Author's Note: I just want to use this space to say thank you to everyone who is as invested in this universe as I clearly am. I finally got enough of these done that I feel OK about starting to post; they will be a bunch of small chapters (I don't dare say drabble since I haven't written them all and know they aren't all small to begin with) from different POVs that will (hopefully?) be the end of what has been a much longer journey than I ever anticipated when writing the first part. Still, I hope you all enjoy it.

For those that might be catching this one brand new, this is actually the final piece of the puzzle (or the last chapter will be, anyway). The order of the universe is as follows: If She'd Let Me, To Be With You, Deal or No Deal and then this one. I suggest reading (and reviewing! ha) all the others before getting into this one, but you could skip "If She'd Let Me" and still understand everything. Not so much if you skipped the others (though that isn't to say I don't think you couldn't necessarily enjoy it without having read them).

Regardless, again, thank you all and I look forward to your feedback (hint hint). :)

In the grand scheme of things, a year wasn't that long. So far, it was only a twentieth of his life. On average, it would be about 1/80th. It was a mere 365 days. Just 525,600 minutes (he hadn't done the math; he'd just been living with Kurt and Rachel too long to have not been forced to listen to that damn song). But, in Puck's love life, a year was a fucking eternity. He'd never been with a girl (exclusively) for longer than a week. And it probably shouldn't surprise him to realize that week had been with Rachel, but while lying in bed reflecting on the last year, it seemed even more significant.

Today marked the day the Puckleberry reunion passed that coveted threshold. He was currently waiting for Rachel to finish getting ready to leave, something he still thought was stupid considering the dirty atmosphere of their destination. The tattoo parlor didn't use old needles or anything, but those places in general were never nice. It was partially why he'd insisted from the beginning that he go with her, though that purpose had changed significantly over the last month. Then again, that statement was true for just about everything; so much had changed in a year that it really did seem crazy to think just how little of an amount of time it was.

Legit, he loved her (and had for probably 2 million-plus minutes), but he was shocked they'd made it the full year. After all, he was still Puck and she was most definitely still Rachel. No amount of time or even togetherness was ever going to change that very basic fact. They were two different people with two very different personalities (his normal, hers split between nuts and bat-shit crazy). And even though they'd managed to make it work, there were still times when it was a guessing game on whether they'd tear each other's clothes off or just tear each other apart limb from limb.

The first month was easy. There was a lot to figure out and lot of new adjustments, but the big picture was simple. Everything was fueled by excitement and newness and sex. Fuck. A lot, lot, lot of sex. And it wasn't like that part entirely went away (again, still Puck), but everything gets insanely more intricate when you start taking the time to look a little more closely at the big picture. When you learn the details and commit pieces of it to memory, shit gets serious. Complicated.