Title: You Hit Like a Girl (3/?)

Rating: PG 13

Pairing: eventual Quinn/Rachel, Puck/Rachel friendship

Spoilers: Season 1 compliant, AU Season 2.

Summary: The summer after her sophomore year, Rachel Berry has three goals: 1. Prepare for Glee 2. Befriend Quinn Fabray 3. Create a Lasting Romance with Finn Hudson. By the fourth week of summer she's completely failed two of them. Now what is she supposed to do?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Rachel went back to the park every night for a week. Her parents hadn't said anything yet, but she knew they were aware of her nighttime excursions. Her daddy had presented her with a roll of reflective tape one night after dinner. The truth was that she didn't really know what to tell them when they did ask what she was doing. She would text Quinn goodnight, lay in bed until she couldn't stand it anymore, run to the park, and then sit next to Puck until she didn't feel like she was going to jump out of her skin. He was always e when she arrived and she always left before he did. Sometime he had a beer and sometimes he didn't. Sometimes she looked him long enough to notice the bruises, but mostly she didn't. They stared at the leaves and breathed. That was it.

Rachel began taking power naps in the afternoon. It was impossible to sing, do ballet, yoga, capoeira, and exercise without adequate sleep. Some days her body felt tired but she still couldn't sleep. It was almost as if breaking up and finally breaking away from Finn had free her to… do something. She thought of Quinn and Noah and she couldn't figure out why. Two people who had spurned her friendship and caused her more heartbreak than any other people in her life and she thought of them more than she thought about Broadway. The frantic buzzing in her body made her feel like she was getting ready for a big performance and she was ready and anxious to do it. But, lying in her bed, she had no idea what the performance was or when it was coming.

On the eighth night, Rachel decided to fully embrace her nighttime ramblings. She sent Quinn a text (It's a beautiful night, Quinn, I hope you were able to enjoy it. Sleep well.) and pulled out one of her t shirt. Instead of slipping it on and going to bed, she found the roll of tape her daddy had given her and worked on using it to create a star on the back and the front of it. At least her parents could rest assured that she was visible to drivers and stars happened to be her thing. She smoothed a piece of tape over the first star, her eyes unfocused. They hadn't always been her thing. She blamed her interest in them, like the small scar near her hairline, on Noah.

Rachel had always known that she wanted to be a star, but it never occurred to her to make them her trademark. She and Noah were five and they were known for being trouble when they were together. They had to stay in for recess and help the teacher clean up craft supplies because they had spent nap time whispering about their favorite dinosaurs instead of sleeping. The teacher had to step outside for a minute and when she came back in Little Rachel and Little Noah were covered in glue and a mixture of gold glitter and little silver stars. Even though it was an accident, she never believed they hadn't done it on purpose. It took three days for stars to stop falling from Rachel's hair. Noah said it was cool that people could always tell where she went. He called her Superstar. So the next time she went to the store with her fathers, they bought her a package of gold star stickers and she picked out a package of dinosaur stickers for Noah. Rachel wouldn't admit it if anyone asked, but she was the first person to call him Puckasaurus, and it had nothing to do with his penis.

When Rachel arrived at the tree house, she was surprised to find she was the only one there. She took her customary position anyway. Disappointment. Worry. Maybe a little bit of hurt. The list of things she shouldn't feel but did anyway. It wasn't as if they had a standing engagement, and they didn't really interact. They were just two people who happened to be sharing the same space at the same time. Except they weren't. They were Rachel Barbara Berry and Puck. They were Superstar and Puckasaurus.

She blinked when she heard the scrape of boots against tree bark. She didn't turn to look at him as he made his way over, just like her had never turned to look at her. She didn't plan to look at him at all but when he shifted his breath would catch and every once in a while he would hiss lightly. So, she turned to look at him.

Puck wore a dingy stained wife beater that still looked a little damp. His lip was busted and bleeding and there was an angry purple bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. Bruises of varying degrees peppered his arms and Rachel was pretty sure his ribs were bruised. His knuckles were red and swollen and it confirmed Rachel's suspicions: he had been going to his fight club to deal with his feelings about Quinn and Beth.

Rachel bit her lip and turned back towards the trees. She felt torn. Part of her wanted to say something and another part just wanted to go home and crawl under her blankets and sleep. When had anything she ever said been taken without anger? Why risk ruining whatever it was they had? But he was sitting next to her and he was broken. How could she not try to fix him?

Rachel kept her eyes fixed forward and slowly lifted her hand and placed it over his. He didn't flinch and relief trickled through her.

"You look like a piece of meat, Noah. You know I'm morally opposed to anything being butchered."

He grunted and she licked her lips before continuing. "I would think something would stop being fun once you could no longer breathe without wincing."

"It's not supposed to be fun, Berry, it's supposed to hurt."

Rachel nodded and hummed. "You know, I could always beat you up if you'd like. You wouldn't even have to pay me. I'd happily wave the fifty dollar entry fee."

Puck scoffed and Rachel huffed. "Noah Puckerman, you seem to forget that I'm a very adept capoerista."

He chuckled, "You still do that dancing shit?"

