Hello awesome peoples! Thanks as always for the lovely response. It's greatly appreciated. Here is some Throwdown. We're getting into some heavier stuff here. A lot more will be explained about how Noah and Rachel became Puck and crazy-ass Berry. I tried to throw some humor in there, but there are some parts that made me a little sad, and I didn't want to force the funner stuff.
I hope you enjoy!
-Chapter Seven-
***December 2003***
##"Silent night…Holy Night….All is Calm…All is bright…##
Noah stopped strumming his guitar and Rachel snapped her gaze his way, definitely, 1000 percent in commander mode. He sighed and gave her a frustrated look and he would swear on a stack of his Playstation games that she had freaking lasers shooting out of her eye sockets. He began strumming again as Rachel finished the Christmas carol dedicated to the birth of the Christian Messiah. Some dude that they totally weren't supposed to believe in.
"I'm telling my ma, you're the worst Jew on the face of the planet," Noah grumbled as Rachel looked at her reflection in a window, straightening her hair and her Christmas themed dress.
"She drove us here, Noah. I think she knew what we were doing," Rachel sighed in exasperation. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with performing Christian-themed music. God won't strike us down because we're spreading happiness and Joy to people that have a different faith than us."
"Jesus H. Christ, Berry. We're fucking Jewtastic!" Noah spat out incredulously. "It's wrong for us to be singing about the fat baby Jesus coming to save the world."
"It's also wrong for you to use the name constantly in such a horribly derogatory manner," Rachel snapped back. "A chance to perform is a gift. It would be incredibly rude of us not to accept this gift and give it back ten-fold with a lovely Christmas medley that will put holiday cheer into the hearts of St. John's Catholic Church parishioners."
Noah grumbled, mocking her words in the squeakiest voice he could conjure, "Freaking Gift…stupid damned lovely Paris otters."
Rachel had officially reached her limit; she reached out a hand with a speed that was seriously quicker than the speed of light, her fist gripping his bright red satin tie. She yanked him with a strength that belied her tiny size and brought his face within inches of hers, actually growling her words at him,
"Listen, Noah Puckerman. You are going to give me this lovely Hanukah gift and perform a Christmas medley tonight. And when your mother comes to pick you up, there will be a large box of cookies in the backseat waiting for you. If you grumble, growl, complain or even breathe the wrong way in the next two hours, I will break your Playstation…your new cell phone…and your computer. I will then find a way to haunt your dreams every night and give you the worst nightmares ever recorded in the history of man. Do we have an understanding?"
"MAN-HANDS?"
Noah had a hard time recounting what happened next. All he knew is that using the leverage she had on him through her grip on his tie, he spun in a circle as she opened the door to the nearest confessional and shoved him in so that he stumbled backwards and fell on his rear-end.
"Christ on crackers, Berry-pants! What in the ever fruity hell?" Noah roared and banged on the door.
Meanwhile, outside of the confessional that Rachel was currently trying to imprison him in, Santana Lopez walked up to Rachel with a suspicious look on her face. Rachel's hands were behind her back, holding onto the doorknob of Noah's prison with a death-like grip.
"Who did you just throw in there?" Santana furrowed her brow as the pounding on the door continued. "I think they want out."
"No they most certainly do not," Rachel insisted strongly. She tried to paste a smile on her face as Noah howled impatiently on the other side of the door. "You look lovely, Santana. Are you enjoying the festivities?"
Santana was looking at Rachel with an intense look of calculation, as if she were trying to figure out an exceptionally tricky puzzle. She managed to shrug and said, "I like Church…it's like, pretty. And we get to sing carols during Christmas time, so that's fun."
"I didn't realize that you enjoyed singing, Santana," Rachel said politely. A passing stranger would have never realized that when the two girls were in school they were very much like a comical cat and mouse, with Santana being a ferocious, evil tiger and Rachel being a mouse caught on a glue trap. "I'm sure you have a lovely singing voice, after all, it's usually very telling that if a person has a strong speaking voice, they usually have a strong and clear tone when singing. Perhaps someday we could sing together and…"
"Santana! What on Earth are you doing out here? Mass will be starting soon…"
Santana's spine suddenly went rigid, and the amused, slightly annoyed expression that had been on her face quickly melted into a blank façade. She turned slightly and a dutiful smile graced her face as she stared up at a tall, Hispanic man, perfectly coiffed and dressed.
"Hello Daddy. I was just talking to one of my friends from school. This is Rachel Berry."
