Glee 1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I told you guys I was working on something big, and I finally feel like I have enough of it hashed out that I can start to share it; I'm hoping to update it once a week. It's been pretty quiet here lately, so I hope this will liven up the board (read: I'll know it is lively if I get a lot of reviews. wink wink, nudge nudge).

As the summary stated, this piece is inspired by my new TV obsession, The Good Wife. However, please know that this is not just going to be that show with different characters. I simply thought the idea (which, let's be honest, is really just a love triangle at its core) could work for the Puck-Rachel-Finn dynamic. Everything that happened on Glee up until Finn put Rachel on the train to New York is still true, then we skip ahead 10 years and find lots has changed - and some things maybe never will. :)

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Rachel twirled her fork around the noodles, waiting until the end spun fully before lifting it to her mouth. She looked around the restaurant as she chewed, noting the familiar faces and same decor that she'd seen for nearly the past 15 years. Nothing about Breadsticks had changed since she'd first ate here back in high school, and normally she liked that; she'd grown used to the predictability of her life, learned to not just accept it but crave it in some aspects. She liked having a plan, knowing what to expect. There was something settling about knowing what day they were coming, what she was going to order, and that it was going to be delicious. However, recently, all she could focus on was that one word:

Settling.

There was no reason for it to suddenly occupy so much of her mind. It had been 10 years since she'd graduated high school and her life had changed so much since then that those left in it knew better than to think she hadn't been at the helm of her decisions. But, lately, there had been an echo of regret waking her at night, distracting her from her normally positive thoughts and instead making her wonder. She wondered what life would be like if she hadn't married Finn right out of high school. She wondered what would have happened if they'd moved from Lima. She wondered if she could have made it on Broadway, or if she could now.

Those thoughts instantly made her feel guilty, though, as she'd never take back the past 10 years. She and Finn were perfectly happy, living in the house Carole and Burt had bought together when they'd first married. They'd left it to the young couple once they finally decided to move closer to Columbus since Burt was at the capitol so much anyway. Plus, it wasn't like Kurt needed his childhood bedroom once he'd graduate; he rarely visited then and almost never did now. They both worked at McKinley and co-directed the glee club, which was working on a record of consecutive wins that marveled Voice Adrenaline's. They had a son, Christopher, who just turned seven and was such a perfect combination of the two of them that it was impossible for her to wish her life was any different.

It might not have been what she had dreamt about when she was younger, but that just meant she'd finally learned to embrace the brilliance of the unexpected.

"Would you like to try a bite?" She asked merrily, her mood improving as soon as she'd recalled all the reasons she had to be thankful. "It's divine."

Finn had been quiet throughout much of the night, which wasn't unusual as of late. He'd been working particularly hard at the school, in the middle of a huge debate with the principal - who was none other than Sue Sylvester, though she'd tamed a bit as her daughter had grown more - about athletics and budgets. Rachel tried not to bring it up because she remembered how upset it had made him when it all first began, but she also hated to see him so sad. She still couldn't stand when he was upset, though she didn't normally have to wait so long to pry the source out of him.

"Finn," she began gently, her hand reaching tentatively across the table and into his large palm. "We promised to always be open with one another. We've celebrated 10 beautiful years of marriage because of this and I just want you to …"

"I think I'm in love with someone else."

Rachel's mouth snapped shut, her eyes blinking several times in surprise. She wanted to believe she'd heard him wrong. There was no way something like this could happen to her, could happen to them. Not after they'd gone through so much. He couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't do that to their family. She ripped her hand out of his limp grasp, tangling it in the napkin on her lap just to focus on anything else but the millions of thoughts coursing through her mind.

"I'm sorry. I know this is not the time, but you were looking at me like that and it's been killing me having these feelings and … I love you, Rachel." He pushed forward, his hand all the way at the end of the table but still unable to reach her suddenly sunken form. "I do. I love you so much."

The sound of him laughing makes her eyes jerk up, staring at him in narrow slits. How could he laugh at a time like this? Was he joking? Was this some weird joke that she didn't understand - like a lot of his jokes - that they would laugh about on the way home? Home. She'd made this her home, made this her life and now …

"It's just … it's like in high school with you and Quinn." She tensed immediately, holding her breath before he quickly shook his head. "It's not Quinn. I just, I mean … I loved her, back then. But then I met you and hung around you and … I started to love you, too."

Her gaze fell back to her lap, tears stinging the corners though she'd already resigned to herself that she wouldn't cry. It wasn't because she wanted to appear strong or because she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of so many townspeople. Instead, Rachel knew that sadness would not be the emotion that won the battle currently waging war inside her. Resentment, anger, spitefulness, these emotions were running too wild, too deep to be ignored, and it was all she could do not to storm out.

That was what Rachel Berry would do. Rachel Hudson, however, was a completely different person.

"Do I know her?"

His eyes flashed with a regret she had yet to see, and it actually made her feel a little better. Not great, of course, because she could tell immediately that the answer was yes and she knew without thinking too hard that it was probably someone from school. Despite her social awkwardness growing up, Rachel was quite friendly with much of the staff at McKinley. They'd thrown parties at their house for the teachers, even went on vacation with one of their closest couple-friends from there. Yet one of them, someone who knew her and knew Finn was married and knew he had a family, had disregarded it all.

"Have you slept with her?"

She held her breath, terrified of the answer. It would still have been wrong, but Rachel could have handled an emotional affair. She knew Finn and she understood how big his heart was, how easily he might be able to develop feelings for someone else - maybe even without that person's knowledge. If it were just infatuation or even an emotional connection, then she could work with that. They could work on that, carving more time out of their days to spend together as husband and wife and not parent's to Chris or as glee directors. They could become Rachel and Finn again.

But, when she watched his face fall and nod ever-so-slightly, there was nothing left to do. She'd been working on their relationship since she was 16 years old and in one evening, it was ruined. He'd ruined it, and he didn't deserve any of those emotions that had been swirling inside her. She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to yell, she wasn't even going to threaten. Instead, she simply wiped her mouth with the napkin that had been tightly balled up in her hands, stood up and left. She didn't turn back around, she didn't hesitate for a moment. She walked out, and got the first connecting bus to New York that was available.

"Hello, Daddy," she said evenly as soon as she'd boarded. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Pumpkin. What is it?"

Rachel sighed heavily, feeling her heart constrict for so many different reasons. The breaking feeling was starting to consume her, but she also couldn't ignore the immense amount of love she felt for her fathers at that moment. Things with them had been rough in the beginning, as they'd never approved of her and Finn marrying so early. And yet, despite the fact that all signs would point to them being right, she knew they wouldn't use that against her. They wouldn't hesitate for one moment to help her, just like they haven't the entire time she'd been in Ohio.

"Can you take care of Christopher for the weekend?"

"Is everything okay?"

She sensed the hesitation in his voice, and she couldn't hide this from them. Not in Lima, at the very least. "No," she answered honestly. "I had to leave, unexpectedly. And … I'm not comfortable with Finn caring for him in my absence."

"Is … will … should we expect Finn?"

Rachel snorted out of sardonic chuckle, thinking she was not the authority on what to expect. If she were, she wouldn't feel so blindsided right now. Her head wouldn't be spinning with trying to remember everything about the past 10 years. She wouldn't be replaying the last school year in her mind over and over, trying to recall every excuse he'd made for being late or distracted or tired or … wrong.

"I don't know," she finally settled on, suddenly exhausted. "Maybe."

"Okay." He paused for a second, then whispered, "And you're okay?"

She nodded needlessly before assuring him that she'd be in touch, most certainly tomorrow so she could speak with her son. It had been almost reflexive that she'd left Lima, but Rachel was immediately sorry she'd been so irrational. She had a son, a son who meant more to her than she ever thought possible. She had a life, a job. It was April and school wouldn't be over for another month. She couldn't just drop everything on a whim and just leave all that behind.

But she did need to get her head straight, and she couldn't do that in Lima. Literally everything about the town would remind her of Finn, if only because he'd been the only reason she'd stayed. Regardless of how much she refused to regret her decisions now, knowing the outcome, that simple fact remained true. She would have left if it hadn't been for Finn, even if it ended up only being for a year or five or however long it took for her to either reach her goals or quit. She would have tried, and she would have tried harder than anyone else had ever tried before.

She wouldn't have settled until she was the best.

Rachel shook those thoughts from her mind, knowing it wasn't doing her any good to get so worked up about the past. What's done is done, and she needed to focus on the present, on the future. She had so much at stake, and not a lot of time to figure everything out. Starting with where she was going. Kurt and Blaine lived in a loft in the city, but it seemed foolish to go to Finn's brother for help. No matter how close she was to them, they'd surely be on his side; Kurt always loved to point out how dramatic she was. She was sure he would call her a diva if she showed up at their doorstep.

That only, really, left Santana. They weren't exactly best friends, but Santana wasn't that way with really anyone. They at least kept in touch, though, mostly because they'd grown closer back when they'd both stuck around Lima after high school. That summer and the following year - before Santana finally left to make something of herself - the two of them were as close of friends as Rachel had been with Kurt and her with Brittany. It had mostly just been for comfort or just because, but it grew from that and, hopefully, still was worth something.

"Hello?"

"Santana, hi," she rushed out, matching the Latina's busy tone. "I hope this isn't a bad time. It's late, I know."

"It's not even 10, Berry," she scoffed. "Or should I add you to the list of retards who think New York is in a different timezone than Ohio?"

"No, yes. I mean, I know it isn't." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I actually need to ask you something. A favor, please." Rachel sighed again when Santana just snored into the receiver, obviously waiting for her to get to the point. "I'm on my way to New York. I'm … on a bus." She cleared her throat. "I was hoping I might be able to stay with you, if it weren't too much trouble."

"Trouble in paradise?"

She hesitated for a moment, still sometimes scared to open up too much to Santana for fear of ridicule. They might have gotten closer, but Santana hadn't necessarily gotten any nicer. Rachel had simply learned that was just how Santana was, and learned to find the good under all the bad that was normally all mixed together. Still, if Rachel expected to show up in New York and pretend everything was fine while in the presence of Santana Lopez, she must be more tired than she thought - to the point of hallucinations.

"Yes, I'm afraid." Her eyes dropped to her lap even though there was no way to save face over the phone. "I promise not to be a nuisance and I'll pay you if that's the issue. I just really don't want to find a hotel once I get there and …"

"When's your bus comin'?"

"Uh," Rachel stuttered, surprised by the concern laced in the Latina's voice. "We're scheduled to arrive between 5 and 6 in the morning."

"That's perfect."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I'll stop by and get ya after leavin' the clubs. Bye!"

Rachel rushed out a goodbye, but the line had already gone dead. She sat and stared at the blank screen on her phone for a few minutes, still shocked at how quickly Santana's mood/mind had changed. It was refreshing, to not have to beg or grovel to get her to agree, though there was part of her that knew better than to think it would be that easy. Santana wasn't the kind of friend who lent an ear or a shoulder to cry on. Not that Rachel intended to need either of those things; she just didn't want to be alone.

The thought echoed in her brain the entirety of the trip, keeping her just out of reach of sleep despite the soft rocking of the bus as it moved through state after state. She hadn't been alone since she was 16 years old, and now she wasn't sure she could do it. There was so much more at stake now, too, so much risk involved. She couldn't just think about herself, either, but had to consider her son and his needs/wants, too. Their life was entwined and her decisions were just as important to his future as it was to hers.

"Hobbit!"

Rachel descended the last step off the bus, her eyes lifting comically at the last-minute sign Santana had constructed to garner her attention. The offensive nickname was written with lipstick, and a previous name had been crossed out below it. Still, she got a rush of excitement that someone was waiting for her - in New York City.

"Are you drunk?"

"Only buzzed now. Let's go." Santana pulled the petite brunette by her arm, walking alongside her toward the line of cabs waiting to take passengers to their first destination. She basically pushed her into one before a fellow rider could take it, closing the door and barking, "96 and Park," to the driver.

The ride to her apartment didn't take as long as Rachel would have expected, the infamous New-York-City traffic evidently nonexistent before dawn. However, though it was short, watching the sun rise over the large skyscrapers and beautiful landscape of the city made her heart race. Despite the exhaustive night, Rachel had never felt more alive in her whole life. The rush she felt that first time in New York with the glee club came flooding back, her smile wider than normal as they climbed the stairs to Santana's loft.

"Home sweet home," she announced, throwing her keys onto the nearest surface and kicking off her heels almost as quickly.

Rachel's eyes scanned the area swiftly, surprised by the size in the opposite way she would have expected. Santana always boasted about how perfect her life was, living in New York as a soon-to-be internationally famous model. The apartment wasn't necessarily small, but it lacked the luxury that Rachel would have assumed the Latina demanded. Instead, there was a homey feeling where she would have expected a lot of glitz and glamour.

"I'm gonna crash. You can take the couch."

"Santana," she called out just before the Latina was out of sight. "Um, thank you."

Santana simply shrugged before disappearing down a hallway, but then showed up again just when Rachel was about to lie down on the couch. "Just to be clear, I'm tired. When I wake up, you're going to tell me the plan because ya ain't livin' here all your life and you sure as shit ain't goin' back to that lousy asshole."

"Santana …" Rachel bit her lip, ending her rebuttal there after scorched with a look that could kill. So she simply nodded and worked on said plan while Santana slept. Unfortunately, four hours wasn't long enough to fix her entire life after it had so abruptly blown up in her face. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't good enough," Santana yelled back when Rachel had told her such, reaching inside her refrigerator for a bottle of water. "You can't just have nothing."

"Excuse me, but I'm still a bit in shock about the turn of events."

"Well maybe that's your first problem. Maybe you should have known this all would have gone down the shitter when you were dumb enough to marry someone at 18." She took a long sip from the bottle, breathing heavily afterward and then softening her voice. "Look, I'm on your side. You played second fiddle to Finn for 10 years. Now it's your turn."

Rachel sighed, wishing now that she would have taken that nap. She'd never felt more worn down in all her life. "I don't even know where to start."

"Are you going to move here?"

"What? No … I …"

"Rachel. It's time to be selfish. Wasn't New York the plan?"

"Yes, but … it's nearly the end of the year. There couldn't possibly be any teaching jobs and …"

Santana snorted in derision. "Did you come here to be a teacher?" She shook her head, knowing the answer. "This is fuckin' New York City. The land of all your dreams, come true."

"It's not that simple," Rachel reasoned. "Christopher …"

"He'll be fine. Thanks for not bringing him, by the way; I was a couple tequilla shots in when that thought crossed my mind." She shuttered in demonstration of how scared she must have been at the idea of housing Rachel's son. "Summer is right around the corner. And your dad's are loaded; they can fly him out here a few weekends, if you miss him so damn much."

Rachel huffed out a breath, not appreciating the way Santana was shooting down every single one of her excuses. That only left the truth. "I'm scared." She bowed her head even further (somehow), her voice thick with emotion. "What if I don't have what it takes? What if I never did?"

"Then at least you find out."

Rachel lifted her head, watching as Santana left the room. It wasn't that she expected the Latina to refute the possibility of failure; if this was still high school, there was no doubt that she would have just added to it or outright validated the claims. So, considering who she was talking to, it did surprise her how encouraging the response was. The wicked grin on her face as she came back out with her cell phone extended was also oddly reassuring.

"If I've learned anything here, it's not what ya know, but who."

There was no question who she meant, and Rachel couldn't help the way her cheeks burned at how quickly he'd crossed her mind as well. She hadn't seen Noah since graduation, when he basically grabbed his diploma and a plane to Los Angeles in practically the same breath. She'd heard about him, though, of course. His mother still lived in Lima and they spoke frequently at temple. Rachel almost felt bad for her, knew she missed Noah as well as Sarah, who was finishing up art school soon and likely wouldn't run back to the nest like Mrs. Puckerman hoped. From her, she knew that Noah had basically taken over the west coast in the amount of time it took Rachel to finish her degree (or, Finn, rather, since hers was put on hold for a little more than a year to care for Christopher). He lived in New York now and was one of the most successful music producers in the industry.

"I can't just call him," she stated, lifting her hand to silence the argument she saw brewing in the Latina. "This isn't the kind of thing I can just leave in a message."

"Well," Santana grinned, checking the time on her phone. "He'll probably be leaving for lunch soon."

For two people who'd never worked well together, it was incredible how fast Rachel was showered, dressed and pushed into a cab headed to his studio. She tried to distract herself from the nervous thoughts by focusing on the passing scenery, a jolt of excitement coursing through her when the driver pulled onto Broadway; just being on the street seemed to cement in her mind just how exhilarating this entire trip was - how her life could be. It also made it very clear just how much was on the line by meeting Noah, and how perhaps ambushing him wasn't the best idea.

Yet, once he came into view after she'd exited the cab and stood outside the studio building, she couldn't have imagined anything better. He still looked exactly the same, his mohawk trimmed but still edgy and his smirk equally so. He wore a pair of dark wash jeans paired with a gray T-shirt for a band she hadn't heard of before; she spent less time wondering how much music she'd missed out on and more on the way his muscles flexed against the sleeves when he caught the door to hold it open for someone else. He was still the sexiest man she'd ever seen and, despite everything, she still felt bad for thinking such.

"Noah."

Puck's hand tightened involuntarily against the hard metal of the door he'd been holding, his whole body tensing at the sound of that voice. Her voice. It wasn't possible, he thought before turning around and immediately catching her eye. His breath caught in his throat, his mind rewinding too quickly too many years back before he was able to pull himself to the present and focus on her. She looked so different, and yet so much like he remembered her that he couldn't help the way his shocked expression grew to a genuine smile, his feet moving him close enough so his arms could slide around her frame.

"Hey," he choked out, clearing his throat as he released her and took a step back. "What are you doing here?"

"It's sort of a long story." She tried to hide the sadness from her tone, hoped desperately that he still couldn't read her as well as he could when they were younger. "I don't want to take too much of your time; I'm sure you're busy. But, I … have a question."

His eyebrow cocked in interest, wondering what could possibly have her so flustered. She rambled when she was nervous, but this was different. She was being very careful with her words, which made him wonder what she was hiding. What could she be trying not to say?

"I wanted to inquire about a possible job opening, here." She pushed some of her hair back anxiously, doing her best to keep looking in his eyes despite how badly she wanted to turn away. "I promise I'll work hard and I don't care if I have to start at the bottom; I expect it, actually. I just … need … something."

"You're lookin' for a job?" He asked, wanting to clarify after he'd gotten lost in her words (slash her eyes). "Did you guys move here? Where's Finn?"

