Oh No

"Okay, what's up with you," Kurt and Blaine had surrounded him, and Puck wasn't above elbowing his way free but neither one of the two boys were big enough to take that sort of treatment and he had enough problems without another trip to the principal's office for bullying.

"What makes you think something's going on," Puck grabbed his books, debated the history text and finally grabbed it because why the hell not and shut the door of his locker.

"Because you've been Mopey McMopperhson for three weeks now," Blaine shrugged. "And that's a long time for you."

"You've been sulky before, but it's never gone on this long," Kurt added. "What's wrong? The Cheerios develop an allergy to the janitor's closet?"

Puck rolled his eyes, "And how's it any of your business?"

"Who else you got," Kurt's eyebrow went up.

Sad but true. Puck sighed and shook his head, "I'm losin' my fuckin' mind." He commented to himself. "I can hardly stand to look at Artie after that bullshit he laid on you and Rachel about needing to have sex," He looked at Blaine who blushed. "Finn is all wound up in his grand plan of marrying Rachel, which is the most idiotic idea ever, and that's coming from someone who copies off Britany in Spanish and thinks Indiana Jones movies are real."

"Britt's actually pretty smart under the ditzy act," Kurt told him seriously and Puck sighed again.

"I know that, but she puts smiley faces for answers when she's bored and Finn copies them," He retorted.

"Okay, so Finn is part of the problem," Blaine seemed to be getting a clue at least.

"He's gonna marry Rachel and chain her down in Lima," Puck practically spat the words out. "And three weeks ago, I saw something that made me realize that I can't actually do anything to save her from herself."

"What'd you see?" Kurt's tone had that hunger to it that meant he hoped it was some piece of salacious (take that and stuff it in your vocabulary test Missus Warner, English teacher and bitch extraordinaire) piece of gossip.

"Old movie, called Last American Virgin," Puck took great pleasure in disappointing him.

"You saw a movie and realized that Rachel is doomed?"

Put like that Puck could understand why Kurt sounded so confused. "Ain't just any movie," He shrugged. "Go look it up. Then you might get it." He moved down the hall, "But we're done talking about this."

Well, he'd been wrong about that. Kurt had done his best to drag the story out of him and Puck was considering revisiting his days of dumpster tossing just to get the kid to leave him alone. Blaine had caught the look on his face though and tugged his boyfriend away in time to save Kurt's designer jacket.

Puck had ground his teeth and nodded when Rachel started going on about the wedding. The girl was seriously floating, and he wasn't going to be the one to burst her bubble. What in the hell would the girl he knew in freshman year say to her senior self if that fourteen year old had heard the eighteen year old planning her wedding.

He amused himself with that thought for a few minutes until Finn said something dumb and Rachel's lower lip trembled for a moment before firming stubbornly.

"Mister Schue, I got somethin'," He raised his hand and the curly haired teacher looked legit relieved that someone might say something about music.

"Yes, Puck," Schuester nodded and gestured to the microphone. "Please." Apparently he was willing to let his least favorite (besides Rachel) club member perform if it would kill the wedding discussion. Not that Puck could really blame him for that.

"Only a few minutes left but this won't take long," Puck picked up his old guitar and strode to the microphone. He'd worked with the band and Brad to get the sound right. He was no Lionel Ritchie but instead of Lionel's smooth sorrowful tones he'd worked to put a poignant ache in his voice, just enough to convey his feelings but not enough to kill his control. "Originally this was sung by the Commodores…before Lionel Ritchie left the group." He informed the, only half listening, club.

