Notes: This chapter is kind of Frankenstein. I had bits and pieces of it started all over. I hope it works. This chapter is a little different from the others, not so comedic, and tough to write. But I think it was necessary.

iii. It's about time, you see

Puck had stayed behind after Glee to ask Mr. Schuester a question about his part in the number that the club had been rehearsing. And then, like a lame emo kid, after Mr. Schue had left Puck just sat back down and pulled out his guitar.

He'd never really noticed how creepily quiet this place was after everyone had was gone for the day. He really should be heading home, but lately he hadn't really felt totally comfortable there. Rachel Berry had invaded his home turf.

Now, contrary to what some people believed, Puck had never been a guy with a whole lot of angst. For as long as he could remember, his mother had always worn a silver ring on her right hand. Engraved on the inside was the phrase 'que sera sera.' It had been a gift from her great aunt after Puck's father had skipped town.

Puck's basic life philosophy was similar, if less fancy: shit happened. You couldn't change it; all you could do was try to clean it up.

So no one was more surprised than Puck to have landed smack dab in the middle of a love triangle. Or square.

His feelings for Quinn were... well they were there. And they were complicated. Quinn was beautiful. Like, in the way that paintings and sculptures and shit were beautiful. In a way that made him feel small and alive and humble. Quinn had this perfect shell: the beauty, the popularity, and the grades. But he knew that underneath that stuff, Quinn Fabray was not so perfect.

It might have been the not so perfect stuff that he liked best.

Quinn liked to drive too fast. She liked to feel the burn of a shot of vodka with no mix to tone it down. She would always laugh at a filthy joke, even when some of her celibacy club cronies acted all faux offended. Sometimes she stole the pepper shakers from restaurants. Puck knew these things about her, could recite them, and dozens more, when Finn probably (definitely) could not have.

Still, Quinn chose Finn.

Not that Puck had made a serious play for her or anything. But it would have been nice to have been considered. He never had a shot though, because Noah Puckerman was not the sort of guy that Quinn Fabray's parents would have approved of.

Puck was well aware of his own imperfections. He rarely said the right thing. In fact, most of the time, he said the worst thing he could possibly think of, just to see how people reacted. His opinions on religion and politics and whatever? Not what conservative Christians like the Fabray's would have been down with. His mother and father? Never married. The mohawk.

He liked the mohawk.

Finn didn't really ever say the right thing either. But whatever Finn did say was always so earnest and simple that people just ate it up, regardless of the fact that it was probably dumb. Finn's opinions were non-existent, and therefore malleable.

Puck was so not malleable.

Still, despite their differences, he and Finn had been the best of friends since Puck and his mom had moved to Lima midway through the first grade.

They'd played on all the same teams, had their first crushes at eleven, on the same girl (Jenn Willows, their babysitter, and way out of their league), and had become the two most popular dudes at McKinley High. They'd done absolutely everything together. Until Glee.

Finn had joined Glee and then completely and totally lied to him.

That's when Puck had started things with Quinn. Finn had been way busy, and he'd spent less time than before with Quinn and Puck.

Consequently, Puck started spending more time with just Quinn.

And the feelings he used to have for her, they kind of bubbled up again. And he'd thought, hey, why not? Finn was ignoring him and lying to him, clearly violating the bro code, why the hell, Puck thought, shouldn't he violate it too?

Yeah, looking back? That was really, really stupid. Dr. Phil would have some seriously harsh words for him.

He'd gone to Quinn's house after the assembly. The one where Finn and Rachel had humped one another in front of the whole school. He'd sent her a text and Quinn had snuck out.

She'd been wearing jeans and her hair had been loose and she had looked so unlike the Quinn he was used to seeing, Finn's Quinn, that he'd kind of forgotten that she was, in fact, his best friend's girl.

Well, no. That was a lie. It would be more accurate to say that he'd kind of stopped caring.

Come on, the rhyming names? How stupid and Stepford was that?

Quinn had directed him to a park not far from her house and they had settled on the swings, side by side, for awhile, not really talking.

He'd mentioned the wine coolers and they'd retreated to the bed of his truck. After the first one Quinn had begun to talk. How mad she was at Finn. How that Rachel Berry was messing with the wrong Cheerio. How she really, really wanted to be Prom Queen. Puck hadn't talked much.

