A Whole 'Nother Language – Part Two

Author's note: Wow. I mean...WOW! There are no words! I never anticipated such an awesome response, and I'm so happy that so many people enjoyed reading the first part. Thank you to everyone who reviewed/fav'd/alerted/read part one... because... WOW! All the comments were just fantastic, and I'm ecstatic you were all so receptive to my idea.

I should probably mention that there is no Puck/Quinn and Finn/Rachel drama/angst/pregnancy in this story. (In fact, there's not much of anyone else at all.) I didn't really think about putting it in before I started writing, and if I tried to include it now, it would be much longer than a three shot. Lol. Plus there'd probably be continuity issues.

Also, sorry I'm a bit late with this update. It was mostly written before I posted part one, but then I started fretting about some of the stories and if they were too OOC, because I really didn't want to disappoint. So I ended up rewriting parts and adding A LOT in.

Unfortunately, I think I've proofread this too many times and I'm now too close to it to notice any spelling/grammar errors, so I apologise in advance if they're there.

Anyway, now on with the story! Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoy!



One wayward moment and everything has changed.

At least for her it has.

He, on the other hand, has been strutting around not ignoring her, just like before Regionals. He nods his acknowledgement whenever they pass in the hall, and he meets her the following Wednesday in the music room. She's also seen him chatting up various girls in front of his locker on more than one occasion.

Nothing is different for him, and it's more than a little disconcerting that her world is now completely askew, while his world is 'business as usual'. In fact, if it weren't for the leather jacket still hanging on the back of her bedroom door, she'd be inclined to believe that she imagined the whole ordeal.

It's been exactly one week and three days.

So today, Rachel decides this is his way of saying (Nothing happened. And nothing ever will.) She therefore also decides that when she meets him after school, she'll just return his jacket and follow his example by resuming her former life where doesn't want Noah Puckerman to kiss her senseless.

As always, he's already there when she enters the music room, and she often suspects that he's been skipping his last class of the day, but it's only a theory.

His strumming falters when she hangs the neatly stored jacket on the back of a chair and looks at her with raised eyebrows.

"About time." He states in a would-be annoyed tone, but his teasing eyes give him away. "Took you long enough."

(Thanks. I was wondering if I'd ever get that back.)

She can feel the heat as it rises through her cheeks before she looks away sheepishly.

"After the events following our success at Regionals," she quickly explains, trying to distract him from noticing her flustered appearance. (She doesn't.) "Where, as you know, Mr. Schuester and Miss. Pillsbury ascertained Glee's involvement in the unsanctioned celebrations involving all of our fellow competitors, and thus punished us for our juvenile behaviour. I have since been waiting for the opportune moment to return this item of clothing to you. I greatly appreciate your efforts from that night and I can only hope that you accept my sincerest apologies for the delay."

He stares at her as she continues to avoid establishing eye contact, fidgeting under his gaze. When she can no longer stand the awkward tension she feels in her stomach, she opens her mouth once more. It's then that she sees him shrug out of the corner of her eye before he resumes strumming.


She discretely releases an uneven breath and seats herself at the piano before joining in. Throughout the remainder of the afternoon, she actively prevents herself from thinking about him, or looking at him, or even speaking to him.

By the time his phone begins buzzing, as per usual, her resolve is starting to waver, but since it's time to get back to reality, she figures now is as good a time as any to return her to 'normal' self. So while they pack away their belongings, she begins rambling about the Tony awards and who she hopes will be nominated this year. She's pretty sure he's not listening, which is a sure sign that everything is as it should be.

She's so busy recounting the nominees from the previous year, and trying to avoid looking in his general direction, that she doesn't notice him walk up behind her. She's stunned into silence when she turns around to find his face inches from hers looking at her with a heated expression that makes his eyes seem almost brown, rather than the usual teasing hazel.

"Berry," His voice is clear and steady, completely the opposite to the heady feeling that's overcome her. "You really just need to shut up."

(You talk too much.)

His lips are on hers before she can even draw breath to respond. The feel of his mouth moving against hers is as amazing as she remembers, except even more so. He swipes his tongue against her bottom lip, pleading for entrance which she immediately accepts, and she melts into him as he causes her mind to go completely blank.

They only pull apart when his phone starts buzzing again, causing him to swear softly under his breath as he sends the call to voicemail.

He meets her gaze, one hand still resting on her hip. "So," he begins, tilting his mouth into his trademark smirk, and she flinches as she imagines all the typical Puck things he could possibly say. He's hardly ever spoken during their previous Wednesday interactions, so this moment is rather unprecedented. Not that they've kissed before either. But at least he can't hurt her with a kiss. Only the aftermath.



"Pardon?" She asks, her mind slipping back into the regular confusion whenever he's around.

"I know a good place we could make out." He answers seriously.

He shuffles uncomfortably as she continues staring, unsure if she should be disgusted by his words. It takes a few more moments before she actually understands.

(Are you free on Saturday? We could hang out.)

An almost coy smile graces her lips at the realisation, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

His eyes immediately whip up to meet hers. "No!" he barks a defensively.


