Author's Note: So my plan to motivate myself back into writing seems to have worked, as I finally made it past the blank piece of paper and started working on this again. And, in doing so, I noticed that it was a lot longer than I'd thought before. So I changed the summary to indicate this would be a 3-parter, though it's all really just 1 big story of snapshots of "the final season (in my eyes)" from Puck's POV. My goal for the last part is still Xmas, but happy December to all of those reading (which, by the way, thank you SO MUCH for all those who are reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome).

Enjoy!

He winced when Rachel stopped the band once more, stomping her foot once and beginning to yet again explain the steps to the pair who just couldn't seem to land the moves at the right time. They bowed their heads in shame, though he thought maybe it was more a defense mechanism to avoid Rachel seeing either of them roll their eyes. The glee club had started working right after school and it was now nearing the seven o'clock hour, and they'd all heard their director berate each member at least once about something. Even without the constant reminders, everyone knew Sectionals was right around the corner; however, only Puck was willing to admit that Rachel had finally crossed the line between dedicated and insane.

"I think we're good for tonight. Get outta here, guys."

The kids scrambled out of the room, one of the football guys actually ducking just to avoid the laser stare on Rachel's face as she faced Puck. He held her gaze, though, waiting for her to hopefully explain the real reason she'd gone off the deep end. After all, considering the club's progress despite their late start plus who they know they're going to compete against for Sectionals, there was no reason to be so hard on the kids. Unfortunately that probably meant he'd done something wrong, but Puck would rather just know than be forced to figure it out - that was Quinn's game, not Rachel's.

"Sectionals is less than a week away, Noah."

"It's been like 3 hours."

"There's no timeline on greatness!"

He rolled his eyes, not afraid for her to see like the kids were. "Ain't nobody gonna be great if they all die from not eating or some shit."

"Just admit that you aren't taking this as seriously as I am." She secured her hands to her hips, looking at him pointedly. "If you don't want to be here, then you can go." Then she turned, gathering the sheet music with her back to him even as she continued talking. "I don't need you here, constantly reminding me how repulsed you are by everything about me - including my dedication to these kids! - so just go if you want to go."

"W-what?" He asked, genuinely confused (though he was still working through half of what she'd just said).

"Why don't you want me?" She turned on her heel, the tears in her eyes catching him more off guard than her words. "We've had two perfectly nice dates and three other separate occasions with time spent together outside of the professional realm, but … nothing - well, the kissing is lovely, but who are we kidding? And I understand the holidays posed a bit of an obstacle, but I …"

"You think I don't want you?" He actually laughed, which didn't exactly help the situation. "Legit, Berry. Have you seen you?" He shook his head comically. "'Puckermans don't date ugly chicks."

"Then what?" She asked, so much like she'd done the night of their first date that he knew she felt just as desperate as she had then and knowing it was all his fault again. So much for handling things in-house. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," he groaned, blowing out a heavy breath; he really hated talking about this stuff, mostly because he always came out sounding really stupid. "I just, I dunno what I'm supposed to do. Like, the thing with Quinn was an epic fail and you've been engaged for fuck's sake and … I wanna do this right but I don't know how."

Most women would have swooned at the confession, especially coming from a guy like him who didn't often express his emotions. But Rachel Berry wasn't like most women.

"This isn't some stupid game or puzzle, Noah. I don't want you to try to make this right. Us being together doesn't make any sense, but I like that. I like you, not whatever version of yourself that you think I want or need or that is quote-unquote right." She huffed a little, her voice raising a bit when she added one final thought, "And I don't want you to pretend to be something you're not, otherwise you'd be no better than how Quinn was behaving with Biff."

"Don't fuckin' compare me to Q."

His harsh growl echoed in the small space, their silence deafening as the two just stared at one another. Slowly, the anger seemed to fade from her eyes, and she spoke much more softly afterward. "I consciously try not to compare myself to Quinn or our relationship to such, and I hope eventually it will just be something that doesn't even cross my mind." She cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly. "However, I need you to make the same effort, Noah. Because we can't have a real relationship if we keep living in the past."

He'd told Quinn last year to hold onto her past because you couldn't just ignore part of who you were, but he knew Rachel was right, too. Like, it was important to remember your roots and who you are, but you can't let that stop who you can become.

"Do you find me attractive, Noah?"

His head snapped up, his eyes wide and scattered as he tried to figure out how she sounded so shy yet utterly bold at the same time. "Of course."