Rachel flinched at the mention of his name, and her gaze finally fell to her feet. It was only then that he allowed himself to survey her more clearly, noting the clothes looked more like Santana than her and that her makeup wasn't doing a great job at covering up what looked to be a long night. There was desperation in her tone and even though he wanted to know what had happened, he wanted to help her more.

"Sure." He adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder, hiding from the snap of her eyes onto his by busying himself with his phone. "Come by Monday. We'll get ya started."

"That's … that's it?"

He chuckled at her surprise, relished the twinkle in her eyes and the thought that he'd been the one to put it there. "You're still Rachel Berry, right?"

She blinked at the question, having considered it just last night during dinner. So much of her life had changed - in 10 years and again in just a single night - but that girl who dreamt bigger than the world was still there. She could feel her and Noah saw her. If those two things were true, then that meant she couldn't be that far beneath the surface. She could be Rachel Berry again.

"Yes," she finally said, with a confidence that she hadn't felt in years. "Yes, I am."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** You think I'd stopped being surprised by how awesome you guys are, but it always catches me off guard. I can't thank you enough for the encouragement and excitement and ... everything. It's been a crazy/exhausting/mind-numbing/hell week and I didn't get much writing done, but I am going to stick to the once-a-week update for as long as I can because you guys deserve it. Speaking of, I wish I could tell many of you how much I appreciate the feedback more personally than this, but there are so many (passionate) guest reviewers. So, to those, thank you and sign up for Private Messaging so we can talk storylines. ;)

Please enjoy (and then let me me know why/why not)!

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Puck closed the opened windows on his computer screen as he stood, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair and throwing it on while walking toward the conference room. He'd arrived earlier this morning than normal, trying to get those typical Monday-morning tasks out of the way so he could dedicate more time to showing Rachel around. He'd spent all of yesterday going back and forth between thinking about all the possibilities that came with her being in New York and reminding himself that he had a business to run and couldn't let a ghost from his past haunt him so severely. Still, she'd been a good bet when they were younger and he knew she'd do well here once she got her footing. And, as her boss, it was his job to help her get her sea legs as fast as she could.

"Whoa." He stopped abruptly in the doorframe of the conference room, surprised to see her petite form sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the long table. Her posture was straight and her eyes wide, her hands folded on top of one another in front of her above a leatherbound portfolio. She smiled at him nervously. "I didn't expect ya. Anyone, really."

"You said the meeting started at nine," she replied absently, dread coursing through her. "Is this not the right conference room?"

"No, it … yeah." He shook his head. Why exactly was he surprised that she was 15 minutes early when most of his staff would stroll in at least five minutes late? "I just usually get some time to review everything before anyone shows up."

"I can go, if you …"

"Nah," he quickly replied. "It's cool. This works, too."

Rachel nodded anxiously, watching him pull out the head chair and sit. He was dressed more professionally today than he had been before, and she was grateful she'd decided to wear one of the outfits she'd purchased yesterday instead of listening to Santana. The Latina had made snide comments about Rachel trying too hard, but the dress seemed to be the perfect mix of business and casual that was accepted in the studio - if Noah's Metallica T-shirt hiding underneath the charcoal suit jacket was any indication. Still, she'd seen the receptionist when she'd first arrived and the woman, like Noah, was wearing jeans.

"Do I look good?" She asked without thinking, immediately backtracking by coughing out, "I mean, is this appropriate?"

Puck looked up from the paper he'd been scanning, looking over her as if he hadn't taken a longer look than needed when he'd first arrived. He could see the neckline of her dress and her exposed forearms. That's about it. "Stand up. Twirl." He snorted out a laugh when she started to scramble up, motioning with his hand for her to sit back down. "You're too easy."

"Noah," she whined, her flustered expression eventually giving away to a smile, albeit tight. "Have you grown up at _all_?"

"Just a little, but it's easy to brush away." He continued to laugh, looking back down at the paper. He'd already read it and today's staff meeting wasn't all that informative, but he mostly just didn't want to look at her when he finally did answer. "Ya look good."

Rachel's nerves immediately disappeared, the breath she'd been holding coming out in a rush as her face broke into a soft smile. She took the cue from him, though, and bowed her head until the rest of the staff started to flood in. Everyone gave her a curious glance, but mostly just talked amongst themselves. She tried not to worry about what anyone was saying, especially a couple of girls who were whispering from the other end of the table - close to Noah. Even being out of the game for so long, Rachel knew well enough to know they didn't like her and it had less to do with her personality or even her clothes - though those things were likely the topic of their current conversation - and more to do with another female being in the office.

Her suspicions were all but confirmed when Noah made his introductions, the women's eyes narrowing almost predatorily when he told everyone Rachel was his new assistant. The jokes that came from what she understood to be leadership positions gave the impression that she wasn't the first replacement in the role, but she was more grateful to get a title. When she'd called her fathers to tell them that she'd decided to stay in New York, they were supportive but also curious. And since she was still so prepared to give the same speech to Finn (she decided to wait until tonight, after she'd worked once already), she was careful not to explain how she'd gotten the position. It wasn't that she didn't understand the value of networking, but she also didn't want to defend herself about taking handouts.

"Alright, that's it. Go make me some money," Puck said in closing, grabbing his notepad and using it to point toward Rachel. "You, with me."

He led her to his office, not looking back mostly because he was still trying to get rid of the nerves he felt at hearing her steps behind him. It was strange because back when they were younger, she was always the one that had told him he would do great things. She saw potential in him long before he believed it was there. And yet, with almost complete certainty, Puck knew that he wouldn't be nearly as successful as he was if she had been there to see it.

"Any questions?"

Rachel snorted a little, one shoulder lifting emptily. "Just, a million."

"Yeah," he laughed, knowing the staff meeting would have been intimidating. "No worries. Ya got time to catch up. My week is pretty much sketched out, so you're going to shadow Grace to get up to speed on taking calls and shit."

Grace, she thought, trying to remember which one that was and praying that it was the shy-looking girl next to the bitch and not the other way around. "I guess I'm lucky Kim had to leave so abruptly."

He looked up from his computer, noting her guarded playful expression before he broke out into a smile. He'd been worried things wouldn't be as easy as they'd always used to be with her, that too much time had passed and too much had happened. But it was refreshing to know all that was true but they still seemed to click. There was still something about her that forced him to act just a little differently than he was used to, and he wondered if the same was still true for her.

"You can thank me later." He winked for good measure, trying to ignore her light laughter while he read an urgent email from one of their top artists. He didn't want her to think poorly of him, to think that part of his past was still ever-present. But, unlike her, he hadn't been married for the past 10 years. He wasn't a saint - though, if he had to guess, he'd figure that Finn probably wasn't much of one in her eyes anymore either. "At dinner, tonight?"

"Oh."

"Or lunch … tomorrow," he quickly amended, noticing how she'd flinched again at his words. Just by reading her, he could deduce that something had happened recently with Finn at a dinner. Or maybe she thought less of him than he wanted to admit. "We can talk about what you're lookin' to get here and what we'll need from you and … catch up."

Rachel intended to agree, but her voice caught in her throat when she felt his hand cradle her lower back as he moved her along with him. There was something gentle but possessive about his touch that gave her goosebumps, the kind she could remember getting when they'd kissed on her bed in high school. Even now, she couldn't believe a man like him had ever given her a second look. He was so handsome and charismatic. She knew he was the boss, but he had such an obvious pull over everyone in the office that she knew it was based more on respect than just loyalty.

"Grace, teach her what ya know, k?"

He winked at the middle-aged woman, telling Rachel he'd be out for the rest of the day and that he'd see her tomorrow. And, just to be an ass, he told her not to come to work looking like such a slob. It was just a joke, but the way she smiled and rolled her eyes stayed with him through the three meetings he had. It wasn't until the sun was setting that he found himself back at the office; he knew he should have just taken his laptop, but he didn't want to lug it all around the city. However, when he rounded the corner and saw her still sitting at her little desk out in front of his doors, he couldn't have been happier with the needless stop.

"You're still here."

"You're back," she replied in an equally surprised tone, marking her spot in the book she'd been reading. There was an awful lot of company policy for a relatively new business. "I guess I got a little carried away."

"You?" He smirked, finally continuing his slow walk into his office. He liked that she didn't follow him, instead just heard the way she turned in her chair to keep talking with him while he worked on unhooking his computer.

"How were your meetings?"

"Good." He shrugged. "Business."

Rachel nodded, trying to picture Noah in such scenario. He was no doubt charming, but it was hard for her to see him as the type who would enjoy the politics of the industry. He'd always had his own set of rules, and she knew him enough to know that he probably hated when he couldn't follow them, or, even worse, had to follow others'. "Grace is nice. Everyone is, mostly."

"Mostly," he agreed, knowing exactly who she wasn't referring to. His studio was one of the most successful startups in recent history, but there were still people who worked for him that didn't really understand the business. They weren't here for the music, but, then again, that wasn't exactly needed in the administrative staff. It was a little more unsettling when it came to Jessica, who he was fairly certain was trying to poach his employees and open her own studio.

"They all speak very highly of you." She shrugged in reply to the unasked question in his eyes. "I think they're under the impression that I have any sort of influence."

Puck snorted at this, wondering just how many yes men could be found with these four walls. He'd done a pretty good job at picking a staff based on their talents and goals, but there was always a flux; people change, want new things. There weren't that many positions at the studio, and it seemed like everyone planned to climb the ladder, one way or another.

"Do ya know any _sane_ person who'd honestly speak highly of _me_?"

"I'd say your mother, but I think we both know I'd be lying." She giggled a little before adding, "And I think I threw away any chance of my name being on that list after this weekend."

Puck watched her smile fade, saw how she so quickly started to crumble into herself. He promised that he wasn't going to ask her about it, that he wouldn't pry. But she'd brought it up. "Must have been serious, if ya called Satan." He was happy he got her to smile, but that wasn't exactly his point. "You know you could have called me."

"I … I didn't plan it," she excused weakly, resting her chin against the arm that was on top of her chair. "I didn't want anyone's pity."

He nodded softly, understanding that. "This wasn't pity, Rach. You'll be good here." He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of his office, his laptop settling heavily on his thigh inside his bag as he looked down at her. "I meet with a lot of people daily, names you're going to want to know. Pay attention and you could learn a lot. Eric knows everything there is about the sound booth. Ronnie plays every instrument known to man. If you want to know more about creating videos or working with movie execs for soundtracks, talk to Kylie." He couldn't hide the passion in his voice. "I'mma need ya to work, but this can be a win-win for us."

"Thank you, Noah." She didn't know what else to say. Honestly, she didn't think that was enough. The words would never be enough to show him just how grateful she was, not just for the opportunity but for his support. She could hear how much he believed in her in his voice, and it was already starting to chip away at the doubt she'd been feeling since arriving. "I'll never be able to repay you."

"How 'bout a drink?" He asked before he could think, trying to amend it a little with, "Unless you have somewhere to be."

Rachel thought about it for a long minute, knowing she didn't have any plans outside of working. And while part of her needed a drink - the part that'd just got off the phone with Finn after talking for nearly 30 minutes about her plan and how they were going to make it work and exactly what he should and _shouldn't_ say to their son; they spoke nothing of what had brought on this sudden change in their lives because Rachel still wasn't ready to think about it, let alone talk - the other part of her knew it was a bad idea. Never mind any residual adolescent feelings she might have for Noah, he was also her boss. She couldn't act like he wasn't, and she didn't want to jeopardize one of the few relationships she still had in her life.

"I should get back, before Santana worries."

"Yeah, I'm sure she's just a wreck waitin' for ya." He rolled his eyes at her excuse, hiding the rejection with a joke. It wasn't like he actually thought she'd say yes. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early!"

He shook his head a little, turning off the lights to his office. "Want me to just setup a cot for you somewhere?"

"Maybe," Rachel laughed, following him out of the studio. "I'm not so sure I can keep up with Santana's lifestyle."

"I hate models," he bemoaned, causing her to laugh out loud. "What?"

"I'm sorry." She covered her mouth with her hand, trying her best to stifle her laughter as they stood out front of the building. "I just never expected to hear _Noah Puckerman_ say anything but good things about models."

He joined in her laughter for a moment, letting her draw her own conclusions for his disinterest. Then, like an alarm waking him from a really great dream, his phone rang. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you," she answered quickly, furrowing her brows when she noticed him ignore the phone call almost immediately after seeing who it was. "I rather enjoy the subway."

"Ya sure?"

She nodded genuinely, pointing toward the phone that was again ringing. "You should get that. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Puck consented to her departure, trying not to watch the sway of her hips or the flex of her leg muscles as she did so. Instead, he waited until she was a few steps away before finally looking at his phone's screen. Once again it read _FINN_ and, for roughly the fifth time that night, he pressed ignore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Not much to say other thank you, again. To the particularly passionate guest reviewer, I think this may be the chapter you've been waiting for. :)

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Rachel swept her finger underneath her eye, catching the falling tear before it could get lost in her wide smile. She'd called her father's house to speak to Christopher before he left for school, and the boy hadn't stopped talking since first being handed the phone. She could hear her daddy trying to tell him to wrap it up or else he'd be late for school, but God love him, the kid just kept going on and on about everything that she was allegedly missing (which was silly not just because it was Lima, Ohio, but also because she'd spoken to him at least once each of the four days she'd been gone).

When people looked at him, it was obvious he was Finn's child; he had the same hair, the same mouth, the same nose. But as soon as he opened his mouth, there was Rachel.

"I miss you so much, baby."

She couldn't have been more pleased that she had a support system like her fathers, who'd agreed to take Christopher to school every morning after Finn dropped him off before leaving for work. After school he carpooled with another family back to her father's house, where Finn picked him up on his way home. It wasn't ideal, but it would work until she could figure out a better plan. Something that hopefully was more permanent, though she still couldn't even picture what that would look like. No matter how angry she was with Finn for putting their family through this, he'd always been a terrific father; bringing Christopher to New York would make her feel better, but she wasn't sure it was the best thing for him - and she knew it wouldn't be good for Finn.

She hated that she still cared so much about his feelings. After everything he'd done to them, she should have had enough indignation inside her to demand anything she felt necessary. He'd been selfish enough to ignore the responsibilities he had to her and their family, she should have been able to be equally selfish. And, to a point, she felt she had been. It was selfish to completely abandon her life in Lima, even if she could rationalize the outcome; not a minute went by when she wasn't thinking about Christopher and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she was doing the right thing by not disrupting his life more than necessary. It would have been irresponsible to rip him away from his school and all his friends and family, the only things he has known since he was born.

But, when she'd called Finn to discuss her decision and they'd spoken about the arrangements, she'd felt about two inches tall when she'd had to ask him to take over two of her classes. She'd gone through a painful conference call beforehand with Principal Sylvester and the other music teacher to discuss the professional predicament and negotiate the terms, but there were still two classes that couldn't be covered. Finn was perfectly capable of stepping in - he'd gotten a degree in physical education, but he'd obviously dabbled in music during his time in college and was already co-director of glee - and had the time in his schedule, but she hated having to ask him for a favor. She hated feeling like she owed him, still.

"Yes, I know!" Rachel exclaimed, focusing back on her son. "Just 9 days and 10 sleeps! I'm excited, too!"

Puck stopped in the entryway of his office, meaning to back out inconspicuously to give Rachel some privacy, but she saw him too soon and motioned for him to stay. He felt terrible that she was rushing her conversation with her kid, who he knew she had to miss more than he could even imagine. Still, it was cool to hear her as a mom. When he'd first heard about the pregnancy - his mother kept him plenty informed about things going on in Lima, especially those centered on that nice Jewish girl you used to know - he was actually kind of scared for the little guy. Between Finn's aloofness and Rachel's selfish streak, there was a good chance the poor tyke could have died from neglect. Parents were supposed to be in charge, and he didn't understand how she was going to be in charge of another human being when she wasn't even in charge of her own life.

But, from what he'd heard and what he could hear now, motherhood agreed with Rachel.

"I'm so sorry!' She breathed out, her phone clutched nervously in her hands. "That was so rude of me. I just, when I called there was no one else here and …"

"S'all good, Berry," he dismissed easily, moving to his desk. "Chill."

"No, this is your office and it was completely unprofessional of me."

He scoffed. "Ronnie's had sex on that couch, so I think he still wins in that arena."

Rachel scrunched her nose in disgust, looking down at the plush cushions as if they had done something wrong. She'd heard rumors about one of the other assistants having sex with her boyfriend in one of the sound booths - so they could be as loud as they wanted without being caught, the source had said - but she didn't think it were true. She thought those kind of things only happened in TV and movies and poorly written romance novels. Were there really relationships where the two people craved each other so much that they had to have one another, right then and there, no matter where there and when then was?

"Ya must miss him, huh?"

She shook herself from her probing thoughts, nodding her head in agreement. "It's hard starting my day without him … mostly because he's such a ball of energy that he's worth at least two cups of coffee."

Puck laughed at the image in his head. It'd been awhile since he'd been around anyone that young, but it was pretty easy to picture the intensity that had to come from a kid that was half Finn and half Rachel. Growing up, Finn was always such a spazz. Most of his energy was courtesy of way too much sugar, but he also had this insane imagination that was hilarious when they were playing cops and robbers or something. And Rachel, well she clearly still held her hummingbird on crack nickname with honor.

"He's gonna visit soon though, yeah?" He asked instead, knowing it was better that she think he eavesdropped than that he talk about Finn. "I hope I can meet him."

She didn't mean to openly gape at him, but she hadn't been so surprised in … well, a few days, at least. She'd planned on bringing Christopher by the studio just so he could see where she worked. He still wasn't quite sure what a music studio was, and Rachel was actually really excited to open up this world to him, as he already had shown an interest in and talent for music. He wasn't keen on singing but instead took quickly to the drumset, so the studio could be something the two of them could share the way he and Finn have that bond over playing the same instrument.

"You're gonna catch flies ya leave that thing open any longer."

"I'm sorry," Rachel rushed out, shaking her head a little to avoid focusing on the disappointment on his face. "I don't mean to be rude. Of course, if you want, you can meet him. It's just …" She took a deep breath, hoping what she said next didn't ruin everything. "You've never shown any interest in meeting him, before."

Puck couldn't really argue with that. He couldn't really argue with her surprise either, as the only thoughts that had been going through his mind were crazy ones. Ones that wondered why she thought he couldn't handle meeting some kid and if she thought he wouldn't be a good father. Ones that were way off base for a lot of different reasons. But, even though she was right in that he wasn't exactly Uncle Puck, it didn't have anything to do with Christopher.