It's one of those unusual moments where she's at a complete loss for words, because while she understands the concept behind his words, she can't seem to fathom how their obscure partnership has led up to this moment. And it's this confusion that causes her hesitation, and not the fact that Puck is staring at her with a somewhat guarded expression, as if he expects her to shoot him down.

Apparently, she waits a moment too long, and he shakes his head before mumbling a soft "Whatever" and heading towards the door.

(Forget it. I don't care.)

She finally finds her voice again just as he reaches the door. "Pick me up at seven?" She asks hopefully.

And the only indication that he heard is the shrug of his shoulders and his low grunt as he disappears into the hallway.



Saturday turns out to be the complete opposite of what she expects.

There's this feeling of excitement mixed with dread settling at the bottom of her stomach because he's so unpredictable, she's not sure whether to expect the best or worst first date ever.

She figured that he'd just take her out to dinner or a movie, and then they'd eventually end up in one of Lima's two substitutions for the traditional 'lovers lane'; the isolated parking lot behind the bowling alley, or the local park, near the barbeque area where the drinking, smoking and other less savoury social interactions take place.

Instead he drives fifteen minutes out of Lima to a secluded area overlooking a river. And if he didn't look over and ask "So, you wanna make out?" as soon as he put his car in park, she might have actually thought it was romantic.

She replies with a simple "Okay" and she doesn't really have time to think before he's leaning forward and pressing his lips on hers.

A little while later, when her stomach starts to growl from hunger, he pulls away and she expects him to start the car again to drive back. Instead, he leans back and starts rummaging around in his back seat.

"So," she asks trying to look out the windows, but they are too fogged up so she can't see a thing. "Is this where you bring all your female companions?"

"Nope." His reply is strained with the effort of bending at such a weird angle. "Only the crazy ones."

(No. Only you.)

She smiles when he turns around with a successful grin on his face as he pulls out a cooler. He's packed sandwiches and drinks for them to eat, and she's a little surprised at his effort. Aren't teenage boys meant to have absolutely no foresight? She wonders, trying to remember an example from the many teen social behaviour books she borrowed from the library about how guys usually behave.

He obviously notices her confusion because he rolls his eyes at her. "Don't go all crazy stalker eyes on me Berry. I didn't make it."

(Don't over think it.)

They talk while they eat; or rather she talks while he pretends to listen.

And after they're done, they resume their previous activities until his phone starts buzzing, and it's time to start heading back to Lima. She doesn't talk as much on the ride back, because she's thinking about how she was close to losing her virginity a couple of times that night, and while she knew she definitely wasn't ready to do it with him, or anybody else, she's kind of surprised that he didn't just keep pushing like boys were supposed to.


When he pulls into her driveway, he doesn't move to get out of the car, so she assumes he's not going to walk her to the door.

So she turns and mutters a soft "I had a good time tonight", before reaching for the doorhandle.

He leans over and grabs her hand, pulling her into another searing kiss. A trace of his patented smirk is on his lips when they pull apart.

(I had a good time too.)

She's barely out of the car when it roars back to life, and she raises her hand in a small wave as he disappears down the street.

And she smiles when she thinks that as far as first dates go, spending the entire evening making-out with Noah Puckerman wasn't actually half bad.


When they return to school on the following Monday, she doesn't see him all morning, and she begins to think that maybe he's avoiding her. That is until an arm reaches out of the janitor's closet and pulls her in as she passes.

"What the...? Unhand me you miscreant." She shrieks into the darkness.

"Take a fuckin' chill pill, Berry. It's me." A gruff voice speaks in her ear.

(Calm down. It's me.)

"Noah?" She asks tentatively.

"The one and only."


The next thing she knows, she's making out with him. Again. This time in between a mop and shelf full of toilet paper.

And the part of her that would normally be disgusted at this sort of behaviour doesn't even care.


They spend the next few weeks secretly meeting. Well, usually he'll slip her a note in her locker telling her where to meet him, or he'll pull her into a secluded room as she walks by unsuspectingly.

Rachel has no allusions that their regular meetings mean anything more than heavy groping, and though they've never really talked about it she knows that she's not meant to tell anyone. It's pretty clear that he doesn't want anyone to know about their 'relationship'.

She doesn't really mind because she knows that whatever they have will be lost once people start finding out. Not because she believes that he'll leave her at the drop of a hat (though sometimes she think he possibly would), but because she likes having something that's just hers and she doesn't want anyone else to use it to tear her down.

So, mostly things stay the same. They go to classes (well she does anyway) and glee. He goes to football practice and she goes to dance class. And they sometimes (most of the time) spend Wednesday afternoon playing music between long bouts of kissing before he has to go pick up his sister.

She, however, does notice some things change. Like whenever they pass each other in the hall, he shoots her a secretive smirk instead of the customary nod; and how he no longer flirts with girls in front of his locker. And most prominently how he blatantly shrugged off Kristy "Big Boobs" Kessler when she once tried to plant herself in his lap during lunch.

She honestly never thought that she'd be the type of girl who would enjoy the thrill of engaging in clandestine meetings.

But apparently she was. At least with Puck she was.