Noah stopped banging on the door as he heard Santana's greeting. Friend. Since when was Rachel Berry considered Santana's damned friend? If this was how Santana treated friends, he would hate to see how Santana treated enemies. She probably just clubbed them to death with baby seals that she had stuffed and lacquered.
"Hello and it's a pleasure to meet your, Mr. Lopez," Rachel cheerfully greeted Santana's father. "I must say you've done an exceptional job raising Santana. She's a true leader and a very smart and confident young lady."
Mr. Lopez simply stared down at the tiny girl, a look of recognition slowly crossing his face. He placed a hand on Santana's shoulder authoritatively and muttered, "Micah Berry's daughter. His daughter he shares with another man."
"Why yes, you're familiar with my Daddy? Are you an accountant too?" Rachel wondered. She would have continued to question the man, but stopped when she recognized the look on his face. No matter how many times she had been witness to it in the past, the look of disgust from strangers, the clear distaste and dislike. It was like being doused with extra strength cold water.
"Santana, we are going to have a talk about who you consider a friend. You clearly aren't able to make the right decisions," Mr. Lopez gruffly intoned. "And I'm going to have a talk with the activities director. A Jew singing Christmas carols is one thing…but the daughter of sinners singing praise to our savior? Is a mistake that should never be made again."
Santana had been looking down at the floor during their exchange. Rachel couldn't help but wish that she would continue to keep her eyes averted. She certainly didn't need the girl gloating at this point. Slowly, the young Latina's eyes drifted up towards Rachel. Santana's cheeks were burning red and she bit her lip slightly. A look of apology flittered across her eyes before her father forcefully yanked her away.
Noah waited less than one second before jerking on the doorknob again, which was surprisingly easy to open now that Rachel's strength had been literally sucked right out of her. He looked at her carefully as she tried to control her emotions.
"Please don't ask me if I'm okay!" Rachel said quickly, her voice high-pitched and anxious sounding.
Noah nodded dumbly. He hated it when he was on the verge of tears…well when he used to cry when he was a little kid. If his ma had asked him if he was okay, he would just cry that much harder. He stayed silent as he quickly went to the case for his guitar and packed away his things. He got Rachel's coat and placed it around her trembling shoulders and led her from the church wordlessly.
He hadn't wanted to hit an adult so badly since his father had left them.
And man, did he want to sucker punch Mr. Lopez in the face. A lot.
***December 2009***
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Quinn? Remember your place. I know you're all freaked out about the bastard child and everything, but being a control freak isn't going to help…I'm the control freak. And if you play with my toys, I'm going to wreck you as soon as you pop that kid out."
"San, I was just trying to stay on Sylvester's good side…I wasn't trying to steal your gig."
"Just remember…I'm the fucking puppet master, dammit. I've been pushing all of you idiots around since we were ten. Remember that. You have your sainted Mother Theresa giving a baby to rich people thing and your Queen Bee thing, and I have my toys. We had an agreement."
"Meoww…"
Quinn and Santana flew apart and quickly walked to opposite sides of the choir room. Puck threw Matt a smirk as the boys walked into the room, eager to watch a catfight. Santana had the best cat fights. It didn't matter what it was about, it was just hot as hell to see her rip into someone. Puck walked over to Quinn inconspicuously and asked softly,
"You okay?"
"If you would leave me the hell alone, I'd be fan-fucking-tastic," Quinn grumbled, walking away from the father of her child.
Puck took a measured breath; he knew he didn't deserve to be talked to that way. But he also knew that Quinn was all crazy with baby hormones and she had just been verbally trashed by Santana. Of course the bitch-on-wheels was going to try to get a little of her own back. He still hated it though.
"Do we really have to separate today, not that I don't appreciate the sense of competition and the ingenuity that this time apart will surely foster, but it seems wrong," Rachel announced as she walked through the door. She smiled at Finn, a questioning sort of smile to see if he approved of her train of thought.
Fuck that. What they hell did she need his approval for? Why was she so stuck on the anti-Mensa Poster child? The man actually thought sperm would survive in 100 degree water. He was officially in the guiness book of world records for most idiotic idiocy in the world. The Rachel Berry he knew, and hell yes he did know her, didn't need any fucking approval from any damned one.
He shrugged his shoulders in one quick, annoyed motion and he couldn't help but feel another pair of eyes staring at him. Creepy Asian eyes. And not the stuttering, cute Goth girl. Chang.
"Dude, stop menstruating," Puck growled at his friend.
Mike smirked and patted Puck's shoulders. "We could talk about it."