"Do you think about me," she paused, her sauntering steps filling in the quiet until she was right in front of him, "sexually?"

"Yes," he gulped, his voice as shaky as his hands that had moved to rest on her hips. He was so turned on so quickly and still nervous about being that free around her (which was beyond stupid since he never used to care about being completely blunt with her and they were actually dating now), but touching her had always had a weird way of calming him - it grounded him, gave him focus (even though it was mostly just tunnel vision on her).

"I'm not a shy 16-year-old girl anymore." She blushed even as she spoke confidently. "I'm not fragile, and you're not going to scare me off with a lewd remark or sexual innuendo." She pressed against him, aligning their bodies so dangerously that both their breaths hitched, hers ending with a plea, "Say something."

His grip tightened as he fought his instincts to pull away, to keep hiding that part of him that he hadn't been able to show her for nearly five years. He cleared his throat, refusing to look away from her chaotic gaze, and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"So, this guy and a girl are making out at the movies when suddenly the dude's toupee falls off. He takes his hand off the chick to search for it, and his hand ends up between her legs. She digs it and is all, 'Yes. That's it!' but the guy just shakes his head and tells her, 'No, it can't be. I part mine on the side.'"

Slowly, her raised eyebrows sunk back down to their normal position, her expression giving away to light amusement until finally a melodic giggle escaped into the room and he could breathe again. Her head slumped to his shoulder even as she shook it lightly, and he switched his hold so his one arm wrapped completely around her waist while the other drifted down, lingering on the smooth expanse of her exposed thigh. The rush of breath he felt on his neck propelled him past the relief he got from opening up to her (even if it was just a stupid joke) and gave him the confidence to continue, stopping his hand's journey right where her thigh and ass met and pulling her flush against him - knowing for certain there now was absolutely no doubt whether he wanted her or not.

"Ya know, I always had a fantasy of fuckin' you in the auditorium."

They won sectionals - almost too easily - and went out for dinner afterward to celebrate. It was weird because he was one of the adults versus the kids, and then it got weirder after Emma ran to the restroom and Schue had to take a phone call and Puck ended up with their kid in his lap. Outside of babysitting his sister when he got older and the brief time frame Shelby was in town with Beth, he didn't have much interaction with kids. Still, it was clear even as babies that boys were a lot different than girls, which Daniel was making obvious by continually jabbing Puck in the arm with a spoon. Rachel laughed at him and scooped up the toddler in her arms, humming softly to soothe the fussy tyke but unexpectedly relaxing Puck.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he lied, knowing better than to say anything since just thinking it was completely insane. Still, he couldn't help but joke. "Ya just gotta swear not to tell Ma about this or I won't stop hearing about Jewish grandbabies."

If her humming hadn't already put him at ease, then the soft smile that crossed her face paired with the quiet twinkle in her eyes when she didn't totally dismiss the idea that they would be awesome parents certainly would have done the trick.

There was a whole plan. Rachel had invited everyone to her house while her dads were still away on business, offering to throw a rough dinner party for their old friends while everyone was in town for Christmas. During dinner, she was going to casually mention that her and Puck had started seeing each other, then they'd move on to other topics of conversation. And, honestly, Puck knew it wouldn't go down that easy, but he'd been supportive - mostly because he knew she'd already told Kurt and so he figured the whole thing wasn't a secret anymore anyway; that guy had the biggest mouth of anyone he knew (other than Sam, but that wasn't the same thing).

Regardless, even though he didn't expect the plan to go well, he hadn't anticipated it not going at all.

"What the actual fuck?"

It was the first reaction they'd heard together, though it was hard for him to hear anything but the blood rushing past his ears. Rachel was currently sitting on the counter, her tiny dress and apron bunched up as far as he could get it from his position between her legs. His lips had been firmly suctioned to her neck, his hands denting the smooth taut skin where her legs became her torso. Her hands, conversely, had been running across the freshly cut hair at the back of his head, and her lips were hovering right by his ear, breathy noises of approval lost when Santana had barged through the door/moment. According to the clock on the oven, their friends were more than 30 minutes early; Puck was about 10 minutes past caring.

"Dude, Puck. What's with your hair?"

"Oh!" Rachel squealed, moving him closer (so not helping) and immediately batting at his head and blowing on his neck (really not helping) as if that were really the focus at that moment to anyone but Sam. "I assure you Noah isn't going gray at such a young age; it's just flour. I'm preparing some traditional Jewish pastries for our Hanukkah celebration tomorrow at the synagogue!"

