A/N: Because there's no way Puck didn't notice Rachel's makeover during Hairography.

... ... ...

Puck can appreciate women. Puck does appreciate women. Their lips and mouths, their bodies, their voices, sometimes. Some of them can make him laugh, and some of them hate him, but he kind of gets off on that, too. Hate is a kind of passion, right? And he can turn that into something good for him, usually.

So yeah, he really digs women in general.

He never really considered Rachel a woman (always a girl; just a girl) until he's standing in the hall and he sees her round the corner. His eyes linger on her heels (those are new, or at least he's never seen them before) before sliding up her (no joke) perfect legs. Her pleated skirt bounces against her thighs temptingly, and he knows he's not the only one who notices. Her hand is on her side, just below her tiny little waist, and he's pretty sure Figgins will send her home for wearing that top. It's tight in all the right places, pushes her boobs up and makes it look like she actually has them. (He knows this fact already, even if he only got to touch the side of one, like, one time.) Her hair is curled a little at the ends and parted differently, and holy shit, she looks really fucking good.

She seems to stick her nose up in the air a little bit more when she walks by him, and she says, "Noah," and it's a cross between a greeting and her letting him know that she's well aware of his staring.

"Hey," he says evenly, because fuck, he's seen enough smoking hot women to not get all tongue tied and shit. She turns around, which makes her hair fly around her head, which is pretty sexy.

"Yes?" she asks, like she might not have time for him at all.

"Goddamn," he says, brow raised as he looks her up and down. "You couldn't have worn shit like this when we were dating?" She rolls her eyes, but he sees the little smile she's trying to hide. "I mean, even if you wouldn't let me touch them, at least I could have gotten a better look."

He's looking right now, staring, actually, and when he feels Rachel's hands on his face, forcing him to look into her eyes...Well, shit. That's a good view, too. Whatever she did with her makeup or whatever is totally working for her. Her eyes look huge and kind of smokey and fuck. He always thought she was really pretty and stuff, but seriously? This girl is fucking hot.

"I decided to update my look. I take it from your leering that you approve," she says. He smirks at her and she takes a deep breath. "Is there anything else?"

He leans against the wall and grins, shaking his head. "Nope. Just gonna enjoy the view from the back when you walk away."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, Puckerman," she says over her shoulder.

He just laughs.

(He likes the way she says his name.)

... ... ...

He watches her all day, the way she loves, but is kind of uncomfortable with, the attention. A senior picks one of her photos up off the floor when it falls out of her locker between third and fourth. Finn is practically drooling, and Puck doesn't even want to think about what other reaction the dude is having. Mike and Matt are both talking about it at lunch, and they don't let the other jocks say anything gross or mean about Rachel, which Puck thinks is cool, for some reason.

He sees her talking to Finn in the afternoon, and it looks like Finn's fucking her over (yet again) because Rachel's doing that thing where she tries really, really hard not to look disappointed but still somehow looks like the saddest girl in the world. Finn walks away, and Rachel sets her shoulders, and he figures he should talk to her or something.

"What now?" he asks. She turns her back to him, so he thinks maybe that wasn't the best opener. "C'mon. What'd he say?"

"That's none of your business," she says, and she glances at him again. Shit. He hopes she doesn't start crying or something. He doesn't know if he could handle that. He doesn't know what he's really trying to 'handle' as it is.

And then she turns and walks away, and seriously, as much as he likes watching her go, he was, like, actually trying to have a conversation with her.

... ... ...

She stands beside him in glee rehearsal. He knows she does it on purpose, because every time she puts her hand on her hip, her elbow brushes against his arm or his side or something. And yeah, he's standing here in a fucking wig (he really ought to kick Schue's ass for this one) but he still feels pretty awesome. He really digs the way she sways her hips and stuff, but more than that, she seems to be the only one in the room who hates this as much as he does.

After, she's rolling her eyes as Brittany and Kurt talk about their different shades of blonde, and Puck stuffs his wig into his bag all the way to the bottom so there's no chance of anyone seeing it. He'd leave it right here in the choir room, but Mr. Schue says they can't, which is total bullshit, really. As if being in glee isn't embarrassing enough (he doesn't hate it, so whatever, but it'd be awesome if he wasn't being called a glee loser every second day) now he's gotta carry a wig around all the time.

