Disclaimer: I claim no right to the Glee universe. Please Review!

Sorry to those of you who have me on Author Alert for another story. I'm still working on finding my inspiration to continue them. Maybe someday. Anyway, if you're a Glee fan, check this out and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear if people want more.

P.S. Made some edits.

She knew the exact moment when the world fell out from under her feet and she experienced a complete shift in perspective. To be clear, it wasn't really one particular moment that everything changed. It was more a series of small moments that came together all at once in her head. But those moments, when they did combine, nearly knocked Rachel off her feet.

It was just like any other after school Glee practice; Mr. Schuester and Artie were discussing the particulars of how to best fit him into the choreography for their latest number, Rachel was practicing quietly with Finn, her face lighting up like Christmas every time he turned that thousand watt smile on her, and Kurt and Mercedes were having a light argument about the costumes. The Cheerios were practicing the choreography and the footballers minus Finn were listening to the tale of yet another of Puck's conquests.

Rachel hummed the last few bars of melody, her heartbeat spiking as Finn followed along with her and smiled as they finished. "It sounds really good, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We're going to kill with it." His gaze flickered away to Quinn and his expression softened. "Excuse me," he mumbled and slipped away to her side leaving Rachel alone with her longing thoughts.

Rachel sighed. She hated being so far down on the social food chain. Even with the most popular football players and cheerleaders joining Glee, she was still the high school pariah. She let the hand holding her sheet music fall to her side, bile rising in her throat as Finn leaned close and kissed Quinn gently on the forehead before pulling her into a careful hug.

Tearing her eyes away, she happened to glance over at the other three football players and the expression on Puck's face caught her by surprise. He looked exactly the way she felt. Looking away quickly lest he notice her attention, Rachel found herself sympathizing with him and angry with herself for sympathizing with him. He was not the kind of person with whom she would ever identify...still, seeing his face like that indicated that he wasn't completely unfeeling. It made him seem human.

She shook her hair back and went to place the sheet music in her backpack, keeping her face hidden as her mask crumbled. She was pathetic. Sure, she and Finn had amazing chemistry and it was obvious that he was attracted to her as well, but with Quinn being pregnant and the stand-up guy that Finn was, Rachel had no chance of making him her own. The whole situation likely would end explosively and she was sure she didn't want to be around for that. She liked Finn, she really did, but she was tired of playing second fiddle. She deserved someone without all those strings, someone who could just love her.

"Hey, Rach," Finn said behind her.

Blinking away the moisture in her eyes, Rachel turned and gave him a smile. "Yes?" God, he was beautiful.

He grinned back. "I just wanted to say thanks for coming back. It really means a lot to me, to the club, you know?" His mouth twitched like he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

Rachel only nodded.

His smile faltered. "Okay. Well, I've got to go. Lots of studying to do. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll be here," she said, a small part of her dying as the words left her lips. Waving farewell to the rest of the club, she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the books seeming to weigh more and more with every step she took. She paused at a vending machine to grab a water and kicked it as it dispensed her beverage. She really was pathetic. Her feet automatically traveled the familiar path to her locker; she still had to grab her math book. She had just turned the corner when she spotted Finn and Quinn down at the end of the hall. His locker was right next to hers.

Unable to deal with anymore heartbreak for the day, she darted back around the corner to hide. And slammed right into Puck. He only grunted at the impact, but she bounced back and fell over, her bag popping open and spilling her books. Afraid to look at his face, she mumbled a hasty "sorry" and scrambled around to get her things.

When she had crammed the last of the books in her bag, she leaned back to push herself to her feet and was startled by the hand he thrust in her face. Automatically, she recoiled and fell on her butt again. She glanced at his face for the first time and saw his dark expression.

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he growled, his hand still extended.

Hesitantly, she placed her fingers in his and yelped as he yanked her roughly to her feet. He let go instantly and shoved his hand back into his pocket.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her fingers. He said nothing. She pulled the strap of her bag back over her shoulder, fiddling with it nervously as he continued to stand there and stare at her silently. "Well," she said with false brightness. "I'll see you tomorrow." Steeling herself, she strolled back around the corner, but, thankfully, the objects of her initial discomfort were gone. She hurried to grab her books and get off school grounds before anything else awkward happened.