"He wasn't the one I was trying to avoid."

She gasped at his confession, making a motion toward the front of his desk but then stopped from asking him to clarify when one of the sound engineers knocked on the door. Instead, she had to push all those thoughts to the back of her mind and catch up to the problem at hand. Apparently one of the recording booths was double-booked and both artists were unable to change their session times. Noah and the sound engineer, Jeremy, were going back and forth about how to solve the problem and how the problem kept happening; there was a rumor going around that someone (Jessica, she believed) was doing it on purpose to prove the studio's disorganization. Then, once the client(s) got fed up, they'd be up for the grabs when/if a new studio should be looking for clients.

"You said the one was finishing up their album, right?" She waited for the sound engineer to nod, trying not to mind the way his eyes moved to Noah's in a Do I have to humor the new girl? kind of way. "There's been a lot of talk in blogs and such about her reliance on the music and not enough vocals. Get someone to strip one of her songs and offer it as an alternative. Even if she hates it, the time it will take to explain and analyze will be enough to open up the double-booked booth."

Puck knew he was smiling way too wide, but he couldn't help it. The expression on Jeremy's face was priceless, as was the way he practically sprinted out of the office to likely find Ronnie or Eric to help him pull off the plan. And, to her credit, Rachel didn't look even remotely boastful about just saving all their asses. He hoped it was because she'd learned a bit more humility over the years and not because she was still thinking about what he'd said before they'd been interrupted.

"If that's after one day, I'd say I'll be shoved out after about week with you on the job."

She rolled her eyes, one of her hands on her hip as the other floated animately in front of her. "It turns out, I've been an assistant for the better part of the past 10 years. Between Christopher and all his classes and doctor appointments and activities, then there's glee, which is still no less chaotic than it was when we were in high school. And add trying to make time with Finn …"

Puck bowed his head a little as she trailed off, looking up again in time to see the strength in her stance almost instantly fade. Even in those rare moments he'd seen where she was nearly the same girl he'd known way back when, there was still a sadness in her eyes and sometimes even in her tone that he kind of hated. Never in a million years did he expect her to walk back in his life, and he still wasn't sure it was a good thing or not. But, the point was it wasn't about him or even them. He knew there was no chance they'd ever get another shot, but she deserved one. She deserved a second chance on the life she should have been living for the past decade.

"Well, since ya been practicing for so long, how 'bout a challenge?" He asked to break the tension, to bring some light back to her eyes. "There's a party tonight for one of our artists; his album dropped this morning, a week ahead of schedule because of some shitty blogger leaking the whole damn thing online. I'mma need ya to switch my schedule for tomorrow to hopefully nothing, to recover."

She matched his grin with one of her own. "Is that all?"

"Not quite." His smirk turned devilish, ready for the Berry wrath he'd missed being on the receiving end of. "You're coming with me."

"What?" She barked.

"Gotta get out there, B. Meet the clientele, rub elbows with the important people of the music world …" He cleared his throat and let his smile fade a little when, instead of anger, he was met with unnerving silence. "I'm sure Santana can help ya find somethin' to wear, if that's the problem."

"No," she answered with a shake of her head, though now that thought was in the back of her mind; she'd spent as little money as she possibly could buying clothes she could wear for work until her fathers shipped her some boxes from home, and none of those new items particularly screamed rock n' roll. "It's just, do I need to be there?"

Puck blinked, sitting a little straighter. "Well, no. No one needs to be there, I guess."

"I mean," she started, breathing out, "why me?" She could sense his confusion, so she tried to clarify a little more. "I didn't earn this, Noah. I don't want you to treat me differently just because of our history or Finn …"

"This has nothing to do with Finn."

He wasn't sure why he said it with such ferocity, but it seemed important. He knew things were far from definite, and he'd been witness to Finchel rekindled more than once, but he wanted her to realize - even if just for that moment - that this was all her doing. She'd come here with literally nothing but the clothes on her back and an old, dusty dream. She'd pulled her resources and had a place to live and a job. She made a plan for her son and for herself and was making it work. She did that.

"But, you're right." He shrugged casually. "If I had no idea how powerful your voice was or how you can make people want to light themselves on fire because you're so damn determined and persistent and dedicated," he grinned when she started to blush, "I probably would have pulled one of those shit line people tell their ex-friends about not wanting to mix business with pleasure. But …" He paused long enough to wait for her gaze to meet his again. "You're Rachel Berry."

She literally didn't know what to say. She was aghast at how much meaning her name seemed to hold for him; it was so strong that it forced her to believe, too. It wasn't a handout or even pity that made him hire her. It was a risk, and he was willing to take it because he knew she could do something for his business. He wanted her name associated with his studio, and that kind of faith hadn't been instilled in her in a very, very long time.

"And, legit, when have I ever been opposed to mixing business and pleasure?" he added slyly, feeling the weight of her silence bear down on him. He knew what he must sound like. Like he'd done nothing for the past 10 years but miss her and think she was wasting her life away in Lima. And, sure, maybe part of that was true - especially right after school had ended. But mostly he just liked seeing her happy, which might be worse.

"You've gotten much more persuasive over the years," she finally replied, her cheeks tinting again at just the thought of what happened the last time he'd persuaded her to do something. Flashes of hands roaming on each other's (clothed) bodies and lips melding together perfectly coursed through her mind. Sometimes, in her mind, high school didn't seem like that long ago.

He stayed clear of any more walks down memory lane, asking, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes," she agreed with a nod, placing both hands on her hips. "But, even if I don't have to impress you, I still feel like I need to show my worth to the rest of the staff. Therefore, what do I need to do to show I'm capable?"

"At the party?" He thought for a second, then replied, "Here, clients are currency. If you can sign a client, or five, it will get people talking." The determination that shot through her eyes sparked the same in him. "Musicians tend to invite all their artist friends to these kinda things. So, put that motormouth to work and get 'em to commit to some studio time."

Rachel glowered at him for the offensive term, but brushed it off to instead focus on the matter at hand. She had approximately 12 hours to prepare, and that was including all the time she'd need to dedicate to her daily tasks as well as actually getting presentable for the party. Her life had never been so lively, and it was just another reason she felt like the decision to pursue her dream wasn't just a new chapter in her book but more like an entirely new story.

"And I don't wanna ruin your buzz or anything, but, I actually wanna talk to you about somethin'." Puck had stood up from his desk, now standing in front of his door after closing it to give them just a bit more privacy. "Finn has been callin' me."

"Finn?" She asked dumbly, as if she'd never heard the name before. He nodded, though, so she knew he wasn't joking. "A lot?"

He shrugged emptily. "Enough that I feel like I slept with him and never called again." His joke fell flat, not that he really expected her to laugh at it. He really just hated to see the worry and sadness take over yet again. "Look, I can handle it, Rach. And I don't need to know the details. I just don't wanna say anything that can get ya into trouble."

Rachel nodded sadly, her eyes no doubt showcasing the guilt that immediately swept through her. Noah had given her so much already, and it wasn't fair how she was treating him - even if it wasn't directly affecting him. "I told him I was pursuing a career in the music industry. But, I … left you out of it." Her eyes fell to the ground when she saw him nod in understanding, like he wouldn't have expected anything less. Like he knew this was the person she'd become. "I know it is no excuse, but things are so complicated and ambiguous right now that I really just didn't want him to have any ammunition against this. And, well, you've always been his biggest hot button."

Rachel sighed, knowing how juvenile that sounded. They weren't in high school anymore and their relationship should have grown past such insecurities. It wasn't fair that she'd avoided Noah just to make Finn happier. Although, if she were being completely honest, she knew that wasn't the only reason she'd kept her distance from him; honestly, Noah was a hot button for her, too.

"He'll find out soon enough, though. Assuming you still would like to meet Christopher."

Puck heard the truce in her tone, understood that she was trying to clear the air between them. He'd never held any grudge toward her, and knew the same was true for her. But, still, he liked the idea that they could clean the slate so easily. His stupid lingering crush be damned, he wanted to be her friend because it had been awhile since he had a real one of those - and he figured she could say the same.

"Definitely."

"Great!" She smiled widely, moving past him to open the door and start her day. "I should warn you, though," she said over her shoulder, holding the door knob as she turned to address him again. "He's still in that phase of his childhood where he doesn't quite have a filter, and he's a bit opinionated."

Puck laughed, sitting back at his desk and keeping his eyes on the computer when he teased, "No idea where he coulda learned that."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note #1:** I'm seriously loving the lively reviews I'm getting, the back-and-forth between readers and myself definitely my favorite thing about the writing process. I love talking plot and background and characters and just ... everything. So, thank you so much, and please continue to be so open with the feedback!

* * *

Rachel looked in the mirror, holding a shirt up to her torso and checking her reflection over the hanger. The color was nice enough and the cut seemed like it would flatter her frame, but like several of the other options she'd considered, it was tossed carelessly to the now overwhelming pile of discarded clothes. The problem, outside of her limited choices, was that she had no idea what kind of outfit to choose for that night's party. Regrettably, the last "party" she'd attended was chaperoning McKinley's winter formal at the beginning of the year; socially, there weren't many opportunities in Lima to get accustomed to what would and wouldn't be the proper attire for the evening.

"Try this," Santana suggested, extending a hanger toward Rachel where the fabric barely would have covered half her body.

"Could you please stop bringing me things with holes in them?"

"They're cutouts, not holes. It's called fashion," the Latina scoffed, looking the petite up and down in disgust. "Something you've never heard about, obviously."

Rachel ignored the snide comment, mostly because it wasn't the first and she was no closer to being ready than before. Noah was set to arrive in just minutes, and unless it was acceptable to show up with her hair and makeup half done and wearing just a bra and some workout shorts - she didn't know much about the party scene, but she was pretty sure she was right to assume such appearance would give her the wrong kind of attention - she wouldn't be ready when he did. She wasn't nervous necessarily about upsetting him or even disappointing him with whatever she did choose, but she was downright terrified of what could happen or be said in those in-between moments where she'd be forced to let Santana occupy him; her snide comments were nothing to the overwhelming number of outright presumptuous ones regarding tonight's activities.

"When is Lover Boy gettin' here, anyway?"

"Soon," she answered frantically, adding the nickname to the list of things not worth fighting over. She picked up a dress that she'd bought for work and wondered if it was party-ready. "I told him to text me when he pulled up."

Santana shook her head, making a tsk sound as she waggled her index finger from side to side. "No, that isn't proper. It is customary for the suitor to come to the front door and greet the family on the first date."

"Please, stop," Rachel groaned, having for the most part ignored the flippant remarks thus far. "This is not a date. This is for work, Santana, and it is very important to me. To my career. Noah has put a lot of stake in me and I need to prove my value, otherwise ..."

"That's horseshit, and you know it." Santana yanked the dress from Rachel's hands, replacing it with what she'd clearly deemed a far better option. "You already got the in. Just sleep your way to the top; he won't even put up a fight, trust me."

"I'm _married_!"

"To a cheater."

Rachel sighed heavily, choosing her battles and deciding to just go with the dress the Latina had given her. The bright red was eye catching, and even though she could tell it would hit above her knee, she knew it had never been worn by Santana for probably that very reason. Still, the material was lovely and she loved the pleating and apparent high waist of the cut. Paired with the wavy hair and smoky eye makeup she'd already started, the dress did seem like it would be the perfect mix of classy and sexy.

"What did you mean, when you said he wouldn't put up a fight?" She asked, stepping into the open dress and pulling it up her frame as she watched Santana through the mirror. "Just because he's _Puck_ or …" She trailed off hopefully, which she understood was a bit hypocritical considering her previous statement. She was married. It didn't matter what Santana had meant because it couldn't change that simple fact. "Santana! This dress doesn't have a front!"

"Yes it does," she bemoaned, nodding appreciatively. "It's just a mesh panel. It's hot."

"I can't wear this! I look …"

"Fuckin' sexy," the Latina growled, causing most of Rachel's panic to subside. She still wasn't particularly comfortable being so obtuse about her figure, but if she looked good enough to catch the eye of Santana - who was in a field filled with attractive men and women all vying for people's attention - then maybe she had a chance at the party tonight. She was new to the company and new to the industry; if the dress was going to work as an opener, then she'd use it to make a sale.

"Woo, look who came to the front door!" Santana declared as the doorbell rang through the apartment, using a far more girly tone than Rachel had ever heard from her before. "Such the gentleman!"

"I'm going to finish up my hair and then I'll be done. Please, please keep your comments to yourself, Santana. I don't want things to be weird between Noah and me." She started toward the bathroom, then stopped and said over her shoulder, "Remember, this job is the only chance you have to get rid of me."

"As if I won't kick your ass out whenever I damn well feel like it," she stated while walking to the front door, swinging it open with the same stern expression she'd had when speaking to Rachel. "Hey, Loser."

"Satan," Puck greeted charmingly, taking a few steps to enter the apartment but staying close to the door. He'd seen Santana's place before, so there was no reason to take the tour again. "Rach ready?"

"Primping." Santana eyed him carefully, adding, "Gettin' ready for your hot date."

Puck rolled his eyes, knowing how much the Latina had probably teased Rachel since she'd left work a few hours ago. "Jealous you weren't invited?"

"I only go to A-list parties now. Sorry."

"Does the 'A' stand for 'anorexic?'"

"Ooh, a model joke. Quick, tell me another. I'm _so_ impressed by your wit."

"What do you get when you cross a model and a stripper?" He joked, waiting a beat before delivering the punchline. "A boner."

He laughed along with Santana, though the latter managed to roll her eyes to cover up some of her amusement. She hadn't changed much since high school, hiding even a relatively invulnerable emotion like humor behind her rough exterior. It seemed ridiculous, especially given how well the two knew each other, but Puck kind of preferred it that way; she was one of those things he could always count on, though that didn't necessarily mean it was always something good.

"How's work?"

"Busy. Leavin' for Europe Friday," she shrugged, clearly over the time in her life when she would have said that to impress even one of her oldest friends. "And you?" She smirked. "How are ya likin' your new assistant?"

Puck matched her grin with one of his own, never one to back down from a challenge, especially not one proposed by her. They were old enough friends that they knew each other's tricks, though even a novice could have known where she was going this time. "Better than the last."

"Before or after you slept with her?"

"Both."

Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You always did like her bossin' you around." She paused long enough to see Puck nod. "Just like old times, huh?"

"If you wanna to revisit the past, especially where Rachel and _Finn_ are concerned, you just lemme know," he stated pointedly, his gaze narrowing a little. "Until then …"

"I'm ready!" Rachel trotted into the room, panic in her voice as her eyes moved back and forth between the two other members in the room. She noticed the tension immediately, and worry kept through her even more fiercely at what Santana might have said. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy."

Rachel blamed her sudden shiver on the Latina's icy tone and not the way Noah's eyes raked over her once he'd finally turned to face her. She'd been surprised by how elegant the dress actually looked once she'd finished her hair, the peekaboo center barely crossing her mind until she watched him glide over her frame at a painstakingly slow pace. Finn was never particularly short with compliments whenever they did have an excuse to dress up for something, but there was something animalistic about Noah's stare that invoked something more than gratitude.

"Is it too much?" She asked after another ten seconds passed where no one said anything, her mind left over-analyzing every single movement or detail. Noah was wearing a pair of very dark wash jeans and a charcoal slim-fit button up and skinny tie. It certainly wasn't a tux or even a suit, but it seemed to appropriately match her attire's formalness. "I can change, if …"

"No," he almost snapped, clearing his throat a little to rid his voice of the harshness. "You look …" He struggled to think of the right word. A word that wouldn't offend her - and a lot of those definitely sprung to mind - and one that wouldn't cause Santana to laugh her ass off. She was still obviously pissed off at the way he'd turned the tables on her, but she was no doubt vindictive enough to push all that hostility aside just to say _I told you so_. "Incredible."

She blushed at the wonder in his voice, her eyes falling down before lifting back toward Santana's. Whatever had been bothering her before was gone then, replaced with that same, patronizing expression she'd had all night while Rachel had been getting ready. "Don't wait up!"

"Please," the Latina scoffed, tossing Rachel a fitted leather jacket to finish off the look. "Like I'll even be here when you get back."

Puck nodded his head toward Santana as his goodbye, opening the door for Rachel and closing it behind him before they made their way to the cab he'd asked to wait for him. The party was just across the park, in a bar on the Upper East Side. It wasn't a particularly long drive, but considering he could tell Rachel's nerves were already somewhere in the stratosphere, he thought he'd try to help bring her back down to Earth.

"Chill, B. S'not a big deal."

"Maybe not to you," she whispered, feeling like her entire life depended on the outcome of this party. If things didn't work out, it would just prove that she never should have come to New York. This whole thing would just be one of those silly, irrational things people chalked up to cabin fever or a midlife crisis, and she'd have to agree. She'd have to swallow her pride and accept the fact that they were right. And she really, _really_ didn't want that to be the case; not because she was worried about her ego, but because she was really enjoying this new life.

"Legit, wearin' that dress … _I'm_ thinkin' about buyin' some studio time."

He smiled when a rush of breath escaped her, a light giggle catching on the end of the expelled nerves. He liked that he could get her to relax, if only because she wouldn't be any good to him being a neurotic mess. This party wasn't a make-or-break kind of deal, but there would be plenty of people in attendance who could help out the studio. In fact, if he'd learned anything from working in Los Angeles and now New York, it was that _everyone_ had something to offer, eventually. And since he had to spend at least some of the time talking to their current client, he needed someone else to help run the floor.

"I suppose it's good to have a backup plan, should my _motormouth_ turn out to not be persuasive enough," she chided teasingly, tightening her hold on the black clutch when the cab pulled up to their destination. "Noah, before we go in, I … I just, I want to thank you, again. For everything."

He fixed his tie to busy his hands, to keep from reaching out and running his thumb across her beautifully plump lips, puckered just a little as she no doubt tried to keep from chewing on the bottom one. He winked to pull off the casual response, handing a few bills to the cabbie and opening the door before simply stating, "No sweat."

The music in the venue was audible from the outside, and he didn't mind in the least when Rachel seemed to inch closer to him as they walked inside. There were more people than he expected, which was a pleasant surprise - and not just because he ended up taking her hand to lead her toward the coat check. He'd always been more inclined to rest his arm over a girl's shoulders, but he couldn't help but relish in the feeling of her small hand enclosed in his. There was trust in the gesture, if only remedial, and he liked that she'd instilled it in him.

"Go mingle." He bobbed his head toward the throng of people accumulating by the bar, his eyes moving toward the DJ booth. "I'mma talk to our guy for a bit."