Rachel had ignored Finn to give Puck her attention, which he hoped was a good sign. Taking a seat on the high stool in front of the microphone Puck began to pluck the strings of the guitar and took a breath. Low and soulful, not a usual sound for him, almost fragile and sad, he let the words flow over his lips, "I want you to want me…
I'm going crazy knowing he will be your lover tonight
And when he comes, I'll let you go…
I'll just pretend that you walked out the door…"

He took a breath and shook his head, "Oh, no…
I can't sleep
Oh, no…
I'm going crazy with love
Over you…"

Next verse, he could put everything he felt into the words and still keep that soft breakable tone to them, had to, because this was so damn brittle, like glass in his heart or a bubble he knew would burst, "I need you to need me…
I wanna hold you, but you're holding someone else in your arms…
When I close my eyes I feel your face…
I'm just not sure how much my heart can erase…"

He could see Finn's expression twisting, darkening in frustrated anger, for all the good it would do him. He'd just upset Rachel again and she'd forgive him and take him back after he'd apologized in some lame ass way.

The chorus, echoes from the band, soft voices overlapping as he sang, "Oh, no…
I can't think
Oh, no…

I'm going crazy with love
Over you
Oh, honey…

Oh, yeah…"

He'd decided to make the song his own in a way (besides not sounding like Lionel), combine the first and second verse, change up the order of the lines. It made sense to him, that confusion, bewildering pain and need and knowing he was stuck, "I want you to want me…
I'm going crazy knowing he will be your lover tonight
When I close my eyes I feel your face…
I'm just not sure how much my heart can erase…

Oh, no
I can't sleep anymore, baby
Oh, no
I can't think anymore, baby

I need you to need me…
I wanna hold you, but you're holding someone else in your arms
And when he comes, I'll let you go…
I'll just pretend that you walked out the door…"

One last chorus and it was almost over, "Oh, no…
I can't sleep anymore, baby
Oh, no…
I can't think anymore, baby
Oh, no…
I'm going crazy with love
Over you…"

The piano faded and the guitar fell away, and Puck stood, put his guitar in its case and grabbed his coat. "Later," He nodded at Schuester, gave Brad and the band a half smile of thanks and headed for his truck.

If he stayed in that room he'd lose his shit, and he wasn't going back to juvie.

The next day the whole school was buzzing about Finn and Rachel and for some reason everyone kept looking at him. Puck shook his head whenever he was on the receiving end of those expressions, like they wanted an explanation and figured he had it. Like he ever knew what was going on with Finn and Rachel. He didn't understand it. Had never understood it. No matter what Rachel or Finn said, those two didn't make sense together. It was like saying two plus three equals cat. No freakin' sense.

And he didn't think that was likely to change in the future.

"Did you do it on purpose," Mercedes wanted to know.

"Why the hell're you talkin' to me," Puck rolled his eyes at her as he grabbed his stuff. "I sang a song. I didn't throw a grenade or even say anything."

"You were singing it for Rachel," Mercedes emphasized the name like he didn't know the girl.

"Did I say that," Puck shoved his coat into the locker and slammed the door. "I did not. I didn't say a word to the girl."

"You were staring at her through the whole song," The self proclaimed Chocolate Thunder asserted.

"Maybe because she's the only one who pays attention every time," Puck snarled back. "Look whatever drama is going on will go away once Finn makes some dippy ass apology like the douche canoe he is, and Rachel will forgive him, and they'll be leading man and lady again."

"Maybe," Kurt's voice chimed in. "But Finn's claiming that Rachel should apologize to him."

"For what," Puck asked the question before he could bite his tongue. This was what he didn't want. He had been trying to stay out of the drama. He didn't want to be involved in the disturbed love triangle/square that was Finn/Rachel/Quinn and himself.

"For cheating on him with you," Blaine informed him dryly.

"Oh for the love of–" Puck shook his head. "She hasn't. She wouldn't. The one time we came close was… geez before he dumped her in the Christmas tree lot. And she came clean about it. That was why he dumped her."

"Nothing since," Mercedes was eyeing him in a way that reminded Puck disturbingly of Santana.

"No," He shook his head again.

"Which is what Rachel told Finn," Blaine smirked. "And when he said he didn't believe her, Rachel reminded him that while she might have slipped once and kissed you, she wasn't the one known for lying about her actions."

"Oohh… a hit, a palpable hit," Puck chuckled when Kurt gaped, and Blaine laughed.

"That's what I said," The taller gay boy agreed.

