A/N: I just want to kiss all of you who reviewed and set up alerts! I'm so glad you are enjoying this one, because I am too. Another short chapter. Real life is crazy, but I'll get this story written one little bit at a time.

M - but you should know that by now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Puck had been all the way to the front door of the hotel before he started losing the argument with himself, (or winning, depending on your perspective). The girl he had just left naked in bed was not what he had expected. The sex was fan-fucking-tastic, but that wasn't really a surprise. He had a gift for predicting that sort of thing. Sort of a sexual soothsayer. He just hadn't expected her to be so fun and open and quirky. Once she started talking it was like there was no filter between her mouth and her brain. It was oddly cute. She might be fun to hang out with.

But this was the part of the evening where he made his exit. Awesome sex, check. Drama-free escape, check. So why was he even considering going back? He didn't knowwhy he wanted to go back, which made him feel . . . he didn't actually have a label for the way it made him feel other than strange. Uncomfortable. So he did what he was comfortable with and headed for the door.

But, honestly, he knew she wasn't expecting anything from him. She made it clear she knew exactly what this was. He was hungry. She was hungry. He was going to get something to eat anyway, so would it really be so bad to take her with him? Sure, he didn't usually do that sort of thing, but she was obviously a tourist. She'd be leaving town. What would it hurt?

He wrestled with that question for a minute. It probably wouldn't hurtanything, but he had a very good system. He couldn't think of one reason to start changing it.

Well, maybe one. The vending machine really was out of order. Not that he'd checked. He had to walk right past it on his way out and he noticed.

But how was that his problem? She was a big girl (figuratively speaking). She'd live till morning. Not his fault she didn't eat. No dinner. That was the rule. No dinner.

But was it dinner, really? Grabbing some munchies in the middle of the night didn't have the same connotation as taking someone to dinner. Did it?

No it didn't. Totally different. Totally not breaking the rule.

He was close to turning around anyway, but then came the clincher. He realized that with the vending machine broken she might go hungry all night, but she also might venture out alone to find something to eat. He had a mom and a sister. He wouldn't want either of them wandering the streets of a strange city alone at night. Well fuck! And that's how he found himself walking back to her hotel room to not take her to dinner.

He was glad he'd decided to come back when he reached her hallway and noticed her key card lying on the floor just outside her door. Any creep could have picked it up, and he had to admit it was a little bit his fault she dropped it there. He let himself in and saw that she was up and dressed. Her hair was back and her face was clean and she looked great. She was wearing these tiny red and white gym shorts that barely covered her ass, and a little white tank top. She looked up at him, surprised. The look on her face, together with the fact that she was about to leave the room, made it clear that she hadn't expected him to come back. It kind of bothered him. Sure, he wasn't planning to, but why did she just assume? Apparently he needed to add smart to her list of attributes, or obviously a dick to his.

"The vending machine's out of order, but I have a better idea. Come on." He tugged her arm to urge her toward the door.

"What are you doing? Come on where? I'm not dressed to go anywhere further than the hallway!" She stomped her foot and gave him an exasperated look.

He wanted to kick his own ass for thinking she was cute. Again. He looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow. "You look fine. You look hot. Let's go eat."

"I'm in shorts, and while it's not freezing, it's not exactly summer out there. Not to mention the fact that I look like I just fell out of bed, or the left gym at best."

"Whatever. You'll be fine." Puck gestured toward the dress, still on closet floor. "Not like that dress was any warmer."

He spotted a feathery Mardi Gras crown sitting on the dresser, the sparkly kind that were all over the place this time of year. He picked it up and put it on her head.

"There. Not fit for the gym OR bed. Well maybe bed." He winked and tossed her the jacket he found draped on the back of the chair. "Now come on."

OO

Rachel found the whole thing a little surreal. She was sipping coffee in the back corner of a little greasy spoon diner with a self proclaimed womanizer . . . and she was actually enjoying his company. When he had returned to her room she wasn't at all sure about going to eat with him. Yes, she had enjoyed their time together, but she was pretty sure that would not extend beyond the bedroom. It was kind of nice to be wrong this one time. He was unbelievably crass, but also surprisingly thoughtful. He teased her about being high maintenance, but hadn't been irritated or impatient when she asked the waitress a dozen questions before finding a vegan friendly meal to order. He even offered a suggestion.

They had finished eating, and were flicking a wadded up straw wrapper back and forth, as he tried to teach her some kind of diner hockey. She threw the paper at his head and giggled at him when he clutched his eye and acted as if she's blinded him.