She nodded her head in understanding, but stood there watching him leave for far too long. Her eyes darted around anxiously, not knowing where to start let alone _how_. Her feet felt heavier than lead where she stood, the strength it took to move them just to the bar exhausting. She was short of breath and knew her hands were shaking. How was she supposed to just pick someone to talk to, find someone who needed the name of a good studio?

"O.M.G. That _dress_!"

She turned toward the female voice, seeing an adorable redhead gushing over her attire. It was reflexive for Rachel not to believe such compliments, especially from attractive people, but she couldn't let her past ruin this opportunity. She looked up out of instinct and saw Noah looking at her, a slight nod of encouragement being all she needed to know this was her moment. She had to push aside all her insecurities and doubts, screw on her most award-winning smile and sell, sell, sell. Noah had told her the dress would help her, but she was the one who had to finish the deal.

"New love?"

"Assistant," Puck informed quickly, his gaze moving off of Rachel and back to his client. "You'll meet her when you come back to record your _next_ platinum album."

"Don't jinx me," the guy laughed, shaking his head a little. "Let's just enjoy tonight, huh?"

"There's going to be plenty more like it, man." He pat the guy on the shoulder, exiting with another promise to see him soon. He didn't know if it were true or not - there were so many factors in this business that it was impossible to know and pointless to guess - but they could certainly use another big name at the studio. While they did have a few, loyal breakout artists, most of the work done was by struggling musicians and private label bands. Puck enjoyed their music (for the most part) and definitely liked helping out the less fortunate, but he also had a company to maintain.

But, after about an hour of mingling/posturing, he found himself gravitating to where he'd last seen Rachel. She was still by the bar, but talking to a new person. He didn't recognize the guy, but she'd somehow obtained the guest list and had been studying from it during the afternoon like it was the SATs. She knew more about everyone in this room than he knew about himself, and he knew she'd been using it to her advantage once she got over her initial nerves.

"In fact, here's the owner now." Rachel gestured for him to approach the pair, her hand resting gently on his shoulder once he'd stepped close enough. "Noah Puckerman, I'd like to introduce you to Christian Newman. He's a friend of Stephen's, and is also a musician."

"Good to meet you." Puck extended his hand out, lifting his other to get the bartender's attention. "I'm buyin'. What will it be?"

"A coma, if I keep at it," he responded with a laugh, shaking his head a little. "I really need to get home. The wife."

"Well, here's our card. Don't forget about our deal!" Rachel smiled widely at Christian, waving merrily as he left before turning in her chair to face Noah. He had that look on his face that kind of made her knees weak - though, there weren't many expressions of his that _didn't_. "What?"

"Just havin' a flashback of you wearin' a football uniform," he laughed when she giggled, accepting the shots the bartender had served him. "And, in the spirit of kicking ass …"

"Oh, no." Rachel shook her hand, going so far as to wave her hands in front of her to further showcase her avoidance of the presented alcohol. "Outside of the occasional wine with dinner, I do not drink. I haven't since …"

"The party at your house, junior year," he said just as she said almost the exact same thing, causing them both to laugh. "What the fuck were you wearin' that night?"

"Pardon me for keeping my clothes on, as opposed to Brittany." Rachel rolled her eyes, using it to cover up the fact that she had no excuse for how awful that dress had been. "And could you even see me? You were wearing those hideous glasses of Lauren's all night."

"Not all night," he clarified, grinning a little. "Took 'em off to see just how far you were gonna stick your tongue down Blaine's throat."

She covered her face with her hands, laughing into her palms as she shook her head. On second thought, sometimes high school felt like another lifetime ago. "Something _else_ I haven't done since that night."

"Come on, Berry. One shot ain't gonna kill ya." He pushed the glass a little closer. "We never celebrated you joinin' the team." He lifted his own shot to toast, "To new beginnings?"

Rachel knew it was a bad idea, but she also knew it wasn't the worst. There was no real harm in having a drink or two with Noah. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, and her morning was already cleared in preparation for staying out late tonight. Plus, he was right; she'd been so busy trying to make arrangements and validate her decisions that she hadn't stopped to appreciate all that she'd accomplished in such a short amount of time. She was basically restarting her life and was doing so quite successfully so far. She deserved to let loose, even just a little bit.

"_One_ shot," she declared, picking up the glass and clinking it with his before downing the contents with a wince.

A few more drinks later and the two of them stumbled into a cab to drop Rachel off at Santana's place. Considering her lack of experience, Rachel was well in the vicinity of being drunk. On the other hand, Puck was just pleasantly buzzed, listening to her go on and on about basically anything; they'd talked for at least two hours about high school and just random things from the past 10 years. Everything they'd known about their recent selves was based on secondhand knowledge, and they'd had a hilarious telephone-style game figuring out how much of it was true and what wasn't. He actually liked listening to her, hating how quiet she'd been lately.

"You and Finn are _so _different," she stated out of the blue, lifting her hand and extending her index finger out. "For one, you never cheated on me."

In a flash, he felt that happy, hazy feeling disappear, her words sobering him quickly. He'd made a point not to ask her exactly what had happened between her and Finn and he'd even avoided asking Santana. But, maybe because he knew it would have had to be something huge to get Rachel to leave or maybe because he knew Finn was just that stupid, Puck figured it was probably another woman. Confirmation, though, had him so pissed off that he wondered how much it would cost for the cab to go all the way to Lima so he could kick Finn's ass.

"Time and time again, though, I always come back to the same thing."

She'd been talking the entire time he'd been stuck inside his own head, apparently missing other things that made him and Finn different. From her hands, he could tell that she'd listed about four or five, and considering the quick succession he figured they were obvious things, like height and build. Regardless, the mystery behind those other things was not nearly as important as the thing she was about to say. The thing that had her eyes so open and so focused on him that he wondered for just a moment if she'd sobered up as much as he had.

"I feel different when I'm around you, Noah," she breathed, her hand moving to caress his cheek lightly before she dropped it and her gaze moved to the ceiling. "It still makes no sense to me. You were a popular football player, too. But, I always felt … lucky … that Finn liked me." She blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the spots and dizziness, turning back to face him. "With you … we're so different, but the same, somehow. Like, you've always had a way of bringing out this side of me that I never feel comfortable with without you around. And, I like her. I think it's … me."

The cab stopped then, Rachel shifting to look out the window and confirm that this was her stop. She gathered her purse and thanked the driver before turning back and kissing Noah on the cheek. "Thanks, Noah. See you tomorrow!"

Puck watched, dumbfounded, as she exited the car and wobbled up the stoop toward Santana's apartment. The driver asked more than once if he was staying or going, and he actually wasted a few dollars on the meter trying to pick the right answer. Trying to figure out which one _was_ the right answer. "One more stop. Thanks."

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** I have absolutely no fashion sense, so I tend to Google things like "album release party dress" or browse sites like Banana Republic for fancy work clothes. So, if you're interested in knowing what Rachel's dress looks like, it can be found here (remove spaces as needed):

fashionbombdaily 2012/06/20 /style-inspiration-what-to-wear-to-an-album-releasebirthday-party/


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This one is a short chapter, but important to the overall arc of the story. So, forgive me - and I hope you can still find things in it to enjoy. Either way, let me know! And, as always, thanks for reading!

* * *

Puck woke slowly, stretching his arms and legs before even prying his eyes open. The sun shone brightly in his room and he had to wait a few seconds to adjust to the light before he could see the time display on his alarm clock. It was just past 11 in the morning, which meant he had a little less than two hours before he had to be at the office. Part of him wished he didn't have to go, and it had nothing to do with him recovering from last night. Well, technically it did; it didn't have anything to do with the alcohol, but rather he was still reeling over what Rachel had said.

She was probably already at the studio, trying to prove herself even more. It was stupid, but he couldn't really blame her since he'd done the same thing. Hell, he still was. If he wasn't reminding himself to not end up like his father, then he was trying to show everyone that he wasn't the loser they all thought he'd become. It didn't make any sense, either, considering the only people he still talked to from back when those demons haunted him were his mom, sister and Santana.

Until Rachel showed back up.

He knew she'd been drunk and, if she even remembered, she definitely regretted saying those things to him. But he couldn't help but find the truth in her words. He'd been with plenty of girls, before and after her (and it's been a long debate whether that week sophomore year should even count as _being with her)_. He'd been in love and in lust, and yet she was always in the back of his mind. He managed to live with it for a combination of reasons; some he could use as excuses, like how she was just another thing he'd competed with Finn for, kind of like Quinn. But other things - like singing his first solo in glee to show her he could be the man she needed and stopping them from going all the way back in junior year because it wouldn't have been just sex to him - were just better to be ignored altogether, shoved even further back in his mind. But, with her words still echoing in his head and those thoughts snowballing past all the walls he'd built to keep them at bay, he knew she was right. They weren't anything alike, but somehow their differences seemed to balance each other out.

The ringing phone was a welcome distraction from his thoughts, until he saw the screen light with the name _FINN_ yet again. He'd been ignoring the calls long enough, and he'd all but gotten permission from Rachel to talk to him openly. Yet, after her declaration last night (or, rather, early this morning), he knew talking to Finn could get him into a lot of trouble; the things he wanted to say to him certainly weren't nice and he'd always struggled with how to best stand up for her - removing the Glist, good; slashing Jesse's tires, _allegedly_ bad.

So, more just to be an asshole than actual hesitation, he waited until the last second before finally answering the call.

"Hey, hi! Wow," Finn fumbled into the conversation. "I didn't expect you to answer. I've called a few times, left messages. Nothing." He laughed a little. "Good news, no one's dead."

Puck planted his feet on the ground, propelling himself forward because he knew if he wasn't moving while they talked he'd end up punching something. He'd been out of practice for the past decade and he didn't particularly feel like going back to the time in his life when he let Finn get his way, no matter what. So, the fact that Finn was pissed to have a few calls ignored even though the two of them had literally said less than a handful of words to one another in 10 years kind of gave him that old, spiteful feeling again.

"If it ain't an emergency, what's up?" He asked impatiently, busying himself in his kitchen by preparing a bowl a cereal. "I'm kinda busy."

"I know. I'm actually on break for lunch."

There was a pause and Puck wondered if Finn actually expected them to shoot the shit. He had no interest in hearing about McKinley or glee or football. He didn't even want to know whatever might be going through Finn's mind regarding the chick he banged; Puck had played that game in high school, with Quinn, and he wasn't going to do it again. He obviously couldn't stay out of everything going on between Finn and Rachel, but he sure as shit wasn't going to put himself in the middle.

"I was just wondering if you've talked to Rachel."

"Berry?" He asked dumbly, remembering what Rachel had told him regarding her partial secret.

"Hudson."

There was an edge in Finn's voice that instantly caused Puck's blood to boil. The box of cereal dented in his tight grasp, his temple throbbing under where he'd moved the phone to rest so his heavy breath couldn't be heard through the line. He fought with every natural instinct in him to remain calm, to respect Rachel's decision to keep him out of a fight that most certainly didn't need to include him. But when Finn was so clearly marking his territory - so clearly reminding Puck that he'd won whatever little game they'd been playing since the whole thing with Quinn happened, as if the past 10 years weren't enough evidence - it made it hard for him to stay on the defense. He liked having the ball, having the upperhand.

"Why would I have talked to your wife?" The question was almost accusatory, like he was trying to make some sort of point. He knew he wasn't the poster boy for fidelity, but he'd never taken any vows claiming such, either.

"Well, she's in New York to pursue music, and I know you've got a little studio."

"Really?" He asked, ignoring the belittling remark about his business. Like Finn had room to talk, stuck one step above still being in glee club. "Well, it's about time, huh? She need a discount on some studio time?"

Finn huffed into the phone and Puck could barely contain his laughter. He forgot how fun it was to fuck with the guy.

"Look, I know she's staying with Santana and I know you guys still talk. So, cut the shit." Finn continued talking before Puck could mock him about using such offensive language while on school grounds. "Rachel is my wife. Things are weird right now, but we're going to get back on track and I don't need you getting in the way."

Puck felt like he was suffering from some weird split personality disorder this morning. On the one hand, he hated how detached Finn was keeping everything. As if _he_ wasn't the one who'd ruined everything and wasn't the reason things were so weird. Yet, on the other hand, there was an odd sense of pride coursing through him. If Finn was so worried about him, then maybe the things Rachel had said last night weren't just drunken ramblings. Maybe they were things that weren't even guarded well enough so her own husband couldn't tell. Things that were true but shoved to the side because of circumstances - circumstances that had recently changed.

"You know what, Finn," he started, the same icy chill in his tone that Finn had ended up using, "Fuck off." He pulled the phone away from his ear and intended to end the call, but quickly brought it back up and added, "And if _Berry_ wants some studio time, just have her call my assistant."

He felt like the man as soon as he hung up, but the hilarity of the remark and the sweet taste of victory paled in comparison to the rage he felt rebuilding. It was so overwhelming, so overpowering that he nearly broke his phone in his grip - then most certainly did when he chucked it across his living room toward a brick accent wall. In the past, Puck had never truly hated Finn. There were obvious times of resentment and certainly bitterness, but, for better or for worse, he'd always been his best friend. They'd grown up together, and he'd been absolutely serious during their senior year when he'd tried to get Finn to come to LA with him. But now, there was no more gray area. He ate, dressed and headed to the studio still drenched in the kind of anger that only came with a preoccupying hate for another human being.

Rachel noticed his mood instantly, having caught his entrance in her periphery despite Jessica's attempt to keep the focus solely on her. The two women hadn't spoken much in the few days since Rachel had started working in the studio, but the blonde was suddenly acting as if they were best friends. Even though she no longer held a grudge or any ill feelings toward Quinn, there was a striking resemblance between the two women's personalities, and offhandedly she wondered if Noah had made any similar revelations - before or after hiring her.

"Just food for thought," Jessica summed up, smiling widely.

"I appreciate the compliment, Jess," Rachel answered politically, her one eye catching Noah's over the thin woman's shoulder. "It means a lot, coming from someone with such a respected reputation."

"Word of mouth can take you far in this industry, and you just made a great first impression."

"Thank you, again," she repeated, her posture straightening as she watched Noah break away from the first few employees that had attempted to talk to him. His eyes seemed to be honed directly where she was sitting, and she felt uncomfortable being in the line of fire - a precise term to define the emotion clouding his normally easy expression. His casual swagger and lazy smirk were replaced by a hard walk and set jaw, so reminiscent of the boy she'd once known that she almost considered reciting his mantra: Be good, Puck. Be nice.

"I swear to fuckin' god, Jess, just give me a reason to fire you." His voice boomed through the hallway, others flinching around him as he drew closer. "I beg you."

Jessica stood straight, plastering on an innocent smile and giving him a fake questioning look. "Why would you fire me? What am I doing?" Then her smile turned evil, which was fitting. "Other than bringing in about half of the business, all from dedicated clients who would certainly disapprove of my harsh, sudden exit."

Rachel watched the pair closely, literally waiting for one or both of them to explode from the fire in each of their eyes. Instead, wordlessly, the two parted at almost the same time. It didn't take long for the others to start whispering, but she focused more on the hushed muttering coming from behind her. Grabbing her portfolio and some phone messages she'd taken earlier, she entered his office slowly, closing the door as inconspicuously as possible.

"Should I even ask?"

Puck grumbled unintelligibly and thumped his fist on the base of his laptop, supposedly to get it to work faster. He normally worked so smoothly that it was unnerving to see him so unglued. "I'mma need ya to get me a new phone."

"Absolutely." She nodded obediently, writing down a reminder in her notepad before pulling out the messages she'd brought. "You have some calls to return, when you're feeling up to it." She placed them on his desk, away from where he was currently rattling the mouse to get it to move correctly. "A couple are from artists I met last night. Apparently they called to schedule some studio time."

He looked up from the screen, seeing her thinly veiled composure giving way just slightly to the excitement that she'd made her first sale. He was still in the middle of his rage, but it faded just a little to make room for being happy for her. "Nice work, B."

"Thank you," she answered honestly, her head bowing at the way his eyes softened. She'd been worried things would be weird between them after last night - even considered calling in sick because of it - and her fears had only grown after his intense greeting. But, seeing how quickly he could push it aside to be happy for her, she was relieved to know there was nothing to be afraid of. "And don't worry. About Jessica."

Puck scoffed a little, knowing he had plenty to worry about when it came to the blonde employee. Between the number of clients she had in her back pocket and her ties to more than one person within the studio, she was definitely a threat. She'd been good for business in the beginning because she'd had so many contacts, but now she was using that against him. He couldn't fire her without the company taking a hit, but she'd started to slowly chip away at the business from the inside. Soon, he'd have to make a decision to fight.

"I'd never leave you, Noah," she confessed, her breath catching in her throat when his eyes pinned her in place. She'd forgotten just how much intensity could be seen in those hazel depths (even after just bearing witness to such extreme). She braced herself to keep her voice from quivering, "For Jessica's studio, I mean. If she were to leave." She shrugged emptily, wringing her hands in front of her in an effort to transfer some of the nervous energy. "I could never do that to you."

Any and all anger that had lingered with him instantly faded, Puck overcome by too many other emotions to hold on to it any longer. He'd been jaded since before puberty and working in the music industry certainly hadn't helped. He was more cynical than ever, and he couldn't believe Rachel could stand in front of him and confess her loyalty to the studio and him with such conviction. After everything she'd been through, he couldn't understand how she could still be so trusting when her own husband hadn't shown her the same courtesy.

"He doesn't deserve you."

He didn't ignore her piercing stare afterward, but he also didn't elaborate. There really was nothing else to say; just because he knew she was way better off without Finn didn't mean he was under any illusion that he _did_ deserve her. The point was simply that she deserved better, whatever she thought that might be.

Rachel stepped out of the room once Noah's phone began to ring, her mind swimming with his quiet outburst and its possible origin. But, more so, she couldn't stop thinking about how wrong he was. Or, at least that she didn't deserve to be put on such a high pedestal. Not professionally and most certainly not personally. Because, if she were as worth it as he thought, she wouldn't have shut him out of her life. She wouldn't have used him whenever she wanted to make Finn jealous (in high school and even throughout their marriage). And, if she was really as good as he thought, she wouldn't be the type of person who thought about someone who wasn't her husband more than she'd ever admit - either on lonely nights or just flashes of him when she was with Finn.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Another rather small chapter in comparison to how things started, but it's another one of those that is quite important to the direction to the story. And that direction is ... a minor _shift_, if you will. :)

Reviews make me write. Thanks to all!

