2
'Cause I Can't Ignore It

"RACHEL BARBRA BERRY!"

Rachel flinched. Oh, she wasn't going to hear the end of it this time.

"WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!"

Perhaps this wasn't one of her best ideas, but then again, wallowing has never gone hand-in-hand with exercising, and even though she loved dancing, she couldn't dance away her problems or clear her head that way. Yoga only freed her mind from worrying about school so she was forced to focus on the things she wanted to distract herself from. Singing only resulted in her singing songs that related all-too-well to her predicament.

So…she baked.

And baked.

And baked some more after that.

"Are you trying to give us diabetes?!" Leroy Berry demanded, spinning around and around as he stared at the obscene amount of pastries that covered every flat surface of his kitchen. "I didn't even know we had this many pans! Or ingredients! Rachel, what is this?! What—"

And then his eyes finally landed on his daughter who was standing next to the oven, holding a batch of cupcakes fresh out of the oven with a broken expression that immediately brought back the violent tendencies he'd worked so hard to tamper down many years ago.

"What happened?! Who hurt you?! Did Jesse start throwing whole rotisserie chickens at you this time? If you tell me that he laid a finger on you, I'm gonna go all apeshit on that kid's ass! Where the hell is my chainsaw?!"

"No, Dad!" Rachel shrieked, practically tossing the pan onto a free space on the counter and throwing her oven-mitted hands around her father's broad torso in attempt to stop him from reaching for the knife stand.

"No, it's not Jesse?! Because I'm more than happy to break someone else's face! Is it that numbnuts with the mullet?! He's a walking target for anyone who's itching to chop things up!"

"No, it's not Rick Nelson! Dad, stop!"

"Oh, my—IS MERCEDES BITCHING OUT ON YOU AGAIN?!"

"NO, IT'S NOT MERCEDES! CALM DOWN!"

He suddenly gasped, and Rachel could swear his eyes dilated. "IS SHELBY BACK?!"

"FINN PROPOSED!"

He immediately froze in Rachel's arms, and she knew it just went from bad to apocalyptic. In a move that fully convinced her that Noah may have been right in thinking that her father was hiding a lot more than he let on, Leroy reached around and detached his daughter from his back, backed her into a corner, and yanked off the left oven mitt. When he didn't see a ring, his eyes slowly rose to meet hers, and she knew that Burt and Carole would be getting a call in a few minutes.

"You didn't say yes," he growled menacingly.

Rachel swallowed. "I told him to give me a few more days."

Leroy's eyes narrowed. "So you're not going to accept, right? Asking for a couple days to think it through is basically just a front for buying time to find the best way to let him down, right?"

"I—"

"Right?"

Staring into her father's dark, manic eyes, Rachel knew that no matter how many years if training she received, she would never be able to lie to this man. "I don't know, Dad."

Leroy sighed, but his shoulders remained tense. He pulled off the other oven mitt and took Rachel's little hands in his own, lifting them up to kiss her knuckles.

"Princess," he said warmly, "I love you. You know that, right?"

She nodded.

"And you know that I only want what's best for you, right?"

She nodded again.

"And you know that I think Finn's always been a...a good kid, right?"

She grimaced a little but nodded again.

"So if your answer starts leaning toward acceptance, I need you to know that I can't give my approval."

Rachel blinked, her heart racing as her eyes burned. The grip on her hands got tighter and Leroy held her gaze.

"I had hoped that this new chapter of your relationship with Finn was about maturity. This was the kid that left you in a goddamn Christmas tree lot, remember?"

Rachel blanched. "Who told?"

"You think you can call Aviva, ask her to pick you up, and expect that she wouldn't tell us?" Leroy answered dryly. "I hoped that's be able to figure his life out and use his brain once in a while, but that doesn't seem to be the case. You're truthful with me, and I'm thankful for that, but I know you glaze over a lot of things or you're just completely oblivious to them. I can't condone that. I can't give you my approval to marry a guy who's not good for you. Do you understand? No right-minded father could let his daughter get married in high school let alone marry an idiot. He fed you meat, and you spent half the night throwing up, remember? What the hell? If he can't even remember you're vegan after three years, I shudder to think of what happens to your baby."

