Sorry about the length of time between updates. I lost inspiration for a while there, but hopefully it'll come back once I'm finally done for the year.


Chapter 12: Quinn and Rachel Star in: The Twilight Zone

Those few hours that Puck had been counting on to solve all his problems for him didn't last very damn long. And that sucked, because then he woke up and saw that Rachel's fathers were just sitting at the kitchen table, waiting. And he was already on his feet, so it wasn't like he could just lie there on the couch and continue to pretend to be asleep. Nope. He was fucked. Totally and completely fucked.

"Um, hi," he said awkwardly because they kept looking at him all expectantly, like they weren't totally sure he could speak English, or something.

"Hello," said the Jewish one, the one that Rachel called "Dad". The black one ("Daddy") just narrowed his eyes a little.

"Um, I guess I should probably head home?" he said hopefully, but Daddy shook his head (and that felt weird to think, but Puck had no idea what the hell else to call him).

"No way. Sit."

Puck sighed and crossed the room, trying his hardest to make it look like he wasn't totally freaked out. He hated parents. Every parent except his mother was like a minefield of questions and angry phone calls home just fucking waiting to happen. It seemed like no one's parents liked him. Only Finn's mom ever sort of gave a shit, but she also didn't really like him at the same time because he was always getting Finn into trouble that wasn't really his fault.

And Rachel's parents probably hated him too. Even though they didn't know he and Rachel were dating (thanks to Rachel being embarrassed of him, or whatever her reason for it was. Puck didn't really remember and he was pretty sure that it was just embarrassment, anyway, no matter what she said), they probably still hated him. People made judgments about his hair and his clothes and the fact that he slouched a lot long before he even said anything that would mark him as a total dick.

And when he sat down and sat up straight in his chair, that was because his back hurt, not because he wanted Rachel's dads to like him, or anything.

"Now, before you say anything," said Daddy coolly, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "Just let me be perfectly clear that we don't want any lies. We want to know the whole truth."

"Well, uh, I don't exactly…"

"We mean it," Dad put in. The tough guy act would be not at all scary if they were his age and not the fathers of his girlfriend – his girlfriend who was currently asleep and didn't seem like she'd be waking up anytime soon to save him – and looking at him like they wanted to kill him very slowly. But they weren't his age, and they were Rachel's fathers, and once upon a time it would have been easy to dismiss their scariness by remembering that they were gay, but he'd unfortunately come far enough in terms of intelligence (Rachel would have snorted with laughter there, if she was awake, but he would have ignored it) to know that just because you were gay, it didn't mean you couldn't kick ass. Like Spartans and shit like that.

And it was hard to imagine that the men who had raised Rachel Berry would be anything but Spartans.

"I don't really know what she wants me to tell you," he said helplessly, which was totally the wrong thing to say (he could see it in slow motion as soon as he said the words). Dad's face clouded over, and Daddy chuckled darkly.

"You see? I told you Rachel was the one getting them into trouble."

Puck's eyebrows shot up with surprise before he could stop them, but neither of Rachel's fathers seemed to notice.

"No, no, no, let's let the boy talk. I'm sure he's not the innocent you're convinced he is," Dad replied with a little grin for his husband, or boyfriend, or whatever (Puck wasn't really sure if gay marriage was legal yet or not).

"Um, well, should we wake Rachel up, or…?"

He trailed off when he saw the looks on their faces. And the thing was, he knew that look. That was the oh-look-honey-our-daughter-is-dating-a-jackass look. It was very specific.

"You tell us what happened in your own probably-limited vocabulary, and you worry about Rachel later. You've got two Berrys against one. Who are you honestly more afraid of?"

That was Daddy, and it was pretty clear where Rachel got the vocab from. That, and the ability to say sentences really fast without stopping for like two seconds.

Once his brain caught up with what his ears were hearing, Puck looked at them pointedly. This look was more of an are-you-serious-your-daughter-is-fucking-scary look. He'd given it to Santana's parents at least once. And Santana's parents hadn't found it nearly as amusing as Rachel's dads were finding it. They both chuckled quietly, unfortunately not nearly loud enough to reach Rachel on the couch, and leaned forward.