That is, until she's been quickly shoved behind an opening door for the third time in one week, and when, after a rigorous make-out session, they're sitting in car eating lunch in the parking lot at a local diner and he makes her crouch down when he sees various members of the football team drive up. It just gets ridiculous when he forces her to hide under the table while they were eating pizza at Gino's, even though it turns out the people she was hiding from didn't even go to McKinley.

Later that afternoon when he drops her off, she doesn't let him kiss her goodbye.


She doesn't sleep much that night either. She's up the entire time devising exactly how to break it off.

He finds her on the bleachers the next day, and she speaks before he gets a chance to change her mind.

"I don't think we should do this anymore." She says softly, desperately trying not to cry, because why would she cry over something she knew was just a fling.

"Look Rach..."

"I don't want to this anymore." This time speaking more firmly. "I don't want to be you're 'dirty little secret'. And I think we've reached the stage in our..."She pauses, searching for the right word. "...arrangement that we me must either become public or cease our actions. And due to your social standing, and my destiny for brilliance, neither of us wants the William McKinley population to know about our...arrangement...so I believe it's time we cease and desist."

"Are questioning my badassness?" He asks incredulously. "Have you seen my guns?"

(Are you saying I actually care what other people think? Don't you know who I am?)

She releases a deep sigh. Why was he making this difficult?

"Yes Noah, I have seen your 'guns' and I've told you before your arms are lovely. But we both know that when forced to make a choice, you would choose your friends over me."

They sit there staring at each other for a moment before he stands up.

"Whatever. I don't care." He mutters as she watches him walk away.

(You're absolutely right.)


They both go back to the way things were before Regionals, except now he seems to be a lot moodier during glee rehearsals and she can't bring herself to look at him.

But it takes until lunch time the day after she broke it off before she starts to regret her decision, because even though everything she'd said to him was one hundred percent true (well mostly), he's apparently awoken some unsuspecting monster inside of her. A monster that closely resembles the hormone-fuelled teenage libido.

Unfortunately for her, he always happens to be just around every corner and just down every single corridor. It also doesn't help that every time she sees him she can feel his calloused fingertips gliding over her skin, and his searing lips against hers.

All she knows is that he's ruined everything for her because he shouldn't be allowed to walk around school looking like sex-on-a-stick.

She skips their Wednesday meeting that week, because she knows that her resolve will crumble as soon as she enters the music room. Instead, she drives home and hides in her room until morning.


During lunch the following Friday, she's preparing to head to the music room to get in some extra practice when she closes her locker to find a brightly smiling Kurt. "Hey Rachel, want to sit with us for lunch?"

While his offer is baffling, his eager smile is what most confuses her because he's never uttered a single genuinely nice thing to her, except for the occasional jealous compliments regarding her natural singing ability.

"Um, sure?" she replies, but only because he's looking at her with wide, unblinking eyes that gives her the impression that she wouldn't be able to refuse even if she tried.

That's why Rachel finds herself sitting in the noisy cafeteria, instead of the peaceful music room, trying to go over the new song they've assigned for Glee. She doesn't really take notice of the loud noises going on around her and nobody seems to mind because Mercedes, Tina and Kurt have their heads huddled together, most likely sharing the latest juicy gossip, while Artie's talking to his friends from the jazz band.

She doesn't hear Kurt calling her name until he gently hits the back of her head. "Ow, Kurt Hummel what are you doing?" She questions in an annoyed tone. "I'm trying to prepare myself for the State competitions."

He rolls his eyes at her before pointedly glancing towards the doors of the cafeteria. "Pay attention sweetie, or you just might regret it."

It's then that she realises that the loud noises aren't actually noises, but someone playing a guitar as it filters through the PA system. She glances around the room and finds everyone else wearing matching looks of confusion.

That is, until a collective gasp fills the room and all their attention is directed at the cafeteria entrance, or more specifically the certain boy with a Mohawk who's strumming his guitar at the cafeteria entrance. He must be wearing a microphone, because as soon as her eyes meet his, words begin filtering through the speakers.

Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond.

It's a classic that he's caught her humming absentmindedly on more than one occasion while she completed her homework. She wouldn't allow him to touch her until she was done, so he'd just sit there listening while being forced to wait.

He's walking towards her as he sings, and it's a scene straight out of some cheesy teen movie or TV show, as the crowd parts and their eyes follow his movement, but Rachel can't help but smile dazedly back at him as her heart begins beating wildly.

The murmurs don't start until he stops directly in front of her, and the Glee kids begin singing along. Even the jock Gleeks arrive to join in. And she wants to join in too, but she's stunned into complete silence as he serenades her in the middle of a cafeteria full of judging and gossiping adolescents.

(I'm making my choice. And I choose you.)

He lets the last note hang in the air as silence consumes the room before swinging his guitar on his back.

Suddenly she's very aware that all eyes are on her and Puck as she glances around furtively.

Most of the female population are staring at him with admiration, and it figures that since Puck could make any girl swoon even without the help of a guitar and his resonant baritone singing voice, his desirability factor has just shot up a billion points. On the other hand, most of the males are either watching him with awe, astonishment or plain dumb confusion.