"Yeah. That's why it's so hot in here," Santana joked, slapping Puck's butt on her way through the kitchen. His eyes lifted to Rachel when she attempted to push him away, and he tightened his hold on her to hopefully explain that they couldn't move just yet - her reddening cheeks said she understood. Unfortunately, the flush only made her look even hotter.

"I suppose I don't need any more confirmation than this to assume you really are never coming back to the loft." Kurt sighed, looking over his shoulder at Blaine. "Still willing to help me find a roommate? Or, you know, six?"

"Dude, the city is so expensive!"

"There are higher costs than money, Sam," Artie chimed in, gesturing to his crotch. "Much, much higher."

"No one wants to hear about your genital warts, Wheels." Santana kicked Artie's chair with her foot, sending the aspiring filmmaker toward the living room even as he participated in a conversation with the rest of the visiting boys about possibly moving in together. "We're here to talk about them boning."

Rachel gaped, then sputtered, "No we are not!"

"Please."

"I think she means we ain't gonna talk about it, not that it's not happenin'," Puck clarified, grinning at his old friend once he and Rachel finally moved away from the counter to follow the rest of their friends.

"Kurt, you promised!"

Kurt shook his head at the pouting Latina, taking a seat next to Blaine on the couch. "Why do you think we arrived early? I gave you a free show!"

"Kurt!" Rachel bellowed, the flush returning to her cheeks. It didn't look nearly as hot when her anger shifted back to Puck after he'd made a joke about giving it to her eight nights in a row. "Noah!"

"For Hanukkah, babe!" He defended weakly, accepting a high five from Santana, much to Rachel's chagrin (which she reminded him of more than once during the course of the evening). Sometimes it was weird to think about how much could change while almost everything could be exactly like it had been before.

So far, the new year was treating him well. For one, he'd turned 22, surrounded by a few friends and family. Then, a week later, he'd moved out of his childhood home (for the last time) into an apartment across town. His Ma had thrown a huge fit, even more than she had the first time - maybe because she knew this one would stick. He'd promised he'd still see her a temple and he still helped her around the house, though he was going to revoke that privilege soon if she kept up with her new game of pretending something was wrong for it to turn out to be nothing; he refused to go over at nine at night again only to find out the alleged burst pipe turned out to be from a cup of water that Sarah knocked over ('But I made you a snack!').

"That didn't happen," Jake laughed, jiggling his video controller as if that would help his character from the game move faster.

"So did. Twice." Puck shook his head, laughing a little himself. Shit wouldn't be funny again, but he could find the humor in it now. Maybe only because he was happily lounging in his apartment. Jake was over celebrating the move, hanging out for the night (he refused to say 'sleepover' despite Rachel's constant usage when she'd urged him to spend time with his brother). It was sort of weird that guy's night consisted of him and his 18-year-old brother, but Puck had never lived his life the way people expected. No reason to start now.

"Is Rachel comin' over later?"

"Nah." He groaned when his guy got stuck behind a building, nearly losing his head when a bullet screamed across the screen. Rachel hated the game because it was so violent, so it was probably good she'd already planned to spend the night at her fathers' after some quality family time. Still, considering how much she'd helped setting his new place up and how often she'd been around since the move, it would be kind of weird to go to bed tonight without her.

"You guys are cool though, yeah?"

"Yep."

"She's nice." Jake shrugged, moving his guy around the arena but not really doing anything. "Kinda crazy, but mostly funny. Hot, too."

"Thanks?" Puck eventually pried his eyes off the game, quirking an eyebrow at his little brother when the latter stopped controlling his character completely. "Ya alright?"

Jake was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving the television even though his response was most definitely directed to his right. "I think I made a mistake, with Marley. Like, I mean, obviously I did. But, I'm talkin' on like, a grand scale. Like … the one that got away kinda shit." He sighed heavily, eventually turning to face his older brother. "I dunno what to do."

"You're still young. No worries." Puck shook his head, not wanting to say something cliche about how many more fish there was in the sea, but it seemed like a valid point. After all, he wasn't sure people could know who was right for them until they'd experienced people who were really, really wrong for them first. He hadn't had too many real relationships in his life, but even his one-night stands and flings had taught him something about himself that sure as shit helped him along the way - like the first time with Q: pull out.

"But you and Rach dated in high school, too."

