Hello, everyone! I hope those in the US had a lovely 4th of July Holiday. Here is a short chapter, but I hope you find it fun. It's much lighter than the last one (thank goodness. I can't handle or do sad very well). You'll notice a slight time skip here (in the flashbacks at least), due to the fact that really, Noah and Rachel's time together has moved to the 97 day format. So flashbacks will mostly be summer camp or winter holiday time.

I hope that you enjoy!

-Chapter Nine-

***June 2004***

"Puckerbutt!"

Noah tried very hard not to react in any way whatsoever to the excited yelling of his pet-name from his summer camp counselor. Instead, he slowly turned, one eyebrow raised in a perfectly practiced expression of annoyance, disdain and slight boredom.

"Suck-it-lots, how in the name of Abraham's left testicle did you get this job back? Doesn't the Rabbi take my complaints of sexual abuse seriously?"

Andrea Sokoloff-Leonardo's smile quickly faded and it was as if she was taken back a year in time. One year ago, Noah Puckerman was the reason she dreaded waking up in the morning. He had made her life a living, breathing hell for eight weeks in the summer.

There had been the mysterious case of all the under eight-year-old set eating a complete case of Elmer's glue. Then, there was the classic kidnapping of a local Methodist's Church central crucifix. A news report had claimed the overly large sculpture had been found poolside in an affluent couple's backyard, and the Jesus portion of the statue had been clothed in a poncho, fisherman's cap (which she had found fitting) and neon pink sunglasses. And of course, she couldn't forget the footage the local news had aired of she and her then boyfriend, now husband, canoodling up at Lover's Lane.

-Come to think on that, it may have finally pressured her husband to set a date for the wedding. She had her very angry Jewish mother to thank for that.

But there had been countless incidents where she couldn't quite blame Noah Puckerman for a criminally insane prank or misdeed, but she could certainly suspect no other person. Eight weeks of hell. Eight weeks of waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to literally poison her, or implicate her in a bank-heist.

And then Rachel Berry had entered with a box of delicious cookies. And Noah Puckerman stopped annoying the camp counselor and chose instead to annoy Rachel. That was until he realized he wouldn't be getting more cookies until he sort of straightened out his act. Also, Andrea had a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Jerome Berry was secretly medicating the rambunctious pre-teen. Either way, a new Noah Puckerman had been born.

However, from the looks of her room, where four hyperactive toddlers had obviously consumed their body weight in sugar, Noah Puckerman was back to being an evil devil spawn. The counselor looked warily at Noah, who still had that impeccable expression of evil on his face and asked breathily,

"What happened?"

"Oh, when I came in, it looked like the new batch of Jews had accidentally gotten into the Bingo night snack bar. I think Mrs. Mackery is going to have to go and buy more Swedish Fish," Noah explained nonchalantly. He smirked as he saw his sister zooming around the room, practically walking up the walls. Amberlee Puckerman was beyond wired, and she had just realized that the pipes in the corner of the room could support her body weight. Noah pursed his lips slightly to stop the amused smirk before he looked back to the person in charge and said with mock helpfulness, "Looks like you got a climber this year. Have fun with that, Suck-it-lots!"

"Wait, Puckerbutt, get back here-" Andrea called out, only to have her desperate words float unheard in the chaotic air of the synagogue basement. Noah walked out of the room, intent on finding some other fun mischief to stir up.

***December 2009***

Puck counted the money that they had raised on this epic day of the most epic bake sale to have ever epic-ed, baked or saled. This would shut Quinn's stupid mouth. $1251. Enough for the short bus and he could probably go to the quick shop and grab dip and a slushie or three. He looked to his right, expecting Mike to be sitting next to him in the stupid wheelchair and immediately cringed when he saw who had rolled up next to him.

"I liked the first batch of cupcakes better. The sawdust taste made me less hungry. I'm going to probably have to bounce for an hour to make weigh-in next week."

Puck simply stared at Brittany, knowing that if he interacted with her, it would lead to at least three hours of confusion and the need for extra-strength aspirin for him in the long run. He swore that after they had slushied Schue last week, Brittany had made the observation that Mr. Schue might contract red-dye number 4 disease and have to paint his eyebrows back on later and Puck had consequently lost brain cells from trying to figure out what she was saying.

"Where are the cookies?" Brittany wondered, looking around for the tub of cookies that Rachel had brought in especially for the sale, shaped like Christmas trees and candles.

Puck shrugged, trying not to speak or betray any thought in his head. The two tubs of cookies that Rachel had contributed to the sale were in his truck at the moment. Sure, he wanted to do a great job at the bake sale, but he hadn't had those damned cookies for at least a month. Hell if he was going to sell them three for a dollar to the greedy bastards of McKinley. They sure as hell didn't deserve it.