"Seriously, though," Dad said. "You. Talk. Now. I don't care how cute you think you are. You're telling us what we need to know. What happened to Rachel tonight? Officer Dennett gave us the run down, the overview. I want the cold, hard deets."

"Deets?" Puck asked helplessly.

"The details. The scoop. The skinny," Dad snapped, looking every bit like a balding, Jewish David Caruso for a minute. Daddy put a hand on Dad's chest and pushed him back, shaking his head.

"Okay, sweetie, stop. Noah, we just want to get to the bottom of this. Who's been threatening Rachel at school and why has she not mentioned it before."

Oh. That was sort of easy, he thought. Of course, if Rachel had something else in mind in terms of a story that she was going to tell her parents, it could be potentially fatal to his balls (you know, because they would fall off in about a week if he didn't get action before then). And if they didn't like the story that he came up with, if he decided to lie, then his balls would be limited to Rachel access once again, and he really didn't see any option that didn't potentially involve a fatal case of testicle removal.

But he weighed the options carefully in his head and came out with the answer least likely to get him in trouble: the truth. Even if Rachel was pissed that he'd let out her little secret, he thought maybe she'd appreciate it if he told her in a sad voice that he didn't want to lie to her parents or some shit like that. Fuck, she might even believe it.

So he looked up from the table and said, "His name is David Karofsky, and he's a scary dude."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Daddy said with relief, leaning back in his chair and gesturing to Dad to do the same. "Why's he after our baby?"

"Well, I mean, she's Berry, you know?"

No, that wouldn't work. Idiot.

"I'm afraid we have no idea what you're talking about," Dad replied in a tone that so much like his mother's most threatening of 'thin ice' tones that it was seriously creepy.

Okay, so that meant no gay-dads jokes, no even implying that a gay-dads joke maybe could be made (not that he could have even thought of one, with his brain going all mushy like it was. But it wasn't like he was scared or anything. Seriously).

"Um, well…see, the thing is, Rachel's sort of a target at school."

He watched their reactions carefully, receiving shock and horror in response.

"We've never seen any indication," Dad insisted.

"Well she tries to hide it from you, I think, because she doesn't want you to worry, or whatever. She's just all confident and shit, and people aren't usually like that. I think it bugs people, and they…I don't know, they lash out. They try to make her less confident to make them feel better about themselves."

Not that he was speaking from experience, or anything.

"That doesn't make sense," Daddy said with a frown. Puck shrugged and tried not to throw in a bitter chuckle for good measure.

"Well, try telling that to them. But don't, seriously, because that would just make it worse. The point is, these kids are, I don't know, making fun of Rachel or whatever. And I guess tonight they were extra pissed about something, because they followed her here. It started out as just harmless pranks…" he trailed off as he thought of the way he'd felt with that slushie trickling down into his underwear. "Well, okay, mostly harmless. I'm sure…look, I'm sure that the person who started the pranks didn't realize how bad they were until he got the other end of it, all right? And, sure, I probably shouldn't have let her walk home alone, but I honestly thought the problem was over. And I kind of thought she could take care of herself, because it's Rachel, and Rachel could take on a whole army and scare them to death with her constant talking and those moon eyes she always does. And she was mad at me anyway, and I was stubborn, and then fucking Karofsky and Linder were trying to scare her or…I don't even know. I don't even want to think about what they would have done if they caught her. I don't want to think about any of it. But it's not…it's not my fault! I don't have to look after her like that!"

He was getting defensive, and things were going so far off the rails, and his brain was screaming get out! Get out! Like it had been the second he'd planted himself inside Quinn like a flag on the moon and realized that he'd passed the point of no return and was actually going to bone his best friend's girl, like that was something that people just did, just casually, or whatever. But Mr. and Mr. Berry were just watching him with this weird cool calmness that was so much like Rachel's that it was simultaneously relieving and unnerving, which in itself was simultaneously relieving and unnerving, and he really just didn't have any idea how he was supposed to deal.