"BABY?!"

The man's timing was incredible.

"Oh, shit," Leroy breathed as a crash sounded from the front door.

The rapid footsteps thundered into the kitchen until Hiram Berry flew into the kitchen, glasses askew, his entire head red with rage. "BABY?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT A BABY?! GOD KNOWS I WANT TO BE A GRANDFATHER BUT I'M TOO YOUNG FOR THAT! I HAD IT ALL MAPPED OUT! I STILL HAD A COUPLE MORE YEARS TO GET THINGS READY AND TO START BUILDING UP MY GRANDCHILDREN'S COLLEGE FUNDS! I FIT IT ALL ACCORDING TO YOUR TIMELINE, AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT—"

"HIRAM!"

"Daddy, I'm not pregnant! Finn proposed!"

Hiram stopped, his chest heaving. "Oh."

Leroy glared. "As if that's any better!"

Hiram just shrugged and picked a cookie off the nearest baking sheet. "Well, she won't say yes."

"How do you know?!" Leroy demanded at the same time Rachel burst out with, "What?!"

"It doesn't fit into her life plan at this stage. According to stage four, that particular window of opportunity won't open for another four years," Hiram replied confidently, previous rage forgotten. "And besides, I knew your Dad would never let it happen."

"Damn straight," Leroy grumbled.

Rachel bit her lip. "What if I accepted under the condition that—"

"No," Leroy said adamantly. "I'm not hearing the word 'yes' come out of your mouth for another five years."

"Four," Hiram corrected him through a mouthful of cookie.

"She wouldn't even be able to drink at her own wedding!" Leroy protested. "I say five."

Hiram nodded understandingly. "Makes sense."

Leroy turned back to Rachel and sighed. "Sweetheart, look, we love you and we're happy that you're in love, but you're seventeen and your Daddy and I were not raised as the types of people who think it's absolutely adorable and romantic for two teenagers to get married straight out of high school. It was okay in A Walk to Remember because Mandy Moore was dying and it effectively reduced you and Daddy into little puddles of tears in the living room, but you do not have leukemia—thank God—and Finn is an idiot and wouldn't able to assemble a telescope without breaking something. Can you see why we can't exactly encourage you to follow your heart?"

Rachel frowned. "My heart?"

Hiram stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "There are times you follow your heart, my little diva, and times that your heart must adhere to your head. You're in high school. And after hearing about the recent revelation that Finn's father OD'd because of his post-traumatic stress disorder from Mrs. Levi, I'd say that Finn didn't completely think his proposal through. We're just asking you to be the brains of this relationship right now."

Leroy suddenly tugged Hiram away and tilted Rachel's face up, eyes narrowed. "You're not...are you? You're not going to accept."

Yes. Her father had to have been a spy. Or he was related to the real-life Leroy Jethro Gibbs. NO. Maybe he was the inspiration!

"Dad? Daddy?"

Leroy glanced at Hiram worriedly before turning back to Rachel. "What is it?"

"Did you know that my favorite slushy flavor was grape?"

"Good morning!"

Puck jumped, nearly dropping his gigantic-ass Anatomy book on his foot. He turned to see a cute little midget with a voice as loud as Chewbacca's. And—HOLY SHIT!

"Whoa," he muttered, eyes widening as he took in her appearance.

"What?" Rachel asked, her gigantic smile disappearing as she patted her clothes and hair self-consciously. "What is it?"

Puck was staring fixedly on the black skirt he hadn't seen in years. "What up with the wardrobe change, Berry?"

She tried to hide a smile by ducking her head, but she wasn't that short and he could still see it. "It was warm today, and I thought it'd be a nice change—a, uh, throwback for nostalgia's sake."

And then he noticed the white shirt and the pink cardigan. And then he smirked. "Nostalgia?"

"Yes, Noah. It's a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations," Rachel answered matter-of-factly.