"Just because you stopped coming to watch my games doesn't mean I stopped going."

"I didn't… I thought Mr. Vasquez died."

"He did. We meant one of his former students at his funeral and her offered to teach me. We skype lessons three times a week and once a month I go to Columbus for a one on one session."

"What level are you now?"

"Trainee. Yellow and blue. Next step up and I'll be studying to be a teacher."

"No shit?"

"Of course I'm not kidding, Noah. I'm slightly offended that you would suggest such a thing. Nevertheless, my point is that if you want somebody to snap you in half I can, and I'll look like I'm dancing while doing it."

Noah put his hand over hers and squeezed. "It's not about that."

"I know. I don't know exactly how you feel, but I know." She paused. "But you can't keep doing this."

"It's better than drinking myself into a ditch."

"That's debatable. Both can cause extensive brain damage and both are entirely unhealthy."

"I need something."

"We're both reasonably smart and good looking Jews, Noah. I'm sure we could think of something."

She could hear him smirking."Are you propositioning me, Berry?"

Rachel huffed and smacked his arm, not feeling the least bit bad when he groaned. "I'm serious. We'll think of something and if I find out you go back to that fight club I will come down there and beat you up myself."

He sighed, "Fine."

Rachel blinked, "Fine?"

"If you come up with something good."

Rachel nodded and they stared at the trees in silence until she left.

She spent the next day trying to think of a way to keep Puck from getting seriously injured. While still made sure to text Quinn, she cleared the rest of her schedule. Puck had lost a daughter. Any good man would be devastated and, for all his faults, Puck was a good man. He lost a part of himself, just like Quinn. Rachel couldn't imagine how much she was hurting and she really wished that she could help her, take some of the pain away. She couldn't though, so she resolved to be there for Noah. Quinn had told Rachel that she needed to work on herself. Obviously, Puck needed to work on himself. Who was he? Self proclaimed bad boy? Sex shark? Glee geek? Football player?

Rachel leaned back in her desk chair and twirled her gold pen. Puck was a football player. As she had told Finn, she didn't necessarily understand the game, but she had heard that for some athletes the game was everything—their stress relief, their joy, even their anti drug. Maybe they could use it as Puck's release. It was a physical sport, perfect for burning off energy and excess emotions. If he really needed a little bit of pain, she was sure getting tackled would do it for him. She could help him set up a training regiment and he would be in tiptop shape for the upcoming season. Maybe he could improve and get noticed. Puck might think of himself as a Lima loser sometimes, but Rachel knew Noah was worth more than that. She fully believed he could get a football scholarship and get out of this town.

She frowned. There was only one problem. Who would practice with Puck? Matt was gone, Mike was at camp, and she wouldn't trust Finn any farther than she could throw him. He was still upset about Quinn and the baby. Maybe she could do it? She was small, but strong and fit. Between her dancing lessons and capoeira she was in peak physical conditions. He could teach her the basics and she could help device various training exercises. If he really needed a body, she could step in. Rachel nodded to herself. This could work.

Puck laughed when she told him, so hard she thought he was going to fall out of the tree house. Then he realized she was serious and, for the first time since they started meeting up, they met each other's eyes as he stared her down.

"You're telling me you want to learn how to play football so you can help me practice, so I can get a scholarship?"

"And quit the fight club, yes."

"I thought you hated football."

"That's ridiculous, Noah. My daddy used to play in high school. I've just never understood the mechanics or the appeal."

"But you want to learn it, and play it, for me?"

"Yes, though I am fairly certain I won't actually have to play."

Puck raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure this isn't some weird way to get into my pants?"

Rachel huffed. "Noah Puckerman, I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last person on Earth."

He smirked. "That's not what you were saying earlier this year."

Rachel clenched her jaw in order to keep the "I missed you" from slipping out. She glared at him.

"Just kidding, babe."

"Well, I'm not. About any of it."

Puck sighed and ran his hand over his Mohawk. "I'm going to have to teach you the basics first."

"That sounds fantastic! How shall we commence? Is there a rule book? Should we watch tapes? Do—"

"Take a breath, babe. I think I have a book somewhere that Coach gave us, but I think there's a much better way I can teach you."

"Which is?"

"Just come by my house tomorrow. Not before noon."

At approximately 12:01 in the afternoon, Rachel knocked on the Puckerman's door. She was a little apprehensive. When she and Noah were friends, she had been a frequent guest of the Puckerman residence. His mother was like a mother to her. Rachel still saw her at synagogue, but it wasn't the same. She didn't really know his sister, Sarah, and she wouldn't know what to say if one of them opened the door. Rachel was relieved when Noah answered the door.

"Berry..."

"It's after noon, Noah. I waited just as you requested."

He grunted and turned around, leaving the door open for her to follow him. As they made their way to the living room, Rachel was struck with how familiar it still was. Simple. Warm. Worn. Puck kneeled in front of the TV and started to hook up the Play Station.

"Noah, what are you doing? I thought you were going to teach me the basics of football?"

"I am." He hit the power button and handed her a controller. "We're playing Madden. I'll teach you what's what."