And so he was just sort of sitting there awkwardly and breathing all heavily like he'd just run a marathon instead of just freaking out a little to the parents of his girlfriend…and wasn't this supposed to be a casual relationship or whatever? Wasn't this supposed to be all about making out and hanging out and enjoying the ride? This wasn't casual. This was like, heavy shit. Because there were all these weird implications about what Linder and Karofsky were doing, and Puck wasn't sure how to work through that. Because on the one hand he was just steadfastly like, no, they wouldn't, but on the other hand he wanted to beat their faces in until they were just a puddle of mush and blood anyway, just for making him think about it.

Because she'd dreamed about him doing that to her, and he wasn't going to let anyone make that dream a reality. Not anyone.

"Oh, boy," Daddy sighed heavily. "Okay. Sweetie, could you get him some tea?"

"No, I don't…" Puck started, but Dad was already up and about, and he didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't like tea.

"Cinnamon apple okay?" Dad asked, and Puck shrugged because, hell, cinnamon apple sounded pretty fucking good.

"Look, Noah," Daddy said, leaning forward with an easy smile on his face. "We're not blaming you for leaving Rachel alone. It's obvious you care about our babygirl, and we know that if you had any idea that things might have gotten out of hand, you would have stepped up and taken her home whether she was mad or not."

And Puck really wasn't sure if that was true or not, and it really freaked him out. He wanted to say that it was true, but what if it wasn't? What if he was just an asshole, just like everybody said? What if Rachel was wrong about him? It was kind of scary, but what if it was true?

"Yeah, we know you didn't mean anything," Dad said, like it was physically hurting him to say the words. "We're just shaken, is all. We knew that Rachel wasn't exactly fighting off friendships with a stick, but…"

"We'd hoped that she was at least invisible," Daddy agreed.

"We both know what it's like to be ridiculed for something you love," Dad said with a sweet smile in Daddy's direction (sweet? What the hell, dude).

"We'd hoped that Rachel wouldn't go through that," Daddy sighed, but he was smiling back.

"Well, uh, if it helps, I know that she didn't want to tell you because she wanted you to think that too. I mean, she knows how proud you are of her, and it's really cool, because you guys are like, really supportive. I see those little notes that you write her in her lunch bag every day, and how sometimes she'll have a post-it stuck on her backpack and she won't notice until we're in first period, and I always thought that was kind of…anyway, my point is that she didn't hide it from you because she was embarrassed or anything. She hid it from you because she totally likes who she is and what you guys give her, and she didn't want you to worry that she didn't."

And he had no idea where the fuck that came from, but he knew it was true. And that was the scariest part of all.


Rachel was reluctantly dragged from the inky tendrils of sleep by the gentle sensation of someone shaking her awake. She could tell just from the scent and the touch that it was her Daddy. He always smoothed back her hair like that before he shook her, like it was required that he see her entire face before he rouse her into consciousness. She loved that about him.

She suddenly remembered that she was on the couch with Noah, and she bolted upright so quickly that she almost hit her Daddy in the face.

"Rachel!" he exclaimed in the tone he always used when she did something he deemed 'adorable'. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

Rachel realized with relief that Noah was sitting at the kitchen table with her Dad, and he was not at all anywhere near her breasts (she wasn't sure how handsy he had gotten in their shared sleep, but she was willing to bet there was nothing PG rated about his dreams).

"Dad, Daddy…Noah. Um…"

She trailed off as she saw the apologetic look that Noah was sending in her direction. It was often hard to read his facial expressions because he was so very set on keeping himself impassive and stonelike, but this was unmistakable. This was, shit, sorry.

"We've just been having a little chat with Noah, darling," said Daddy.