Pick slowly raised an eyebrow and smiled a little wider. "I know what that means, midget, but I don't know why you'd be nostalgic about that."

Rachel blinked and felt her heart rate kick up. He remembered.

She expertly hid the deep breath she took before answering, "I liked the outfit. You said it was the closest to normal I ever dressed."

He snorted and shut his locker. "So what do you want this time?"

"W-What?"

"Last time you came up to me, you had me sing 'Need You Now' to make Hudson jealous," Puck pointed out, brushing past her on his way to class. "As fun as that was, you're engaged, and I'm done screwing with St. Hudson's life."

"I'm not engaged!" she hissed, trailing after him.

"Hudson proposed. It's pretty much established that you'd say 'yes,'" he said over his shoulder.

She pursed her lips and quickened her pace until she was right beside him. "For your information, I haven't given him an answer."

Puck raised his eyebrow again. "Yeah, you're totally getting hitched."

She rolled her eyes and suppressed a growl of frustration. "Noah, I am not getting married; I am getting irritated."

"I told you before, and I'm gonna say it again—I don't know what kind of kinky games you and Hudson play, Berry. I'm not helping you make him—"

"Finn would have no reason to be jealous because I'm not going to perform in front of him," she said calmly. "I just need help."

Puck's expression suddenly shifted into a dark glare as he stopped and faced her. "Did Jewfro steal your panties again?"

She wouldn't think about it. She would remember the yogic discipline of ahimsa, of nonviolence. She would not think about how his protectiveness and how much she..liked it.

"No, I need help with music," she said instead.

His eyes widened and he leaned back in surprise. "You shittin' me, right?"

She gaped at his abhorrent abuse of the English language. "I can assure you that I am not kidding you!"

"What could you possibly need my help with? You're the damned Broadway prodigy or something."

"Yes, but I need help with my lower registers. I'm very good with big numbers and power ballads and such, but it's the understated songs that I have to learn to master as well. Take, for instance, Holly Holiday's rendition of 'Landslide.' It was soft and mournful, without much high notes. I would go to Santana or maybe even Mercedes for help, but I doubt the club could handled two extra swelled egos."

"So you come to me? I don't know how to help you."

"Well, your very first solo was on a lower register than what you sing now," she pointed out. "And your crudeness and vulgarities are effective tools to keeping me from getting out of hand—"

"So, what? You want me yell cuss words at you when you start wailing those high notes?" He looked torn between horrified and highly amused.

This was such a badly-thought-out plan. Most definitely not one of her better ideas.

"I-I-If you deem it necessary," she stammered. "Bringing songs to an entirely new level is involuntary to me now—hence my rendition of David Guetta and Usher's 'Without You.'"

"Which kicked ass," he offered casually.

She blushed and smiled a little. "Well, thank you, Noah. I'm glad you liked it. But I still need your help."

He snorted and shook his head. "Are you on crack or something?"

She glared up at him and stifled the urge to stomp her foot. "I'm asking you for help! If—"

"Calm your nipples, Berry."

Her jaw dropped lower than she ever thought it could. "Excuse me—"

He smirked. "Oh, yeah, sure, you're excused."

"Stop interrup—"

He winked. "Just testing shit out. Chill. Don't you have class?"

She shook her head. "I have a free period."

He nodded contemplatively before gesturing her to follow him. "Come on then. Let's start trying to take the drama out of the diva."

"You don't have a class?" she asked, almost jogging to keep up with him.

He scoffed. "Been going to all my classes since the year started. I can afford to skip one. Besides, it's Schue. And after making me practice that goddamn synchronized swimming shit, I need a break from his face."

He shouldered open the door to the choir room, and she took note of how he held it open and let her go in first. She looked around, and for the first time, she was just slightly uncomfortable.

He dropped his bag next to the leg of the piano and picked up the acoustic guitar on the nearby stand.

"You gonna sit down or what?" he asked suspiciously, taking a seat on one of the stools and tuning the guitar.

She licked her lips and opted for the piano stool in front of him. "What are we going to sing?"