Her eyes return back to his as she bites her lip before speaking quietly, trying to speak so only he can hear, but she feels rather than sees the Glee kids collectively lean forward to listen in.

"Are you sure about this Noah? I mean, think about what you're doing." Her eyes wander over to the tables containing the football and hockey jocks as they watch him with menacing smirks. He turns to follow her gaze, before cupping her chin and directing her eyes back towards his.

"Bring it." He says in a loud clear voice that carries throughout the silent room.

Utter pandemonium breaks out as people begin chattering about the major faux pas that has just occurred.

But she doesn't care because he had a choice. And he chose her.



The decision that she's ready to sleep with him doesn't come to her during a moment of clarity like she'd always expected. It's an amalgamation of many tiny inconsequential moments and actions that he does without realising. But she definitely notices.

It comes from the way he smiles and kinks his eyebrow as his eyes darken whenever she says something amusing.

(I'm going to kiss you now.)

It comes from the way he tries to hold himself back whenever he clearly wants to swear (though sometimes he forgets) because he knows she doesn't like. He shrugs his shoulders dismissively when she points this out. "I'm just avoiding one of your hour long lectures. It cuts into our sucking-face time."

(I don't want to upset you. I'd rather be kissing you.)

It also comes from the way his elbow now automatically juts out whenever he meets her in the school hallway.

(I'll walk you to class/your locker/lunch/glee/the car.)

And the way he knows to find her on the bleachers whenever she's upset about not getting the lead, or getting a bad grade, or just anything really. He'll silently sit down beside her and lean back on the bench behind them, using his elbows for support.

(I'm here if you need me.)

Usually, she'll curl up next to him and bury her face in his shoulder. And he'll sit there tracing soothing patterns on the small of her back until she's ready.

But most of all, it comes from the way he knows when to stop himself whenever they're enjoying the benefits of being alone.

It's been almost two months now since his serenade, and she more than expects him to start pushing her for sex. He is Noah 'Puck' Puckerman after all; self-titled sex god of William McKinley High School.

He experiments with her, languidly testing what she likes and dislikes, each day trying only little bit farther. He usually gets as far as her straddling his waist with her bra unhooked and one hand underneath her shirt, while the other directs her hips how to grind on his erection just right.

And yet during any of these heated make-out sessions, whenever he feels her tense with even the slightest moment of uncertainty, he pushes her away and mutters "I'll be right back baby, I just gotta take a leak" before locking himself in the bathroom.

Rachel's not naive. She knows what he's doing in there. It doesn't take any guy fifteen minutes to go to the toilet. And she can never stop the smile from forming on her face when he tries to hide it.

(It's okay. I just need to go to 'take care of things'.)

So she doesn't say anything. Just waits patiently for him to come back, usually by watching TV or doing homework.

When he's done, he always joins her with a genuine smile on his face, not a scowl or a smirk, and leans in to kiss her.

(Now, where were we?)


Her stomach does an excited flip on the Tuesday morning her Dads inform her of a patchwork quilt convention in Indiana that weekend. Unfortunately, she can't join them on their impromptu road trip due to school work and the State show choir competitions coming up. But she pretends to be deeply disappointed as she makes them promise to bring her back some pretty new designs; all the while her mind planning the perfect Friday evening (and possible weekend) for her and Puck.

He arrives twenty minutes late, just like any other day, and she feels like she should be annoyed with him for making her wait because the past three days have felt like the longest three days of her life. But she reasons that it's not as if he knows about the surprise she has in store for him, or how special she wants this night to be.

He turns up in his typical jeans, and she starts to think that not telling him might have been a bad idea. At least he's wearing her favourite leather jacket, and she knows that it's a sign that he actually put in effort before coming over because he only ever wears it when they're going somewhere special.

His eyebrows shoot up when she answers the door in a small black cocktail dress, which she chooses specifically because of how perfectly it hugs her curves and emphasises her bust. "Damn, you're looking hot." He lets out with a low whistle.

(You look great.)

She feels herself blush as his gaze slowly continues travelling up and down her body, but she can't help the triumphant smirk that graces her lips as the dress produces the desired effect.

She coughs lightly to pull him out of his reverie, and he blinks as if he's forgotten that her body actually has a real head attached to it, and is not just some magazine fold-out.

"So, err yeah, shit. Did I forget something?" He asks with a gulp, looking up to meet her gaze but she can see his eyes flitting back and forth between her chest, her legs and her lips.

(Are we going somewhere?)

"Actually, I thought we'd stay in tonight. I cooked roast beef. Your favourite." She replies, trying to hold back her laughter, as his mouth literally begins watering.

"Err, yeah, food. I'm fucking starving." He mutters, eyes still fixed on her. She doesn't mind his colourful word choice, because he's obviously been reduced the most basic level of brain function, and he's still staring at her like he's just realised that she has breasts, which of course isn't true.

(Food. Right. Huh?)

She does a little spin and walks back towards the dining room, and when she hears a soft "oh my fucking god" she doesn't need to turn around to know that he's just discovered that her back looks even better than the front.

She doesn't make it to the dining room, because as soon as the front door slams shut, he pounces. He pushes her back up against the nearest wall, and locks his lips on hers, while she frantically grabs at his jacket, pulling him closer as his hands travel down the side of her body and gently cups her bottom.