Ten minutes passed filled with impassioned pleas from both her fathers, confused silence from Noah, and teary declarations from herself. The general summary of the conversation was rather simple: her fathers wanted her to stay home the next day, possibly for the rest of the week, until Figgins could be coerced into doing something about the bullying problem that he had apparently been ignoring. Noah continued to stress that it would only make things worse, which Rachel was inclined to agree with, albeit with far more words and more colorful (but extremely accurate, if she did say so herself) metaphors. Her fathers were near-hysterical in their insistence that she was their little girl and no one would dare try to hurt her without facing the wrath of the combined Berrys and their lawyers. Rachel was insistent that they wouldn't have actually hurt her, although the frightful expression on her face was indicative of another kind of sentiment entirely, she knew.

And thought it all, Noah was looking at her strangely, as if he had just realized something inescapably important about her; such as the color of her hair or the frequency of her inclusion of knee socks in her wardrobe. She was not so naïve to think that he perhaps realized that there was some inherently wonderful quality about her after all, but he was looking at her with something akin to admiration. He respected her for her refusal to back down, and she was glad. She did not want to be protected. She wanted to be respected. She wanted people to understand that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And, of course, she got a certain thrill of excitement when she thought of being protected by a shining white knight, but she was willing to chalk that up to inexperience.

No, she would not be a damsel. Not anymore. She was going to be like her favorite television and novel heroines; tough, spunky, and capable of taking on even the strongest and creepiest of men.

But for the moment she said, "Noah will protect me," because although she knew that her fathers believed in her, they did not quite trust her to make accurate judgments. And she knew from their expressions that they liked Noah, perhaps despite themselves.

"Uh, yeah," Noah said, completely catching on as she knew he would (he kept insisting as to his lack of mental prowess, but she knew better). "Of course I'll protect her."

Her fathers looked at one another dubiously, but she knew them well enough to know that she would emerge victorious with a few hugs and cheek-kisses. She turned to look at Noah with a brilliant smile, and for the time being she could pretend that nothing bad had happened between them at all.


After he called his mom and made himself sound all noble and shit (it helped that Rachel's Daddy pulled out a lot of big words about his chivalry and gallantry and whatthefuckever else and spewed them into the phone at a rate that was overwhelming but also sort of awesome because it was all compliments), he got permission to spend the night on Rachel's couch, which was cool and didn't feel nearly as awkward as he assumed it would. And actually, even the whole sexiness level wasn't completely destroyed by the fact that her dads were okay with it. It felt sort of cool to be accepted for once.

Sure, sneaking around was hot. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd crawled out some upstairs window and into a nearby tree to avoid being caught by some chick's parent or husband. But this was different. They wanted him there, and they thought he was cool.

And, well, shit. That was pretty fucking awesome.

Her dads went up to bed with the warning that they would be reading until midnight, and if Rachel wasn't upstairs and in bed by then, they would have to come down and investigate. And that was cool too, because they were all the way upstairs and he and Rachel totally could have been having sex, and they wouldn't have even heard it. Probably. Well, it wasn't like he was going to actually try or anything, but it was still pretty cool to know that he could.

As soon as they were up the stairs and out of sight, Rachel like, latched onto him with her lips and kissed him so hard that he seriously thought about pulling away for oxygen at one point before she did it herself. She was clutching the back of his head, her fingers curled in the hair where his Mohawk met his neck, and that was really sexy. And it was sexy how she was looking at him, and it was sexy how she was smiling at him, and it was sexy that she wanted him there.

And he didn't feel like a loser, and he didn't feel like a failure, and he didn't feel like a jerk. For the first time in forever, he felt like none of those things.

"You're so hot," he said instead, and she smiled because he thought maybe she understood in a way that he could never actually explain. She was fucking crazy, sure, but she totally got him, like without him even needing to try or whatever. He always said the wrong stuff with other girls, because they didn't get how he didn't mean to be a jackass. But Rachel got it. Rachel got it because she said stupid shit, too.

"You're quite exceptional looking yourself," she said approvingly, easing onto his lap like she was made for it (and, come on, she totally was). "I regret our fight earlier."

"Yeah. Look, what I said earlier about not caring if you like Finn…that's true. I figure, you know, it's okay if we like other people, because this isn't supposed to be all intense or whatever. And that's fine."

