Spoilers: Up to The Rhodes Not Taken

Disclaimer: See first part.

Notes: Here's the next part! A little earlier than I thought, but I'm avoiding my stats work. Who else is excited for Wednesday? I just got the mash ups from iTunes. Love, love, love. Thank you so much to everyone for reviewing! I promise I don't really hate small dogs, though it may seem like it. Chapter title by Modest Mouse.

ii. thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell

It was a Sunday, less than a week from the next Glee competition. Puck was driving home from the market after an emergency garlic bread run. He and his mom didn't eat together during the week very often and she liked to go all out on Sundays. It was pouring rain with zero visibility and he was going way, way slower than he usually would have.

Up ahead there was a car on the side of the road. A purple Prius Shit. Just how many of those were there in Lima?

Next to the Prius there was a small figure, in a pink plaid blazer, struggling with a tire.

Purple Prius, pink plaid. Definitely Rachel Berry. Weekends were supposed to be Rachel free.

His first instinct was to speed up and soak her with dirty street water. She'd hate that. But Puck only contemplated that for a couple seconds. Okay, a minute, max. That was progress, right?

He drove past, kept his eyes on the road.

Then he got to thinking. Rachel was practically a midget. Probably didn't produce a huge amount of body heat. Not that he spent much time thinking about her body heat. Or her body.

Moving along.

Who knows how long she'd been out there? She was soaked and it was cold. What if she got sick? And her voice went? On the plus side: he wouldn't need to hear her speak. On the minus: they'd be totally fucked at the Glee meet.

And he did want to go to Nationals. They were being held in Atlanta and he'd never been.

God damn it. He did not want to do something nice for Rachel Berry. Stupid Rachel Berry and her stupid perfect voice.

He took a side street, turned, and did a loop through a cul-de-sac to come up behind her. He jacked up the heat and got out of his truck. Rachel barely glanced up before she yelled, "I have pepper spray! And I'm willing to use it!"

"Hey, now. Is that any way to treat a Good Samaritan?" Her hair was plastered to her face and her pants (and hey, she actually owned pants!) clung to her legs.

She squinted through the rain, "Puck? I thought you were a degenerate rapist."

"Nope."

"What are you doing here?" she sounded wary. Like he had psychic powers, and knew she'd be here, and had some rotten fruit saved up and handy for such an occasion.

"Singing in the rain, Berry, how 'bout you?"

"My tire's broken."

That was such a girl way to put it.

"Do you have any clue what you're doing?"

"Technically, I do. My dad's insisted I take a basic auto maintenance course before I got my license. It's just been awhile. I'm confident that I can do it. You can go."

Puck groaned. "Berry, go sit in my truck. This'll only take me a couple of minutes."

"Why?" she said, with a definite edge of suspicion.

"Because that Glee thing is in a couple of days. We can't win without you." That was almost a compliment, and the nicest thing he'd ever said to her. Possibly to any girl that he hadn't seen naked. Still, she hesitated. "Berry, seriously, I didn't rig the truck to do anything. It's warm, it's dry. Go sit."

"Fine. But if my car blows up you will be hearing from my lawyers."

She turned on her heel and flounced over to his truck. Since he didn't have running boards she had some trouble hoisting herself in. He did not offer to help. He had his limits. Plus, it was funny.

She hadn't done too terrible of a job, actually. The spare was out and the jack placed correctly. Better than most girls he knew. He got the spare on quickly, and with no trouble, jogged back to his truck, and got in. Rachel had her arms wrapped around herself and she was shivering, hard.

He could totally use the old 'let's get naked to keep warm' trick right now.

Puck reached behind his seat and fished out a blanket. He offered it to Rachel and she eyed it with distaste. "Is it laced with small pox?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. When's the last time that was washed?"

"No idea. But it's dry."

She considered, and then took it. She peeled her jacket off and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. The sweater she had on underneath was only wet in spots. She tucked her knees into her chest and covered them with the blanket too.

Rachel Berry was in a blanket cocoon in his truck. That was so messed up.

And not talking. She seemed to be shaking less, though. That was a good sign. If she died in his truck there was no way anyone would believe that he hadn't offed her.

Puck was not good at awkward silences.

"Do you want a ride home or something? I'm sure one of your gay dads could drive you back later for your car."

"No. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Sure? It's wicked cold."

"When one is accustomed to daily slushie baptisms a little freezing rain is manageable. Besides I still have an errand to run. And I'd have to explain what happened and they'd make me take that stupid course again. Grease is murder on the fingernails."

There was the useless babble he knew and loathed.

She looked up at him, "Thanks for stopping, Puck. It was uncharacteristically decent of you. Gallant, even."

"Don't tell anyone."

"I don't think anyone would believe me."

He laughed. Was that kind of a joke? Unexpected.

She eyed him like she'd never heard a dude laugh before. "Do you have some sort of personality transplant on weekends?"

"Yeah. Just call me Mr. Burns. 'Hello, children. I bring you love.'"

"I don't understand the reference."

"You've never watched The Simpsons? I always used to watch it when I got home from school."

"Dad and Daddy frown upon entertainment without intellectual value."

"You're missing out. Just about every problem in life can be solved with an episode of The Simpsons and a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Where you headed anyway?"

"Pet store. Mrs. Snuggleton is out of food. I am not usually so lax, but I've been busy."

"Toy poodle?"

"Ferret."

"Shut up. You do not have a ferret."

"I do."

"You have a purse dog, don't you? You dress it in matching sweater sets. You're a purse dog kind of chick."

"You really have no idea what sort of person I may or may not be."

And that effectively shut him up.

"Mrs. Snuggleton would probably bite me if I tried to put her in a sweater. Say hello to your mother for me." Rachel clambered out of the truck. "Thank you for your assistance, Puck. I'll see you at school on Monday."

"Yeah. Later." He watched her get into the car and drive away before he put his truck into gear. He didn't notice until he was already at home, but she left her jacket behind. He brought it into the house with him and hung it up.

He got an inquisitive eyebrow from his mother as she stirred the sauce. Puck told her that Rachel had said 'hi.' He escaped to his room.