Puck was standing alone in Rachel Berry's kitchen. After the phone call with her father, Rachel had put on a pot of coffee and gone upstairs to take a shower, promising to make breakfast when she was done.

"Blue and white boxers," he called out to her, as she ran up the staircase.

She'd stopped halfway and turned, "Excuse me?"

"My underwear… Blue and white boxers, just in case you need a little inspiration."

She'd glared at him and stomped up the remaining stairs.

He'd heard the shower turn on, and he started to look around the kitchen. It was huge. He guessed that half of his house would fit into the bright open space. The countertops were wide and probably granite, and there was a matching island with a breakfast bar built in. The appliances were all stainless steel, and looked pretty freaking expensive. Everything was polished to a bright gleam, and Puck had a hard time believing people actually lived here. There was no collage of pictures on the fridge, only a carefully printed calendar that appeared to be color-coded. He could see that someone had carefully penciled in two entries for last night.

R-Football game

R-Sleepover at Tina's

Puck was tempted to change the second entry, but decided that Rachel probably wouldn't find it funny. His stomach growled. Pulling open the door of the wide side-by-side fridge, he looked inside to find it fully stocked with every type of fresh food imaginable. He grabbed the carton of eggs, the milk, butter, a tomato, an onion, mushrooms, cheese and a package of diced ham he found in the meat drawer. Piling everything on the counter, he searched through the cabinets until he found a mixing bowl, a stirrer, a spatula, and a frying pan.

Grabbing a knife out of the knife block, he proceeded to wash and chop the vegetables. He turned the stove top on, and set the greased frying pan on it. He cracked several eggs into the mixing bowl, added milk and stirred briskly. After combining all the ingredients with the egg mixture, he poured half the bowl into the sizzling frying pan. When the mixture was set, he gently folded the omelet over, and slid it onto a plate. He was halfway through cooking the second omelet when he turned to see Rachel gaping at him.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "What does it look like? Cooking breakfast."

"I can see that, but why?"

"Uh, because I was hungry. Figured you might be too."

She eyed the thick omelet suspiciously. "That looks really good."

"You don't have to sound so surprised."

"You, Noah Puckerman, are a constant surprise to me," she said, smiling now.

Sliding the second omelet onto a plate, Puck pressed a button to turn off the stovetop and hoped that was a good thing. Somehow he didn't think she was to going react quite as well to 'Surprise, I'm Quinn's baby daddy.'

Rachel grabbed the plates from the counter, and set them on a table in a bright sunny space off of the kitchen. She returned, took two glasses from a cabinet and filled them with orange juice. Pulling silverware from a nearby drawer, she gestured toward the coffee pot.

"Would you pour me some, please?"

He nodded, pulled two mugs off their hooks, and filled them with the hot brown liquid. Puck noticed that she looked crazy hot in a snug pair of sweat pant type things that his mom called yoga pants, and a tiny T shirt. He walked behind her as they carried everything to the table, inspecting her ass for any signs of panty lines. None. Damn she was cruel.

After her first bite, her eyes widened. "Noah, this is delicious!"

He grinned, "What did you expect?"

"Honestly? That I would have to be extremely polite, and compliment you on your effort, while simultaneously insisting that I don't have a big appetite in the morning."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome," she said brightly.

When they were finished eating, he helped her clear the table and wash the dishes.

"So…" she asked, "what are your plans for the day?"

He was starting to recognize her fake casual voice.

Puck hadn't forgotten everything he'd decided the night before. He needed to leave her alone. There were a million things he should be doing today, and not one of them included Rachel Berry.

"Nothing much, what'd you have in mind?"

"Me?" she squeaked, "Oh... um… nothing really."

He should just leave. Staying here with her was a very bad idea. The more time they spent together, the more upset she'd be when it didn't work out. Then again, this might be the last time he got to be alone with her.

"Hmmm…" he said, as if he were thinking hard, "I guess we could hang out and do nothing together."

She practically started bouncing, "That would be nice!"

He put a hand on either side of her, and trapped her against the solid counter.

"Yeah," he purred, "we could always work on getting to know each other better."

She looked up at him with a stern expression. "Slowly, Noah," she said, "we decided to go slowly."

"No, actually, you decided, I just agreed."

"That's just semantics, the outcome is the same, and we're going slowly."

"You know, Princess, there's a whole lot of stuff in between kissing and sex, and you know what they say…"

He slid his leg in between hers, and pulled her forward so that she was wedged firmly against his thigh.

"No," she said, amusement written on her face, "tell me, Noah, what do they say?"

He shifted his leg slightly, and watched her eyes widen with shock as she rubbed against him.

"Practice makes perfect."