Rachel eyed him dubiously.

He smirked, "Don't you trust me?"

She settled back on the couch. "No."

For the next four days she played Madden with Puck and he taught her the basic concepts. ( "Jesus, Berry. I said throw it to the wide receiver, not hand it off to the running back!" "You don't run on a 4th and 8! Punt, Berry, punt!") Part of her was wary. He had accepted everything to easily. It was like he was trying to placate her with the video games and wait for her to let it go. He hadn't even let her touch a real football and didn't seem keen on developing any exercise regimens.

Rachel hadn't gone to the tree house since they developed their tentative plan because she assumed Puck wouldn't be there anymore either. He wasn't supposed to be fighting any longer. The frantic energy in her body hadn't left so she worked on her elliptical until she couldn't move and then went to bed.

On the fifth day, she realized it had been a mistake. When Noah opened the door, he had a colorful black eye. They stood there for a moment, Rachel staring and the bruise and Puck avoiding her gaze. Then Rachel walked into the house and turned the game on. When they were done Rachel smiled bright and wide and said, "See you later, Noah."

At dinner that night she asked her fathers for fifty dollars. She told them about her nighttime jogs and trying to befriend Puck. She asked them not to ask what she was doing with the money. They were wary, but her daddy trusted her and her dad had always like Noah. They gave her the money and told her to be safe.

Rachel didn't get ready for bed that night. She sent Quinn's text an hour early (I hope you've had a successful day. Sweet dreams.) and began her preparations. She spent a short time meditating before changing in to a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. She stretched her muscles, put on a pair of shoes, and headed to her car. It wasn't very hard to find the building. Puck's truck was parked out front. She parked and gripped the steering wheel for a minute before she took a deep breath, got out of the car, and walked in.

There were about 20 people packed into the room and it was obvious not all of them were fighters. The fights hadn't started yet but it was still loud and sweaty and Rachel fought against wrinkling her nose. No one noticed her arrival. She walked up to a man sitting at what appeared to be the sign up table and cleared her throat. He eyed her curiously.

"Are you lost, miss?"

"No, sir. I would like to sign up for tonight's festivities."

The man smiled condescendingly, "There aren't any festivities here, sweetheart. This is a fight club."

"I am fully aware what this is. I was referring to the fight."

"Sweetheart…"

"Save whatever undoubtedly sexist remark that is about to come out of your mouth. I assure you I know exactly what I am signing up for. Take my fifty dollars and let me fight Puckerman."

The man's mouth opened and closed before glanced at Puck, who still hadn't noticed her. "Whatever he did—"

Rachel leaned over the table. "Take the fifty dollars."

He snapped his mouth shut and nodded. "He's one of our better fighters. You're going to have to fight someone lower down first."

"But I'll get to fight him tonight?"

"Yes."

"Fine."

"Then I need your fighting name and you can take a seat."

Rachel didn't hesitate, "Superstar."

She sat in the back behind a group of rowdy spectators. She watched three matches. They were all crude and bloody. The fighters mostly fell into two groups: bored teenagers and men trying to recapture the passion of their youth. She watched Puck watch them. His face was devoid of any emotion. Finally they called her name and she saw Puck's eyes widen before she turned to inspect her opponent. He was in his early 20's, athletic but not fit.

He stared at her. "Is this a joke?"

The man from the table shook his head.

He turned to her. "Listen, chick—"

Rachel glared. "I'm not here to fight you. You're merely an appetizer. I'm not going to go easy on you and I would appreciate the same respect."

He frowned but fell into a loose boxing stance. She moved lightly on her feet. The man yelled fight. Normally wit was about the dance, the game, but Rachel wasn't doing this for fun. She had him curled on his side clutching his abdomen with a few well-placed kicks and a throw. It took less than 5 minutes. Someone raised her arm in the air and she caught Pucks gaze. She slowly dragged her thumb across her throat. He nodded. She sat through three more matches before the man stood in the ring and said "Superstar and Puckasaurus to the ring."

They stared and each other. Noah was shirtless and mottled with bruises and it made Rachel want to scream. His eyes were dark and sad but angry. When he raised his fists into position Rachel saw the hesitance in his eyes and it made her furious. When the man yelled Rachel dropped her stance, took a step forward, and backhanded Puck so hard his head snapped to the side. There was silence, a gasp, and when he turned back towards her Rachel saw Noah. His right hook caught her in the side and then she was dancing around him with sweeping kicks. They were eight again and his dad had just left for good and he was angry and everything. He was in her backyard punching their shed as hard as he could while his mother cried in the living room and Rachel was tackling him. They were punching and kicking and scratching, their bodies crashing together frantically. They were crying and sweating and couldn't tell which drop was which. When they were little, Rachel's dads had to pry them apart and Little Rachel and Little Noah had started laughing.

This time Rachel had to stop herself, her elbow pressed against his neck. The man was yelling at them to stop and they lay there gulping the air. She saw the relief in Noah's eyes and the lingering sadness. She stood up and offered him her hand. He shook his head. She nodded and shrugged off the man trying to raise her arm.

She walked to her car and drove home laughing.