Puck groaned a little, eventually throwing down his controller to the coffee table and trying to figure out how he was going to explain something to his brother that he barely understood in the first place. He wouldn't even know how to put into words everything that had come together to get to where he was now, maybe because there weren't words. Or maybe because he was a man of few words, and he needed a lot to even come close to properly dissecting his and Berry's relationship. Ones that made it clear that they never would have worked in high school, and not just because of Finn but because their personalities only really meshed now that he's old enough to care about hurting her feelings and she had feelings for more than just herself. Ones that explained that neither had the other on any type of pedestal, or that they'd been through enough - together, as friends or more, and separately - that they appreciated the other across several layers. Ones that alluded to the amazing, mind-blowing sex without being detailed or graphic or even remotely telling because that was for him to know and no one else.

"Look, I'm … I dunno. Flattered, I guess. But, we ain't the same person, Jake." He shrugged, knowing the teen understood the parallels that had been drawn between Rachel and Marley and how Jake might find he's better suited for someone like Quinn even though Puck most certainly wasn't. "Ya might find out you like a different flavor, is all."

Puck picked his controller back up and unpaused the game, and both went back to looking at the television, but Jake shook his head while starting to move his character. "I don't think so. I like Rachel."

Still with the controller in his hand - and kicking some major ass, if he didn't say so himself - Puck shoved Jake's shoulder as hard as he could with his own. "Get your own, bro."

Puck swore he could hear the sound of the street light outside humming as he layed in bed, wide awake at nearly two in the morning. He should be exhausted considering he'd had a full day between work and then glee and then some serious extra-curricular activity with Rachel a few hours ago, but his brain would not shut off. He wasn't even sure why he was thinking about the stuff Jake had been talking about last weekend, but all of a sudden it was the only thing in his head. And it was impossible to fall asleep with those kind of thoughts rattling inside, mostly because they all centered around the woman who was currently taking up the other half of his bed - figuratively speaking, of course; she barely took up a fifth of it given her size.

"Noah," she giggled lightly, nuzzling into his side a little more. "You're tickling me."

"Sorry," he whispered gruffly, his fingers halting any further stroking (which wasn't easy considering he had no idea he had been doing it in the first place). "Go back to sleep."

She nodded against his chest and he felt her eyelashes sweep across his side, but then only a minute later he felt them flutter open again followed by her head lifting so her chin could rest on his chest. "Why aren't you sleeping, too?"

He sighed heavily, not really having an answer for her. There really wasn't any reason why he couldn't stop thinking about Jake's questions or some of the things Rachel had said in regards to not letting the ghosts of their pasts haunt them, or why they both came together to somehow play Quinn's words from last year in his mind over and over. It shouldn't matter that Quinn had said Rachel was Finn's soulmate. After all, when Puck had asked her who she thought was her soulmate, she'd never answered; and just because he'd been stupid enough to think that had been her way of saying it was him didn't mean she was right - about either of them.

"Do you think Finn was your soulmate?"

He refused to look at her, still just staring at the ceiling, but he felt her body tense the second the words left his mouth. "That's why you're not sleeping?"

Her surprise was valid, but the delaying tactic still pissed him off (maybe just because he was tired). "It's a simple question, Berry."

She sat up then, taking the sheet with her as she did so and making sure her anger was evident in her tone. "Do you think I'm your soulmate?" He watched a flash of insecurity course through her eyes through the moonlight before the steely expression remained fixed. "Come on, Puck. It's a simple question."

"Forget it," he mumbled, turning his head on the pillow so his eyes would face the opposite wall. "Let's just go to bed."

"Fine," she huffed, scooting across the mattress until she was basically falling off the edge furthest from him.

Despite the distance, the more time that passed the more he could feel her anger start to give away to the pain. She always did this weird breathing thing to attempt to calm herself, but he could hear her struggling to hold back her tears, and he knew the only thing that would help her was him. That is, him admitting what an emotional retard he was and praying she'd forgive him for being such an ass. Slowly, he turned from his position and moved across the bed, enveloping her entire frame within his. She seemed so tiny, and he knew then and there he'd do anything to protect her - though that'd been true for a lot longer than just since they'd started dating.