But it seemed that he was operating on a different wavelength because instead of answering her, he said, "I'm not gonna cuss at you."

"That doesn't sound like any song I know."

"No shit," he remarked blandly. "Instead of me yelling at you like some psycho abuser and end up getting suspended, expelled, or fucking arrested again, for every high note you try and make, you're gonna have to sing a Weird Al song."

She shook her head, not quite believing her ears. "A Weird Al Yankovic song? Are you serious?"

"As serious as AIDS, baby," he answered with an evil grin. "And you're gonna have to do it in front of the gleeks."

"But that's stupid!"

"Well, you better not hit any high notes then. If you can catch yourself in time and fuck up the note on purpose, then you're fine, but of you hit it, you're gonna be singing a parody."

She pulled out her show smile and kept her eye from twitching too much. "Deal."

He grimaced at her expression and then waved his hand over her face. "Quit that. You look fucking crazy, and if you're gonna be singing a soft ballad, you better not look like you're trying to sing 'Before the Parade Passes By' or something."

And then her show smile brightened into a real one. "You've seen Hello! Dolly?"

"Ma and Bekah were watching it last night," he grumbled sourly. "And Streisand was kind of a babe back then—except for the creepy long nails and shit."

She sighed and leaned an elbow against the fallboard of the piano. "Oh, Noah. Can't you just say you liked it like a normal person?"

He strummed a perfectly-tuned chord. "Can't you sing a song without crying?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he smirked. "That's not the same thing."

"We all do things and appreciate shit in our own way, Berry. Don't hate," he said. "Now shut up and sing."

He plucked out a soft melody that she immediately recognized and made her heart begin to race again. Outwardly, she glared at the low key he'd taken, but her fingers trembled as she waited for her cue, and when he jerked an eyebrow, she started to sing so softly that it was almost just a whisper above the gentle chords of the guitar.

"Love me tender, love me sweet. Never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so."

Of course she knew how to tone down her voice; she'd babysat before. She was an expert at lullabies. She wasn't lying when she said she needed to work on her lower registers, but it wasn't an issue that would necessitate the help of anyone else. But there was something she needed to see for herself—a look, a smile, anything.

"Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled. For my darling, I love you, and I always will."

He lifted his eyes from his guitar to smile at her the same way he did in "Need You Now" and then began to harmonize with her, tilting his head the same way he'd done before too.

And there it was, the things she hadn't noticed before but what she was looking for now: the softness in his eyes, the easy smile, the way he sat up just a little straighter, and the deep smoothness of his voice that melded so beautifully with hers.

And then she smiled because she'd suddenly developed a craving for a grape slushy.

It wasn't as if she'd been living in a vague stupor, and all of a sudden she'd woken up to see the fogs had lifted to let the sunlight through. The analogy she'd decided on during the car ride to school was that she'd stepped out of the artificial light and into a thunderstorm that she'd have to survive through to get to the sunlight. She wasn't in love with Noah—most definitely not—and in spite of her experiment with him in the choir room the day before, she couldn't say with a legitimate amount of certainty that he actually liked her in that way. The most it said was that he was protective and more than a little partial to her—his alleged "hot little Jewish-American princess"—not that he had any feelings for her. It was an assumption she couldn't risk making.

But she, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. There was still that undeniable, uncontrollable, unbelievable gravitational pull that he had on her—may it be because of his bad boy image, the fact that he'd been the first boy on her bed, or that they were indeed two hot Jews and it was natural. Either way, she was developing feelings for him—real feelings that weren't based on some fairytale fantasy she'd cooked up. They were founded on real, solid evidence, and that scared her.

Because here she was, a proposal hanging over her head, while she contemplated her growing affections for someone else.

How did her life go from simple to complicated?

Well...probably the same way Finn went from a hero to a louse and Noah from a sharp pebble to a diamond in the rough.

So she did what any normal, insecure seventeen year-old girl would do in that situation. She avoided them like they both had leprosy.

Well, she could avoid Noah with ease considering they hardly ever spoke anyway, and her asking for his help hadn't really changed that. But Finn was a problem. The ring was probably burning a hole in his pocket, and she surmised that his need to validate his own life by cementing her place in it was making him just a tad bit desperate.

