Notes: So this chapter? Was written and then totally lost, due to some random act of technological evil, and then had to be begun again from scratch. I was not pleased. But I hope you enjoy! This chapter features more of the other Gleeks, and the first moment where I was really, really tempted to write something from Rachel's POV.

ix. Waiting around for something bad

Puck had, in what was a first for him, shown up to Glee club early. He'd made a joke during one of Coach Tanaka's rageaholic tantrums, the third of about seven, during that particular practice, and had been sent to run laps. A not unusual occurrence.

He'd finished running before the team was technically done practicing and had elected not to rejoin the team on the field.

Yeah. Puck would be running laps again tomorrow.

He'd been showered and dressed when the rest if the team filed into the locker room. He'd stuck around for a couple of minutes, participated in a little post-practice trash talk. But he'd left quickly, telling Finn, Mike, Matt and Kurt (who'd looked surprised to be included) that he would see them in Glee. It was kind of creepy to be the only guy in a room with his pants on.

Puck had walked into the choral room and had been unsurprised that Rachel to see that was already there, dragging a pile of chairs into the center of the room. Mr. Schuester nodded a hello to Puck, than excused himself to photocopy some sheet music.

Rachel barely looked up at him and then returned to setting up. He debated helping her for a brief moment but then flopped down into one of the chairs she'd already set up.

Hey, just because he was growing or whatever, that didn't mean he had to become some ass-kissing, coat-over-puddle-putting, Notebook watching, pansy, right?

"'Sup, Berry?" Rachel paused, and shot him a look. The same look she'd given him every day, nearly two weeks worth of them now, since he'd shown up at her house and apologized, and she'd told him to stop referring to her by her last name.

He didn't know why he couldn't just do it. Puck had stopped with all the nicknames he'd used with the rest of the club. But then, no one reacted quite like Rachel did.

Artie, for example, barely blinked when Puck called him 'Wheels' or 'Rolls Royce.' Puck didn't think it was his problem that Rachel got so annoyed over such a little thing. And really, it was her own fault that she was so entertaining when she was pissed off.

"Hello, Puck." She didn't ask him to help. That might have been because she didn't think he'd be willing, but Puck was betting it was because she didn't trust him to. She was completing her current task, arranging mike stands, with such precision that Puck half expected her to whip out a tape measure and a level.

Puck absently continued to watch her. Why couldn't he make himself call her Rachel? In his thoughts, not that he thought about her a lot (at least that he would admit), she was always Rachel.

She'd made her way over to the cupboard where they kept the sound equipment and was stretching up on her tiptoes to reach the case that housed the microphones, and was not quite making it. Puck considered the view, regretfully clothed in denim, because even Rachel Berry had to bow to the force of the upcoming Ohio winter.

Puck gave in to an impulse he'd had a few, oh, dozen or so times since that day when Rachel Berry, and her legs, had been on his bed. He wanted to see if Rachel was susceptible to his... charms. He rather thought she was, judging by how she'd bolted from the room that day, after a just a little flirting. But another experiment couldn't hurt.

He left his chair and walked, on silent feet, over to her and the cupboard. "Need some help there, Berry?"

She gasped, startled, and went to take a step back. But Puck was directly behind her so her back collided with his chest. He placed a hand on her hip. To steady her. "N-no." She cleared her throat. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I set up all the time."

"Are you sure?" Puck moved her hair over one shoulder, making sure to graze a few fingers over the skin on her neck, and was it just him, or did her ears appear to be reddening? Point: Puckerman. "I am already here." He leaned down so that his mouth was level with her ear, "All..."

But he was interrupted by a noise in the doorway, a very theatrical throat clearing sort of noise.

Puck took a step to the side, way to the side, before turning around. Kurt was standing a few steps inside the room, Mercedes, Tina and Artie just behind them.

"Oh no, please do carry on you two, don't mind us at all," Kurt was standing with one hand on one skinny hip, and an eyebrow raised.