After the third wine cooler, he kissed her.

He was completely prepared for Quinn to slap him, and demand to be taken home. But she'd surprised him, and slid a hand around his neck, pulling him closer.

She'd been unsure, but not unwilling; at least he hadn't thought so. He'd been ready to stop as soon as she said the word. And then she just... didn't. So he didn't stop.

Quinn hadn't made much noise… during. She had let out one, tiny, pained mewl. But mostly, he'd just listened to her breathe in his ear. She had kept her eyes closed. Puck hadn't thought about that until later. Who had she been seeing?

Afterward she'd been so, so quiet as she'd pulled her clothes on and pulled her hair into a ponytail, though not as neatly as usual.

And then she had asked to be taken home.

Then next day, actually for the next three days, Quinn had glued herself to Finn, and barely looked at Puck.

Then she'd joined Glee. And Puck figured that represented a pretty clear choice on her part. He would have backed off completely if not for the kid.

Baby.

He absolutely blamed himself for that. Quinn was a virgin and a fairly sheltered one, at that.

Puck was experienced, and had a mother who'd been very upfront about the birds and the bees. He should have at least suggested the morning after pill and offered to drive her to the Planned Parenthood in Springfield.

He was incredibly opposed to how this whole situation was going down. He'd been the one to fuck up. And now Finn was paying for it. It seemed to Puck that sleeping with your best friend's girlfriend was one thing.

Okay, a really shady thing, admittedly.

But letting Finn think he was going to be a father was worse, in Puck's opinion. Finn was obviously freaking the fuck out.

He kind of thought Finn would have forgiven him for doing it with Quinn. Even for knocking her up. Finn did, after all, have something going on with Rachel.

The lying? Not so forgivable, even though a tiny part of Puck thought that Finn deserved the angst he was experiencing for being stupid enough to believe that a girl could get pregnant in a hot tub.

When the fact that Quinn was lying came out, and it would, no matter what she'd deluded herself into thinking, well, Puck was probably going to be kissing ten years of friendship good-bye.

That was yet another thing, on what was becoming a very long list of things, that he tried not to focus on.

So the whole Finn and Quinn thing was a huge mess, even without before you factored Rachel Berry in. But Rachel Berry was hard to ignore. Finn had a definite thing for her. Quinn was jealous of Finn's thing for Rachel, even as she kind of grew to grudgingly respect the girl.

And Puck? Puck had come to accept something about himself. He was attracted to Rachel Berry. Like, a lot. He had no idea why.

Well her body and his raging hormones might have had something to do with it.

But his attraction was, and this was the part that he was having trouble with, more than just a physical thing. He kind of liked her. Her personality, that was.

A month ago, Puck would have signed himself up for a lifetime of rubber walls and straight jackets for even entertaining that thought but, when she dialed down the crazy, and stopped taking herself so seriously, Rachel wasn't half bad.

It was very confusing and he had no idea what he was going to do.

And he now felt a little bit of regret about being so awful to Rachel. He was going to apologize. Maybe. Eventually. If he could figure out what to say.

Whatever had happened to his 'all cougars, all the time plan,' anyway? That had been such a kick ass plan.

"Hey, Broody? Did you have an embolism, or something? Because we really do not have time to break in a new guy and train him to your standard of... adequacy in time for regionals."

Puck snapped to, only to find Kurt standing over him with an odd (well, more odd than usual) look on his face.

"I'm fine."

"You really are," Kurt sighed, "it's just such a shame about your personality."

"Hey!"

"Did I say that out loud? Whatever was I thinking? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

Kurt fluttered a hand, "Whatever it is that has you sitting alone in an empty room looking all tortured. And constipated."

"You know, just because I joined Glee, and you learned how to kick a field goal, doesn't mean I won't still toss your scrawny ass in the dumpster."

"My ass is not scrawny, thank you very much."

"Dude. Your ass is not my kind of ass."

"Obviously. Look at that shirt you're wearing."

Puck looked down, "What's wrong with this shirt?"

"That shirt is not even fit to polish my Navigator."

"Whatever."

"So, do you need to have some sort of heart to heart here? Because there's a sale that I need to get to, but I suppose I could spare like two minutes."