"Exactly. We're both growing young people, and we need to get our affection somewhere. I have no illusions as to where this is leading. I'm not expecting you to fall in love with me and take me away to a castle by the sea."

"Or, you know, a tiny house on the outside of town," he said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

"Well, or that. I don't have any fantasies as to where this will lead. Because, as I was trying to say at school…"

"Oh, God, please don't tell me I'm not your fantasy again. I get it."

"Listen. I contemplated alternate ways to say this on my walk home, and I think I've formulated a response that will assuage your fears."

"Um…"

"Just let me say this. Don't worry."

And, well, fuck, it was kind of hard to argue when she had her hands on either side of his face and her legs squeezing his on either side and her skirt being all super short and all.

"O…okay."

"What I was trying and failing to get across to you was that yes, Finn is my fantasy, but the Finn that exists in my fantasies is not real. He was never real. Because, you're right, the real Prince Charming, the Man Behind the Curtain, although I realize that I'm combining movie references right now, is really Prince Idiot. Prince Emotionally Unavailable. Prince Better On Paper. I concocted this idea of who I believed Finn should be, and I fell in love with that belief. I fell in love with the belief that he was somehow going to fall madly in love with me and put up with me and all my craziness. But he won't, because that Finn does not exist. You see?"

"Basically you're saying that there are two Finns: imaginary Finn and real Finn, and you were in love with imaginary Finn."

"In the spirit of full disclosure, I must amend that to say 'am'. I am in love with imaginary Finn. But then I met you in a social space that did not include the throwing of iced drinks, and then you asked me out, and I accepted mostly because you asked, because I didn't think anyone would. And you exist. I don't need to fantasize about you, because you are here, and you are real, and I can feel you."

She ran her hands down his arms as if to prove her point and he shivered a little but tried to hide it, because that was totally a sissy thing to do when a chick was touching you. That was actually sort of a chick thing to do when a chick was touching you (here he was sidelined a bit by his disturbingly-recurring Quinn and Rachel sex fantasy before he was called back down to earth by her questioning eyes).

"So you're saying that…I'm not as good as imaginary Finn but I'm better than real Finn?"

"Precisely. Part of growing up is accepting that not everything is going to work out the way you thought it would. And for now, I'm more than happy to concede that I'm enjoying my time with you, as casual as it may be, because you are real. You are reality incarnate. You have rough edges, you can be mean and cruel and unfeeling, but you're here, and you do feel, as much as you try to pretend that you don't."

Well, that was certainly true. And he supposed that he could understand where she was coming from. Quinn and his kid existed in his mind as a sort of ideal conclusion. But every time he talked to Quinn he was reminded that it was not perfect, even a little bit. It was broken, maybe irreparably (fuck those words, and Rachel too, seriously). And Rachel wasn't exactly what he pictured when he thought about perfection, but the way she made him feel when she told him he was a good person was close enough.

"I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you," he admitted honestly. It was easier to be here, like this, where no one could see them or hear them. There was no risk of Finn or Quinn or even Artie or Kurt bursting in and making him feel like a little bitch for being all honest or whatever. There was just the two of them, and it was kind of nice even though it made him feel kind of stupid at the same time.

"It's fine," she said quietly, but he shook his head.

"No, it isn't." And it was totally déjà vu, but he didn't feel like thinking about that moment in the bathroom too much. "You didn't deserve it. I knew what this was going into it. I shouldn't have let Quinn get me so pissed. I was all worried about you playing me or some shit that I didn't stop to think about anything else."

She smiled and kissed him again, so he figured it was time to shut up and take whatever she was willing to get.

And that night was the night that Noah Puckerman finally touched Rachel Berry's boobs. Nips and everything.


Rachel made her hasty retreat into the school building the instant her fathers dropped her off instead of loitering like she usually did. It was a part of their arrangement if they would agree to let her handle the bullying in her own time rather than forcing the principal to take action that would leave her with nothing except perhaps a larger target upon her back. Noah had offered to drive her to school in the morning, but she had insisted (gently, she hoped) that he go home and shower before class. He'd gone reluctantly, and she was so touched by his concern that she almost declared her undying love for him right there. Declaring undying love for people based on whims or fantasies was her problem, however, so she forced herself not to say anything and take everything as it presented itself. Moving slowly. Not in a physical sense, most likely, but at least in an emotional one. There would be no declarations from her concerning Noah. Not anymore.