"Shouldn't that be 'that's what she said' then," Puck teased.

"Probably," Blaine smirked again. "To which Finn said that was all in the past and he didn't cheat."

"Right," Kurt rolled his eyes. "And we all know how accurate that statement is."

"So he thinks that Rachel owes him an apology, why?" Puck was getting sucked in again and (he knew it, damn it) he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Because you wouldn't be singing to her like that if you weren't in love with her and you wouldn't be in love with her unless you were sleeping with her," Mercedes repeated Finn's (completely bullshit) line of reasoning with a straight face that said bullshit did not deserve.

"Uh huh," Puck took a deep breath. "And right after Rachel apologizes for something she hasn't done and wouldn't ever do, hell will have frozen over, so we can all go ice skating."

"That's essentially what I told Finn when I gave him back his ring," Rachel's voice informed him. "Walk with me Noah, I want to discuss your song choice and your rather amazing performance."

"Do I got a choice?" He wondered.

"You do not." She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and began to escort him to math class.

Which was how he ended up graduating with a high B average, getting a basketball scholarship to NYU and living in New York with Rachel Barbra Berry when (after a few false starts and one unfortunate off off off Broadway play that folded almost before it opened) she took Broadway by storm and then proceeded to do the same with Hollywood and Nashville.

Okay, so he'd been studying harder in the hopes of getting out of Lima. And they didn't get to live together right away. University housing/dorm rooms, a lousy three floor walk up, a lousier two floor walk up and finally a decent apartment in Queens.

He'd gotten drafted by the Knicks which wasn't exactly a dream come true, but he'd waited to finish his degree before he went pro. Rachel had just been happy they'd be in the same city. Basketball was fun but it was always more a means to an end. The money was good, and the players union was fairly powerful so he got pretty good contracts. And if his career didn't go on for twenty years, well that was all right because he knew how to save his money.

He'd saved enough to help his mom and sister get out of Lima and into a townhome near his and Rachel's. Rebekah was going to college now, partial scholarships, supplemented by him and Rachel and a part time job. His mom got a big bonus for taking a nursing job in New York and she'd put it all into a retirement plan so she had a nest egg for when she couldn't work anymore.

He'd gotten some walk on parts in movies because he wasn't a terrible actor and Rachel was damn good at teaching. She'd gotten more than walk on parts and if being nominated for a Golden Globe when she was twenty eight hadn't been one of her goals well…if she was complaining it wasn't to him.

But everywhere he went his guitar came along and so did his notebook. And between the two of them they had enough songs for twelve records. And it turned out it wasn't that hard to build a recording studio in the basement of the brownstone they'd bought and fixed up. The degree he'd earned (and the one he earned online while he was playing basketball) were handy for running a studio.

And letting other bands rent studio time, helping them out by running the booth and laying tracks…well that got 'producer' put in front of his name. Plus, it was a nice way to pay it forward, help other singers get their start.

Weirdest moment in his music career was having Doctor Dre and Eminem bring some kid (who couldn't really rap but wrote awesome lyrics) by the studio for an impromptu lesson in production. Apparently he'd gotten a rep for being a decent human being who wouldn't mock newbies. Who knew? Nobody from McKinley would ever have believed it. But he didn't talk to many people from Lima these days. Most of the people he cared about had gotten out of town as fast as they could anyway.

He didn't understand the whole 'sample twelve different songs and have twenty people named as composers' thing the Grammies were doing these days but if they wanted to give him a little gold gramophone for something he and Rachel wrote, sang and produced he'd take it. And another little gold record player for something he'd helped produce while Rachel was working. He was getting a whole little collection to keep on the shelf in the production booth. The MTV Music awards were a riot too.

Rachel's awards were on the mantle in the living room and the bathroom counter. Plenty of space for more too. She had a gold container of popcorn for 'best kiss' and claimed that was her favorite next to her Tony.

Who'd have thought his mother insisting he sit and watch a movie with her after work would lead to the life he had now?

He never would have figured.

But he'd take it.