It wasn't until she was home and ensconced in her bedroom that she allowed herself to think about the interaction she had experienced with Puck. She set her bag next to her desk and fell back onto the bed. Closing her eyes, she replayed the collision over and over in her mind, her heart inexplicably racing as she remembered the feel of his hand over hers, his piercing hazel eyes.

A shiver ran down her spine completely different than the one that usually did when she thought about him. Those eyes captivated her like no one else's ever had. Not even Finn. For sure, Finn's eyes were a nice pretty brown, but they were kind of dull. The only time they did light up was when he smiled, but it was never an intelligent light. Puck's eyes were different. It was easy to see the fierce intelligence and confidence inside him, she guessed that was why so many girls wanted a piece of him, even if he was a dick afterward and beforeward and anytime-ward. She scowled. Here she was making up words to add to her description of his terrible behavior. And thinking about him having sex.

With a cry, she pressed her palms into her eyes and tried to grind out the unexpected image of him wearing only jeans. He liked to walk around like that during the summer and she had seen him more than once. Those muscles were quite enchanting. He practically reeked of sex. That was probably why all the housewives he had sex with liked him, too.

She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin up on her hands while she thought about that. Why did he go for those women? Was he really just all about sex and the lack of attachment those women offered while appreciating his body? She had a hard time believing that he cared so little about not only himself but those around him. The look on his face this afternoon had told her as much.

In a sudden burst of understanding, she realized that his home life must have conditioned him to act the way he did. She had once read an article in a medical journal about how a child's behavior often reflected the home situation. So it made sense that because he had grown up in an environment that made him feel completely out of control and he bullied everyone around him to gain some sense of security. It made her sad to think that he was only a jerk because his parents hadn't given him what he needed. His eyes, when he thought no one was looking, told her that he was so much more than an unfeeling boor. A small part of her inexplicably wanted to be the one he let in, the one he trusted. She wanted to see what he was so afraid to show.

Noah Puckerman was still an asshole, but now she knew there was more to him than that. While she didn't exactly vow to crack his shell and bring out who he really was, she was determined to show him that there were people in the world who did think he was worth it, who cared enough to stick around despite his prickly exterior, that even an enemy could see the good in him.

Puck scowled at himself in the mirror as he wiped the steam from its surface. He smoothed saving cream over his skin on either side of his mohawk and rinsed his razor before dragging it across his skull. This style was so high maintenance, but he didn't mind. It totally fit his image. What did not fit his image was Rachel. His scowl deepened as she invaded his thoughts again. She did not belong in his head.

He managed to finish his shave without nicking himself and used a wet towel to wipe away the remainder of the shaving cream. Scratching his chest, he remembered the brief full-frontal contact with Rachel when she had spun around the corner without looking and slammed straight into him. She had been pressed against him for less than a second, but he could still feel her breasts squished against him and the soft brush of her breath across his neck as the impact drove the air from her body.

He hadn't quite known what to do when she toppled over. Since joining Glee, he had made an effort to curb his more vicious tendencies toward the freaks, but he couldn't bend down and help her gather her things. That would have been completely against the "Make Freaks Miserable" philosophy that he had lived by for the last several years. It was a huge concession that he didn't kick her books away out of spite. He should have just walked away, but that didn't happen. All he could do was stand there and stare at her as she gathered her things, wondering why she refused to look at him.

With a small huff that had brought him around, she pushed the last of her books back into her bag. Impulsively, he had stuck his hand out to help her up. His gut twisted as he thought of how she had flinched away from him and fallen again. He had never and would never physically hurt a woman no matter how much he disliked her, so the flash of alarm on her face had sparked his anger. He would never be that kind of man.

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he had said, fully expecting her to push herself up, totally surprised when she slid her hand into his. It was tiny and warm. He closed his hand around hers and pulled her up harder than he meant to, feeling a twinge of guilt at the small whimper she let out, but he couldn't apologise. Not yet, anyway.

