off the trunk, took my keys from my hands and popped it open for me. He put the shopping bags in and tossed the keys back in my direction.

"Guess you won't need a ride," he smiled. For a moment, I saw something in his smile that looked like regret. His eyes were soft and the shadow of a smile on his lips. "I'll see you around, Quinn." He backed away from me, leaving me completely confused. Biting my lower lip, I thought about what he'd said.

I didn't have too many friends. Being popular, you have a select group of people you hang out with. Finn, Santana and Brit were gone... all of the other Cheerios were too dumb (dumber than Brittany, if you can imagine) for me to bother with... Puck really was my best choice. I sighed, deciding to swallow my pride for the sake of not spending another dull evening alone.

"Puck!" I called out to the plaid-wearing figure five cars away. He turned, his usual smirk in place.

"Yes, Quinnie?" he called back, his hand cupped over his left ear, as though he couldn't hear me.

"Come here!"

"I'm sorry?" he strained, motioning to his ears and shaking his head.

"COME HERE!" I practically yelled. He made an "O"-shape with his lips and jogged back to my car, casting a lopsided grin in my direction. God, he was such a smart-ass!

"Finn's right. I am pretty bored. We're going swimming." I informed him.

"Excuse me?" Puck scoffed. "I am not going swimming. None of the public swimming pools in Lima are up to my standards of cleanliness." I rolled my eyes.

"Well, what pools do you approve of?" I glared at him, regretting my decision.

"Your family owns a pool, Fabray," I shook my head. "I would clean it before-hand, free of charge," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I shook my head again, setting my jaw and glaring at him. Even spending ten minutes with him was exhausting. Ever since we hit puberty, Puck felt the need to act like a pig. I mouthed 'No,' and he shrugged.

"Well, then you can kiss your idea buh-bye," he shrugged, already turning on his heel.

Damn my need for social interaction! Since when did I need people?

"Fine," I relented, shaking my head in annoyance at my weakness. "But you're not cleaning my pool. We have our own pool cleaner." Puck rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll meet you at your place around 7:00?"

I climbed into my car. "Sure," I said over my shoulder. He waved as I drove away and I found myself wondering why I even wanted to hang out with him in the first place. We weren't what you would call friends. It was more that we were forced into the same social situations given that we had mutual friends. I mean, Puck and I had been close in elementary, but he pulled away in grade six. He started drinking and chewing tobacco, often skipping class. The only person he talked to was Finn, but he avoided me. If I'm being honest, it hurt at first, but I soon got used to our new relationship. When he started dating Lima's finest (gag) teenage girls, I'll admit that it sometimes hurt that he ignored me. I was popular with guys and I always wondered why Puck never approached me on Thursday to make plans for a Saturday night date.

... Not that I cared.

Puck arrived at my house, bringing wine coolers and beer that some college guys had bought for him at the 7-Eleven. I was in my bathing suit, a red and white bikini that my mother had insisted I buy for the summer. Pretty girls flaunt their bodies, Quinnie, she had told me the day I bought it.

If I'm being honest, I liked the way Puck kept looking at me as we splashed one another in the pool. Soon, Puck cracked open the beers and wine coolers, throwing a few flirty smiles in my direction. It was the first time we'd hung out one-on-one in years. Normally, we'd be surrounded by tons of people—the football team, the Cheerios squad, people that were cool by association. Being alone with Puck, near-naked and inebriated by the alcohol, he didn't seem as crass as he usually did. His lopsided grins, which normally reminded me of the asshole he was, put a spell on me. His deep voice, which often intimidated me, made me hang on his every word. He made me laugh, told me about his sister Hannah and listened to me bitch and moan about Finn and Cheerios. He didn't complain once.

"And now," I laughed. "Ms Sylvester has called for a practice this coming Wednesday! Ugh. Have one lousy weigh-in and the world thinks you're a heifer." My lips quivered, remembering what Coach had said, "Q, do you even care if people can hold you up? Or do you think you're so high and mighty that you'll just float to the top of the pyramid? I have news for you, Virgin Mary, unless you lose those 3 pounds, you can forget about the Cheerios captaincy! Don't disappoint me!"

Puck stared at me, his face full of tenderness, a smile growing on his face.

"You know you're perfect, right?" He asked, brushing a loose curl out of my face. "Sylvester wishes she was you, Quinn. That, and I'm pretty convinced she's the anti-Christ, so…"

I smiled at Puck and I doubted the existence of my legs—rather than feeling solid, as though my body was firmly on the ground, my legs felt felt numb and tingly. I was thankful we weren't swimming anymore but were sitting by the side of my family's pool, stargazing and talking, instead. Puck looked at me and got up. He helped me to my feet and laughed at the way I teetered before him.

"Jesus, Fabray. You cannot hold your liquor."

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain," I scolded, unable to stop from laughing when I saw his eyes roll. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my shoulders as we walked inside.

If I'm being honest, I really didn't have that much to drink. I'd drunk before at parties and I knew my limit was three. That night with Puck, I only drank two wine coolers, but it was enough to make me ooze with confidence, every sip of that wine cooler making my feelings for Puck surface. Warming my stomach with a nervous energy I couldn't quite place.