It was difficult, however, because when he had shown up in front of her house the night before looking every bit the opposite of what a white knight should be, she had been struck by the post-modern realism of it all and had almost succumbed to her fantasies. After all, the bitter anti-hero was the new swashbuckling prince. Everyone knew that.

Anyway, it hardly mattered. Because being back at school was the reality check that she so desperately needed. Any gleaming bit of fantasy she could gather from the night before had been harshly replaced by the knowledge that she was still not safe. She needed to find Karofsky (for apparently suspension was a suggestion and not a rule, and she didn't find it too hard to believe that he would simply have nothing else to do on a school day again) and she needed to talk him out of pursuing this sadistic little game any further. She had gone over every possible angle of their conversation in the rehearsal room the other day, and she was confident in her assessment that he had been trying to warn her of Linder, who was obviously the far more frightening of the pair.

She just has no idea where to start. Of course, logic suggested the boy's locker room, but she was hardly going to try and get into there without being noticed. No, she would simply go about her day and keep a sharp eye out for him. He was found to show his oily face eventually.


So the thing was, Puck completely was not stalking Rachel. Not at all. He just sort of changed his route a little throughout the day, but that was just because he wanted to make sure she wasn't being harassed. It was like, bad to his reputation or…something if she was harassed. And, okay, so those times he ended up following her to class? Those times were just because he wanted to go to the second floor bathroom. And the fact that his class was on the first floor was totally irrelevant.

And as it turned out, there was every reason to be worried, so he gave his internal doubts a serious slap in the face and laughed at them a little, because Rachel was totally being harassed.

But that wasn't the weird part. No, the weird part was the fact that she was being harassed by kids who looked like they were ten minutes out of diapers. Little, teeny freshmen. The kind that Puck had trouble seeing as he walked down the hall. They were tossing slushies in Rachel's face and then running away screaming apologies over their shoulders as they went.

It wasn't like this happened once, either. This happened three times when Puck just happened to be walking behind her. The first time he started to go forward to comfort Rachel and also beat the shit out of the kid, but Kurt grabbed her and dragged her into the faculty bathroom before Puck could even, like, process what had just happened. And then the second time it happened, Rachel ran away and Puck figured he'd stalk the little bastard instead, but he lost sight of the kid as soon as he rounded a corner. And then every time after that, it got really weird.

Really weird, because Quinn was the one being all helpful and nice and un-Quinnlike. Which was cool, sure, but really confusing. She saw Rachel get slushied for the third time, probably noticed that Rachel was wearing Brittany's gym clothes instead of her backup pair, put two-and-two together, and screamed at the freshman in her best I'm pregnant, don't fuck with me voice. Kudos to her, though, because it was terrifying. Not even Puck wanted to get involved with that, and he was a badass. So he kind of hung back until Quinn took Rachel to the bathroom, and then he waited outside Rachel's locker, hoping that she would be by herself.

She wasn't, though, so he immediately regretted everything. Because Quinn had her best war face on, and Rachel was chattering away like she was actually enjoying herself, and that combined was enough to make him lose his shit and run away. But he couldn't, because they had already seen him. So fuck.

"Uh, hey," he said when they approached, not really sure what to say. Seriously, though, what the hell do you say when your "casual" girlfriend is being helped out with a crisis by the mother of your child. Especially when that girlfriend doesn't know anything about that fetus. Especially when that girlfriend has a crush on the guy who thinks he's the father of that fetus. Fuck, it was all too confusing. Puck had just about had enough of it.

"Noah! What are you doing here?" Rachel asked uncomfortably. At least he wasn't the only one feeling awkward about the whole Quinn thing.

"I saw what happened," he said. "You need a ride home?"

"She's fine," Quinn answered coldly.