On top of worrying about the sudden love triangle that she'd managed to find herself in again, Rachel already had regionals and her NYADA application to worry about, so the day Finn finally cornered her in the hallway, she was almost on the very edge of cracking. And unfortunately, his presence and the sudden emergence of Noah from a nearby classroom did nothing to alleviate her worries.

Her ears heard, "So it's been five days, Rach, and this ring is still waiting for its home." But all she could see were the hazel eyes that found and winked at her from down the hallway.

Then she turned tail and ran.

And unfortunately, Finn had followed her gaze, spotted Puck, and immediately put two and five together to come up with eight-hundred and ninety-six.

Puck was just standing at his locker, you know—wondering if he had to read for history and answer questions for anatomy or read for anatomy and answer questions for history and when the fuck he started worrying about homework in general.

He decided on just texting either Mike or Sam instead of straining his brain when he slammed his locker door shut and almost had a heart attack when he saw that Finn had been standing behind it.

"Jesus Christ! The hell are you doing hiding like that for, you fucking creeper?" Puck grumbled, clutching his chest and turning to walk away.

Him and his little girlfriend—creepers, the both of them. If this whole sneak-up-on-Puck shit was gonna be a normal thing, he was gonna start taking swings. And on the same vein, Puck figured that the ogre needed a favor too. Probably recruit the guys to sing a song to speed up Rachel's 'yes.'

"What did you do to Rachel?" was what he heard instead.

Oh, for fuck's sake. This was why he didn't wanna help her. This right here—this dumbfuckery that was gonna end up with a nuclear explosion of gleek drama that he'd been trying (and failing, obviously) to avoid all fucking year.

"I put her under anesthesia, switched her brain with T-Pain's, and then set her loose on Lima," Puck answered blandly, turned, and walked away.

"Puckerman, I'm serious," Finn growled, striding up beside him.

Puck had to consciously keep himself from rolling his eyes. Oh, yeah. As if using his full last name was totally supposed to make him stop and be like, "Oh, Finn. You'll be fine, buddy. Rachel loves you and will always be there to cushion every blow. Of course she'll say 'yes,' and y'all be living happily ever after." Damn baby.

"I'm serious too, dude," Puck said earnestly, glancing at Finn out of the corner of his eyes. "If you watch her closely enough, you can see her lips moving really fast. It's 'cause she's rapping under her breath."

Finn's hand suddenly dropped heavily on Puck's shoulder, yanking him to a stop and spinning him around. Puck had gotten his temper and use of involuntary violence under control since he started glee and stuff, but who the fuck likes being manhandled like that? He seriously almost punched the guy in the face.

"Look, it's been five days since I proposed to Rachel, and she still hasn't given me an answer, and when she saw you in the hallway earlier, she totally bolted. You did something to her," Finn said in an attempt to sound quietly menacing.

Fail.

Puck frowned in disbelief. "I haven't done shit to her, dude. Last time we talked, she asked for help with her lower registers or shit like that, and—"

"WHAT?!" Finn screeched, and Puck couldn't hold back the eye roll any longer.

"Singing, dude! She's a fucking soprano, but she wants to work on her lower octaves! God!"

"Why did she ask you for help?" Finn demanded. "I could've helped her better."

Puck cocked an eyebrow. No offense to drummers and shit 'cause those guys are fucking essential to holding the song together, but they can't exactly help with singing. Puck, on the other hand, was a guitarist, a bassist, a pianist, a drummer, and a singer. Yeah, Rachel coming to him instead of someone else made a lot more sense now, but it's not like he was gonna say it to Finn. Fucker might start crying or something.

"I have a deeper voice than you," Puck said instead, hoping it was enough of an explanation.

The guy legit pouted. Puck seriously began to contemplate buying him a diaper and a binky for his birthday.

"So why did she run off when she saw you?" Finn asked.

Puck shrugged. "She had to...pull away before my magnetism sucked her away from you?"

