Author's Note: Whew… okay, so this one made my head hurt a little. Sorry it's a little frantic, but it just kind of seemed to fit the moment.

The title is from Violent Femmes "Kiss Off", which might also explain why it's slightly frantic.

Damn it, Puck thought, was she trying to kill him? Yeah, he'd been trying to turn her on in the kitchen, but he'd been shocked when she'd grabbed him by the shirt and practically dragged him upstairs. He hadn't expected her to react quite so… aggressively. And Jesus, in the hallway? When she'd wrapped her legs around him, he'd almost lost it. Even after he'd tried to talk to her, tried to slow her down a little bit, she been sitting there rocking her hips against him. He'd been so close to the edge and they'd both been fully clothed. Hell, the closest he'd come to seeing her undressed was getting her shirt off. He'd be lucky to last two minutes if he ever saw her naked.

What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he out there, getting a piece of the very gorgeous, very horny girl that was lying on her bed waiting for him? Slow my ass, he thought. She was so hot at the moment he knew he could seal the deal in five minutes, flat. He'd seen it before, hell, he'd done it before. Why was he standing here in the bathroom?

Why had he asked her about her experience? He'd known she was a virgin, why did anything else matter? He had been trying to get her to slow down. Why had he been trying to slow her down? That made no sense. And again, why was he standing in here, instead of out there, pulling down those snug little pants down those long tan legs…

Why did it feel like a sauna in here? He was dizzy. He turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on his face. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, Puck looked around the large bathroom for the first time. Why on earth anyone would want a bathroom that looked like someone puked Pepto-Bismol all over it was beyond him, but he knew Rachel liked her pink. Putting his head in his hands he tried not to think about her telling him about the fireworks.

He knew what he needed to do, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. First off, the bathroom was only feet from the bed, and he really didn't want her hearing him. Second off, the bathroom was all girly and lacy and pink, and he knew he'd end up feeling like a total perv.

Fuck, he couldn't go back out there like this, though. That was begging for disaster. Even when the girl wasn't trying, she managed to be sexy. He had to think of something. Puck closed his eyes and pictured his mom walking in on him, mid stroke. He'd been horrified and she'd almost passed out. It was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

Nope. No good.

He thought of Quinn, calling him a 'Lima Loser'.

Ahh, yeah, that did the trick.

Except now he was thinking about Quinn, and thinking about Quinn meant thinking about the baby. Double Fuck. He didn't think Rachel would be very happy with him if he punched her wall. His head was spinning now, and he dropped it lower into his hands. Taking slow deep breaths he tried to get the frantic thoughts running through his mind to slow down.

One thing at a time he thought. Make a list.

Problem: Rachel was very hot and bothered at the moment, and if he went out there he could probably get her to do anything he wanted her to.

Reasons why that would be a good idea:

Duh, really? He'd be getting ass. From a really hot chick, no less.

Reasons why that would be a bad idea:

Rachel had told him she wanted to take it slow. She'd be pissed if she thought he'd pushed her into it.

She was a virgin, and this moment was probably pretty fucking important to her. Two minutes was not likely to leave a good impression.

Again, big moment, the kind of thing you remember forever. It would really suck if she ended up hating him when she found out about the baby. She'd have to remember that every time she thought about her first time. That was just bad karma, dude.

Puck suddenly had one of those 'hit you like a dump truck' moments. What was wrong with him? Since when did he care about feelings and shit. All of this thinking was giving him a serious headache. Life was so much easier when he just did what he whatever wanted.

Yeah right, an unfamiliar voice in his head said, you wouldn't be in this fucking mess if you'd given half as much thought before you fucked Quinn.

Seriously? Sixteen years and his conscience picked this moment to make an appearance? That was total bullshit. He sighed and wondered if he was losing his mind. He needed to get out of here, and to get far, far away from Rachel Berry. Except the idea of leaving made his stomach hurt.

Puck sat there a moment longer and finally made up his mind. If he couldn't be man enough to leave her alone, he needed to at least tell her the truth.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Rachel was sitting on the bed, with her phone in her hands, typing on the small keyboard.

She looked up at him with a worried face as she hit a button on her phone.

"Are you okay? You were in there for a long time. Do dairy products upset your stomach?"

He smiled. For such a smart girl, she could sometimes be pretty dense.

"I'm fine Rach."

"Good," she said, smiling brightly, "I'm glad."

"Rach, I really need to talk to you about something…" he started, but he was interrupted by the beep on her phone. Whoever she was talking with had replied to her text.

Reading the small screen, she looked up at him and frowned.

"Did you really ask Kurt Hummel for my phone number last night?"