She gasps when he nibbles on her bottom lip, and he immediately takes advantage as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, wrecking havoc on her senses. Her clutch on his shoulder tightens for support as her head starts to become foggy and her knees threaten to fall out from under her. He takes this as his cue to slide his hands a little farther down to her thighs and lift her up against him.

She gasps at the movement, and a muffled swearword escapes his lips as she wraps her legs around his waist. She lets out a gasp of disappointment when one of his hands ceases making circling patterns on her thigh and moves up to support himself against the wall. His other hand still stays in place, but it felt infinitely better when he had both hands roaming up and down.

She begins slipping down his body as he shifts to get a better grip, and she can't help the loud hiss that comes out of her mouth as her centre comes in contact with the bulge in his pants.

"Damn it." Puck whispers as he tears his lips away from hers, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Rachel, you're gonna fuckin' kill me." He groans as he pulls away, allowing her body to slide down his until she's back on her feet.

(Okay, I need to stop.)

"What's wrong, Noah?" She asks in confusion as he releases a hiss of his own.

"Nothing Rachel. I just..." He pauses as he takes in a deep breath, an expression of disbelief clouding his face. He presses a kiss to her forehead before he takes a step back. "I just gotta take a leak, is all."

(Nothing. And I can't believe that I'm actually going to walk away, but I've got to go 'take care of things'.)

"Wait, what?" Her voice sounds small and unsure, and completely unlike herself. She reaches out and takes his hand, and his eyes flit down to her mouth as she nervously bites her lip. "I, um, I thought you understood." She says waving her hand at herself.

"What?" He's completely dumbfounded.


"I told you on Tuesday. My Dads are in Indiana." She huffs in mild impatience.

"Yeah, so? What's new?"

(Yeah, okay. But they go away, like, every second weekend.)

"So," she replies timidly, still unsure. She had been led to believe that guys never questioned sex. All the books indicated that guys liked it when girls were upfront with what they wanted. She assumed that he'd be the same. Especially since he was rumoured to be quite 'worldly'.

Was he purposefully trying to make this hard on her?

"I thought maybe...I mean, I thought I made myself quite clear. The house is empty, and you seemed to like the dress, and there's a freaking tribute to your attributes on the McKinley High bathroom walls, for god's sake!" She finishes angrily. She looks away as his jaw drops, suddenly unable to look at him. She's never felt more foolish in her life, and she once had to spend an entire day wearing a sticky, pink (previously white) stained shirt, while guys goggled at the clear outline of her bra through said shirt.

"Rach..." He begins, but she cuts him off before, not giving him a chance to cut her down again.

"Forget it, let's just eat."

He watches dumbly as she stalks into the dining room and starts serving the food.

They both eat in complete silence, only sounds of clinking dinnerware and the tick of the large hanging clock filling the room.

They're halfway through the main course when he blurts out, "I'm a dick head."

(I'm an idiot.)

Her eyes meet his with an expression that clearly says: Yes, you are. But she doesn't speak.

He grabs her hand and pulls her back down into her seat as she moves to clear her plate.

"Look," he says, cupping her face, forcing her to look at him and stay that way. "I'm fucked up. I don't, you know, do this. "

(I've never done this before. You know, the relationship thing.)

She nods her understanding, and tries to release herself from his grasp, but he doesn't let her.

"I just want you know what shit you're getting into." He continues. "Because I won't be able to stop myself if you don't."

(I need you to be sure because it's getting harder for me to control myself, and I don't want you to regret this.)

He remains perfectly still as she rises from her seat, only to settle herself down on his lap.

"I want this." She almost whispers, her gaze never wavering. "I'm sure."

"Oh, thank god." He groans as he pulls her lips towards his once more, never breaking contact as he gathers her up in his arms and slowly manoeuvrers his way upstairs.


It's not like she expected. Though nothing in their relationship ever is.

It starts off uncomfortable and awkward, but he's gentle and sweet as he shows her what to do, and gradually it becomes not-so-awkward while the discomfort ebbs away only to be replaced by bliss.

He finishes before she does, so he pulls out and replaces himself with his fingers, teasing her as she strives for who knows what. She squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a silent scream as she feels herself clench down on his fingers uncontrollably, and it's a moment no amount of books or research could have prepared her for. It's infinitely more perfect.

It's a while before she can find the energy to open her eyes again, as she still shivers occasionally from the aftermath, but when she does she looks up to find him staring down at her.

"What? What is it?" She asks, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Did I do it wrong? She wonders as her brain quickly filters through all the articles she's read online, trying to discern what mistakes she's made.

She starts to panic when he doesn't respond, and he obviously sees it in her eyes because he leans down and brushes his lips against her. It's soft and slow and unlike their usual heated kisses. As usual her mind goes blank, and he doesn't pull away until she relaxes once more.

He's staring down at her again, but this time she can clearly see his amazed expression.

"You're fuckin' beautiful when you come." He whispers hoarsely as he smiles down at her. It's one of those rare smiles that completely consumes his features, and despite the crassness of his words, she finds herself smiling brilliantly back.

