Rachel stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, and marveled over the heartfelt exchange between mother and son. It was certainly not what she had expected but then again, up until a few days ago she would have been entirely unsurprised to discover that Puck was actually spawned by demons. She sighed inwardly as she realized he had been right, she hadn't known him at all.

When she heard his mother retreat to her bedroom, she relaxed slightly, and took in her surroundings. Though the lights were off, moonlight poured in through a window over the sink, and bathed the room in an ethereal glow. The kitchen was small, but immaculate and the cheerful decorations gave the room a cozy feeling. Setting her things down on the small table next to her, she tried to imagine Puck sitting here eating dinner with his mother.

The collage of photographs and papers on the refrigerator caught her eye, and she moved closer to inspect them. Carefully studying his last report card, she was mildly amused to realize that, with the exception of math, he wasn't a bad student. Not a great one, but not bad either. Her gaze wandered to the dozen or so pictures arranged neatly on the door. Half a dozen were the requisite school photos, and sports photos from baseball and football. There were two of him and Finn, presumably before a school dance, as they were wearing suits. The rest were snapshots of Puck and a small blonde woman whom she assumed was his mother. They bore little resemblance to one another, save for the eyes, but it was obvious that they were close.

She was so engrossed in a photo of Puck, with his arm around his mother's shoulder, kissing her cheek, that Rachel didn't hear him as he moved up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Hey you," he whispered.

Tilting her head back, she peered up at his face. He looked so pleased with himself, that she couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Honey Bear?"

He growled and buried his face in her neck. The arms around her tightened, and he tickled her ribs lightly.

"Don't even think about it."

The moment was so achingly perfect that she felt a sharp pang of disappointment when he loosened his grasp. Taking her by the hand, he led her through the dark house, and into his bedroom. She blinked rapidly as he flicked on the light, adjusting to the sudden brightness. The room slowly came into focus, and her eyes widened in shock.

"What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure…" she said, carefully considering the question, "Black velvet, and mirrors on the ceiling?"

Puck snorted. Walking over to basket on the floor, he pulled a pair of sweat pants from the neatly folded piles of laundry. Stepping out of his shoes, he reached for the button on his jeans, and she gasped in horror when she realized that he was planning on changing right in front of her. He flashed a wicked grin as he slowly started to lower the zipper.

She spun on her heel and squeezed her eyes tightly shut and covered her face with her hands. Her heart was racing a mile a minute and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice behind her.

"It's safe now."

She turned cautiously, peeking through her fingers, and sighed with relief when she saw he was fully dressed.

"Here, put these on," he said, shoving a pair of gym shorts toward her.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I'm fine thank you."

Puck looked down at her jeans pointedly. He was right of course; the wet denim was clinging to her legs, and chafing her skin. She snatched the shorts from his hand, and looked around desperately. He gave her a smirk and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. As she shed her jeans, and pulled the shorts on, she wondered briefly if she should check for hidden cameras. After the incident in the truck, it seemed highly unlikely that he would pass up an opportunity to watch her undress.

Holding the wet jeans in her hand, she spotted the desk chair and carefully laid them across the back to dry. She fought the urge to snoop through his drawers, and instead peered around the room. Like the kitchen, it was small but tidy. The double bed against the far wall was neatly made up with a well worn quilt, and the carpet, while threadbare in spots, appeared recently vacuumed. A faded wallpaper boarder depicting various sports equipment ran around the top of the walls, obviously a remnant of his childhood. The small bookcase tucked into the corner was stuffed with sports trophies of varying sizes, some with arrays of brightly colored award ribbons hanging from them. An acoustic guitar, covered in stickers from various bands, lay casually propped up against the side of the desk.

Rachel had been joking when she had mentioned black velvet and ceiling mirrors. Okay, she conceded, maybe only half joking, but she certainly hadn't imagined anything quite so… normal. She walked closer to the dresser and examined the handful of pictures tucked neatly into the frame of the small mirror that hung on the wall. She smiled at the sight of two young boys dressed in baseball uniforms, grinning broadly at the camera. They looked to be around nine or ten years old, and Finn, tall and gangly even then, had his arm slung around a much smaller, slighter and mohawk-less Puck.

Her eyes trailed upward and lingered on the image of a younger version of his mother, caught mid-laugh as she held a small dark haired boy. Leaning closer, Rachel spotted the disembodied arm encircling the pair, a frayed edge indicating that its owner had been carefully torn from the picture. His father? she wondered.

Just then, the door creaked open and Puck backed into the room with her jacket and sweater tossed over his shoulder and her tiny pink purse dangling from his wrist. As he turned, she saw that he had a plate piled high with food balanced carefully in one hand, and two bottles of water in the other. She quickly grabbed the plate from him, and her stomach growled as she caught a whiff of the mouth watering aroma.

He shut the door gently, and neatly placed her belongings on his desk. Plopping down onto the floor, he motioned for her to join him. She sat down carefully, tucking her legs underneath of her and set the plate between them.

"Heads up" he said, tossing a bottle at her.

As she grabbed hold of the flying water, he plucked a fork off the plate and proceeded to scoop an impossibly large of amount of lasagna into his mouth. Without bothering to swallow, he gestured towards the food.

"Eat."

She smiled and picked up the remaining fork, and gingerly took a bite. The pasta was delicious, and she realized she been starving. They ate in comfortable silence, and when he finally polished off the last bite, he sat back and eyed her carefully.

"So tell me, Berry, what exactly did you have planned for tonight, you know, when to lied to your dads and all?"