"Quinn gave me some of her old clothing!" Rachel exclaimed, as if this was like, winning the lottery or something.

"Oh, cool. Um, so, do you know why you're getting slushied?"

"I think it has something to do with this stupid tradition here," Quinn said thoughtfully. "Something about people throwing slushies at other people because…actually, I really don't know why they throw slushies at people. Do you?"

Puck sighed and said, "Quinn…"

"No, you're right," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just feeling a little hormonal today."

She smiled at Rachel, because of course the world was constantly trying to prove to Puck that yes, it could definitely get more fucking weird than it already was. And Quinn was being all nice to Rachel, and Puck really hoped it wasn't because she felt like she was responsible for why he was dating Rachel. He felt guilty enough about pretty much everything in his life. He didn't need more of a reason to.

"Seriously, though," he said, trying to sound serious even though he was scared shitless. "Why are people targeting you? And it's not even, like, hockey kids."

"I don't know," Rachel sighed.

"The last one wet himself when I yelled at him, I think. Not exactly the kind of kids who would be slushying of their own free will," Quinn pointed out. Rachel nodded.

"This is true. One of them looked remarkably like Jacob Ben Israel. He was possibly a relation."

"Shit. This is weird."

"I have to go to class, but…if anything else happens, I have a lot more clothes where those came from. I was going to give them to Coach Sylvester for charity before that whole scandal broke with her burning the clothes in front of homeless people. Now I've just got a bag of them sitting in the rehearsal room. I had to give a lot of stuff up once I moved into Finn's." She sent a pointed look in Puck's direction. Not like it wasn't deserved or anything, but she seemed to like reminding him that it was his fault that her life totally sucked. Whatever. He'd offered his house, would have probably been a lot easier for her because his mom was like never home and wouldn't have even noticed if Quinn moved into the basement or something.

He and Rachel waited until Quinn walked away, and then Rachel looked at him with this totally adorable but also really sad smile. Like she was just so fucking excited that Quinn had deemed her worthy to speak to or something. Puck was really freaked out because, seriously, what the hell could it all possibly mean?

So he just didn't say anything. He'd think about it later, once he'd had the time to really go over it in his head. Or something.

"I got an idea," he said. "You walk to class, and I'll follow you at a pretty safe distance. Then I'll grab the next guy who tries to slushie you, and I'll beat the shit out of him until he tells me what the hell his deal is."

"That hardly seems like the most intelligent course of action, Noah," Rachel sighed. "Especially considering Principal Figgins is already watching us closely after we – well, I – dispatched of Karofsky so effectively."

"Well, that's true. Can I at least infer that I'll beat him up?"

"It's imply, but your effort at improving your vernacular does not go unnoticed, Noah. And yes, I believe the implication of violence should be enough in this case. Although your agreeing to be seen with me in public without some sort of bizarre torture being performed has reduced your reputation, I don't believe that the freshmen who have been attempting to degrade me will notice. Your size and considerable bulk will be enough."

"Thanks, babe," Puck said, suddenly remembering why the fuck he was even bothering with this in the first place. Rachel made him feel awesome, and he supposed it was time to start returning the favor. She deserved to feel awesome about herself even though she was certifiably crazy as hell. Sure, she was possibly the most high maintenance chick he'd ever come across, but she was nice, and underneath all that crazy competitiveness there was actually a really cool person. And one seriously hot chick.

"I'll head to class," Rachel said, lifting her chin in the air, all totally aware of the fact that she was about to get slushied. The fact made him super pissed. Like hardcore, protective boyfriend pissed. It was kind of awesome. He felt like he belonged on a TV show or something.

And that feeling sort of increased by a lot once he was actually following her. And this time it was way less creepy because she actually knew about it. Not that he felt weird before or anything. No way. Noah Puckerman didn't feel weird about shit like that. Ever.

Okay, maybe a little. But mostly because he sort of felt like Karofsky, creeping around under cover of darkness and trying to freak out innocent girls (not that Rachel was really innocent, but still). He was already hating this day. Only the promise of getting to beat the shit out of a freshman was keeping him from just leaving like he usually did on days he didn't like.