"Hey Hummel, are your parents Care Bears, by any chance?"

Kurt blinked, "My dad's an electrician. And my mom's dead. Neither stuffed with cotton, as far as I know."

Shit. Shit. Shit. "Oh. Look, dude, I didn't mean..."

"Relax. Don't strain your wee brain attempting to formulate an apology. You didn't know and you had nothing to do with it."

"Okay. I am, you know, sorry. About your mom."

"That was really hard for you wasn't it?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, it wasn't the worst apology ever."

"Really? Cool."

"Nearly, but not the worst. Well, I'm going to head to the mall now. It's been... bizarre." Kurt wiggled his fingers in a farewell, picked up the sweater he must have come back for, and left.

So. He'd apologized to Kurt. And it had only been mildly excruciating. And maybe he hadn't apologized for the dumpster thing. Or the pee balloons. Or any of the other pranks he had pulled, both with and without the help of various members of the football team. Which honestly? He'd kind of been the driving force behind more often than not.

Baby steps. Maybe, just maybe, he could manage an apology to Rachel. It would probably even be easier, what with the liking her thing (and the fantasies he'd been having about her, spread out on his sheets, wearing little more than knee socks).

He packed up his guitar and left the school. He was going to do it. And hey, no time like the present, right?

Since he'd probably change his mind if he waited until tomorrow.

It felt like it had taken no time at all to get into his truck and drive to her house. He was kind of nervous. About talking to Rachel friggin' Berry! Jesus.

Fuck.

Puck had already rung her doorbell when he realized that he hadn't stopped to consider her dads. This was not something he was willing to do in front of witnesses.

Luckily, Rachel answered the door herself. "Puck! What..." she peered past him, probably checking to see if he'd brought the rest of the football team, "what are you doing here?"

"Are home alone?"

"Yes. Wednesdays Dad and Daddy have pilates and then..."

He covered her mouth with his hand and she shut up. He pulled his hand back quickly and put it in his pocket. She stared up at him, wide eyed. "I didn't ask for a monologue, Berry. Learn when a simple yes or no works, why don't you?" He brushed past her and stepped inside.

"Yes, Puck, please do come in."

He smiled. That right there? The bitchy tone? One of the things he liked about her. Also, one of the things that turned him on. Sometimes she used that exact tone in those fantasies he'd been having.

"Here's the deal, Berry. I am only going to say this once, so try very hard not to interrupt. Do you think that you can do that for me?"

"I'll do my best."

"Great. I'm sorry."

"You're... sorry?"

"Yeah. For the slushies. The eggs. Starting a variety of rumors. The stuff about your family. Most of the other stuff, too."

"So, this is like a blanket apology."

"I guess so."

"Okay," she seemed a little shocked, but mostly confused. And like she was making a serious effort not to spout off eight dozen questions. "And this was brought on by..." she trailed off.

"Look, I don't want to be best buds and tell you all my secrets here, okay? Just lately... lately I think I've come to get why you are the way that you are. You just want out of Lima. I get that. And..." he stopped. "Fuck this is hard."

Rachel crossed her arms, and bounced up on to her toes a few times. "I do believe that you have experienced some personal growth, Noah Puckerman."

He grimaced, "Is that what this is? I don't like it. It made me be nice to Kurt."

"You were nice to Kurt?"

"Well, maybe only nice-ish."

"Well I like it," Rachel smiled and it was different from her usual mega watt 'star' smile. Small, private. This moment would stay just between the two of them, "I'll consider your apology on one condition."

"Berry, don't even..." he stopped speaking when she laid a hand on his bare arm, just below his elbow. Had she ever touched him for a non-Glee choreography related purpose? He didn't think so.

"Quit calling me 'Berry.' I am not one of your sweaty uncultured jock friends. My name is Rachel."

Puck smirked. She had no idea of just how not in the category of jock friends she was. Though he wouldn't mind helping her get sweaty. "I'll consider it."

"It appears that we have an agreement then."

"Yep. I'd better go."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Puck."

"Tomorrow, Berry."

She glared at him as she opened the door, but he knew her well enough to know that she was only faking annoyance.

Puck made his way down her porch steps. That had gone well.