"Oh. I get it," Brittany nodded, even though Puck had yet to even acknowledge her presence. "I thought I had won it all, but now Mike might win the next bet. That's kind of bad, because I spent the rest of my allowance on Bump-its, red headbands and Binaca."

This finally fueled Puck to regain his sense of speech. "What the hell are you and Jackie Chang betting on now? I really wish you'd stop, or at least let me in on the action."

"That wouldn't be fair. You'd be like Axle Rose," Brittany waved him off.

"Pete Rose," Puck clarified.

"What's my cousin's trashman have to do with this?" Brittany furrowed her brow and looked at Puck as if he was stupid. And that only infuriated him more, because out of all the people to question his intelligence? The second worst person of all time would be Brittany. Number one, Finn of course. The dude thought the Trix Bunny was for real and set out bowls of the cereal in hopes of finally catching him.

"Can you bring me one of those cookies from your truck in time for Spanish class?" Brittany wondered. "Those cupcakes really made me hungrier."

"Hell no." Puck muttered.

"But Rachel made a lot, you can give me one," Brittany insisted. She looked to him hopefully and said, "If I make out with you, would you give me one?"

"Really, hell no," Puck's eyes widened, and he couldn't have been more happy for his response as someone else rolled into the cafeteria. Puck's eyes narrowed as Mike rolled up to the empty bake sale table, pushing his wheelchair obnoxiously in between Brittany's and Puck's. They were now so close that Mike's wheels had interlocked with both of their wheelchairs. Mike glared at Puck suspiciously, to which the mohawked boy held up his hands as if proclaiming his innocence.

Brittany grinned at Mike and then immediately pursed her lips. "You may win this time Mike. The metaphor is still there."

"What the hell is a -"

"Awesome, I was going to have to sell some of my video games in order to have Christmas money," Mike grinned gleefully, looking at Puck. "Hey, did you sell all of Rachel's cookies too? I'm starving."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about Long Duk Dong," Puck coolly stated, closing the cash box, minus the extra fifty-one dollars he was going to claim as his own due to the starting cash he had put out for supplies.

"Uhm, I held the door for her today, and I saw the eight dozen Christmas trees and Candles. They looked cookie-licious. I want one," Mike sneered at his friend.

"You don't get any!" Puck glared, not at all feeling like the possessive toddler he actually sounded like.

"That's unfair. Rachel totally sacrificed her free time-"

"Which I've heard is when she does rituals to her shrines of celebrities that are under five feet tall," Brittany interjected dreamily.

"And she expected those cookies to help out Artie," Mike finished smoothly, not the least bit affected by Brittany's helpful interjections. "And you just stole them…Rutherford saw you taking the containers to your truck, and I bet you didn't even pay for them…"

"FINE, fine! One of these days, I'm going to duct-tape the two of you together and shove you in a locker," Puck warned, extracting the fifty-one dollars he had hoped to skim off the top of the profits and put it back with the rest of the money.

Mike only grinned and blushed slightly, while Brittany's face slowly brightened with a truly happy smile before saying, "Duct tape reminds me of popcorn."

Puck looked confused and Mike was forced to translate, "Summer-time MacGuyver marathons. I got her the box-set for her birthday."

"He's smart," Brittany concluded. "I wish I could have made out with him before he went into the Stargate."

"I'm going before you both eat my brain with your crazy bullshit," Puck grumbled, struggling to turn his wheel chair around as it was still interlocked with Chang's. His friends didn't let his less than dramatic exit affect them in the slightest as they continued to chat with each other.

"Mike, do you think that if I went through a wormhole two minutes into the future and shot myself, it would be a suicide?"

For his part Mike seemed able to keep up with Brittany's trainwreck of thought and pondered, "Don't you think it would be murder? I mean, you'd technically be two different people, right?"

"I don't want to kill myself. I'd probably be too attracted to myself. So if I made out with myself, would that be cheating on Santana or masturbation?"

***July 2004***

"Rachel! Welcome back! How was your dance camp?"

Rachel beamed at Mrs. Sokoloff-Leonardo as she rushed into the rec-room with a large box of cookies. She hugged her counselor and then went straight over to where Noah sat sullenly on the floor, spread eagle, looking far too bored than was naturally possible. Rachel put the box of cookies on Noah's stomach and looked at him curiously as he ignored her presence.

"It was lovely and intense and a little lonely, thank you so much for asking," she smiled at her counselor. She then looked at Noah, who still had not touched his cookies before asking, "What's wrong?"

"S'nothin'," Noah mumbled.

"He's been so grumpy without you, Rachel," Andrea revealed happily, feeling a measure of safety. The three weeks that Rachel had been absent had been an absolute hell, where Noah Puckerman had reverted back to his true satanic form. However, Noah's keeper was now back, and Andrea felt confident that the girl had him wrapped around her little finger and could force something resembling good behavior.