"Rachel," he says before she leaves the room. They're the last two left somehow. Weird, since he's usually the first one out the door. "What's up?"

"I never really know what you mean when you ask me that. Are you genuinely interested in what's happening in my life, or is that just how you personally start a conversation?"

"Yeah, whatever. What's with you today?" he asks. Did he not just say that very thing? What the hell's her deal? Why can't she ever just understand what he's getting at without him explaining a million times?

"Nothing is with me," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking to the floor.

He doesn't believe her, because he can tell she's not all confident and shit like she was this morning when he saw her. She was walking around like she owned the place (sometimes he wonders if she does somehow), like she was hot as shit and she knew it. She's always confident (it doesn't bug him anymore) but it was different today. Until now, apparently.

So he tries to think about what he's seen happen today, and the only thing he can think of that would change her mood so drastically is her conversation with Finn.

And when a girl looks this hot, she shouldn't be allowed to be bitchy and stuff. It's just not right.

"Look, just 'cause Finn is too stupid to appreciate how good you look, doesn't mean you don't, you know, look really fucking good," he says.

What? Does that even make sense? She smiles a little, looks at him through her eyelashes, so he thinks she got it.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "Do you think...Was I crazy to do this?" He raises his brow and his eyes fall to her boobs. Again. (What? They look awesome.) "For Finn," she clarifies.

He shrugs his shoulder. "He's still got a girlfriend." She takes a deep breath and nods sadly. "Not like he complained, though, right?"

"No," she says, practically scoffing. "He didn't do much of anything other than stare at me. Much like you're doing right now. I have eyes, Noah."

"Yeah, I've seen those plenty." He grins at her and she blushes, which is cute and stuff. "This?" He points to her chest. "This is something new."

She rolls her eyes, lets out a huff, and breezes past him and out the door.

"Hey. Wait," he says, going after her. He's kind of staring at her ass, but shit, if she wears a skirt that short and tight, what the fuck does she expect? She turns around just in time to not catch him, which he thinks is a good thing, 'cause she'd probably bite his head off or something. "Maybe you could help me with this hairography stuff."

She legitimately smirks (who knew the girl had it in her) and puts one hand on her hip. "I thought you knew all about ridiculous hairstyles."

His jaw drops, mostly just to be dramatic, and he shakes his head. "You hurt me, baby."

It feels weird (and kinda good, too) to call her that now that they're broken up or whatever, but her eyes are fucking distracting him by being all sparkly, and it's taking every ounce of self control he has not to stare at her boobs (or touch them, for that matter). This little shirt she's wearing...He doesn't know where she got this thing, but she should get more.

"This all feels a little familiar, so forgive me if I'm not so quick to jump at the chance to let you into my bedroom again."

He grins lazily and thinks back to the few days or whatever when they dated and spent a couple hours after school every day making out and doing homework (but mostly making out) in her bedroom.

"Come on. I really need help," he says, and he pouts just a little bit for good measure. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. When he reaches out and rests his hand on her upper arm, she looks at it like it's the strangest thing in the world. He runs his hand down her skin (so fucking smooth) and circles her wrist lightly before meeting her eyes again. "Please?"

"I find it unnerving that I can never really tell when you're being sincere and when you're trying to seduce me," she says. He steps closer, but he doesn't really mean to.

"It is pretty fun trying to seduce you," he says, genuinely smiling. She laughs a little, bites her lip and bows her head. Her hair falls in her face, so he brushes it away, and she looks up at him again.

"Noah, I don't know why you're doing this. Nothing has changed in the last few weeks. I'm still..."

"Come on, Rach. Don't you miss me even a little bit?" he asks, weaving their fingers together.

She laughs. She actually laughs. "Now you're reaching," she says, and it makes him smile for some reason. She seems to think about it a bit, then sighs. "Fine. Friday night. Don't be late, and don't expect the evening to go the way it went last time."

He squeezes her hand, winks at her, and watches her walk away. He tries to figure out why the hell he wants this so bad right now (he thinks it goes beyond just her hot as fuck outfit and crazy little body) but he can't figure it out, so he just hitches his bag onto his shoulder and heads for the door.