(You're absolutely beautiful.)



It's just another Wednesday afternoon mucking around in music room, and lately Puck's taken to sitting next to her on the piano bench as they play together.

Today he lasts exactly fourteen minutes before he sets aside his guitar and pulls her into his lap. His lips are on hers before she can say a word, but since she's kind of expecting it, she just wraps her arms around his neck and immerses herself in his kisses.

They remain wrapped up in each other for the remainder of their time together. Well not exactly in that position. She eventually ends up straddling his thighs as he leans back against the edge of the piano at what she assumes is a very uncomfortable angle due to his constant grunting and shifting. She'd almost feel bad for him, except every time he lifts himself up slightly he grinds against her in an excruciatingly pleasant way, and she can't bring herself to make him stop.

He groans into her mouth when they both feel his pocket vibrate. "Damn," he mumbles against her mouth. "Sister."

(I've got to go.)

"Uh huh," She nods her understanding, but it's breathless and muffled as she continues kissing him.

He doesn't make a move to leave until his phone vibrates once again.

"Okay, okay, okay." She mutters as she finally tears herself away. Leaning her forehead against his, she traces small patterns on him chest with her fingertips as she tries to catch her breath. "You've got to go."

She feels his head nod against hers, but he can't speak just yet. Her gaze meets his as she gives him a half-smile before beginning to move away, but he places his hands are on her waist before she can.

"Let's get out of here." He says without hesitation.

"What?" she asks in surprise. Huh?

(Come with me.)

Her smile widens as he waits for an answer.



"Why do you need a baby sitter when you're available after school?" She wonders aloud as he pulls into the drive of an unknown house.

He looks at her and smirks as he raises his eyebrows.

(Would you rather I baby sit instead?)

"Point taken," she mutters back, letting her hair fall forward in an attempt to hide her blushing face.

He reaches over to pull back her curtain of hair. "It's extremely hot when you blush."

(You don't need to hide from me.)

He's smiling at her before he lets go and gets out of the car. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Wait, what?

She's confused as she follows him, and decides to hang back as he rings the doorbell.

There's the rumbling on tiny feet, and a low "ow" that follows a loud bang, before the door swings open.

"Noah!" A little brunette with shoulder length hair shouts out in a sing-song voice. "You're late."

"I know Shortie, now go get your stuff." He replies. His voice doesn't sound as bored as it normally does. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken it was actually amused.

"Bye Mrs. B!" his sister shouts as she slams the door.

It's only then that she notices Rachel standing on the steps.

"Noah," she says in a very loud whisper.

"What?" He whispers back.

"There's a girl here." She's looking at her confused, like she's never seen a teenage girl before.

He rolls his eyes, but he still humours her. "I know, Shortie."

"She's pretty." She steps forward, her voice returning to normal. "You're pretty."

"Why th–" Rachel begins, but she's immediately interrupted.

"I'm Rebecca Anne Puckerman. But my friends call me Becca."

"Hello Becca–" Rachel tries again.

"I didn't say you were my friend." And Rachel sees a little bit of the Puckerman streak in the little girl. "But you can be if you show me how to make my hair all shiny like yours is."

She can see the amusement in Puck's eyes has he watches their exchange. He arches an eyebrow at her.

(Told you.)

She flashes him a smile of her own. "Well then I guess I'll just have to show you then. But it's a very big secret, so we can't let some people know." Sneakily pointing at Puck as he rolls his eyes yet again.

Becca gives Rachel a wide toothless grin. "Okay. You can call me Becca." She sings as she skips to the car. "Come on Noah. I wanna go home."

Puck and his sister were as different as night and day, and if Puck was night, Becca was definitely the day. She was so bubbly and happy, that Rachel can't help but wonder how two siblings could turn out to be so different.

When they arrive at his house, Becca skips inside as she and Puck follow. It's a beautiful one-story home, and the walls are lined with pictures of him, Becca and their mom.

"Noah," Becca sings from the next room. "We got math homework today."

"Yeah, okay Shortie. Settle down." He grumbles, as he sits down next to her at the dining table.

Rachel watches in amazement as he helps her with her homework. Willingly.

"But I don't get it!"

She's brought out of her reverie as Becca screams and Puck groans. So, she wanders over and looks over their shoulders. They're working on the multiplication of two's, and he shoots her a look.


She laughs quietly and turns around to grab the box of Cheerios on the kitchen counter, pouring them out on the table. She uses them as a tool to help Becca understand, and Rachel laughs at her pout when Puck gobbles up her neatly arranged piles of two.

"You're smart." She says to Rachel as she sticks her tongue out at Puck. "Much smarter than Noah, because I think zombies ate his brain. So, are you Noah's girlfriend?" Becca draws out 'girl' in a teasing manner. Rachel's laughter halts, because she's unsure how to respond, but she doesn't have to. "He's never had a girlfriend before. I think it's because he's a loser."

It's Rachel's turn to raise her eyebrows at him, and he quickly jumps into action. "Okay Shortie, that's enough from you. Go to room and watch TV."

"But I don't wanna..."