"I'm going to schedule you an appointment at Finn's mom's bajingo doctor. You're getting a hysterectomy," Puck promised.
"I've got an idea," Mike said suddenly, reaching for Puck's guitar and handing it to him.
"What the hell do you want, dude?" Puck demanded, taking the guitar nonetheless.
"You know what I want, don't tease me, dude," Mike batted his eyelashes, his audacity causing Puck to laugh, which had been what he intended. The young Asian man stood up as Puck began to strum and he wasn't surprised when everyone else in the room quickly picked up on the song. "HEY! HO! HEY! HO!"
Rachel looked away from Finn and rose from her seat very rapidly, her movements slightly jerky as she looked at Mike with a question in her eyes. He simply grinned as they all began the song.
## If you wanna go and take a ride wit me
We three-wheelin in the fo' with the gold D's
Oh why do I live this way?
Hey! Must be the money!###
***December 2003***
The sniffling had stopped. That was a good sign. Noah and Rachel were huddled together outside of the church, having skipped out on their performance entirely. He felt her shivering next to him. She must have only just realized that she was cold now that she wasn't focused on holding back tears. He put an arm around her hoping that his more manly heat would stop the shivering.
"Thanks," Rachel whispered. "For not making me talk about it."
"You should eventually. I mean, it's not good to just take stuff and smile about it. Mom always made sure that after Dad was being a major douche, she would take me out to Chuck E Cheese and let me throw skeeballs. Not underhanded, she just let me whip them at the machine. You should find something like that."
Noah took a deep breath. He swore that all of his words were eaten by Rachel Berry. He talked so much around her, the rest of his time he could only manage grunts. He didn't mind. It made the other kids at school think he was an awesome caveman bad boy.
"I sing as loud as I can sometimes."
"Yeah, I know," Noah nodded. "Want to sing now?"
"Not here…" Rachel chanced a look back at the church. "I hope your Mom gets here soon."
"She should be. She was just taking Amberlee to pick some stuff up at the store," Noah promised.
"Good," Rachel nodded.
"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" Noah wondered.
"What good would that do? Talking about how Mr. Lopez made me feel won't change his mind about my parents or my existence. It's a waste, really. I just need to cheer up and realize that what he thinks doesn't matter," Rachel insisted, her chipperness increasing at each word.
"I still think…"
"PUCKERBUTT!"
Noah and Rachel looked at the adult rushing towards them and before they knew it, they were both enveloped in a strong, forceful hug. Andrea Sokoloff-Leonardo was squeezing the both of them so tightly that they immediately felt a little warmer.
"What are you two doing out here?" Andrea demanded.
"If we don't sit here, the church will explode," Noah rolled his eyes, although he smiled slightly as their summer camp counselor grinned at them. "Where's your old man, Suck-it-lots?"
"He's grabbing his little sister from the car. Something about the car leprechaun eating part of her seat belt," Andrea shrugged. "Aren't you coming in?"
"We were already inside the church. We performed and now we're just waiting for Noah's mother to retrieve us. It shouldn't be long now," Rachel said quickly.
"Well, will you two be at the temple for Hanukah? I could stand to listen to a few more fun performances!"
"Will you be plastered this time?" Noah wondered.
"Oh look, there's your mother!" Rachel said excitedly. She couldn't wait to get away from the church. She hugged Andrea again and gushed, "Of course we'll see you at the temple. I've already been drilling Noah on appropriate songs for Hanukah."
"I want to sing the Adam Sandler one, but she won't let me," Noah muttered with a smirk.
"Come along Noah, remember there are cookies in the backseat. Christmas tree shaped!"
"Jesus, woman. Did you forget we were Jews already?"
Rachel looked offended and insisted, "You made the cookie cutter!"
***December 2009***
"Do you really think Coach Sylvester will let us out of Rachel and Finn's Lame-fest?"
Puck looked to the girl sitting next to him and realized that he shouldn't have wasted his breath. Brittany was sweet. She was a pretty damned good kisser, not that he would ever try since Chang lost his shit the only time he had done it. She was caring of small creatures to the point where it was kind of crazy and weird. But she was Brittany. Asking her opinion on things…
"Did you know that my step-brother's wife was in Lame-fest 2001? She played the water glasses."
Puck nodded, his eyes wide as he took in Brittany's comment. Directly after their one and only make-out session, she had fished in her book bag for half an hour until she had found a tiny notebook in which she scribbled his name down. It had taken half an hour because her book bag had been filled with, literally, the most random shit on the face of the planet. What did the girl need a melon baller for?