* * *

Rachel sat in her usual position near the middle of the large conference room table, her head nodding randomly and a complacent smile on her face though she'd tuned out of the meeting a few minutes ago. She kept trying to pull herself back, knowing she was still new and she still needed to learn a lot, but it was hopeless; she had a lot on her mind and too much of it had been stewing for too long to continue to be ignored. For instance, it had been a week since Noah and Jessica's now infamous squabble, and things had been more tense than usual in the office. The whispering, the shifty glances … Rachel didn't like any of it, most of all the distance she felt between herself and Noah.

She'd offered up her support to him that day, and he'd seemed grateful. And, of course, they were still friendly and spoke frequently - about work and otherwise. To an outsider everything would look like it was the same, but she knew differently. She could feel the change in their relationship, and she'd spent the better part of the week trying to think of the best solution to fixing the problem. Unfortunately, without knowing the origin, Rachel couldn't do much else but wait. Wait for him to come to her. Wait for another outburst. Wait for her reservations and willpower to weaken even more, ending in what could only be considered a nuclear attack on her whole world.

Not to be dramatic, or anything.

"We can't just sustain the business, anymore. If we don't grow, we won't make it," Noah started to speak, nodding toward one of the engineers who'd just finished his presentation.

Again, Rachel wanted to listen, but she was too far in her own head. Just that simple statement had her thinking about her own situation; she'd moved out of Santana's loft over the weekend into her own two-bedroom apartment in West Village. It was closer to the studio and near a playground that Christopher could enjoy when he visited (and later moved after school was finished). It was $2,500 a month, though, and even though she and Finn had come to an agreement that half the money in their savings account was rightfully hers, she didn't want to rely on it. She didn't want to owe him, and she didn't want to ask her fathers for any more help, either. She'd taken a lot of great, huge steps since taking that bus to New York, but she wouldn't make it unless she kept trying to grow. The assistant job was good money, but not great - not for New York, and _not_ for a possible single mother.

"Our struggle has and always will be technology," Puck stated matter-of-factly, wrapping up the meeting with the last thing on the agenda. "It is equally our biggest asset and most likely downfall; everyone thinks they can go digital these days - a microphone and a laptop is all they really need - but we need to up the ante. We've got the best equipment and staff in the business, but everyone needs to work harder at selling. If you see a guy on the street singing, stop and say, 'Hi.' If there's someone playing guitar in the subway, throw in our card. They are small battles, but I promise they end up winning the war."

He closed his notebook and signaled that everyone could start their days, then stopped and turned back toward the sound engineers. "I'll need you guys working the field the rest of the week and next, so cancel anything else ya got goin' on that isn't with a client."

Rachel watched the two men in question nod casually and exit, neither aware of the consequences to the change in plans. Hurriedly, she followed Noah toward his office, grabbing a few notes she'd made before the meeting in an attempt to seem less frantic. After all, if the sound engineers didn't understand the implications of the change, Noah, too, seemed equally unaware. She hoped that were the case, at least; she didn't want to consider the fact that this might be another wall being placed between the two of them.

"Just a reminder," she began, hoping her light tone disguised the anxiety she could feel coursing through her. "You have a 3 o'clock meet-and-greet with a new client that was added this morning. You should have plenty of time to charm them before your dinner with Derek's manager." She took a deep breath. "And … was there a reason you cancelled the training session tomorrow?" She tensed even more at the blank expression he tossed toward her. "I was rather looking forward to learning more about the equipment. And, well, you know how much I enjoy critiquing other people's voices."

Puck snorted out a laugh, sitting at his desk chair and pulling up his calendar and email before looking back up at Rachel. She actually looked like she was waiting for an answer, and he frowned, trying to remember the question.

"Did I do something wrong?" She sighed when he instantly shook his head, her patience growing thin. "Then, do ..." she swallowed thickly, trying to keep her younger self from creeping into her question, "Do they not like me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone likes you. Jeremy a bit _too_ much."

There was a hint of possessiveness in his tone that made her blush, but it also chipped away at some of the burden that had been resting on her shoulders. Her entire position was based upon the principle surrounding networking, and she knew it would be just as vital to her future endeavors. If she wanted to move up in the industry, she needed people on her side. And Rachel knew better than most that people like Eric and Jeremy were sometimes more valuable than those at the top; they were the kind of people who managed to keep one foot in the network while the other foot stayed firmly planted in the _actual _work.

"I just thought with your kid comin' that you'd want to take some time …"

"Noah," Rachel interrupted, shaking her head in disbelief. She hadn't even considered selflessness, which seemed foolish considering how well she knew him and how often he'd sacrificed himself for the better of others. "I want to be here. I want to learn."

"I know that. But, I know where your priorities lie - and rightfully, so."

"This job is a priority, Noah," she assured in a rushed breath. "And not just for money, but, for my survival." It sounded like the same thing, but it meant much more. She needed this job because it was the first thing she'd done completely for herself, and for her future. "I've already planned everything out accordingly to ensure it doesn't interfere with my time with Christopher. So, _please_, let me do my job."

Puck nodded, understanding the desperation she felt. She was still trying to prove her worth - maybe even just to herself, now. But, instead of pushing her forward and challenging her, he was holding her back. He was limiting her, even if it were with the best intentions, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to treat her differently just because she had a son. It wasn't fair to treat her differently just because she was new. And, mostly, it wasn't fair to treat her differently just because he didn't want her to leave.

"Can you come in here?"

Rachel smiled in relief once he'd dialed an extension, not really caring who was at the other end of his request. She felt the adrenaline pump through her just at the thought of spreading her wings, and that anticipation only scorched deeper when she saw Kylie walking toward the office. The blonde woman was almost a legend in the studio, her charm rivaling Noah's mostly because she paired it with a mind that seemed more like an encyclopedia at times. Rachel had met her a few times before, and it had always been pleasant even though she'd never consider them to be friends; despite her exceptional people skills, Kylie was somewhat of a loner, her confidence just adding to the mystery.

"You rang?"

"Rach was gonna hang with Eric and J, but I think she should tag along on your meeting with Kenny and them." Puck looked to Rachel. "We're trying to land a soundtrack deal with some movie executives that keep passin' us up. Lotta big names, all who like fresh meat." He paused, adding, "Good time to show off."

There was such a fierce look of determination on Rachel's face that he barely recognized that Kylie had asked for a few minutes alone. The brunette had closed the door and was sitting at her desk no doubt researching for the meeting before he looked at the blonde. And, to her credit, she looked mostly normal. Kylie was a lot like Santana, not one for sparing other people's feelings when hers weren't given the same courtesy. If she were really pissed, she wouldn't have restrained herself long enough for Rachel to leave the room.

"Is this for real?"

"Meaning?"

"This isn't the 7th grade, Puck. I'm not going to grill her for information to see if she likes you or not. I take my job seriously; this meeting is a big deal, and I don't need to worry about Bambi while I'm trying to close."

He actually laughed, which didn't exactly make her less upset. "Have I ever used you to get laid before?"

"No." She shook her head, her eyes narrowed. "But it's established that you _are_ trying to get laid."

"I'm not tryin' to do anything, other than help out an old friend," he clarified, knowing he didn't need more than that to convince her. Much like he and Santana, they had a no-bullshit relationship that seemed hostile on the surface but was actually quite genuine. "You and I both know what Jessica is doing. I'm runnin' out of people I can trust, and you're on that short list."

"And she is, too?"

"Just give her a chance," he pleaded. "Once ya figure out how good she is, I promise you'll like her."

Kylie rolled her eyes, dismissing him with a wave and turning to leave in almost the same breath. The second the door opened, Rachel was on the blonde's heels, asking a million different questions about the meeting and the goals and just, _everything_. It made the sheer look of hatred that Kylie tossed him while passing his last office window all the more funny, even if there was a very real possibility that she'd end up killing Rachel sometime during the day. In fact, it wasn't until he got a text message later that night that Puck was certain of the brunette's safety. Apparently he had a free drink coming his way, not necessarily because Kylie and Rachel were BFF, but because they'd nailed the marketing account.

"Hello?"

He winced at her groggy tone, his eyes landing on the clock and only then realizing how late it was. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping," she exhaled heavily, dropping onto the soft cushions of the couch in exhaustion, switching the phone to her other ear to rest her head on the back pillow. "Cleaning."

"I forgot how OCD you were about visitors," he chuckled.

"Is that why you never visited?" The question was out of her mouth before she could think, and she shut her eyes tight as if it was some magic trick for taking something back. "I'm sorry. I … I didn't mean that."

Her head fell back, her eyes on the ceiling even though her head was shaking. She felt bad, not just about what she'd said but how things had been between them lately. She'd relied on Santana at the beginning, but Noah had been her closest friend since she'd left Ohio. She'd been happy to see his name on her phone when he'd called, and now she missed his voice - something she refused to think about for too long.

"Things have been different with us for awhile."

"Yeah," he agreed slowly.

"What did Finn say to you?"

Puck sat up a little, feeling the weight of her words push his back against the cushions of the couch. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she replied sardonically, her eyes now focused on the frays of a blanket she'd draped over herself. "Sometimes he doesn't understand the consequences of the things he says or does." She laughed a little in disbelief, knowing she didn't have to tell him. "I'm sorry if he said anything hurtful. I … I should have told him from the beginning. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

"None of this is your fault, Rach," he sighed, then tried to lighten the mood. "You can put me in any position you want."

It made even less sense than how deeply she wanted to hear his voice before, but his suggestive tone sent a tingle down her back. She felt a heat coil inside her stomach, and the blanket was suddenly stifling on her heated skin. She shouldn't feel these things. "Did you call simply to say lewd things to me?" She asked carefully, ignoring the impulses stirring inside her.

"No, but it's fun," he chuckled.

"Then, what do I owe the pleasure?"

Puck's laughter faded, his eyes furrowing a little as he considered her question. Coming up blank, he answered honestly, "I don't really remember." It was true, but he also didn't want the call to be over. He liked the sound of her voice, liked thinking that maybe he would be the last one to talk to her before she finally did go to bed. He wondered what it would be like to be the first to talk to her when she woke in the morning. "I like talking to you," he admitted carefully.

"Me, too." Rachel knew she was blushing, glad he couldn't see and make fun of her about it - that's what he used to do when they were younger, anyway. It was funny to think about, especially since it mingled with thoughts of how easy he was to talk to, now and then. Even when he didn't usually do much more than grunt and say something suggestive, he'd always been more willing to open up to her as long as they were away from prying eyes and ears to bear witness. She missed having someone to talk to; her and Finn didn't talk much anymore unless it was about Christopher or glee or schedules. To be fair, though, they didn't talk much when they were younger, either. They had their moments, of course, but Rachel spent a lot of time worrying she'd say the wrong thing to him. She was always so afraid she'd ruin what she'd always considered to be some sort of cosmic blip (the captain of the football team shouldn't even _look_ at a girl like her).

She never had that fear with Noah.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she finally said, trying to keep the promise out of her voice but knowing it slipped in anyway.

"Night, Berry," he responded softly, left wondering if he'd imagined the flirtation in her tone or if it had been real.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Another short chapter (I can't help it; it's all building up ... slowly), but one that I think a lot of people have been waiting for. A huge shoutout to everyone reading and leaving reviews. You guys really knock my socks off with how awesome y'all are. :)

Enjoy!

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Puck held the door open for his newest client, laughing at his mocking curtsey while they walked through the front of the studio. Although the client was new to the studio, he certainly wasn't new to the music scene or Puck's life. They were old friends, once roommates in a really small studio apartment that was definitely not built for two guys, especially two guys who did pretty well with the ladies. It had taken awhile for Puck to convince his friend to try to make his craft his future, and he'd even offered a huge discount on studio time. It wasn't something he did often, but there were exceptions to every rule.

"Wow. They really do start young, don't they?"

He moved his eyes to follow the path of his friend's gaze, his own widening once they landed on the little boy sitting in his office. His little feet were dangling off the couch and a video game was clutched in his hands, illuminating his downward cast face. And even though when he looked around he couldn't find Rachel, he knew this boy was hers.

"Grace, can you take Cody here to studio 3?"

"I see how it is. Lure me here and then ditch me at the first sign of real talent."

"Something like that," Puck joked back, nodding to Grace in gratitude before opening his office door and stepping inside. He tried to hide the anxiety from his voice as he greeted, "Hey, little man."

The second Christopher looked up, Puck's knees buckled. The little boy was so clearly Finn until he locked eyes with him. Then it was like he was looking right at Rachel, the same deep, melted chocolate hue and doe-like expression staring at him. They were just as intense as his mother's and looked almost unnaturally big on such a tiny person; though, looking at him, it would probably only be a couple more years before the two were the same height.

"My mom told me to wait here. She also told me not to touch anything, even though she made me sit on the couch so obviously I'm touching it."

Puck couldn't help the way his smile widened. He still heard from his mother how much she hoped for him to someday (soon, she always added) have a child just like him so he'd know exactly how it felt to be her. He knew he hadn't been the easiest kid growing up - he'd certainly manned up when his dad left and helped take care of Sarah, but it didn't exactly even out when paired with all the drinking and sex and general debauchery that had filled his teen years; but, he and his mom had a pretty good relationship, so he wasn't sure he deserved for her to beat up on him during every conversation. Yet, hearing Christopher talk and getting that same know-it-all vibe Rachel'd had when they were younger, he finally understood what his mother had meant. There was some poetic justice in the whole cycle.

"My name's Puck. This is my office."

"My mom said this is Noah's office."

Puck nodded his head bashfully, feeling incredibly stupid. Was he actually trying to impress a seven-year-old with a nickname he'd started in middle school to seem tougher? "It's a nickname. Like Chris."

"Who's Chris?"

"Uh, you." Puck blinked, thrown off by the genuine confusion staring back at him. "I mean, Chris is short for Christopher." Another long beat of silence and he could feel the sweat on his brow start to form. "Maybe you like Topher better?"

The boy scrunched his nose - another Rachel trait - before replying, "My name is Christopher. It's short for Christopher Amos Hudson."

Puck nodded his head in understanding, mostly because he wasn't sure how else to respond. Offhandedly he wondered how much of a battle it was for Rachel to get the Jewish middle name for her own son, the first name quite clearly chosen to honor the father Finn never had the chance to know. "What are you playing?"

"Mario Kart," he answered happily, a quick look of shame crossing his otherwise clear expression. "Mom doesn't like video games, but my dad got it for me for the plane."

"Your dad and I used to play video games for hours when we were younger," Puck mentioned truthfully, happy to have thought of something the two might be able to talk about. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so nervous in front of Christopher. It had been awhile since he'd been around a kid his age, but he used to babysit his sister so much that people thought she was his. It shouldn't have been so nerve-wracking.

"You know my dad?"

Puck paused, wondering if he'd used the present tense before finally just nodding. "We all grew up in Lima together. Me, your mom and your dad." That clear expression broke again, this time by something even darker than guilt. It was a mix of the confusion he'd seen before and something closer to the sadness he'd watched cross Rachel's face a few times recently. "What?"

Christopher shrugged, quietly answering, "I didn't think anyone left Lima."

"Sorry!" Rachel burst into the room, through the moment, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "I didn't intend to be gone for so long, and I didn't want him sitting outside where everyone is - and usually speaking profanely - and you hadn't been here …"

"It's fine," Puck chuckled, dismissing her panic quickly. "Still not as bad as Ronnie." He laughed harder when her face scrunched - the same way Christopher's just did. Her eyes narrowed like she actually thought she could move her son off the couch with just her mind. "We were just gettin' to know each other."

"I'm glad," she answered warmly, looking at her son and wondering how long the two had been talking. Christopher didn't usually have an issue with strangers, but his expression when she'd first come back had been hard to discern. He was normally very easy to read, much like his father. "Honey, did you know this is Noah's studio? He is the owner."

"Do you know Journey?"

Puck shifted his gaze to Rachel for a moment, the two sharing a short laugh before he put his focus back on the young boy. "No, but I can play most of their songs."

"So can my dad. He's teaching me, too!" The kid's chest puffed out a little as he said, "I can play the drums."

Puck couldn't help the way his eyes moved back to Rachel. He could tell just from looking at her and seeing that smile that she was torn. So much of the light that he remembered being the essence of Rachel Berry was only present now that Christopher was around. But, diminishing some of that brightness was the dark cloud hovering above her from Finn's recent choices. No matter what happened, those two would always be in each other's lives because of their son, and Rachel needed to find a way to shine through that gloominess.

"Well, I can play the guitar," he offered, not boastful in the least. "Add your ma's singing, and we got a pretty rockin' band." He pointed out his office window toward the general direction of the studio rooms. "Wanna go into one of the booths and record a few songs? Maybe make a disc for your dad?"

"Really?"

The sheer amount of glee that surfaced on the young boy's face was hard to ignore, much like he'd felt interacting with Rachel when they were younger. So often, even the slightest bit of good cheer or human decency made her light up, as if she'd never experienced such kindness or happiness before. Even when he'd known it was partially his fault - slushie facials had been his idea, after all - he couldn't ignore how happy it made him to see her react so positively. The power her smile possessed, the power it had on him when he was the one to put it there was unmatched by almost anything else. It still was.

"If it is okay with your mom."

"Oh, please, Mom. Please!" Christopher scrambled off the couch and grabbed Rachel's hands, shaking them eagerly. "Dad said he wanted a souvenir, and this would be perfect. Please!"

Rachel was so overwhelmed by her son's excitement that she didn't bother to analyze the pros and cons of the activity, though her instincts assured her there were plenty for each column. "Just a song or two, honey. We have dinner plans with Uncle Kurt and Uncle Blaine."

"Yes!"

The boy literally jumped in the air, pumping his fists in excitement before announcing his need to use the restroom beforehand. And, in a flash, he was gone and the two adults were left alone, Rachel the first to speak. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

"You have no idea what it will mean to him." She paused for only a second, quietly adding, "what it means to me."

Puck bowed his head, not prepared for the compliment. Honestly, he hadn't done it to earn any sort of recognition or concession from her. The simple fact was that her happiness, at least at the current moment, was dependent on Christopher; if he was happy, then she was happy. So, he wanted him to be happy. Plus, part of him could still remember what the kid must be going through. His situation had been a little different, but what little kid going through that type of thing doesn't waste time wondering if they could have done something differently, if it was their fault? Christopher was the most innocent party in the whole mess, and even if everything worked out - he wasn't going to think about that, mostly because it felt wrong to hope for the opposite when he considered that it wasn't just a triangle anymore; they were a family - he deserved to be happy, now. Just like Rachel.

"He's a funny kid."