If I'm being honest, I saw how his hands—hands I'd seen every day since pre-Kindergarten—helped steady me as we went up the stairs. Anchoring my body against his as we climbed up to my room. If I'm being honest, I noticed how his arms—arms I'd ignored every day since junior high—were tanned and sinewy. If I'm being honest, I breathed him deep—his scent making me weak in the knees—savouring the combination of chlorine and a fresh mowed lawn. If I'm being honest, I couldn't look away from his eyes—for once letting myself notice the golden flecks around his pupils—as he said 'good night, Quinn' while he tucked me in. If I'm being honest, I was drawn to his lips—slightly parted, practically taunting me—inches away from my own. Being that close to him, with these often ignored feelings making themselves known, I shortened the distance between our mouths and placed my lips on his.

If I'm being honest, I made the first move.

I knew he was caught off-guard, but he kissed me back. He pulled away, his eyebrows stitching together in confusion. He looked into my eyes, gauging my reaction, and kissed me again. I deepened our kiss, opening my mouth to trace my tongue over his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open. I slid my tongue inside his mouth and he eagerly kissed me back. He sucked on my bottom lip, his teeth slightly nibbling my flesh. I breathed him in, a sigh catching in my throat.

He lay on top of me and we continued making out. My hands greedily pulled his face closer to mine, while his hands tenderly stroked my hair, combing the blond strands carefully. He kissed me along my neck, his tongue grazing my jaw line. My breath was getting more rushed and I soon felt the tightening in his swimming trunks against my thigh. We were both damp from the evening spent swimming, our hair sticking to our foreheads.

It all happened so fast. We were kissing one another one minute, and then he was gently thrusting inside me, wiping the few tears that escaped, the next.

I was annoyed with Puck, but hated myself for betraying Finn. So, obviously, I lashed out at Puck. It was easier to blame him than accept the fact I'd chosen him. And as soon as it was over, I yelled at him to leave. If I'm being honest, I just couldn't bring myself to acknowledge that my feelings for him were there, making themselves known because of alcohol.

If I'm being honest, I'm not always honest.

Quinn swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Having realized that the night's events were mostly her doing and not, as she'd proclaimed, because of Puck, greatly affected her. If she were honest with herself, she would realize that the butterflies, the tension, the night of her little girl's conception all added to one simple fact.

Having been inspired by Rachel's ability to be open with her emotions, Quinn finally admitted the one truth that scared her into denial.

"I guess I kind of love him," she said softly.

Rachel smiled at Quinn again. She knew that this was probably the first time that Quinn had allowed herself to admit the extent of her feelings for Puck. She knew what it felt like to be Quinn (ostracized, ridiculed and alone) and knew that getting up in the morning was difficult. Quinn was brave.

Rachel Berry knew that she was selfish, bossy, grating and often neglected others in her life to achieve her goals, but… she also knew when people needed help and in that moment, Rachel knew that Quinn was practically begging for her assistance. (Quinn may not have said it outright, but Rachel is psychic, after all.)

"Quinn," Rachel started. "Do you want to keep the baby?" Quinn blinked but couldn't bring herself to answer. She'd already been too honest with Rachel and she was still unsure about how she felt about the baby growing inside her. The tears in her eyes overflowed and Rachel pulled her in for another hug, whispering, "It's going to be fine," over and over again as she rubbed her back.

Quinn had heard these words many times before, but this time, she actually believed them.

Puck pulled up to his house, swinging his backpack over his left shoulder and dragging his gym bag along. He was beat. Coach was a real dick for making them work so hard today, but Puck was overjoyed that he was McKinley's star player. 'Bout time I get some recognition. Finn was the glory whore for so long. He reached his front door and swung the door open.

"I'm home!" he called out, throwing his stuff on the linoleum.

The lights in the living room turned on. "Hello, Noah." His mom greeted him, her voice barely audible. She was sitting alone in the living room, her hands clasped together. It wasn't late, so it wasn't like Puck was breaking his curfew.

"What's up," he asked, confusion showing in all of his features. Okay, mom's home early and was sitting in the living room waiting for me. Shit. This reeks of trouble. As Puck rushed through his laundry list of recent exploits, his mom motioned for him to sit with her in the living room. Once her son was settled, she grabbed his right hand in both of hers. Puck looked at his mom, noticing the tears pooling in her deep brown eyes.

"Mom, what's up?"

"I ran into Mrs. Hudson at the grocery store this morning before work." A lightbulb went off in Puck's head and he averted his eyes; he couldn't bear to look her in the eye anymore. Quinn had warned him to tell her and now it was too late. His mom knew and now the only person in the world who believed in him, trusted him and truly loved him, was disappointed in him. "Is there anything you want to tell me… about you… about Finn," she tried looking Puck in the eyes. "…About Quinn?"

Puck's calm face contorted, but he couldn't bring himself to cry. He hadn't cried since the night his dad left nine years ago and he sure as hell wasn't going to cry tonight. He swallowed hard, gathering all of his broken courage, and looked into his tired mother's eyes.

"Quinn's pregnant," he said. Though she knew the truth, his mother still gasped in surprise. It was as though she had allowed herself to doubt until her son confessed. "And I'm the father," he finished, his tone a bit defiant.

With those four simple words, his mother crumpled in her chair and wept uncontrollably. Puck stroked her weathered hands, knowing that nothing he said would make things better. And though his hazel eyes were dry, Puck couldn't help the lump from forming in his throat or the weight bearing down on his chest at the knowledge that he had hurt the one person in his life that had a good opinion of him.

AN: Hopefully you all liked this chapter! I always like writing flashback-type stuff! If you can, please leave me a review. :) oh, and if you're lucky, I might have Chapter Four up by Saturday evening! WOOT.