"If you go now I'll let you eat this Kit Kat." He holds out the chocolate bar, and she's gone in a flash. They follow her until they hear her door slam, before he walks to the living room and slumps on the couch.

"She's adopted." He tells her as she sits down next to him, but she shakes her head with a smile.

"Hey," She says, trailing her finger up his arm. "You're nice."

He smiles back. "Shut up."

(No, I'm not.)

"You're a nice older brother." She continues. "You pretend to be this mean, angry adolescent badass, but inside you're this nice, white, fluffy bunny." She laughs as he actually growls in response.

"Berry, I am a badass." He says before pouncing on her. "Not some fuckin' fluffy bunny."

And she'd like to beg to differ, but his kiss effectively shuts her up.

She's really starting to get into this mini make-out session when he pulls back and reaches for the remote, and she's more than a little confused as he turns on the TV. Because, if there's one thing that's been common knowledge about Noah since the eighth grade, it's that he'd never give up a chance to make out.

"What's wrong?" She asks trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"Nothing." He replies before turning back to the TV. "I just really like this show."

He's tuned into the local news channel and her confusion only grows because he never likes to watch the news, but she doesn't say anything as she leans against his shoulder and tries to pay attention to a report about an accident involving three cars.

The reason behind his actions become clear though as no more than fifteen minutes later the front door swings open and a tired woman with Puck's eyes walks in laden with shopping bags.

"Noah! Becca! I'm home. I... oh." She pauses when she sees both Rachel and Puck stand up. She glances between Rachel and her son in mild confusion. "Hello." She says after a moment's silence.

"Hi." Rachel replies before glancing at Puck.

"Ma, this is Rachel. Rachel this is my mom." She leans forward to shake his mother's hand, and she shots her son an inquisitive look.

"She's a friend." He blurts out, and Rachel sees him cringe at how awkward that sounds.

(She's my girlfriend.)

But his mom looks even more intrigued. "Really?"

"Yeap."He replies quickly, before taking Rachel's hand. "Okay, so we'll be in my room. Call us when you're ready."

And he quickly pulls her down a hallway, as she lets out an admonishing "Noah!" but laughs when he slams the door shut and nervously scratches his forehead.

(So, you're staying for dinner.)


Dinner is nice and pleasant, but it's mostly Rachel and his mum talking as he shifts his food around his plate. She can feel his knee fidgeting under the table, so she knows that he's worried, but she doesn't really understand why. His mom and sister seem to like her, and they're never lacking in conversation.

It's not until after, when she's helping his mom clean the dishes and she whispers to Rachel that she understands. "Don't mind Noah. He's never brought a girl home before, and I think he's trying to make it seem like less of a big deal by pretending it's not a big deal. But I don't see why he's so worried."

Rachel hums softly the entire way home, and her smile widens when he actually gets out of the car to walk her to the door.

He shuffles nervously on her doorstep as she speaks. "You have a nice family Noah. Thank you for taking me to meet them."

He looks up and shrugs. "Whatever."

(It's no big deal.) Except that it is.

"So," she begins in a teasing voice, trying to lighten the mood. "Noah, am I you girlfriend?"

He laughs. "No, shut up crazy."

(Yes. You know you are.)

"I told you already, I don't do this."

As unpredictable as Puck can be, the vulnerability in his eyes is astounding, because the meaning of everything that's happened in the past few hours is falling into place.

(I'm letting you in, Rachel. And I've never done that before. So, please don't hurt me, okay?)

She leans in and brushes her lips against his.




She's been avoiding him for three days.

And she knows he has no idea why, but she can't bring herself to face him. Not when she can barely look herself in the mirror.

She knows that she has to tell him. She can't not. But she doesn't want to because it's probably going to change their relationship forever.

However, when she sees him on the bleachers staring out at the empty football field and he's sitting in his usual slouching position, she knows he's done waiting for her to come to him. So she joins him. But she doesn't bury her head in his shoulder like she normally would. She just stares out at the football field too.

After a while his foot starts bouncing up and down, so she knows he's getting worried, if he wasn't already, and she decides that her time for stalling has come to an end.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before she finally whispers "I'm late," and she thinks he understands what she's saying when his foot stops moving.

But then he says, "No, we're not. We've still got time for at least one round in the backseat of my car."

(No, we're not. We've still got ages before lunch ends.)

"What?" she asks exasperatedly as she turns to look him in the eye. "No, Noah. I'm late." She emphasises. "And I'm never late."

His mouth drops as he finally understands what she trying to say, before he lets out a low, "Well, fuck me," and a part of her wants to say 'well, I think that's what got us in this mess in the first place' but it's a stupid common joke, and at that moment she doesn't really see the humour. So instead, she turns back to stare blankly out at the football field.

The silence begins to push down on her, it's so quiet it's almost deafening, but she can't bring herself to make the first move. Luckily she doesn't have to, because he whispers a soft, "When?" that's when she breaks.