It's kind of fucked up, how he's actually a little excited.

... ... ...

When Quinn asks him if he's got plans on Friday night, he tells her he's busy. He just blew off Quinn Fabray for Rachel Berry, and he doesn't even really feel all that bad about it.

... ... ...

When he gets to her place on Friday night - on time, 'cause she'd probably kick him out otherwise or something - her dads usher him into the house and ask him if he remembers the way to her bedroom. He smiles (the way dads don't freak out about) and nods, thanks them and heads for the stairs.

She's wearing a little yellow and green plaid skirt and a yellow top with bows at the sleeves when he sees her.

"What's this?" he asks, looking her up and down.

"Sorry to disappoint," she says as she moves things around on her desk. He walks in and sits down on the bench at the end of her bed.

"Not disappointed," he insists, shrugging one shoulder.

She looks up at him from where she's standing, looks all insecure and sweet and maybe hopeful or whatever.

"You're not?"

He shrugs again, shakes his head. "Nah. I dig your skirts. Totally hot." He looks her up and down again for good measure. And it is good. She's got this tiny little waist and stuff, and he definitely likes how much leg he can see. Sure, her skirt the other day was a little sexier, you know, for regular people, but Rachel isn't regular people. "'S'good."

"Thank you," she says quietly before she goes back to shuffling things around on her desk. "Are you prepared?"

So, his mind's still basically in, you know, the gutter (pretty much stays there permanently, actually) and he's thinking there's a condom in his wallet and he's ready for whatever she could throw at him. If it was herself? Well, shit. Yeah, he's ready.

"Uh huh."

"Noah, are you okay?" she asks, brow knit. She walks over and sits down next to him, angles her body towards his a little bit. "You seem very distracted."

He reaches out and takes the hem of her skirt between his thumb and forefinger. "I am distracted," he says, and she's totally speechless and stuff when he looks at her.

She opens her mouth only to close it again, then jumps up out of her spot. She does it so fast that he can't do anything awesome like hold onto her skirt real tight to keep her close. She crosses her arms and glares at him as he smirks at her.

"I told you this wasn't going to be like last time," she insists. He rolls his eyes. "Please stop trying to...do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"C'mon, Rachel," he says, standing up and walking towards her. He rests his hands on her hips and leans in so his lips brush her temple as he speaks. "You wouldn't be saying all that if you weren't tempted."

And no, he really doesn't know when, exactly, he decided their breakup is pretty stupid. Yeah, he's kinda got a thing for Quinn and she's carrying his kid and stuff, but no one else knows that, and if she has her way, no one will ever know. What's he supposed to do? Just not date anyone ever? Fuck. That. And Rachel is crazy hot (even hotter than she is crazy) and nice and she doesn't treat him like he's a total loser. He likes that in a girl.

"I'm not tempted," she says weakly.

He laughs a little bit. Damn, he loves the way he makes her all quiet like that. "Then why aren't you moving?"

"I..." He knows she's looking for a leg to stand on, or whatever that expression is. She pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes. "You'll just come after me again."

He laughs, but tilts his head and raises his brow. "You make it sound like I'm some predator or something."

She giggles, shakes her head. "Aren't you?"

He doesn't really know how to answer that. Yeah, he wants her, but he's not a dick, and he doesn't touch girls who don't want to be touched. That is just not his style. It shouldn't be anyone's style.

"I'm whatever you want me to be," he says, 'cause that sounds sexy and stuff, and she'll probably eat it up.

She laughs so hard she falls against his chest, and he doesn't know whether to be turned on, or annoyed.

"Do lines like that actually work with girls?" she asks. He brings his hand up and brushes the hair off her face, and she moves away from him again, but still not enough that he's not touching her. That's a promising sign.

"Sometimes," he insists. "You're not like most girls, I guess." She looks at him through her lashes and smiles at him. "Better?" She giggles and nods. "God, you're fucking adorable."

Okay, so that wasn't part of the plan. But it's true, and it makes her bite her bottom lip the slightest bit (the sexiest way possible). He tries not to groan.

"You really...You find me attractive?" she asks timidly, looking down instead of at him.