Finn's eyes narrowed. "Is this some sort of reverse psychology where you tell me what you're actually doing so that I'll think you're not actually doing it or something?"

Puck just blinked. "No, dude. It's a little something called sarcasm. Look, I don't know why you think I did something to her."

"Did you insult her or something? Did you criticize her singing? 'Cause you know she can be kind of sensitive about that, but if it's just something she blew out of proportion, then I can talk to her or something."

For some reason, that last sentence just didn't sit right with Puck. Don't ask him why; it just sounded weird. "No, she was fine. I didn't have to correct her or anything, and she sounded good. She thanked me and then left. I didn't even flirt with her or anything."

Puck could tell that Finn was still kind of stung that she didn't go to her own boyfriend for help, but the dude needed to just get over himself.

"You don't have to flirt. All you have to do is blink and they'll come running," Finn said, suddenly bitter.

"Uh, thanks?" Puck said uncertainly. What exactly do you say to that?

"And it's not like I don't have a reason to think—"

And now his switch was flipped.

"To think what, Finn?" Puck growled, stopping in his tracks to glare at the man-child. "You're taking shit to areas we agreed not to take shit anymore."

Finn stupidly met his glare straight-on. "You trespassed first."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Hudson," Puck said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm as his temper rose. "I don't even want your girl, okay? If there's anyone to point fingers at because of past indiscretions, it's you."

Finn took a step forward, but even though he was taller, Puck was the one with all the muscles. Too bad Finn was a bit too full of himself to store that little tidbit of information in his already-over-capacity skull. He couldn't store that and the fact that Rachel was a fucking Jewish vegan on top of all his delusions of grandeur.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Finn hissed.

"It means that I'm a manwhore, but when I date chicks, I'm a one-woman guy—with Lauren and with Rachel. You cheated on Quinn—twice, according to what you told me—and decided to take a leaf outta my book and convinced her to cheat on Sam with you too. Good job, asshat."

In retrospect, provoking the bumbling ogre with the low maximum brain capacity was definitely a bad idea. But then again, the ogre provoked the juvenile delinquent with a lot of bottled-up misplaced aggression and a penchant for setting things on fire, which was right on par with what stupid-enough ogres would do.

Either way, Puck and Finn's permanent records were thankful that Mike, Sam, Blaine, Kurt, and Rory converged before either of them landed any blows.

Mike, the unsung hero, leaped in between the two boys in such a ninja-like move that cemented his belief that he was a karate master in a past life, grabbing Finn's fist and using the taller boy's momentum to spin him around and yank him away from Puck. Sam and Blaine both had to jump on Puck and pin him against the wall as Rory and Mike mirrored their actions and shoved Finn up against the opposite wall. Kurt stood in the middle of the hallway, both hands outstretched as a last-resort barrier between the two.

"SAY THAT AGAIN, ASSHOLE!" Finn roared, struggling against Mike and Rory.

"YOU ARE A CHEATER!" Puck bellowed right back, practically lifting Sam and Blaine and surging forward, almost making it to Kurt in the middle before Sam and Blaine planted their feet and hauled him back. "SATISFIED?!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU! What the hell?!" Kurt screeched, glaring back and forth between Puck and Finn. "I thought you two had put your tumultuous pasts behind!"

"Finnessa's decided to come out of hibernation to bring it all back!" Puck growled.

"You're the one who went back to his old, cheating ways, manwhore!"

"Says the idiot who thought he knocked up his girlfriend via hot tub! You don't know shit!"

"What?! Cheating?! Who is cheating?!" Mike demanded.

"Puck! He's trying to steal Rachel away from me again!"

"Holy fuck! I don't want her, you dumbass! I don't want her and therefore would not try to steal her away from you! I don't understand how you can have so many fucking insecurities and still think that the sun shines out your ass!"

"Then why did she run?!" Finn cried.

"Here's a thought, numbskull: ASK HER! Don't accuse me of shit when I don't even know what the fuck is going on!" Puck barked, finally throwing off Sam and Blaine and turning to leave.