"You missed me?" Rachel couldn't help the small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Whatever," Noah rolled his eyes, rising from his lazy spot on the floor, securing the box of cookies firmly in his greedy hands before getting up and walking slowly from the room, mumbling the whole way, "Not like you've been there the last couple months."

Rachel's smile slowly faded and she sat still in her spot, staring at where Noah had been moments before. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Andrea's face staring back at her in sympathy.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

***December 2009***

"Where the hell are you going with those?"

Rachel spun on her heel, the angry, nearly shouting question surprising her. Her hands jerked and Puck easily caught the box that had flown from them. She suppressed a shriek as Puck ripped into the box and shoved two cookies into his mouth at once. She tried to re-obtain her box of cookies but Puck had no problem fending off her five-foot tall attack.

"GIVE THOSE BACK!" Rachel resorted to using her voice, screeching at the top of her lungs.

Puck looked unimpressed and continued to eat as Rachel resorted to a combo-attack of shrieking and hitting, her tiny fists doing no damage whatsoever. And as far as the screeching, he had become used to it over the years. As much as he complained about it, he certainly had gained a sort of immunity to it. He obnoxiously held the box of cookies above Rachel's head, just high enough for it to be out of her reach, and dropped it lower a few times. Rachel, completely out of her wits at that point, kept jumping up at it comically, causing Puck to snort cookie crumbs from his nose.

The disgusting cookie crumbs flying into her hair had done it, Rachel's patience was long gone and her sense of decorum and non-violence completely broke as she flung her whole body at Puck, knocking him to the ground in a tackle. She straddled his body and pounded her small fists anywhere that was accessible, his chest, the sides of his head, his neck as she continued to try to reclaim the box of baked goods to no avail.

"Berry-pants, enough!" Puck complained lazily as she continued to attempt to pummel him. But if there was one thing his fight club meetings had given him, it was the ability to take a beating. And since it was Rachel, it was like a toddler had decided to attack him. No big whoop. "I'm never giving you this box back. You're just going to give it to Schue!"

"It's none of your business, Noah Puckerman!" Rachel bellowed, diving for his hands and missing yet again. "We aren't dating and we aren't friends, remember?"

"Oh please, those were your rules, you can't complain if I'm following them. It's not Christmas break yet. We aren't friends," Puck smirked, shifting his weight beneath her. If she kept wriggling, he was truly going to enjoy this. "Besides, Schue doesn't deserve cookies. You told me six years ago that I had to do a good deed. What's Schue done besides sing a creepy duet with you and treat you like dirt? I mean, do you even remember last week? He was going to give your green witch solo to Kurt!"

This gave Rachel pause for a moment, where rational thought flittered into her brain for the briefest of seconds before she went on the offensive yet again. This time, instead of using her fists, she fashioned her hands into claw liked shapes and went in for the kill. The unusual sound of Puck's uncontrollable, hearty chuckles echoed off of the walls of the choir room as Rachel tickled mercilessly.

"NO! Stop it-I'm not giving them back!" Puck managed to cry out crazily between his uncontrollable laughing fits. "They're mine, Berry-pants! MINE! I'll lick every one of them-I swear it!"

Rachel continued tickling, and Puck made good on his promise, taking every single star and music note shaped cookie out and licking at the cookie maniacally. At one point he may have licked her hand by mistake, but he didn't care. Between the painfully tortuous tickling and her writing on top of him, he had now gotten further with her than during their ridiculously short week together as a couple.

"Ahem."

The pair froze, Rachel's hands now up Puck's shirt, Puck's tongue frozen in mid-lick of a cookie. They slowly turned their red faces, Puck would swear it was from the physical exertion of laughing and not embarrassment, towards the door where Emma Pillsbury was looking at them with even wider eyes than usual. Rachel popped right off of Puck's body gracefully, straightening out her skirt and rumpled hair. Puck remained laying, hoping that he wouldn't have to stand up completely tent-pantsed. Instead of even acknowledging Ms. Pillsbury's existence, he shoved another two cookies in his mouth.

Rachel began nudging him in the sides with her Mary-Janes and Puck eventually pulled himself off the ground. He gave Rachel a lascivious smirk and shoved another cookie in his mouth. He began to stroll out of the room and offered a cookie to the guidance counselor kindly.

"You licked them," Emma breathed.

"Spit is totally sanitary, Miss P," Noah shrugged.

"I'm going to go wash my hands before Mr. Schuester gets here," Emma squeaked before she raced Puck out the door.

"Thanks for the cookies, Berry-pants, oh, and stop stalking Schue," Puck helpfully offered. He gripped the box of cookies as he grabbed his bag. "If you don't, I'm telling your dads that you just gave me a lap dance. See you at temple this Saturday!"

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Next up is Hairography and Mattress! Look for it Wednesday! : )