The other three said nothing but the looks on their faces ranged from shocked (Tina), to intrigued (Mercedes) to suspicious (Artie, and what, Puck wondered was that about?).

"I think," Mercedes began, "that we're going to have a little girl talk after Glee."

"T-t-totally," Tina agreed.

"'Cause if you've been tapping that?" She gestured to Puck, "I may have seriously misjudged you."

"Mmmhmm," Kurt agreed.

"Come on," Puck broke in, "in her dreams. I was just giving the midget a hand. Excuse me for trying to be a gentleman."

"Y-you? A gentleman?"

Puck blinked. Wow. It was probably a testament to how firmly a member of Glee that he had become if Tina, of all people, was mocking him. He glared at her and she didn't look away. Impressive. Or maybe he was just out of practice.

He looked down at Rachel in time to see a flicker of hurt, or maybe disappointment cross her face. But it was gone so quickly that he may have imagined it.

However, she quickly picked up on the usual rhythm of their arguments, "Excuse me, but the correct term is little person. And, for your information, one has to stand under four feet, ten inches to actually be a little person. I am four and a quarter inches taller than that and therefore definitely not a little person."

Puck snorted, "You actually looked that up didn't you? At some point in your life you were so concerned that you might just be a midget that you had to check. That's gold, Berry."

"It happened to be an article of the day on Wikipedia, once. I read it, of course, as I strive to be educated about a wide variety of topics. As a celebrity I could be asked to comment on just about anything."

Puck shook his head. It was like she actually believed all of the nonsense she was spouting. He stood up straighter, adopted a faux newscaster's voice and made a fist, "So, Rachel Berry," he thrust his imaginary microphone towards her, "America is dying to know, just what is your position on midgets? Pro or anti?" He returned to his regular tone, "Do you really think some cardboard, spray-tanned, Access Hollywood, drone is going to ask you that?"

"I don't think that it is so outside the realm of possibility that I shouldn't prepare for it."

"You can't bullshit a bullshitter, Berry. Admit that you googled midgets."

"Little people! And I did not. My free time..."

"Wow. It's like a Discovery Channel documentary. Fascinating, and yet repugnant."

Shit. Audience, remember? Kurt's eyes held the same gleam that they had when he'd found out Quinn was pregnant. The maniacal gleam of quality gossip.

"Girl talk. After Glee. For real," Mercedes used a tone that implied attendance to this talk was mandatory and non-negotiable.

Kurt and Tina nodded vigorously.

Puck was glad that he wasn't a girl.

"And you," Mercedes turned her attention to Puck.

"Me?"

"Have you been reading or something?"

"I do not read."

"You sure? Because you just used a whole lot of words. Like more words than I thought that you were capable of stringing together."

Puck was saved from replying when Finn, Mike and Matt entered the room. They stopped, and even Finn seemed to register the weird vibe in the room. Or maybe not so much the vibe as the fact that Puck and Rachel were standing together.

"Hey guys. What are we talking about?"

It was Kurt who answered, "Nothing important. We were just discussing literature."

Damn. He so totally didn't regret apologizing to Kurt. The kid had just saved him from an excruciating conversation. If Finn caught on to what they'd actually been discussing, Puck definitely would have to hear Finn's thoughts on the subject. Even though he was dating Quinn and had no claim on Rachel Berry.

Finn would not be into continuing a discussion of literature. Not that Puck blamed him. Boring.

"Cool. Has Mr. Schuester been here yet?"

"Yes," Rachel answered. "He went to make some copies. He should be along in a moment. She took her seat. Tina, Mercedes and Kurt followed her.

As if on cue, Mr. Schuester entered, followed by Santana. "Hey guys! I had a great idea last night! Where are Brittney and Quinn?"

"Quinn's in the bathroom down the hall. Puking, again," Santana answered, as if Quinn's morning sickness offended her on a personal level, "Brittney had a pom-pom malfunction. She'll be here in a minute."