He furrows his brow and looks at her like she's nuts. She can't see him, though, since she's focused on the carpet. He grabs her hand, pulls her back to the bed and sits down next to her.

"Are you joking?" he asks. She's toying with the bottom of her skirt and she shakes her head. "Rachel." She won't look at him, so he takes her chin in his hand and turns her face towards his. "You're sexy." She rolls her eyes. "Seriously. No matter what you wear. I...Damn. I like it."

"You like how I look, or you like me?" she asks. "Or you like me because of how I look?"

"Where's this coming from?" This kind of reminds him of when they dated, because as much as he kind of wanted it all to just be making out and fooling around, they talked about stuff, too. She was never this insecure, though, and it's freaking him out. "You're kind of awesome, Rach," he tells her, and she looks like she might cry or something stupid like that. He hopes she doesn't. "The fact that you're super hot is just a bonus."

She gives him this ridiculously sexy smile and somehow her hand is in his. "Thank you," she says quietly, like she really needed to hear him say that or something.

"No worries," he says. "And now I'm gonna kiss you, 'cause you're looking a little happier, but I gotta seal the deal, you know?"

She laughs and shakes her head, but he kisses her before she can tell him not to kiss her or something.

"This is a bad idea," she says, pulling away after a moment. She puts her hand on his chest, but he covers it with his. "I didn't...When I invited you here..."

"Don't you want me to convince you how pretty you are?" he asks. It's a weird deja vu with that whole Quinn thing, but whatever. Rachel's different. Totally and completely different. Also, remember? Condom in the wallet. (As if Rachel would let him get that far.) "'Cause, baby, I'm totally ready to convince you for, like, hours."

"I'm sure you are, but..." She stops talking and looks down when he puts his hand on her thigh so his fingertips are tucked just underneath the hem of her skirt. "I'm reluctant to just give in and give you what you want."

He smirks. "Let's be honest. You're not gonna give me exactly what I want."

She laughs again, presses her face against his shoulder.

Seriously, this girl...

"No, I'm not," she tells him needlessly.

(Still, a little bit of his soul dies when she confirms it.)

He kisses the hinge of her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. She doesn't stop him. "You want me to," he says, like he's just realizing it. "Don't you?"

She sighs and angles her head. He smiles against her skin as he kisses her. "A little," she admits quietly.

He laughs and pushes his hand up her thigh a little more. Please. He's always going to push the envelope and see how far she'll let him go. She places her hand on top of his, but lets him leave it where it is (practically buried under her skirt).

"We should lay down," he says. His voice is way seductive and he doesn't even really mean for it to be. But damn, when his hand is where it is and he can feel her breathing against his ear and she's just told him she wants to make out? Yeah, he's into it.

She nods.

This week has been so fucking awesome. First he got to see her in that sexy little outfit, then he got to see her in her normal clothes, and both were equally as hot. And now he's touching her smooth skin and kissing her lips and is somehow still attached to her as he pushes her onto her back and fits himself between her thighs.

Then she says his name, all soft and breathy with him pressed against her, and he wants to circle this week on his calendar and keep it forever or something.

"What about hairography?" she asks. She talks just as he's put his hand on her boob over her shirt, and he's a little confused, 'cause she's not pushing it away or anything, but he wonders if this conversation is her way of slowing things down.

"You hate that shit." He moves his hand in a small, subtle circle, and she swallows thickly. He can tell she's trying hard not to arch against him. Not that he'd mind.

"I really do," she breathes out. Her chest is heaving and her eyes are practically black when she looks at him. She kisses him, and he knows she's doing that so she can moan and pretend it's because of the kiss, not the way he's kneading her breast through her shirt.

"This's more important anyway," he says.

He's kind of surprised when she nods. But it's really cool that Rachel agrees that making out is more important than glee club. She's even more awesome than he thought. He tells her, and she giggles, says thank you, and tells him to pay attention to what he's doing. He doesn't mind her bossing him around when it includes fooling around and her letting him slip his hand beneath her shirt.

She realizes later that he didn't even bring his wig, and he shrugs his shoulder and asks if it really matters. He kisses her, pulls her into his lap and convinces her that no, it really doesn't.