"I love you." She hiccuped at his rough words, turning frantically in his arms and wrapping hers around him. "Sorry I didn't just say that, and sorry …"

"Stop." She shook her head, taking a deep breath against his chest before lifting her watery eyes to meet his. "I don't believe in soulmates." She pulled back into him then, her head pressed tightly against his chest while her mouth seemingly spoke right to his heart. "I think relationships take work, and it isn't a matter of fate whether two people are right for each other or not. Finn was my person, for that period in my life, but I also don't think we're limited to just one. I think everyone has the potential to touch your life in a significant way, but it is a matter of whether you let them or not." She pulled back again, looking into his eyes but seeing much deeper than that. "I believe in love over destiny, and … I believe in us. In this."

His soft chuckle at just how Rachel Berry that whole thing sounded was cut short by the feeling of her soft lips pressing against his. And when they finally parted and she whispered her returned affection to him, he didn't much care anymore about not getting enough sleep that night. No matter what, tomorrow was going to be an awesome day.

He'd always thought Valentine's Day was for suckers, and he all but proved it after coming up with a totally awesome idea for the glee kids do do singing valentine's for the school at $10 a pop. High schoolers were dumb enough to pay for that kind of shit, even though they probably wouldn't be with the same significant others come St. Patrick's Day. But, nonetheless, the group made a killing - definitely enough for gas to regionals in Cincinnati next month - and he even threw an extra $20 into the pot; he'd told the kids to sing Sweet Caroline to Rachel before the day was through since he had to work all day. They must have done a good job, too, because she was waiting for him naked when he got home.

So good! So good! So good!

They decided to go to New York during McKinley's spring break. Rachel hadn't been back since leaving almost a year and a half ago, and he knew she missed the city - not to mention her friends that were there. They'd both been thinking more and more about the future, and the trip was the perfect thing to help her sort through everything without any pressure. Still, considering everyone only had another year left before graduating, the trip was a constant reminder that Rachel would have been in her last semester if she'd never dropped out of NYADA. And, to further complicate things, Quinn had decided to show up unannounced when she'd heard Santana and Brittany were taking the train up from Boston.

"Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked casually, walking into the living room after returning with Santana and Brittany from shopping.

"Kurt took her to NYADA for lunch and then they're going to visit with some of her old professors," Blaine answered, accepting the bowl of popcorn Sam moved into his lap.

"Why didn't you go?"

"Why would I?" Puck asked, his eyes never leaving the television screen; he was interested in the coverage for the NCAA tournament, but he mostly just didn't want to acknowledge Quinn.

"I just would have assumed she would want you with her." She shrugged emptily, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. "Are you sure she was okay with you not going?"

He scoffed. "She's gone, ain't she?"

Quinn made a noise that made Puck's blood boil, and it took everything in him not to remind the blonde that not everyone was as uptight as she was. He'd done a stellar job over the past day of keeping his comments to himself, but the more she pushed, the less he cared about opening Pandora's Box. After all, she clearly wasn't as willing to play nice.

"Is Brody one of the professors they are planning to visit, Blaine?"

"Why are you even here, Q?" Puck gritted out, interrupting Blaine's meek reply that Brody had graduated and moved to Miami.

"Calm down," she replied innocently, making a face at Sam that was meant to seem like the blond was on her side. "I'm not saying anything is happening … even if her options are pretty much endless here. Not like Lima."

Puck shook his head, lifting from the couch and moving to the kitchen just to put some distance between him and Quinn. He heard Blaine's sigh of relief at his exit, as if the tension followed him - just like the former Cheerio.

"Look, I know we didn't end on great terms, but I'm honestly just looking out for you. She's …"

"Don't fuckin' talk about her like you know her." He slammed closed the fridge door he'd just opened, his eyes in slits as he stared at her from across the kitchen. "You don't know shit about her or about me."

Her innocent stance flew out the window, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she spoke to him. "I know you must be stupid if you think this thing between you two actually has a future."

"I am stupid!" He shouted, throwing the bottle of water that had been clenched in his hand against the brick wall to his left, too upset to soak in the way it made her flinch. "I'm stupid for ever thinkin' you were more than the stuck up bitch you'd been in high school. I'm stupid for not seein' how manipulative and selfish and conniving you've always been." His breath was coming out in pants, but now that the floodgates had opened, he couldn't hold back. "I'm stupid for leaving the Air Force just 'cause you said it was the only way for us to have a real shot, and I'm really stupid for stickin' around for three months after while you bit my fuckin' head off every damn day about not being able to find a job."

By now the fight had earned not just Sam and Blaine's attention, but Santana and Brittany manifested from wherever they'd been hiding, watching the scene in the kitchen like it were the next great reality show.