Although, well, okay, maybe he was getting into it a little bit. Not like he was enjoying himself or anything, but he did sort of like the feeling of creeping along and being like a real life Modern Warfare thing (he preferred Left 4 Dead, but Modern Warfare was cool too. And way more relevant).

And then he saw him. The kid looked like he was about to piss himself. Sweat-drenched hair, eyes that rivaled Miss Pillsbury's in terms of total hugeness, a red slushy in one hand. He was zoned in on Rachel like a fucking missile. But Rachel didn't see him, of course, because she was fidgeting with whatever she had in her arms. Her general spaciness when walking down the hall used to totally be awesome because he could slushy the hell out of her without even trying. But now it was like, what the hell? Pay attention. He really fucking hated that he was all concerned or whatever. Especially since he didn't think she was even remotely as concerned as she should have been.

He pushed past her (probably shouldn't have actually shoved her, asshole) and punched the freshman in the face.

Fuck yeah. That was fight club training at its best.

"Noah!" Rachel yelled, but Puck wasn't done. He hauled the kid into the closest supply closet and yanked Rachel in after him. Which, in hindsight, was a pretty stupid idea because she was flipping out, and the closet was really small, and when Rachel got into full-on-crazy mode, her hand gestures needed a shitload of room.

"Chill!" he hissed. Rachel chilled.

"You didn't have to punch him," she said calmly. Creepy calm, actually.

"Well, maybe not. But whatever. I told you I'd handle this, and I handled it."

"I'm sorry!" the kid screeched. "They gave me twenty bucks to do it!"

"Who?" Rachel and Puck asked together, leaning forward and looking all threatening. Puck was sort of hoping the kid would wet himself. Who slushies a girl for money? Okay, sure, who slushies a girl at all, but still.

And, hell, he wouldn't blame the kid for being scared. Puck was fucking jacked. And even though Rachel dressed like she bought her clothes at the American Girl Doll store sometimes, she had the crazy eyes going on. And no boy in McKinley high hadn't been simultaneously horrified and turned on by that intense crazy at one point. At least, Puck didn't think so.

"I don't know who," the freshman said. Rachel got all soft-looking, and Puck knew she was going to start going easy on him. No way in Hell was that going to happen. Maybe this kid didn't know who Karofsky was, but he'd sure as shit know who Noah Puckerman was.

"Bullshit. If you're really too fucking stupid to know who was paying you to slushie my girlfriend, you better have at least gotten a description. Come on."

"Um, blonde hair? Thin, tall. I don't know, he was an asshole. Said I could take the twenty bucks or get the shit beat out of me. It was weird. Why even pay us?"

"Linder," Puck sighed. "Fuck."

"Well, this has been very helpful, thank you," Rachel said kindly, pulling Puck out of the room.

"You know what this looks like, right?" Puck pointed out as they emerged into the hallway. Rachel shrugged.

"I understand the implications but I hardly think anyone's going to believe that I would stoop to such degrading behaviors."

"Yeah, but it's me. If anyone can turn you into…"

"Have you noticed that we both have larger-than-average egos when it comes to our reputations? Only you are attracted to the sullying of yours, while I'm driven to protect the purity of mine."

"Whatever. It still totally looks like we were having sex."

"With a freshman?" Rachel asked with surprising amusement as she gestured to the dazed-looking freshman who was emerging from the closet with a bloody nose.

"Shit, I hope no one thinks that we were having sex with him. I don't do devil's three-ways."

"Relax, Noah. Since you are the model of immoral behavior that the faculty warns the rest of us about, I don't think anyone else will even notice. Besides, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

And that was about when Puck realized for real that he actually sort of liked her. Not just in the way that he usually admitted he liked her, like how he could sometimes stand her crazy and at other times she wasn't really all that annoying. But he legit had sort of a crush on her (not a crush, oh my fucking God, could you think of something better to call it? Fuck).

So when another kid tried to run up and slushie Rachel, Puck punched the fucker twice as hard.