"How exactly does a pom-pom malfunction?" Artie asked.

Puck kind of wondered that himself. Finn got up and left the room. Rachel's eyes followed him out. Not that he was watching Rachel. She just happened to be seated in his line if sight.

Mr. Schuester docked his iPod and played them the song as he handed out sheet music. More classic rock, this time The Who.

Brittney joined them, bits of red plastic stuck in her hair, and apologized for being late. They tossed ideas around as a group and, when Finn and Quinn came back in, they warmed up.

Mr. Schue assigned parts and they ran through the song a few times. It was messy but Puck thought it had potential. Even Rachel had gotten into it as soon as she'd belted out the first lines. But then she had plenty of experience with people always trying to put her down.

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands together. "Okay! Great work today. I think we're really on to something special here. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

Quinn, Brittney and Santana left first, trailed by Finn who was loaded down with several bags.

Rachel stuffed her belongings into her bag and made a beeline for the door, an unusual move for her, since she was almost always the last one to leave.

"Oh no she did not," Mercedes muttered, hastily gathering her things to follow, "She thinks she can run? I'll show her..."

Mr. Schue looked up from his conversation with the accompanist, "Should I be worried about that?"

"Oh no, Mr. S," Kurt answered, linking his arm through Tina's, "don't you worry one iota. It's just a little bit of lady bonding, nothing to trouble yourself over." He and Tina said good-bye, and speed walked out the door.

Mr. Schue seemed torn, but seemed to have enough of a survival instinct to know not to get into the middle of a fight between Rachel and Mercedes. He made his farewells and left.

Mike shook his head, "Crazy mofo's."

Puck and Matt laughed. "Yeah dude," Matt said, "what were we smoking when we agreed to enter this asylum?"

"I resent that," Artie spoke up. "Sanity is a relative concept."

"What do you mean?"

Instead of replying Artie began to play his guitar. The song was immediately recognizable after just a few bars. Puck coughed to hide a laugh and Matt stiffened.

Mike, however, was oblivious and began singing along. Badly. "Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching yooooouuuuuuuuu! Man I love that song! Doesn't everyone love that song?"

"Shut up, Mike. Let's go."

"Alright. Later Puck. Abrams." He moon walked to the door. "Every single day…"

Matt hit him. Hard. "Ouch, dude. Uncool. What's your problem?"

Matt didn't answer.

"What's your beef with Sting? He's a total stud, even though he's like eighty-three!"

Their voices faded away and Puck turned to Artie, "Dude. Just when I think you Glee dorks are all cotton candy and cookies, you bust out some secret inner evil. High five. Or medium five."

Artie slapped Puck's palm obligingly. The guy was stronger than he looked and then he calmly said, "If you're playing another prank on Rachel, it would be in your best interest to stop it."

"What? I'm not..."

"I'm not making an accusation. I'm just asking you to consider your options before you have none."

"Dude. How is that any of your business?"

"I've known Rachel for a very long time."

"You don't even like her."

"Puck, truthfully, you don't have any idea if that's true or not, do you? Rachel might seem like a pathologically selfish psycho diva but she's more than that. Throwing a slushie in her face is one thing, but don't play with her feelings."

Puck smirked, "And if I am just fucking with her for the fun of it? What then?" And what was with these losers always telling him that he didn't know what he was talking about?

Artie looked hi dead in the eye, "I may not be able to hurt you physically. But Tina, Kurt, Mercedes and I? Are, frankly, smarter than you. And more creative. Rachel's one of us. We may be losers but, when push comes to shove, we'll stick together."

"I'm so scared."

Artie smirked. An expression that didn't seem like it belonged on his face. "You're a bully, Puck. Bullies don't take on groups. There's a reason for that." Artie rolled past Puck. "Think about it."

Huh. Who knew Artie Abrams could be successfully intimidating?