"You have a step-brother?" Puck asked, cursing himself immediately afterwards. All he had to do was be a bad-ass stone statue and not talk, and then maybe Brittany wouldn't talk back. Silence would have been golden. Because 98 percent of the shit that came out of Brittany's mouth was high-larious. Funny only if you were seriously medicated or stoned out of her mind. The other two percent was usually pretty damned close to the truth.
"Yes…he's ten years older but I'm still superior to him. Especially in starting fires," Brittany revealed.
"Awesome," Puck muttered, staring at Sue Sylvester's office door. This was going to be a ginormous waste of time. He just wanted off of Schue's team. Being in the same room with all the white and non-handi-capable people in GLEE, namely Brittany, Finn, Rachel and Quinn was going to make him shoot himself in the face. Seriously. Rachel may have made him bury his bee-bee gun when they were thirteen in a message towards pansy-assed peace to the world, but he would dig it up, clean it off and Shoot. Himself. In. The. Face.
"She's tells me stories sometimes. About cookies. They're really funny."
"The fire? It's a pronoun now?" Puck muttered, his mind literally winded from confusion.
"No. Andrea. And I remember you guys before we got to high school, even though I went to Southwest. I puked that night cause I ate seven sugar packets and all the ranch dressing that was on the table."
"I'm really confused."
"You shouldn't be. It's a metaphor," Brittany smiled at him, her loopy eyes connecting with his and he felt suddenly like she was doing some kind of cracked out Jedi mind trick on him.
He had no fucking clue what they were talking about. And worse, he know felt dumber than he had ever felt in his fucking life, Brittany Stevens had just dropped a word he didn't even know. He tore himself from Brittany's amused and scary psychotic gaze and wondered, "What's a metaphor?"
***December 2003***
"I can't believe your mother is letting you consume that ridiculous beverage at such an early hour. You don't have a toothbrush at school. The sugar is going to feed all the horrible disgusting things in your mouth and you're going to wind up with eight cavities by the end of the day. There is absolutely no chance under the sun that your mother actually bought that for you. I'm calling her…"
"Berry-pants, chillax. I bought gum. Sugar free to get rid of the nasty sugar breath."
"It's hardly appropriate for breakfast. There are so many man-made chemicals and preservatives. They're going to addle your brain until you can no longer form correct sentences."
"Mmmm…preservatives good. Me want more preservatives."
"BERRY!"
Rachel's eyes widened as she and Noah approached the corner to school where she would usually force him to go on without her and she would stay behind her tree until he was nearly at the door. Usually. Today there would have to be a new plan, because Santana Lopez was barreling down upon her at lightning speed. And Noah was still standing next to her, his hand gripped on her pink trolley bag as he sipped lazily from his slushie, completely unconcerned about the impending disaster.
"I knew it! That was Puckerman at the church…what the hell are you two up to? What the hell is going on here?"
Noah rolled his eyes at Santana's drama. Good. It was out in the open now and Rachel would just have to deal. They were friends. Big freaking deal. He couldn't help the victorious smirk taking over his face.
He felt his hand that was holding the slushie jerking away as Rachel suddenly yanked at him. What the hell was she doing?
Rachel shrieked as the cold slushie hit her face and she immediately shivered at the freezing cold taking over her body on this already very cold day. He looked to her with wide eyes as she gave him one fierce glare and then grabbed her bag and ran towards the school. She blew past Santana, who was staring at Noah in shock.
"Did you just throw your Slushie in Berry's face?"
Noah looked down at his empty cup and then back up at a curious Santana. She didn't look happy, even after witnessing Rachel's INSANE, self-inflicted embarrassment. She looked confused and a little offended. No. He hadn't thrown it in Rachel's face. She had decided that rather than being seen as friends at school, she would rather humiliate herself and blame him for it. Puck threw his empty cup towards the trash can on the corner, not even caring that he missed and stalked away. Away from a curious Santana, a slushied Rachel Berry and school all together.
Santana vaguely heard the clearly upset boy mutter, "Fuck this," before he cut his very first day of school.
And there we go. Rachel gets slushied for the very first time.
Next chapter is Mashup and we'll finally sort of understand why our two little adorable children turned into the frightening teenagers. The next chapter will probably take a little while, so look for the chapter on Friday, not tomorrow. Thanks as always for reading! And I love getting the reviews and alert messages. You are the kindest readers! Ever ever ever ever ever.