He watched her smiling and laughing across from him, and the words came out before he could stop them. "You look really good like that."

Rachel blushed and looked up at him. "Like what?"

"Nothing, never mind. I just meant you're, you know, hot." He smirked at her and tried to turn the compliment into a come on.

"Don't say never mind. Like what? I'd really like to know."

Puck shifted awkwardly in his seat. What was it about this girl that put him off his game? "Alright, fine. You're all happy and casual, without the fancy dress and the glitter and everything. I mean you looked great before too, just . . . I like it. You look nice."

She had a feeling he didn't offer many sincere compliments and it made her feel warm to receive one. "Thank you. You too. I mean you look good too. Obviously you look the same." She glanced up at him and smiled. "Actually, you're the one who's glittery now." She reached across the table and brushed her hand over his cheek.

"Hmm, how did that get there?" He winked and brushed at his face a few times. "Is it gone?"

"Good enough." She smiled and picked up her warm mug with both hands. There was a lull in the conversation, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They both sipped their coffee and watched the comings and goings around them.

Puck finally broke the silence. "So, hey, this might be a little overdue, but - Hi, I'm Noah Puckerman. Everyone calls me Puck."

Rachel put down her coffee and shook his extended hand. "Well, I guess I'm not everyone, because I prefer Noah."

He rolled his eyes. "Your prerogative, I guess. Nobody but my Ma and my sister call me that, but whatever." Puck was still shaking her hand so he lowered their joined hands to the table. "And?"

"And what?"

"Don't you have a name?"

Rachel giggled and nodded.

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

She smiled coyly and looked at him through her lashes. "I believe I'd rather remain a mystery."

He gawked at her in disbelief for a moment before answering. "Seriously? You won't tell me your name? Fine, I'll just have to name you then. Hmmmm. I think I'll call you 'Mardi Gras Princess' since you decided to wear a tiara to a diner n' all"

"Hey! You put this thing on me!"

"You left it on." Puck shrugged and continued. "So Princess, what do you do? I mean other than dragging innocent young men out of bars to have your way with them."

Rachel laughed so hard she almost choked. "Let me get this straight. I'm a temptress and you are a boy scout."

He raised his fingers and put on his most sincere expression. "Scout's honor."

She lowered her head, and her shoulders started to shake a little. He thought she was laughing again until she pulled her hand away from his and started swiping at her eyes. Shit! What the hell just happened? He didn't deal well with crying women, and this was even worse because he had no idea why she was crying.

"Um . . . shit! Are you OK? You know I was teasing right?" He reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

She raised her teary face to him and furiously blinked away the moisture pooling in her eyes. "I'm fine, really, it's -" Her chin trembled slightly before her pained expression turned to pure amusement. Her eyes, still wet with tears, were dancing with laughter. "You should see your face right now." She couldn't hold her giggles in any longer. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That was mean."

Puck snatched his hand back, crossed his arms, and scowled at her. "What the hell?"

"Now don't pout. It's not as if you haven't teased me, and you asked me what I do. That is what I do. I'm a performer." She bowed in her seat. "Music and Drama double major at J-just some college. I didn't think I should burst into song in the middle of a diner, so I opted for drama."

"You shoulda just sang," he grumbled. He sat in silent irritation for a minute, but the mention of music had piqued his interest. "So you sing? You any good?"

"I know I'm supposed to be modest, but I've never been very good at that, so I won't bother. Yes, I am good. I'm actually quite talented. I'm going to be a star."

"Well, as long as you have a solid plan," he teased.

"It doesn't matter if you believe me. I am destined for Broadway. I've known it my whole life and it will happen," Rachel snapped at him.

He threw his hands up in surrender. "Hey, whoa. I didn't mean anything by it. I mean how should I know if you're good or not? Besides, you probably need that kind of confidence to make it."

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Just a little defensive I guess."

"Did I strike a nerve there?"

She blew out a breath and fiddled with her fingers before answering. "My ex was always telling me one of my majors should be 'practical'. He said a lot of very talented people never make it, and I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket. He called it having a backup plan, but I think he really meant a realistic plan for when I was done chasing my silly dreams. But that's who I am. I have big dreams, and he wasn't a dreamer at all." She physically shook it off before looking up at him. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about him. What do you do Noah?"

He grabbed the check and stood up. "You up for a little walk?"

She blinked at him in confusion. "Sure, I guess."