"He gets that from me," she announced cheekily.

He actually rolled his eyes, mostly because he didn't just want to give her one; he'd always thought she was kind of hilarious, but usually not on purpose. "Scary as hell how much he looks like Finn." He watched the way she nodded, saw the physical pain it caused her - and him, for ruining the lighthearted moment. "He's got your eyes, though."

Rachel's eyes shot up, imploring him to say more. There was no denying the truth in his statement, but his tone was what she couldn't help but focus on. It had been filled with such compassion and a hint of awe that she wasn't sure she'd ever heard - from him or otherwise. And, similarly, the expression staring back at her was equally undiscovered, a mix of concern and softness that she'd never expected in a million years to have it look so natural on Noah's face. So naturally beautiful.

"Ready!"

Christopher tore through the moment, which she was perfectly fine with because she knew such moments shouldn't exist. She was married. He was her boss. Her son was visiting and Noah was just being nice to him for her. They were all facts that she had to play on repeat in her head, mostly to push out the memory of his completely unguarded expression from before.

"Lemme ask ya, Christopher, do you know anything from Jewish icon Neil Diamond?" Puck asked as he led the way toward the sound booth, tossing a smirk over his shoulder to Rachel. He chuckled at how much she managed to say in just a short (albeit pained) expression, her eyes pleading with him to refrain from doing anything that could blow up in all of their faces; there really wasn't any point of twisting the knife when he wouldn't be around to watch Finn have a full blown meltdown about the song playing on his souvenir, but getting her flustered was equally worth it.

"The baseball song. Right, Mom?"

Rachel nodded encouragingly, her hand resting softly on Christopher's shoulder while her gaze crept back up to Noah's. He'd slowed his stride to walk by her side, his expression clouded in confusion until she pushed her own shoulder into his, goading, "So good, so good, so good."

"Daddy doesn't like that song," the boy stated absently, looking up at his mom before addressing Puck with a hint of secrecy in his tone. "It always makes Mom smile, though. Could we make one for her, too?"

Puck knew the kid was talking to him, but he couldn't have tore his eyes off Rachel even if he'd been paid. There was a tinge of pink on the tops of her cheeks, and a soft smile hiding behind the veil of her dark hair. She avoided his stare, though, getting Christopher comfortable in the studio booth and showing him how some of the equipment worked. It was definitely for the best - for many different reasons - for them to keep their distance. But when she stood and finally looked at him, he couldn't help but skim his hand down her arm, his touch lingering until his fingers trailed down hers (... touching me, touching you ...).

He smirked at her wide, questioning look, then simply whispered, "Good times never seemed so good."

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** I forgot to mention this at first, but the song referenced is, of course, Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline". Sometimes those lyrics just seem so much like Puckleberry domain that I don't think to give proper credit. Haha. My bad!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I'm sort of panicking because I've been writing so haphazardly that I'm not as far along in my chapters as I'd thought, but I can't help but express how excited I am about these next few chapters; they are so fun to write - even if they take so long because of how intricate they all are (IMO), which means longer, too - and I really think you guys will enjoy the ride. So thank you for giving me that push to even bother with writing the story, and thank you in advance for letting me know what you like/don't like about it when you review! ;)

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Rachel rushed down the sidewalk, her hair and purse flailing behind her given the speed. She'd warned Noah and everyone else that needed to know - and some that didn't, which they were completely fine telling her via a reply-all email - that she was going to be late this morning; her weekend with Christopher had been incredible, so much so that it hurt worse to put him on the plane back to Ohio than she thought she'd feel if he'd never visited. Now all she could do was count down the days until he'd be moving to the city with her permanently. She hadn't thought about it that way before, mostly just making decisions up until a certain point of time, depending on the scenario. But, more and more, this had become her home. She had a job and was making friends and she'd purchased a place to live and … this was her life. Whatever decisions were made regarding Finn and their relationship now had to factor into this world.

Because she wasn't going back.

Her eyes caught his the moment she glided into the conference room, trying not to garner any attention since she was late. Noah wasn't like everyone else, though. He always seemed to have an eye on her - something that unnerved her in a lot of different ways - even if that attention wasn't obvious to the others around him. In fact, despite the conversation she'd felt they'd had with just their gazes when she'd entered the room, never once did it derail the meeting or even how he spoke. It was incredible, not just because she wasn't sure she possessed an equal talent for being so capable of multitasking, but also because it was such a foreign concept to her in the first place.

With Finn at McKinley, there had never been that level of separation. He was Mr. Hudson and she Mrs. They were co-directors for glee. They spent just as much time together at work as they did at home, and it wasn't until she'd started working with Noah did she come to understand how dysfunctional that was. She and Finn were a good team, just as she and Noah were, but she'd discovered that it was in completely different ways. Finn was good at listening to her, following her directions and executing them. With Noah, there was more of a give and take. He had ideas and she likewise, and they didn't always mesh; they argued just as much as they laughed, but in the end they managed to find that middle ground and work together effortlessly to finish the job.

Moreover, there were times when they seemed to work together, but separately. It gave her a sense of ownership in her career, some satisfaction that she'd done something to be proud of; she didn't have to share credit or wait for someone else to tell the story about how it had all been done. It was hers, and the things that Noah did - like the _entire_ company, for instance - were his. He did those things, and she was awed at how he'd ask for her opinion on something, sometimes on something that she'd had no idea was being worked on. It was partially her fault, but that never could have happened at McKinley with Finn. Even though she taught chorus and music education at McKinley and Finn was the physical education teacher, they were both involved in the others work. She figured that level of engagement would keep them closer, but now she thought it might have been part of what drove them apart. They were too dependent on one another, causing neither of them to try new things on their own - until the affair, at least.

"Okay, if no one has anything else, then …"

"Actually, quick point of order," Jessica interrupted, standing from her seat and smoothing the fabric of her skin-tight pencil skirt before clasping her hands together in front of herself. She widened her smile even more as her eyes scanned the room to ensure all the focus was on her before beginning. "This is very exciting news, but I may have the opportunity to sign a new, very up-and-coming client." She paused for dramatic effect, almost spelling out his name she said it so slowly, "Johnny Adams."

"Veto," Puck uttered without a second thought, shaking his head. "Anything else?"

"Excuse me?" Jessica's voice had changed from righteous supremacy to bewilderment in two seconds flat. "He's looking to record a full album. And he wants to pay in advance."

"Still no."

"Have you forgotten what it is we do here, Puck?"

"No, Jessica. Have you?" He countered, fully aware that the staff was watching the two of them like a tennis match. Each were sitting at opposite ends of the table, every statement causing the other members to whip their heads toward the other to wait for the rebuttal.

"Someone else is going to grab him, and we're going to look like assholes."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time." Nervous laughter spilled out from half the staff, the others cowered in their seats just waiting for the right moment to slip out. "I'll take my chances. Let's get to work, people."

Rachel held her breath as Jessica practically stomped past her, her high heels blaring on the hardwood floor. She pulled one of the engineers and two assistants into an open conference room, no doubt to bitch about Noah's decision. Honestly, Rachel was a bit surprised by the dismissal herself; Johnny Adams already had a YouTube following rivaled by some of the biggest names in the business, and that kind of publicity could mean literally millions to the studio. Not to mention the advanced cash he'd apparently been willing to hand over - or withdraw from his trust fund, as was no doubt the case.

"Hey, how was the airport?" Puck asked when he saw her enter his office. He'd told her not to rush back, but he couldn't help but notice how sexy her hair looked courtesy of the wind and most likely her running.

"Busy."

"Welcome to New York," he joked, sitting at his desk and checking his email as he asked, "How's Chris? Is it okay if I call him that? Christopher is kind of a mouthful, but he seemed kind of weird about it."

"It's fine." She shrugged. "He's fine."

Puck tilted his head to the right, his eyes slowly moving off the computer screen and meeting hers. Her silence was a bit unnerving, but no more than the short answers he'd been getting beforehand. He could tell there was something on her mind, but he knew better than to ask. He had a knack for sticking his foot in his mouth quite quickly in those situations, and for once everything was going pretty well between the two of them; they'd all had fun in the sound booth on Friday with Christopher, and she'd even texted him yesterday morning looking for a good place to take her son for brunch - apparently the kid wanted _normal_ food and she'd concluded that she needed help in that department since she'd only searched for healthy options. It opened the window for a little teasing from both parties, not to mention the door for random, conversational communication.

"Walk with me," he suggested, knowing he had to meet a few of the engineers in one of the booths for a quick prep session in a little bit. He also knew, however, that the meeting would last at least an hour and after that his day would be a game of finding spare minutes to do silly things like eat and piss. If they were ever going to talk about whatever was plaguing her, it had to be soon. "What's on your mind?"

Rachel chewed on the inside of her lip, her eyes focused on the back of his head as they walked through the building. It wasn't until they were in the sound booth and he'd turned to face her that she shifted her gaze, taking in the small, windowless room as if it were the Sistine Chapel. It had been the same one they'd worked in with Christopher, and she had to push back the thoughts of Noah's breath on her neck and his voice whispering in her ear if she was going to figure out the right way to approach the subject.

"Legit, ya okay?"

The concern in his voice caused her eyes to meet his, and she was instantly sorry she'd tricked herself into thinking she was prepared for it. Hurriedly she looked down, a quiet gasp pulled from her lungs when his hand came out to touch hers gently. Suddenly the small space was verging on claustrophobic, her ability to breathe hindered by the way his callused thumb swept across her knuckles. She wondered if he still played, if he took advantage of the equipment and dedication he pushed onto other artists. She wondered if he could tell that her hand was shaking, or how they'd started to clam up. But, mostly, she wondered if he'd chosen her right hand to caress to avoid the glaring reason they shouldn't be this close that was found on the ring finger of her left hand.

"I-I'm fine," she stuttered, trying to shake the quiver from her voice. "I was actually … curious, regarding your decision about the new client."

Puck's eyes widened, her admission far from what he'd anticipated. It wasn't necessarily that he wanted anything to be wrong, but her behavior certainly suggested something more serious. Logically, given that she'd just returned from the airport after sending her son back to Lima - and, subsequently, his father - he'd assumed something had happened between her and Finn. That something left plenty of room for options, too, whether it was a decision she'd made regarding their future or a fight or _anything_. He never expected something as unimportant as Johnny Adams to make her act so oddly.

"Is it just because Jessica brought it up or …"

"No," he answered quickly, shaking his head and releasing her hand awkwardly; he hadn't realized he'd kept holding it. "It's not good business."

Rachel wanted to accept his answer, but she couldn't. He was pulling away from her - figuratively and literally - and she knew it was because she was on the right track. "When I first started, you said all business was good."

"Not this kind."

His answers were so short, so matter-of-fact that it bothered her. What upset her more, however, was how he was letting his emotions dictate his decisions. Decisions that affected the entire company. It was so typical of the boy she remembered, and nothing like the man who had started to cement himself in her mind. That person, _Noah_, would never put the livelihood of every single one of his employees in jeopardy just because Jessica landed the client and not him. He wouldn't do that to them (to _her_) just because of some childish grudge or a pride war.

"I think … business is business." She felt her voice raise, but figured it would go unnoticed by him since he'd turned around to fiddle with something on the control panel. "We aren't in this to make stars, but rather _money_."

"It would cost more in the long run, believe me."

Puck turned, looking at her with the same bewildered expression he'd had when she'd first come into his office earlier. Only, this time, he knew it had nothing to do with Finn or even him. She was genuinely pissed by this decision, and it took everything in him not to actually laugh; he knew she wouldn't find it funny and if she still had even an iota of the spark she'd had when they were younger, then he'd certainly be in for an earful. But it was almost refreshing to be on opposite sides for once. It gave him the confidence to know his success hadn't been a fluke, but rather that he'd earned his position and the respect that went along with it. He'd learned a lot in the 10 years since high school, enough that he'd morphed from a stupid teenager to a savvy businessman. And even though he'd made mistakes along the way, he'd grown enough to know this wasn't one of those times.

Rachel, on the other hand, had grown in different ways. She'd tackled marriage and children and other perfectly acceptable forms of life experience. But business wasn't one of them, and the music business was the hardest of them all (in his opinion). For all intents and purposes, Rachel was still the same teenager who drove her opposition to a crack house because she was scared of the competition; she only saw the solo threat and didn't care the chick could have helped the team go further than 11th or whatever they'd gotten that year. She didn't realize or possibly even consider that, in the long run, it would have given her more exposure, more opportunity to shine.

"Look, I appreciate your opinion, but this is the right call." He tried to sound as sympathetic as possible, something that wasn't too hard when he really didn't want to hurt her feelings. Yet, she looked as righteous as Jessica had in the meeting, and he knew he needed to be firm. "The kid is inconsistent everywhere but the tabloids."

"Any publicity is good publicity!"

"He's reckless," Puck continued, ignoring her argument - not easy to do when it was presented with such hostility. "I don't need his name dragging ours through the mud."

"So it's about his image?" She asked indignantly, her hands on her hips. "As if your ridiculous haircut hasn't cost clients?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously, his lips and voice tight as he muttered, "Yet another decision that's _mine_ to make." Then he stepped closer, his back straightening almost in reflex to give him another inch or two advantage so he could look down at her as he spoke. "Try not to forget this is my damn business, Berry. If you don't like it, you know where the door is."

A shiver ran down her spine, forcing her to stand up as tall as she could as well. "I'm just trying to help!"

"I don't need your help," he growled. "I did _just fine_ for 10 years without you and I'll be fine for the next 10 after you leave."

Maybe it was how close they'd moved toward one another or the tension that had been building between them for the last few minutes (last few weeks). Maybe it was the contradictory way his eyes seemed so clear yet completely void of the color she was so accustomed to or the finality she'd heard in his tone as it swung on the pendulum between defiant and desperate. Whatever it was, a panic swelled deep inside her as his words rang in her ears and the implications of such seared through her veins.

She wanted him to need her.

She hadn't been fine.

She didn't want to leave.

Puck grunted into her abrupt assault, the only possible sound for him to make before his lips molded to hers. His reaction hadn't been instantaneous, but he'd never needed long to warm up to the feel of her kissing him. All the passion he'd felt toward their argument was now pouring out of him through their embrace, his once clenched fists moving to grip the loose fabric of her dress. She made a little noise of contentment that shot through him like a bullet, his tongue demanding permission into the moist cavern of her mouth instead of asking for it.

Her mouth opened on its own volition, her head tilting just a little more in response to the deeper kiss and the feel of his one hand creeping up the skin of her neck. His fingers splayed across the sensitive skin, eventually weaving into her long hair and pulling just slightly. It felt good enough to encourage a moan from low in her throat, but it also pushed her back into the reality that had been lost the second her lips had touched his. With her hands perched firmly on his muscular arms, she managed to muster up the strength to push against him just enough to break their embrace.

Her breath was as heavy as her eyelids as she struggled to lift her gaze up to meet his, unsurprised to see the same regret in them that she felt surging through her. "I'm sorry …"

"No, it was me," he reasoned, stepping even farther away from her than the step back she'd taken. His breath was still ragged and he could still feel _everything_ - the silkiness of her hair between his fingers, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the plumpness of her lips moving in time with his. It was all a fog that left the reality of the situation, the severity of the situation, clouded over without putting as much distance between them as was possible in the small space. "Maybe …"

"I didn't …"

She laughed humorlessly as they both tried to talk at the same time, the awkwardness of the situation suffocating her more than the tight area already was. She couldn't even begin to think about everything she'd felt during the kiss, not when everything she was feeling at that moment seemed a million times more important to her future. "Did that just ruin everything?"

"No," he answered immediately, forcing some power into his voice even though he was still trying to shake away the residual effects of everything. "I-it was a mistake." He shrugged carelessly, his jaw tight to avoid taking the words back; her wounded expression was almost enough to weaken his resolve completely. "Just … bound to happen, with everything."

Rachel nodded stoically, understanding his argument. They'd been working so closely together and their fighting had always been what started some of their more passionate encounters when they were younger. The difference was they were adults now, both of whom had other responsibilities and priorities to take into consideration. They couldn't just be two hormonal teachers, losing themselves in one another - no matter how much she wanted to and how easy it would be to do so. It wasn't right, for a lot of different reasons, and it wasn't fair for probably half of the same ones.

"We'll just … pretend it never happened?"

He had to block out the memory of her singing words to a song she had no idea he'd helped write, nodding his head and answering, "Yep."

She nodded, too, another awkward minute passing between them before she finally decided that was her cue to leave. The second she did, Puck released a hard breath, sinking unsteadily into the seat behind him. His elbows rested heavily on his knees, his hands immediately rising to cover his face. For awhile he just breathed, not knowing whether he was trying to calm or kill himself with the slow, thoughtful breaths. Eventually he started to rub the tense skin, hoping it would relieve the stress he felt building under his temples.

"Hey, bossman!" Ricky greeted as he swung the door open, his smile falling slightly when Puck lifted his head. "Pick yourself up, man. Don't let Jess get ya down."

Puck managed to turn his grimace into more of a smirk, nodding his head slightly and moving to make room for Ricky and the other engineer. Both started talking about the meeting and then the project, and he tried his best to pay attention. He tried to focus on their words and the ideas that sprung to mind from working through the process and everything, but no amount of work ethic was going to stop him from remembering what had happened with Rachel. Nothing was going to erase the memory of her lips thrust against his, her tongue dueling with his, her body pressed against his.

If he couldn't forget it - didn't _want_ to forget it - how was he supposed to pretend it never happened?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** This seems like a good moment to mention that I pretty much know nothing about ... well, anything. The music business, the medical field, etc. Just ... take it all for a grain of salt and hopefully enjoy how it all works within the story. Also, I really want to give another shout out to the anonymous reviewers; I wish I could thank you guys personally like everyone else, but your passion for this story is awesome. So, thanks!

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Puck smiled at the waitress, accepting the receipt with her phone number written on it as graciously as possible. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive or even unpleasant, but the thought honestly hadn't occurred to him a single time during his meal alone. It was surprising, considering how much he'd been inside his own head while eating, but par for course. It had been about a week since that thing he was supposed to pretend never happened _did_ happen, and it was all he could think about. In fact, he'd been so desperate a few days ago that he'd called his mother; she managed to take his mind off everything, which had been the point, but she'd also bulldozed him so much in the hour-long conversation that he ended up agreeing to house his little sister for a little while. He actually missed the little squirt - who wasn't so little anymore, graduating college next week; hence the guilt trip of epic proportions for missing the sacred event - and she could prove to be another needed distraction should this funk continue.