"Thank you," she had said, her face a mixture of wariness and forced cheer.

Somehow he was mesmerized by the way her lips moved as they formed those words, holding the shape of the last sound so that it looked like she was preparing for a kiss. And he wanted to give it to her. He was so horrified at his thoughts that he hadn't registered what she had said next before she flounced off around the corner and out of sight. He was too disturbed that he had been staring at her without a single malicious thought in his head.

Puck shook his head to get rid of his musings. No good could come from thinking about Rachel Berry. Not that he cared, but she was already way hung up on Finn and that entire situation didn't need more complicating. Plus, she was a fr-, a person too different from himself for any compatibility to exist. However, he would, here in the deep dark recesses of his most private thoughts, admit that she wasn't so bad. In fact, he could almost see in her what attracted Finn: the hot body that was soft and tight in all the right places, the obvious vocal talent, the sweetness that was visible every once in a while when she relaxed her guard. He wondered what she would be like if she let her guard down for longer than a few seconds or for someone other than Finn. He wondered if she would let him kiss her.

He snarled and tossed the towel across the room. It was all too much to think about and it was all pointless. He forced his thoughts to Quinn. God, Quinn. Like thinking about her was much better. He scrubbed a hand over his face and flopped down on his bed. If he had thought that she would get pregnant or that Finn would find out, he never would have gone that far. But, he supposed, he hadn't been thinking. Not with his brain, anyway. He groaned. Too much alcohol and rejection had led to that wonderful, awful night.

Quinn's parents had been out of town and she had asked him to come over and check their spa, considering his business. He was still smarting from Santana's stupid reason for dumping him and Quinn was upset about Finn's ridiculous (at the time) interest in Rachel. Well, some wine coolers for her, some more beers for him, a little commiseration about their frustrations and he had leaned over and kissed her.

He could admit to himself that he'd always wanted her and seeing her sitting across from him with pink cheeks and a pout about getting too fat for Finn (which was also ridiculous, Finn was so not that shallow) made him want to comfort her. Unfortunately, the only form of comfort he really knew how to give would get them both in a lot of trouble. But, to his surprise, she kissed him back and while he definitely pushed her for a certain result, she never took one of the many opportunities he gave her to say no. He wasn't that kind of man, either, but he was too far gone to stop himself without a clear signal. Puck hadn't ever had much self control.

The next day had been terrible. Not only did he have a hell of a hangover, but he was feeling really guilty about what had happened. Quinn had refused to look at or speak to him and he had avoided his best friend as much as possible, making some excuse about being sick and hiding in the nurse's office all day. He supposed he really had been sick, but not exactly physically. That was the day he had decided to cease looking for a relationship; older women with experience and no expectations were all he was chasing anymore. No chance of getting hurt there.

Glancing at the clock, Puck heaved himself to his feet and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt before heading out to the kitchen. His dad lay drunk and bloated on the couch, a half empty bottle of beer hanging from one hand and his mouth opened wide in a snore. Puck shook his head in disgust. He had no idea why his mother had taken that man back again. He didn't understand why she had taken him back any of the other times either, but that was between his father and herself. Absently, he rubbed his arm, thinking of the way it always hurt when the weather was cold.

He was careful not to make too much noise as he grabbed a tupperware container from the refrigerator with his name printed neatly in his mother's handwriting. "Love you!" she had scrawled under his name. He snorted softly, but felt guilty about it. He knew she meant it. She was a good woman and a good mother, except when it came to her choice of men, namely his father.

Puck pressed the button on the microwave slowly to avoid the loud pop when it opened on its own and placed the container inside, closing the door the same way. He punched the numbers in fast and waited around while the food heated so that he could catch it before it beeped. He really didn't feel like dealing with his dad tonight. As the counter hit zero one, he pulled the food out and snagged a fork from the cutlery drawer.

It was only when his door was shut and the lock was in place that he took a full breath. He couldn't wait to get out of this town.