"But you're stupid, too. You're stupid if you think you would have been a good mother to Beth. You're stupid if you think you're better than anyone, in basically any aspect but legit in the sack. And you're really, really stupid if you think Rachel is a rebound or a Band-Aid or whatever 'cause she's not." The rage had left, and it was like he only had the energy to explain one final part. "She's it for me."

"Noah?"

He turned at the sound of her voice, feeling even lighter than before. Honestly, even though it had been harsh, it'd felt good to get all of that off his chest. He and Quinn had done a lot of fighting leading up to their breakup, but it had all been superficial shit. He'd never gotten the kind of closure that he'd just received, and it was freeing to have it all out in the open. But nothing compared to the relief he felt when he saw Rachel standing at the front door, her eyes wide as she looked between him and Quinn while Kurt attempted to have some sort of silent conversation with Blaine from the other side of the room. Even at the very end, Quinn was Puck's ultimate chase. He'd felt so much adrenaline coursing through him when she'd ran into his arms at McKinley and asked him to stay. But where his relationship with Quinn was like a race, Rachel was the finish line; once the race was over and he was exhausted, she was the air he needed back in his lungs to keep going.

In four strong strides, Puck leafed his fingers through Rachel's hair until his hand cradled the back of her head and bent down to crash his lips against hers. She squeaked into the embrace, her one hand lifting to his shirt and bunching the fabric while the rest of her surrendered to the passion pouring out of him. When they finally parted, she breathlessly whispered, "What was that for?"

"Nothin'," he admitted quietly, kissing her forehead softly before mumbling against the skin, "Everything."

She smiled at him gratefully, but then really smiled at Quinn. And the look in her eyes was so hilarious that he didn't even mind bursting out in laughter because he knew she'd be there to help him breathe again after.

Regionals sucked. They won, but it was a war, one with more than one battle. First, Marley got sick right before they were set to leave, and lost her voice completely by the day of competition. They had to rework everything, which was something the new kids weren't used to like their class was; he and Rachel almost found time to reminisce about the chaos, too, until some douche in one of the other groups got a little handsy with the girl who couldn't voice her need for help, earning him a multitude of facial injuries delivered by none other than Jacob Puckerman. And Puck was mostly proud of his little brother for sticking up for his (non) girl, but it also cost New Directions their second lead and only a day left until they were due on stage.

While Rachel wanted to cut the solos and increase the group numbers to make up for the lack of leading talent, Puck asked her to trust him - and in a shy sophomore that he was pretty sure Rachel hadn't thought twice about. The latter probably never would have happened if she hadn't eavesdropped on his conversation with the young girl, where he'd told her that he'd always been second (or last) in glee back in the day, and he'd wished he would have fought harder to show that he could have done it. He'd told her that she'd have plenty of regrets from high school, but none of them should be about something she loved. And, finally, he'd reminded her that being a part of something special made you special.

They'd ended up pairing the young girl with Ryder, but Rachel assured Puck that she was lucky to have him as her male lead.

Puck wiped at his brow as he felt a bead of sweat move closer to his eye, his gaze shifting to his watch for a moment to ensure he had plenty of time before glee would start. There were still kids on the track and in the practice field participating in gym class, so he knew school hadn't ended yet. However, he also saw a couple of football players working out together as well as Coach Bieste waving him over from the sidelines - he almost thought about busting her chops about her having legs, too, but he knew from experience that she was basically rooted to that spot because it was the only place she could see the field as well as inside the weight room.

"What's up, Coach?"

"Didn't we agree that you should be calling me 'Shannon' now that you're basically working here?"

"Yes, but then we both agreed it was totally weird." Puck laughed, ending a stretch before standing back upright. "So, what's up, Coach?"

"I just got word that I've been approved to extend my staff - nothing like another championship to get the big wigs off their wallets - and I wanted to know if you'd be interested."

"Me?"

"The kids love you, Puck. They trust you, and we all know you know what you're doing. I think it would be a great fit." After what she must have considered too much silence, she continued. "You've shown a lot of maturity over the last year or two. Leadership skills that I think we both know you used to hide. So, if you're staying in town, I'd like you to think it over; nothing will really start until the summer, so you have a couple months to decide, but I think it would be really good for you - and the pay isn't terrible."