He sighed heavily, praying it didn't get that far. He couldn't even fathom spending another week like he had, every quiet moment in his brain quickly replaced with flashes of heated lips and echoing mewls. He was having trouble concentrating at work, and he couldn't stop himself from wondering if she was going through the same issues. Things between them weren't too awkward, both of them doing a good job at staying professional but still friendly. He just didn't know if it was because they were both good actors or because she didn't actually care.

The buzzing of his phone inside his pocket stopped that line of thought, his hand digging out the mobile device as he stood from the table and walked toward the exit of the restaurant. The number was unknown, but that wasn't unusual in his line of work. He wasn't allowed to screen calls anymore, so as soon as he stepped outside away from the loudness of the patrons, he answered, "Hello?"

"Yes, hello. My name is James Fullert, resident physician at Mount Sinai Medical Center. Your number was the most recent, local call of an individual recently admitted to our E.R."

Puck stopped so abruptly that someone ran into his back, another nearly hitting both of them before the crowd managed to find a new path around him. His mind raced, but somehow seemed completely focused. It would have been nearly impossible to pinpoint whose phone had been collected given the sheer amount of people he spoke to on a daily basis for work, but the word local felt like lead in his ears, dropping forcefully to the bottom of his stomach. People in his line of work traveled all the time, but instinct still carried him immediately into the nearest cab and barked out the destination in a matter of seconds; he knew it was her.

"Rachel," he croaked out, figuring he needed to confirm some sort of familiarity before any more information would be divulged. "Is she …" He couldn't say it. He couldn't _imagine_ the alternative.

"There was an incident at one of the nearby subway platforms. Police can only confirm what a few witnesses have testified to, but there appears to have been a struggle that resulted in Ms. Hudson's head injury."

In the past, he would have assumed the hate he felt toward the nameless, faceless attacker would have trumped any other emotion coursing through him at that moment. He'd certainly had a history of using his fists to solve problems, those that included her, too. But, instead, his anger was almost a passing feeling, an afterthought to the worry that threatened to consume him; not that it stopped him from yelling at the cabbie to try using the pedal on the right.

"Luckily a good samaritan called emergency services and waited with her until they arrived. EMTs said she was awake and lucid when they arrived on the scene, but slipped into unconsciousness on the ride over and has yet to wake." The doctor (or whoever he was) breathed heavily, continuing in a much friendlier tone. "I apologize for the protocol, but our databases are not setup to handle intrastate patients. We have no further information outside of what was found in her wallet, and the number listed as her husband has failed multiple times."

"It's fine," he gritted, unsurprised the rage that he hadn't felt earlier suddenly coursed through him so vengefully. Why was he always in a cab when he had the urge to travel to Lima to kill Finn? "I'm almost there. Where do I go?"

He repeated the directions the doctor had recited in his head for the entire five minutes it took for the cab to pull in front of the hospital. Throwing several bills toward the driver, Puck rushed out of the cab and through the building. The powerful scent of commercial cleaner and death overwhelmed him, forcing him to remember to breathe as he tried to focus on the mapped out details instead of the fear with which his imagination was running wild. Finally, he found himself in front of an elderly woman sitting behind a large, white desk.

"I'm here to see Rachel Ber-uh-Hudson. Mr. Fullert called me."

"Mr. Puckerman."

He turned at the sound of his name, propelling himself away from the desk when the guy by a hospital room waved him over. "Mr. Fullert?"

"Good news. She's awake."

The exhale he released was longer than he would have thought possible - surely he couldn't hold his breath for as long as it had taken him to travel from the restaurant to the hospital. But the next inhale was the first easy one he'd had since first answering his phone. Even the doctor look relieved, though he'd started to explain that Rachel was refusing to stay overnight and wasn't exactly pleased with the police's progress. Honestly, the whole thing just made Puck breathe easier, the weight of everything lifted when it was all but confirmed Rachel was still the same pain in the ass she was before the accident.

"Sounds like this didn't knock any sense into that pretty little head of yours," he chose as his opener, hoping she couldn't tell how happy he was just to see her; not just alive, but sitting up and talking animatedly with a police officer and smiling when she turned at his voice. "I know she's the victim and all, but I'd pay serious coin to see her handcuffed."

"Noah," she chastised lightly, rolling her eyes. She winced slightly as the simple task aggravated her headache, and she could tell he'd caught her discomfort. "You didn't have to come."

Puck snorted, waiting for the officer to exit the room before he spoke. "You weren't even conscious when they called me." He tried to hide the rasp from his voice, but he knew he'd failed. "What happened?"

"It was my own fault," she all but growled, her hand lifting up in frustration. "I was taking a business card out of my wallet at one of the stops, and I just wasn't paying attention. Someone, a man, grabbed my bag and tried to run, but it was hooked around my arm. There was some tugging and … he pushed me and I hit my head on the railing and then the stairs." She shrugged helplessly. "I'm fine now."

He sat on the edge of her bed slowly, wishing he could ignore the guilt he felt when logically he knew nothing that had happened was either of their faults. Still, she wouldn't have been bothering with some stupid business card if it hadn't been for his plea to the employees to fight for new clients. His eyes swept across her, noting the gauze on her arm and the large bump on the side of her head that likely had a matching counterpart at the back. She was lucky to have fared so well, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his head sagging in defeat.

"Don't be. I'm _fine_," she reiterated, her voice firm enough to make his head lift back upright. "I've asked for them to release me, but they are being so unreasonable. They said there is too great of a chance that I could slip into a coma or something equally grave given what occurred, and they need to keep me under observation. Honestly, I think they are just discriminating against me because I live alone, and I've told them more than once that I could stay with Santana for the evening, but …"

She trailed off, watching the way his eyes narrowed into slits and how his whole body tensed. She closed her mouth when he rose from the bed, studied him as he paced in the small space between the door and the hospital bed. Whatever he was struggling with was postponed by another nurse coming into the room, checking her vitals once more and letting her know that they'd be bringing her phone so she could call her family. Rachel knew she had to call Finn soon, before it got too late, and then should also let her fathers know what happened. But, right then, she couldn't focus on anything but Noah.

"Honestly, Noah. I'm fine." She assumed his behavior was based on his previous fear, so she tried to soothe him as best she could - though she found his concern endearing. "You don't have to stay."

"Probably not." His voice was rough, accusing. "I mean, I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for your call history, right?" He cut her off before she could reply, "I'm gonna get a coffee."

Rachel watched him leave, her mouth still hanging open at his abrupt exit. She replayed his words over in her head, mulling them over in addition to what she'd said just before his attitude had changed. She could feel the painkillers starting to wear off and the dull ache from before was intensifying, but she fought against all of it to figure out what had happened, what had changed. Things hadn't exactly been the same between them since the kiss-that-never-was, but he'd never been so cold to her. In fact, before he pulled away and his hand was caressing the bandage above the cut on her arm and then the spot on her head where she knew there was a bruise, she'd never felt more warmth.

"Got your phone," he declared when he returned to the room a few minutes later, his voice calmer than before but his face still etched in stone when he handed the device over. "Doc says you're staying put, so might as well call the people who matter."

She blinked at his choice of words, fighting off the pain and the exhaustion even more to decipher the meaning behind this new clue. He offered nothing more in explanation, even less so in the distance he'd placed between them, not just choosing to sit in the chair in the far corner of the room but turning on the television as well. He'd quickly found a sports channel that was of little interest to her, then must have felt bad and changed it to a sitcom about a high school show choir; Rachel didn't actually watch the show, but she'd heard plenty about it from her high school students, including all the jokes about how ironic its popularity was given the glee kids were anything but.

"I used to think high school would be as bad as it was going to be," she stated softly, using the plot of the show to draw a parallel to their own lives. Maybe if she opened up a little, then he'd be more willing to talk, too. She'd finished texting her fathers and Finn, telling them she'd call tomorrow but that everything was fine. The nurse had come in again, too, replenishing her fluids and medicine after checking her vitals. He wouldn't have any excuse to avoid her; and, if he really wanted to, she assumed he wouldn't still be here.

"I thought being an adult would be easier."

Puck took a sip from his coffee, his eyes focused on the screen even if he was contemplating her words. He'd been pretty jaded in high school, having been served a cold dish of reality pretty early in life. But he knew what she'd meant. All he'd ever wanted was to graduate high school and move from Lima and live life, finally free. It wasn't until after that he'd realized how easy it was to live in that small bubble, how much he took for granted by not spending more time figuring out better ways to understand himself and life in general while he was in that protection; he'd wasted a lot of time not knowing who to trust or whose opinions mattered or how to believe in himself.

She was one of the only people who'd taught him all those things.

"I've never once burst into song at random since becoming an adult," she stated flatly, shaking her head a little at the concept. "I can still find meaning in lyrics and apply them to life, but … music doesn't seem to solve anything like it used to."

"Shit, Berry," he groaned, finally looking at her after turning off the stupid show. "You sound like Peter Pan on his death bed." He ignored the pang he felt, seeing her in a hospital bed and knowing it could have been her last if the circumstances had been just a _millimeter_ different. "'Sides, I don't think we solved shit with any of the songs we sang."

She smiled softly, conceding to his argument. There were certainly numbers they did that served a purpose, whether it was to pump them up for the next competition or to show someone else they cared or to grieve. But even the ones they tried to sing to make a point usually ended up doing the opposite. "Oh," she gasped out, sitting up straighter and staring at him. "Oh!"

"What's up? Y'okay?" He sprung from his chair in panic, at her side in a second and watching her intently. "Do you need the doctor?"

She looked down at where he'd grabbed her hand, watching how his grip loosened and tightened involuntarily as worry overtook his body. How did she not see it? How could she not have realized? Why did she think this way would be easier, especially when she had years of proof that it wasn't?

"I'm sorry, Noah," she said softly, twisting her hand in his so hers rested on top instead. "You're very important to me." She held tighter to his hand, feeling him try to pull away. "I just …" She took a deep breath, unsure how much she should reveal. "I'm having trouble fitting you into a box right now."

He looked at her blankly, watched the way her eyes drooped just as her frame did into the reclined mattress. "Someone's pain meds are kickin' in, eh?"

"You're my boss, but my friend. We're close … but strangers." She sighed heavily, ignoring his attempt to distract her with a joke. She'd seen the hint of truth cross through his hazel depths, and she knew she'd figured out what had him so upset even if he wanted to act like nothing had happened. "Dance partner. Duet partner. Fiance's best friend." She punctuated each one with her hands in a boxed gesture. "It used to be easier, to put you in exactly the box you needed to be in, because of Finn or Quinn or … Shelby."

He flinched when she whispered the last name, hating himself on so many different levels at that moment. It wasn't that he didn't have real feelings for Shelby, but even then he knew what he was doing wasn't right. Teacher/student issues aside, he knew it wasn't fair to pretend his attraction for her didn't stem from the pint-sized version he wasn't allowed to have. He'd never got a chance to explain himself, either, though he probably owed her an apology beforehand - because he should have told her and/or because she shouldn't have had to hear it from Quinn.

"I still talk to her, sometimes," he admitted carefully, noting the flash of hurt that crossed her face and wishing her hand was still close enough to his that it wouldn't be weird for him to stroke it in consolation. He knew they hadn't spoken since Shelby left McKinley, and frankly he couldn't blame her; Ms. Corcoran was great to Beth, but she'd been shit to Rachel from beginning to end. "Mostly emails and whatever." He shrugged. "Got a card the other day. Beth's _12_."

She smiled at the astonishment in his voice, her eyes closing as she rested back against the pillows. He didn't know, but when she'd gotten pregnant in college with Christopher, she had considered an abortion. Things between her and Finn were already a little rocky, and she didn't think she was ready to be a mother; despite settling into life in Ohio with Finn, she still had dreams of something bigger. And, ironically, the way he likened the whole situation to what had happened with him and Quinn made Rachel think about Noah and how much Beth had changed him. Even though he and Quinn had made the right decision for them, there was no denying that he was a different, better man the second that little girl came into the world.

It gave her hope that the same could happen for her.

"It's crazy how fast things can change." Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the sight of him sitting by her side, so still. So attentive. "A test, a letter … a proposal."

"Rach," he shushed her immediately after, rubbing her thigh tenderly from above the thin hospital blankets covering her. "You should be resting."

He could tell she was tired, fighting to stay awake - mostly just to resolve her conscience, it seemed. But, really, he didn't need an apology. He already felt like an ass for pouting about coming up second to Santana (again). Here she was, lying in a hospital bed in just barely stable condition and he was expecting her to be mindful of every single word that came out of her mouth and how it might affect_ him_? To have her apologize for things that happened more than 10 years ago - things that had been good for all of them, even if it was hard to see why in the current moment - wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair. And if they wanted to keep the precious balance they'd been trying to walk since they were teenagers, they had to stop going down memory lane. They were already teetering too much as it was.

"You don't know how many times I've wanted to call you," she admitted sleepily, smiling as she added, "A quarter after one, and otherwise."

"Go to sleep, B," he begged, his voice hoarse.

"Do you remember that duet?" She pressed on, back to thinking about the song that had caused her original epiphany. The point had been to make Finn jealous, which they'd actually accomplished. It just came at a much higher cost than she'd ever expected, one that stayed in the back of her mind that whole year (and maybe never left). "After winter break, junior year?"

"Of course I remember it." He rolled his eyes, though the gesture was lost when his head bowed. He really didn't want to talk about it. He was having enough trouble forgetting the past of only a week ago; he couldn't handle rehashing and then trying to bury feelings from high school, too. "I remember almost ruining it by beating the shit out of Karofsky."

He lifted his head back up at her light giggle, trying to push back the memory of how she'd calmed him down with just a simple touch to his back. Trying to forget the other time he'd almost ruined the song, when she'd bit her lip to suppress her smile from widening even further; that expression paired with the total rock-n-roll way she'd bobbed her head to his playing was still one of the most innocently hot things he'd seen to date. It was the moment he'd realized the thoughts he'd had during winter break might have been more than just attraction, and the same moment he'd known he had to do anything in his power to keep her from finding out.

"Noah?" She knew the concern in her voice would get his attention, but that didn't make the pain she felt any less true. Everything that was going on between them seemed to be spiraling out of control, and she didn't know if it was because they were trying to stop it or because it shouldn't start. Either way, he deserved to know that she wasn't overlooking him, but was just still trying to place him in the right box.

"I know we are supposed to pretend it never happened, but …" She trailed off, thinking of that duet and so many other moments they'd shared from when they were younger and even now. "It's hard for me to pretend with you."

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**Author's Note #2:** Another one that is so much an essence of Puck/Rachel that I nearly forgot to give credit, but the duet mentioned (albeit briefly and vaguely) is Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now". No infringement intended.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** So after last week's reviews, I came to realize that there are many of you who have no idea the premise of how this story was inspired. That is completely fine, of course, because it really is just centered on a love triangle, but it might help those who are concerned about Rachel understand a little better. Then again, I suppose that is my job and obviously I haven't been doing it well; I tried to add a bit more introspection into this chapter, to help give some perspective to those concerns and clarify certain things, but it just wasn't flowing well. So, please, hang in there (especially since I'm sure no one is going to like this chapter). LOL.

Regardless of all of that, I really want to say thank you again and definitely ask that ALL feedback keep coming. I love the dialogue, whether it is something good or something bad. In the words of Puck, "Bring it." :)

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Rachel sat at one of the terminals of the John F. Kennedy airport, her eyes trained on the large open window directly in front of her as she waited for Christopher's plane to arrive. She'd left work early in order to ensure she'd have enough time to get through traffic and security and to the gate on time, but she hated waiting. It was possible the urge to avoid being stagnant was stronger only because she'd been recently confined to a hospital bed, but that had been a week ago. She was completely healed now, and cleared from the doctor just a day after to return home and to work. The more likely excuse for her anxiousness was she was excited to see her son, to welcome him to his new home and finally be together again instead of relying on too-short phone calls and impossibly flawed video chats.

"Mommy!' Christopher shouted the second the doors had opened once the plane had arrived, his small frame criss-crossing between a few of the passengers that were ahead of him before he barrelled into her. She held onto him just as tightly, squeezing the tops of his shoulders as she bent over to envelope him more. The zipper on his backpack was digging into her arm and she could feel snot from his nose seeping through a spot on her shirt where he'd pressed his face deeply, but she didn't care. She nestled him even further into her and didn't pick her head up from peppering his with kisses until she heard someone clear his throat.

Her grip tightened, her smile fading mostly because her mouth gaped open. "Finn?" She felt breathless, confused. She could feel her hands shaking, even though they were still connected to their son's perfect face. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Surprise."

His sheepish grin only managed to confuse her more, which she knew was not the effect he was going for; in all fairness, it was rarely the effect such expression had. That smile had gotten him out of a lot of trouble in the years, acting almost as her own personal kryptonite - one he'd passed onto their son, no less. Today, however, she couldn't concentrate on his expression, only his entire being. She'd only been allowed to come straight to the gate because Christopher was intended to be traveling as an unaccompanied minor. When she'd heard someone clearing their throat, she'd assumed it was the flight attendant that had escorted her son, waiting for her signature.

She hadn't expected her husband.

"It's so busy here!" He stated enthusiastically, taking the hand Christopher hadn't planted inside Rachel's while they started to walk toward the baggage claim area, more following the crowd than actually making the decision to move. "Stay close, Buddy."

"Finn," she swallowed heavily, wondering when his name started to sound so foreign to her. They'd kept in contact the entire month she'd been in the city, yet his presence shocked her as much as if Barbra Streisand herself would have walked off that plane. She kept one eye on Christopher as he stood by the baggage carousel, watching the board light up with flight numbers and waiting for their luggage, but turned more to face his father. With a little more force than the first time, she repeated, "What are you doing here?"

"I miss you, Rach," he stated earnestly, his eyes wide and so full of love that she couldn't look away. "I know things are weird right now, but I want to work on us. And, I can't do that from Ohio. And … this is important to you."

Rachel nodded. She knew he meant to sound supportive, but it had been important to her 10 years ago, too, and he hadn't cared then.

"I got a job at a school in Brooklyn for next year." His smile was so proud, and it only managed to widen when she reciprocated, albeit after a surprised sound escaped her mouth. "I know you need your space … that I need to earn back your trust an-and your love." His head bowed before he mumbled, "But, I want to." Then he looked up, determination ablaze in his eyes. "I will."

