So this is mostly an accident. I did not mean to keep filling prompts, but after the third I realized I might as well give up. This prompt was:

"The problem is I've been subconsciously sabotaging every relationship I've ever been in because of you"

I hope you enjoy

Rachel dates a lot after high school. She moves to New York – studies at Julliard, and suddenly boys are interested. Her fashion sense is considered endearing, and her crazy drive is par for the course. It does not exactly surprise Puck, who'd gotten into NYU in large part due to Rachel Berry and her crazy (she'd tutored him junior and senior year, and when he had been waitlisted, she made it her job to call and e-mail everyone she could think of. A week later he was offered full acceptance. And a scholarship), because Berry is smoking hot, and underneath all that crazy, she is totally cool. It does, however, come as a huge surprise to Rachel, and he thinks that is mostly the fault of the douches back in Lima, who managed to convince her that she was totally unlovable.

There was no way Rachel was going to live in a dorm room, she is too much of a control freak to accept being randomly assigned to a roommate, and, to be honest, Puck totally was not digging the thought of communal showers. So it made sense for them to live together, in a surprisingly-not-tiny apartment (paid for mainly by Rachel's dads). The Fathers Berry were totally okay with it, they trusted Puck with their baby girl. The sentiment had actually offended Puck for a few days, no fathers should think their daughters safe with the Puckerone, he was a stud. His ego was slightly soothed, though, by his mother, who was ecstatic at the thought of Puck and Rachel living together, solely because she did not trust Puck with Rachel.

In general, Puck was a fan of living with Berry. She was still batshit, and she had set up a chore chart their first week in the apartment, complete with gold stars, but she was also a crazy good cook, and always willing to sit on the couch and watch football with him. He was even a fan of her rambling, to the point that when he came into the apartment and she wasn't there, he had to turn on the radio, and the TV, and put in a CD, because it was just too quiet without her. Not that he would ever admit that was the reason why.

What Puck did not like, however, was meeting the guys who came to pick her up. In general they reminded him of that St. Douche kid she had dated in high school, all gelled hair and show faces. First there had been Chris, who was in the Drama Division. She'd dated him for about a month, before they had split due to, in her words, "irreconcilable differences, specifically with regard to our opinions on musical theater". She had seemed so angry when she came in that Puck did not think he was going to need to deal with crying girl, which had been awesome. Three hours later, though, she had come to his bed, dressed in her Puritanical (shut up, he knows words) nightgown, and crawled in with him. Before he could think of something to say she'd curled onto his chest, hot tears soaking his skin – the Puckzilla sleeps in boxers, only because if the building caught on fire he did not want to make the whole neighborhood jealous. She had not said a word, and Puck could not help but think that when he had imagined Berry in bed with him, it had not been at all like this.

Puck made sure to hide a carton of her favorite frozen soy yogurt hidden in a box of Hot-pockets just in case.

The next guy had been Troy. He'd just landed a role in an off-off-Broadway production of something, and he walked with more swagger than even Puck. Puck had just begun to worry that they were getting serious, and halfheartedly planning how to break them up (he could have Kurt come up and hit on him? Everyone knew Musical Theater guys were one only a couple steps from being gay and Kurt was only a couple of steps away from being a girl, so it would not be particularly difficult…). But Rachel had stormed in, one night, all waving hands and big tears. Troy had claimed she was suffocating him and smothering his talent.

Puck's response had been succinct. "Fuck him. He's just jealous that you are clearly Broadway and he will never be more than off-off." What? He paid attention when she talked… sometimes.

She had smiled at him, and the smile had grown even wider when he had produced the hidden stash of frozen yogurt, and then she had asked him about Nina, the girl he had been seeing. To be honest, Puck had completely forgotten about Nina. He was probably supposed to have called her, but she was not very interesting (completely lacking in ambition, and intelligence) and the sex had been terrible – her part had been good, Puck was a stud, but on his end it had been more boring than he had known sex could be. Rachel would frown if he said that though, so he resorted to shrugging.

Then had came Ben, Richard, and Heath. None of them had lasted very long, but Puck had noticed three patterns. The first, and by far the most important was that with every boyfriend, the amount of clothes she wore around the apartment had shrunk. At first, when they had moved in, she was covered practically from head to toe, either in her awful nightgown, or in her sweaters, knee socks and skirts. By Heath, however, she was prancing around in tank tops and short shorts.

The fewer clothes she was wearing, the more jealous Puck got. The more he thought about people seeing that much of her, the more he wanted to shove her back into her nightgown and wrap her in an invisibility cloak (what? He reads!). Or, at the very least, start punching people.

The third trend was that with every relationship, the reason for the break up became sillier. She had literally broken up with Heath because he only tipped the waitress 17%.

After her breakup with Heath, he pulled out the frozen yogurt, popped open a few beers, and pulled her onto his lap. She had smiled and melted into him, and he had marveled at how tiny she was, and how easily she fit in the shelter of his arms. They were quiet, watching the Browns lose yet another game and drinking. He would have been perfectly content to never again move so much as a muscle, so he did not notice when she passed their strictly enforced limit of three beers (one beer made her happy, two beers made her sing, three beers made her sleepy, four beers made her honest, and five beers made her clothes fall off). In fact, it was not until after the Browns had lost and he had reached for a beer to console himself that he noticed that all of the twelve pack was gone, and he was sure he had not had more than four).

"Berry?" He asked tentatively. She was still burrowed into his chest, and he was pretty sure that she was still breathing.

"Noah?" She agreed.

"You alright?" By this point he was fairly sure she was. She was definitely breathing, and she had not slurred his name. So, it was a surprise when she answered.

"No actually, I do not think I am alright." He was not proud to admit it, but he panicked. He stood up and placed her on her feet, running his eyes up and down. He could not find a visible injury, so he started moving his hands wherever he could reach.

"What is it baby? What's wrong? It's okay, you're okay, we'll fix it." He was muttering, not thinking of anything but finding the hurt and fixing her. She slapped his hands away.

"Noah! Not that! My body is perfectly satisfactory, with the sole exception of the fact that I have lost feelings in my toes. But I expect that it is because of the rather copious amounts of alcohol I have consumed." He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well then, what's wrong?" He swallowed, not really wanting to know the answer "is it Heath?" He had not thought she was that into him, but if she was in love with him, he was not sure what he would do. But surely she couldn't be in love with him, who dumps someone they are in love with because of tips? But maybe it had been a mistake? What if she was regretting it.

"No, Noah, it has nothing to do with Heath" she spat the name and he had to breathe a sigh of relief. "The problem is that I think I've been subconsciously sabotaging every relationship I've ever been in because of you. All this time I was waiting for you to finally look at me and say 'fuck what people think, I want you'. And now I've told you that I'm two-thirds in love with you, and our relationship will be unbearably awkward and I shall have to move out."