"I realised three days ago." She sees him nodding out the corner of her eye, and she doesn't want it to get all quiet again so continues talking. "I don't know for sure. All I know is my period is almost two weeks late. But I couldn't possibly be. It's absurd. I mean, I did the research. I am on the pill, plus I made you wear a condom every time. From my reading, the statistics indicate that this type of pill is 99.3% effective while condoms are supposed to be 98% effective. If you do the math, that gives us a probability of less than 0.015% that this would happen to us. And unless you have super human sperm, and I'm the most fertile woman on the planet, then I can't possibly be. But..." Her rant wilts and she doesn't want to finish. "But I'm never late.

He swears under his breath again and does something completely unexpected. "This is complete shit." He mutters as he gets up and walks away.

(I can't deal with this.)

"Noah?" Her voice actually trembles, and she's exactly three seconds away from breaking down. "Where are you going?"

"I've got things to do Berry." He shouts over his shoulder. "Things to do. And places to be."

(Away from you.)

She sits there dumbly as she watches him disappear down the stairs, and she continues to stare at said stairs until the bell rings, because it's the first time since before he joined Glee that she sees Puck, and not Noah, walking away from her.


He's missing for the rest of the day, and her heart is slowly breaking as she walks sadly through the hallway on her way to Glee. She's so lost in her own thoughts that she barely has time to register what's happening, when a disembodied arm pulls her into the disabled toilet.

"Goddammit Noah!" She huffs angrily when she realises it's him. "I've told you repeatedly, I'm not having sex with you in a public toilet. It's despicable and tawdry, and I'm not going to alter my opinion. Especially not now. I would have thought that after I informed you of our predicament, you would learn to be a lot more considerate, and not constantly thinking about your penis." She continues to rant with disbelief for a further ten minutes, even hitting his chest with her small and ineffectual fists a few times, until eventually she runs out of steam.

He doesn't move or speak the entire time, but he raises an eyebrow at her once her shoulders finally slump forward in defeat.

(You done?)

She sighs as she nods, and she's about to leave when he holds up a crumpled brown paper bag in front of her face.


He shifts uncomfortably as she stares at the bag before hesitantly accepting it.

"What is it?" she asks as she looks inside. She almost wants to smile, but she's too emotionally exhausted to try.

He shrugs. "The boxes at the store all seemed to say the same thing. Fuckin' didn't know there were so many different kinds of sticks you could pee on. But the dude at the counter said this was the most reliable. And this one has three, so I figured with this one we can be three times as sure."

She wants to laugh, and cry, and scream, and smile; because when he said he had "things to do and places to be" he wasn't giving her the brush off and leaving her to deal with everything on her own. It was such a typically Noah thing to do that she starts to think maybe she's the stupid one for believing otherwise.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks.

"I did." But he knows what she means, so he continues. "I just needed to drive around a bit."

(I just needed to be alone for a bit. To process.)

She nods her understanding, and since she took three entire days to process, she decides to forgive him.

"Well?" he says impatiently when she doesn't speak for a while. "Get a move on."

(Are you going to do this or not?)

It's her turn to raise her eyebrows at him as she asks seriously "Noah, you do understand exactly what a pregnancy test entails, right?"

His face contorts in disgust. "Gross. I'm outta here."

(Yeah, I think I'll wait for you outside.)

She takes her time, reading the instructions carefully three times before she starts.

When she's done, she opens the door to let him in and asks him to set the timer on his phone for three minutes.

It's the longest three minutes of her life.

But he stands next to her the whole time, holding her hand as she stares at the wall, and when the alarm goes off he gives it a tight squeeze before whispering, "My dad's a dead beat, but I don't roll that way."

(I'm here. No matter what. I'll take care of you, and whoever else comes along.)

She pauses to take a deep breath before looking down at the results and he does the same.




The relief is overwhelming as she tries to smile but instead she finds herself overcome with tears. She doesn't really understand why, but she's sure it's due to the extreme emotional stress that's been bottled up inside for the past three days, and not because there was even the slightest part of her that was actually disappointed (because seriously, who actually wants to get pregnant while still in high school?).

He gathers her up in his arms, hugging her face to his chest. Her tears drench his shirt as he softly strokes soothing patterns on her lower back while he waits for her to let it all out. He stays with his arms wrapped around her until she calms down and her tears subside. He eventually pulls back and removes a hand from her waist to wipe away the tear stains on her cheeks.

"It's really too bad." He says softly as his lips tilt into his patented, charming smirk and she looks up at him in confusion. "Because you'd make one fuckin' hot MILF."

She's laughing so hard that she's almost crying again. Reaching up, she presses her smiling lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss.

(It's really too bad, because you'd be a really great mom.)

She rests her cheek on his chest as his arms encircle her waist once more.

And they stay like that.

Long after Glee rehearsal finishes. And long after it grows dark outside.

They stay like that.

Until all the tension and stress just fades away.


Author's note: Okay, so that was long. Really, ridiculously long. I thought about splitting it up, but I couldn't figure out where to do so, so I didn't.

I hope you all liked it, and it wasn't too long. I also hope that it was worth the two week wait. I'm sorry if I got a little too OOC towards the end, but I think I'm too much of a 'fluff' girl at heart. Thanks again for reading!

PS. Oh, and if the part in the middle (VIII) is too ... um...detailed, please let me know. I'm not really sure. If it is, I'll bump up the rating. Thanks again!