She was still very much in shock, but she couldn't help but melt a little at his words. There was part of her that was still so upset about what he'd done; she still wasn't ready to talk about it, maybe just because every earlier attempt had ended with one or both of them raising their voices. She knew that whatever it was between the other woman was over, but the details were neither known nor particularly important to her. Still, that avoidance had cultivated a side of her that had been allowed to be selfish, a side that had taken risks and lived more freely than she maybe should have - there was something growing between her and Noah, something that had always been there but never exactly defined. But she couldn't keep living in some fantasy world. The reality was Finn was her husband, and all that time and effort she'd put into loving him_ couldn't_ have been for nothing.

"I love you, Rachel."

There was so much truth in the statement, just in his words and the expression shining back at her that she couldn't help but smile even though her eyes trained back onto their son. Christopher was no longer circling the baggage area excitedly, but rather just sitting by the moving carousel. He'd pulled off their two bags of luggage on his own and was just sitting against Finn's large suitcase, looking at them with so much hope. She knew he must want everything to go back to how it used to be, and at the beginning she was sure that was what she wanted, too. Now she knew better, knew things had to change, but still owed it to her son to at least try to make this new life work - for all of them.

"I'm glad you're here," she finally whispered, slowly placing her hand into his open palm.

"Good." He smiled cheekily, swinging their hands between them as they walked to get the bags Christopher was guarding. "Because I don't actually have anywhere to stay."

Just as soon as the light feeling started in her chest, his words barreled on top of it like a boulder. Her grip on the handle of the suitcase was so tight that her knuckles turned white, and she knew the other hand still trapped in his was equally tense. Rachel was ready to see if her and Finn could patch things up with their marriage, become a family again. But she couldn't just pretend what he'd done never happened. It wasn't even because he cheated, but rather because that act had changed everything - her included. She wasn't the same person she was in Lima, and even if she found she could forgive him for cheating, she still didn't know if the new her and him were a good fit.

"I was hoping you'd be able to show me around a little bit so I can pick a good place to live between your place and where I'll be working."

Rachel nodded blankly, going through the motions of hailing a cab and traveling into the city while her mind was preoccupied with everything. She was relieved to know Finn seemed to understand that she wasn't just going to open up her home to him so soon, for them to live as husband and wife. But even letting him stay for a night or two seemed like a bad idea; the apartment was barely going to be big enough for her and Christopher, and she wasn't naive enough to assume he wasn't just buying time until she changed her mind or gave in. The old her probably would have already.

"Rach, your phone."

She jolted as the vibrating filtered into her ear, her hand clutching the small device and seeing that she'd missed at least a dozen text messages. They were all from the office, and based on the urgency she read in all of them, she knew she had to go back to the studio as soon as possible. Her eyes moved to her left, focused on Christopher as he played a game on that stupid handheld console Finn had gotten him earlier. She knew she couldn't take him with her, if only because she wasn't sure what to expect when she arrived. Moving her eyes even further left, she locked gazes with Finn and sighed.

It was a bad idea, but it also wouldn't be the worst solution to a lot of her problems; she didn't have anything setup for Christopher's daytime care until Monday, and considering it was summertime she couldn't count on school to keep him busy. Santana was out of the country more than she wasn't, capitalizing on swimsuit season for exotic photoshoots and fashion shows, and Rachel really didn't want to rely on Kurt and Blaine more than she already knew she would have to. Plus, if the missed texts and phone calls were any indication, things at work were bound to be more hectic than ever, and it would be nice to not have to worry about Christopher if she had to stay late or go in early.

"You can stay at the apartment, but on the couch." Her voice was flat, trying to balance between sounding firm to Finn but gentle to Christopher. "I have to stop back at the office real quick after I drop you off, but it shouldn't be long. We can work on the details later."

He put up no argument to her conditions, and even offered to have pizza delivered for when she got back. However, when she opened the door to the studio, she wasn't sure if she'd make it back out alive; despite the hour - it was after six and people usually filed out around 4, even if it was to catch a business dinner before going home - inside it was absolute chaos. Phones were ringing off the hook, people were literally running around, some desks were empty and others had stacks upon stacks of paper on top. She moved through the building on pure adrenaline, buzzing by the time she reached Noah's office.

"Welcome back," he stated sardonically, letting the earpiece hanging from his shoulder fall to the ground as he walked away from his desk. "No time to beat around the bush." He grabbed the book he'd been searching for, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. "Jess brought in Johnny, so I fired her. She took her assistant and a couple others with her."

Her eyes widened in shock, shifting toward his office windows to again look at havoc out front. She'd known things with Jessica weren't good, but she hadn't realized others had been on her side. It seemed so dishonest, so deceitful. Noah had provided every single one of those people - whoever they were; she tried to keep away from office gossip, and she hadn't noticed any particular person absent in the rush to get to her desk - their jobs and any opportunity they had afterward would be based on that first step. Now they would be direct competitors, and it didn't seem fair for them to use everything they'd learned courtesy of Noah against him and the studio.

"It's all hands on deck. Client calls, PR … it can all be done from home." He paused for only a second. "I-if you want to do it."

Puck knew he wasn't coming off as cool and collected as he wanted to. His words were coming out faster than normal - no moreso than hers usually came out, but still way too fast for him. Luckily he knew she wouldn't bring it up, thinking his franticness had everything to do with Jessica and nothing to do with her. But, honestly, he couldn't help but wonder whose side she would be on. She'd been upset with him last week about his decision, and since Jessica's firing was directly related to the same issue, Rachel could very well choose to leave with her. Leave_ him_.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"It's gonna be crazy, Rach," he pushed, though he wasn't sure why. Ever since the thing last week at the hospital, it was like something had shifted between them. But, instead of creating some weird gap or obstacle to overcome, it was like the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together. It unnerved him, maybe because he knew he'd been waiting for so long to see what the final picture would actually look like. "A lot of work, and I know your kid is here now and ya need …"

"How many times do I need to beg you to let me do my job?" She interrupted, her voice firm. She remembered that day, when he'd been trying to be considerate by cancelling that studio session - it _finally_ got rescheduled and actually had turned into a bigger project than she'd imagined. And she still appreciated his concern, but she wished he'd realize that even if she was having trouble figuring out all aspects of her future (specifically her love life) that she'd made a commitment to him and the studio. She might have originally sided with Jessica regarding the client, but she understood his position. And, more than that, she trusted his judgement. He was the one who'd built the studio from the ground up; he was the reason it was successful. He was the leader, and for once in her life she had absolutely no problem following his direction. And it wasn't just because the job was a priority of hers, but he was.

Somehow, through all the awkwardness and nervous energy and history, he'd managed to show her how important she was to him. He'd opened up this world to her and, in turn, opened up himself to her. Between everything that happened at the hospital and just during the daily grind, she knew she was a priority in his life. And even though her examples were less obvious, she knew she'd reciprocated such. Their relationship had blossomed and flourished faster than she ever thought possible, and she knew Finn's arrival would force that avoidant part of her new life to come to a halt. But that didn't mean he'd stop being important to her or visa versa. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they were to cross that line they'd been toeing so carefully as of late. What would be different? Nothing? Everything?

"Noah," she tried to keep her tone casual even as she reached out to grab his hand. His eyes bored into hers, but she refused to look away. She wanted him to see her choice in her eyes, knew they didn't need words between them to explain everything going on in both of their heads. Still, after a full minute of the almost-telekinetic conversation, she felt the need to break the tension before one of them did or said something they'd regret - something that would cross that line. "Nice haircut."

He blew out a laugh, using his free hand to scrape over his recently buzzed scalp. It was incredible how much that day played into their current conversation, and how much was different despite the little window of time between the two. The ease of her affection was bordering inappropriate, but instead of pulling away from it, he used it as leverage to maneuver her closer, sliding his other arm around her back and dipping his head down to rest against her shoulder. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes in reprieve as the sweet scent of her shampoo filtered through him, before whispering his gratitude in her ear.

They both knew it had nothing to do with his hair.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** This is another short chapter, but I'm so behind on writing ahead for this story that I have bigger issues than brevity. I promise to keep plugging away at my normal pace for as long as I can, but between work, life and a random attempt to write for a completely different fandom, things are a bit insane. As always, it would be a crime not to mention how great everyone has been - amazing feedback, honestly! I know I won't be able to make everyone happy, but I hope everyone sticks around to the end and keeps letting me know what y'all think.

**Disclaimer:** There's a super minor mention of Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" again. No suing allowed.

* * *

The music flooded through Puck's veins, pulsating through him the more he moved along to the hard rhythm. He usually avoided clubs or dancing in general, but he'd needed to unwind after the week he'd had. Plus, a few drinks paired with a persuasive partner and it was hard to deny he was having a good time. His hands roamed from their perch on her hips, skimming across the slick expanse of exposed skin under her midriff top. Her abdomen was taut and tanned, same as the rest of her as she moved against him tantalizingly. The song required a certain level of friction, and he had no problem with the way she pressed against him or how her arms had raised to tangle around his neck in beat to the music.

"How much longer we gonna do this?" He questioned lowly, his lips right next to her ear. She bent into him more, her hips swiveling expertly against him. Her head tipped back against his shoulder on a soft sigh when he let his fingertips toy with the frayed hem of her dangerously short skirt. Then, as inconspicuously as she could, he watched her hone in on her target.

"Hook, line annnnnd … sinker." Santana smirked toward the group of guys who were basically salivating from her performance, pushing her ass out in effort to dislodge herself from Puck's front. "Got 'em. Let's go get another drink."

"I feel so used," he joked lightly, following her down the corridor that separated the club area from the bar area. The music was different on this side and wasn't quite as loud. It was actually a pretty cool place and he knew the owner, but he'd still given Santana shit when she'd suggested it. Like him, though, she needed to lose herself a little bit and a busier club where models like her were supposed to dance wasn't going to work. So he grabbed the barstool next to her without protest, accepting the shot she'd ordered with a thanks. He was starting to lose count after the few they had when they first arrived, though there wasn't much reason to keep track to begin with.

"S'not my fault I could still go home with someone later even if you're gonna keep pouting about somethin' that's never gonna happen," she stated bitingly, gesturing to the bartender for a refill even as she looked at her friend. "You could get a lot more than some shitty kiss from any of the sluts here tonight if you just put your dick out there."

"What are you babblin' about?" He dodged, carefully spinning the shot glass against the hard bar top.

"Please," she scoffed. "You might be a good liar, but Berry folded like a hooker with rent due."

He blinked in surprise. It was no secret that Rachel was a little deprived of companions in the city. She was getting closer to some of the people at work, spending time outside of such with Kylie and even one of the other assistants, but those relationships weren't to the level where she would open up about anything too deep. Those conversations were reserved for people closest to her, which was ironic because most of those people weren't close to her. The only ones in the city Puck could think of were Kurt and Blaine, and he already knew she'd all but stonewalled them because of their connection to Finn. Santana hadn't exactly been on his radar of confidantes for her, though.

"She told you?"

"No, but she's like the worst actress on the face of the planet. Seriously, Broadway? Not so much." She threw back another shot, looking at him through the bottom of her now-empty glass, clearly well on her way to drunk, too. "And need I remind you 'bout my Mexican psychic third eye?"

Puck lifted his eyes in exasperation, using the excuse of finishing off his own shot to avoid her prodding. He'd originally invited her out last week when he just needed an excuse to kick back and stop thinking. Santana was great for those moments because she mostly hated to talk, and when she did it was usually meant to be about her. But between her work schedule and his, things got postponed and now his mind was preoccupied with less thoughts about kissing Rachel and more with wanting to strangle her. He'd already heard the whole speech about how she'd justified the whole thing of Finn moving in as being good, giving her more freedom to help at the studio and just making life generally easier. But, legit, it wasn't the most comforting argument since that was one of the reasons he knew her and Finn had gotten married in the first place; it was easier to settle, easier to assume he was the best she could do - in love and in life.

"It was nothin'."

She scoffed again. "Nevermind. You're just as shitty of a liar."

"Fuck off, Satan," he growled, requesting another round in haste.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I was just lookin' out for ya." She rolled her eyes, drinking the new beverage quickly. She licked her lips and looked at him, her tone much more serious. "Ya know she's gonna go back to him, right? She always does."

Puck nodded, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it. In fact, it was the last thing he'd want to talk about, if given a choice - which he clearly wasn't. "And he always goes back to her, right? That's what we're really talkin' about?"

"Fuck off, Puckerman."

He chuckled at her response, mostly because it was exactly what he'd just said to her but hadn't been acceptable then. Santana was great at dishing it out, but she couldn't take it when it was served right back up. It didn't usually matter because most people were too intimidated to talk back to her, but he wasn't one of those people and, even if he were, he was drunk enough to call her out on it anyway. But then the jukebox in the bar started to play Queen's _Fat Bottom Girls_ and it derailed all future discussions for memories past. Their once narrow gazes shifted to one another, opening in amusement that eventually spilled out into actual laughter.

"God, what was I thinking?"

She fixed her previous smile back into her perpetual scowl. "Are we talkin' about the song or the girl-beast you tried to plow?"

He ruffled her hair a little, smiling as he taunted, "Awe, don't be jealous." He chuckled when she swatted him away, running her fingers through her styled strands to ensure everything was back in its perfect place. "I really thought you were gonna kill me after that."

"Like I even cared," she scoffed. "You're like my brother. Just … groddy."

"You cared," he pressed, moving into her personal space teasingly. It was weird how the more adult beverages they had, the younger they acted. "You _always_ did."

"Maybe if you didn't fuck anything in a skirt …"

He interrupted, "That whole territorial thing with Mercedes …"

"Is that what the haircut is about?" She stopped him from humming anymore of _The Boy is Mine_, gesturing to his shaven head. "You tryin' to get back with Chocolate Thunder 'cause I heard she's dating some guy from the Raiders."

He ignored her - it was a rhetorical question, anyway, as neither of them had seen or spoken to Mercedes since graduation; even that was too soon - and instead thought back to other glee numbers where the fire from her eyes should have been enough to burn him to ashes. "Not to mention Quinn, Rachel, Shelby …"

"You never serenaded _me_."

Puck held back his bark of laughter, more just staring at her incredulously as he waited for her to take it back. Santana pretended to be a typical girl, but she wasn't. They both knew that if he'd tried to woo her with a song during glee, she would have either laughed in his face or kicked him in the balls. And that was if he would have been able to do it with a straight face in the first place. It wasn't that he didn't care enough about her - like she'd said, they were basically brother and sister, which was only a little weird considering the less-than-familial things they'd done together in high school.

"Finn did."

"Oh, shut up." Santana pushed at his face, standing and taking her shot glass with her as she walked back toward the club area. He knew he wouldn't see her again, likely going home with one of the guys she'd baited just a little bit ago or with the couple that she'd blatantly offered her services to almost as soon as they'd arrived. It wasn't that he wasn't sure she could take care of herself or that he'd wanted to keep talking - that wasn't really how their friendship worked, anyway - but his blood-alcohol level was too high for him to think about all the reasons he shouldn't dig out his phone and call her.

"Hello?" Rachel asked groggily, flicking on her bedside light and wincing at the unwelcome brightness. "Noah?" She asked after focusing on his name on her phone's screen, moving her gaze to her alarm clock. "What are you … it's one in the morning."

"No it's not," he droned almost mockingly, his voice much too playful for such an hour.

Her body stilled when she glanced at her clock again, noting the exact time. 1:15. _It's a quarter after one_ … She sat up a little more as a warmth rushed through her, her voice softening as she asked, "Are you okay?"

"No."

"No?" She questioned, her confusion only outweighed by her concern. "What's the matter?"

"I hate him."

It was such a short statement, given with no preamble, but it felt like a ton of bricks landing directly on her heart. She knew who he meant instantly; things at work had been crazy, but it was hard to miss the looks of disappointment that crossed his face anytime she mentioned Finn. Part of her thought it was unfair. Finn was her husband, after all. But she hated feeling like every time she and Noah made strides in the right direction something always got in the way. After the hospital incident, things between them were back on track, but then the Jessica thing happened along with Finn's abrupt arrival and it all got turned around; they always seemed to take one step forward and two steps back.

"I know," she replied in a whisper. She knew there was no way Finn could hear her from the couch, if only because he slept like the dead. And, honestly, she wasn't sure if he'd be more upset that she was on the phone with Noah in the middle of the night or that she was talking about him while doing so. Probably the former. "I do, too, sometimes."

She'd feel worse about such a statement if there wasn't so much truth behind it. He'd done things that deserved her hatred; he'd done things that deserved much more hostility than she'd bothered to give him. But, she also couldn't ignore the mostly good 10 years of marriage they'd had before the affair. They had a lot of happy memories, as a couple and as a family. He was a terrific father, and she'd never be able to truly hate the man who gave her such a perfect child.

She sighed, still in the same place she always was whenever she went down such a thought path. "It's hard to explain."

"Nah, I get it." He barely paused before adding, "S'how I feel 'bout you."

Her mouth hung open, her ear pressing into the phone a little more deeply as she waited for an apology that never came. "You hate me?"

"Sometimes."

His words were so matter-of-fact, so breezy that she wanted to be upset with him for, at the very least, being so unsympathetic to her feelings. She knew it wouldn't have been fair, though. She wasn't intentionally being insensitive to or even unaware of his feelings, but she'd definitely been giving him mixed signals as of late; sometimes she felt like she was being split in two entirely different pieces. Besides, she supposed she owed him some drunk rambling after her own taxi cab confessional her first week in the city. "I'm sorry, Noah."

"S'okay," he yawned. "Make it up to me."

She instantly blushed at his command, which was ridiculous because she knew even he was too drunk to make the connection between what he'd said and where her mind had immediately gone. So, instead, she asked, "How?"

"Sing me somethin'."

His request caught her off guard, maybe just because of how quickly he'd thought of it. Like everything else he'd uttered tonight, there seemed to be no thought to it at all, as if asking her to sing for him was completely natural. And, even if that were the case to him (which it wasn't, but hypothetically speaking), it most certainly wasn't for her. Outside of the shower and sometimes with/to Christopher, Rachel hadn't sung in a long time. She'd even stopped singing in glee a few years ago when she'd realized it wasn't doing any good to motivate the students - or herself, thinking she could inspire them with such.

And even though part of her was scared, the other part felt like it had burst open from excitement. He wanted to hear her sing, and she was still the kind of person who never turned down a performance. She sung softly, though, picking the only song that seemed fitting at that moment. She started to smile when he hummed his part of the _Need You Now_ duet, but it faded as soon as her phone beeped to indicate the call had been lost. She stared at it for a few minutes, willing it to ring again before eventually plugging it back in and turning off her bedside light. Settling back against the mattress, her eyes flicked over to her alarm clock and noted the time.

It was 1:24, but she still needed him.


End file.

Glee, Romance