Puck chuckled, though it sounded off even to him and it was mostly out of nervousness than actual amusement. "Legit, I'm … I dunno. Honored. But," he shook his head, so many thoughts swirling around in his head, "things are already kinda crazy. Between work and glee and, like, life I'm barely gettin' by. And that wouldn't be fair to the team, to you." He shrugged then, his voice even lower as he voiced things he hadn't really done so far (it didn't surprise him that Coach Bieste was the first to hear it; they'd always had a connection, even when he was a pain in the ass kid). "Plus, the whole future thing is a pretty big question mark right now. M'not sure what's gonna happen."

"Well, the offer stands," she reminded easily, her expression veering too far into serious to be mistaken for disappointed. "But, word of advice: Don't wait around for your future to happen."

He nodded, grateful not just for the advice but for the presentation - he'd heard Ms. Pillsbury-Schuester tell a senior something similar earlier in the week, only she'd used one of her ridiculous pamphlets that read Turn That Question Mark Into An Exclamation Point!

He yelled at the television to motivate the players on the screen, ignoring the other bar patrons' complaints about his belligerent behavior to instead guard his glass; the bartender had already announced that he was cut off after his last rant, and Puck wouldn't put it past the fat bastard to swipe his drink in an effort to get his drunk ass out of his bar quicker. But he wasn't ready to go back to his apartment yet. It felt empty, hollow even, without her, and it only served to remind him of how stupid he'd been. And even though Ray's was kind of their spot, it was better than being trapped in a place where he could still smell her on his pillow or was reminded of her absence just by opening the fridge and seeing her special vegan food.

It wasn't like this was their first first. They fought all the time, but usually it's about little shit and it's over within the hour, or at least a day. It had been a whole week since he'd last heard from her, and the bulk of that time he'd spent in a drunken stupor. He hadn't drank himself into oblivion like this since Finn's death, and it would be dramatic to put this fight on anywhere near the same scale, but more and more he worried that this fight would be their last, and the circumstances of that certainly felt close to a similar kind of death.

The kicker was it had been all his fault. Like, legit. Not in hindsight and not because he wanted the fight to end. She'd honestly done nothing wrong and he'd still managed to fuck everything up. In his defense, he'd been working overtime at the shop after one of the guys had a heart attack - the one they'd nicknamed Bacon, poetically enough - and he was still helping with glee since it felt like just as much as his group as it was Rachel's (even though he was only meant to help out from time to time). He'd been beyond exhausted and he'd dealt with a couple of assholes at the garage that day, but instead of being grateful that his girl was cool with ordering in and just chilling in front of the television - even reassuring him that everything was fine and she wanted to know how she could help - he'd yelled at her. Call it a left hook to the hot button, but he always got pissed when people placated him; he hated feeling like a failure or a disappointment, but he hated people being fine with it even more. Like they knew it would happen, like it was expected for him to mess up somewhere down the line.

So after letting his frustration fester for the entire work week, she'd innocently offered her understanding that he'd just wanted to spend his day off at the apartment sleeping while she opted to go out with her fathers, and he'd yelled at her for it. He'd told her that if she didn't mind the space, then she should just leave him the hell alone. Yeah. That happened. And now he'd had a whole week of plenty of space. No texts, no calls, no visits.

Nothing was fine.

His neck practically snapped when he turned to see who'd caused the bell on the front door to jingle, his disappointment trumping his surprise to see Santana walking through the bar. Her heels clicked on the floor as she approached, her hand lifting directly in some guy's face on her way after he'd turned in his stool and opened his mouth to likely try some line on her. She didn't hesitate in her objective, though, reaching him in the next few seconds and just staring. Then, when he finally got sick of her giving him the silent treatment, he opened his mouth to say something Puck-ish. Unfortunately, she'd just been bading him, using that moment to grab his glass and toss the remainder of the liquid in his face.

"If you weren't like my brother, I'd fuckin' cut you," she stated in the midst of his sputtering, refusing to give him a moment to say anything. "But since you are, I'mma give ya a chance to save your ass."

"Thanks but no thanks."

"This isn't for you, asshole," she sneered, throwing a napkin at him. "I hate her sometimes, but she did a lot for me in New York and she deserves more. From both of us, but especially better than whatever you're trying to pull with this pansy ass shit."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Fuck if I know, but you need to figure it out in the next 10 minutes because she thinks she's meeting me for a drink but instead you're going to fix what you broke." Then she took his used napkin, balled it up, and threw it in his face, too, before giving one final cutting remark over her shoulder as she left. "Or remember this as the moment you completely ruined your life."