A/N: Thanks to all of you for the encouragement. I hope you enjoy.

"Rachel, do you remember when you said you'd do anything short of nudity or animal cruelty to win Nationals?"

Rachel looks at Kurt cautiously. "Yesss...," she draws out, temporizing.

Kurt smiles brightly, pats her hand. "Well, this is going to require nudity."

Her jaw drops and for perhaps the first time in her life, she's too dumbfounded to say anything. (Later, she's going to regret that.)

The two of them are in the very back row of the auditorium, conducting their bi-weekly Glee Leadership Advisory Meeting (GLAM: Kurt came up with the acronym), and really, she should have known something was up from the second that he showed up with her favorite soy-infused chai latte. It's not that they don't get along; for the most part, they do. Even given their rocky history, she considers him a friend, albeit one who is ridiculously quick to criticize her wardrobe. Truthfully, now that they are reaching the end of senior year, his barbs have lost a lot of bite, and honestly, she can't imagine a better co-captain.

She certainly doesn't want to be critical of her ex-boyfriend. Finn is a lovely person. And when the musical adaptation of her life is inevitably staged, it might make a more compelling dramatic narrative for her boyishly charming male lead to continue on as her partner-after all, she's living proof that people are susceptible to that trope. Unfortunately, in terms of co-captaincy, Finn lacks the willingness to do what it takes, even to be disliked if necessary, that truly effective leadership requires. (When he volunteers to step down, she thinks they're both relieved, which is sort of par for the course. Their semi-awkward break-up just provides them both with an excuse.)

Kurt on the other hand? He's an iron fist in a velvet glove and she absolutely respects that. Which is why she will give him the courtesy of her full attention, even as she has serious misgivings about the turn this conversation is taking.

"Kurt," she hisses in an undertone, unwilling to disturb the rehearsal currently in progress on stage, "I think I've made it quite clear that as much as I admire Gypsy and while burlesque may be back, stripping, even tastefully behind screens, is not..."

He waves this away. "No, no. You were absolutely right. Overdone. Cliche almost."

Overdone? Cliche? Since he had argued the exact opposite point only three days ago, Rachel isn't buying it.

"No, no, this is much more serious than your lack of vision," Kurt continues, ignoring her outraged squeak. "This has to do with our resident bad-boy baritone." He gestures across the rows of seat to the stage where a group of musicians are arranged to one side. Noah stands at center stage, hands cradling his guitar, adjusting the tuning pegs. He trades a few comments back and forth with Brad and then as the music starts, he stares out into the empty seats of the auditorium with the slightest hint of a frown on his face.

"He has seemed a little out-of-sorts recently," she says worriedly.

"Oh it's worse than that," Kurt assures her in a whisper. "You know as well as I do that his rhythm is all off. He was half a beat behind on his entrance for Higher Ground and he nearly dropped Quinn on the lift in the Green Day medley yesterday. She was not amused."

"I know!" Rachel says with frustration, "I just don't understand why! I worked with him for an hour on last Thursday on that lift and he performed it perfectly!"

"He did? Well, we might be able to change the choreography around. And we can tighten up that entrance if I have to push him out on stage myself. But you know that's not really the problem."

She sighs. "I know. It's the solo isn't it?"

On stage, Puck opens with the first verse.

There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
where nothing seems to go your way
where nothing seems to turn out right
there may come a time, you just cant seem to find your way

Kurt continues quietly, "Rachel, Let It Be Me is the perfect bridge for our performance. We've been working for months on it, and Puck can totally pull it off. We've all heard it. But recently..."

"He's hitting all the notes."

"I know..."

Puck pauses and makes a few notes on his sheet music and then picks back up with another verse.

I remember all too well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own

Rachel bites her lip before saying softly, "His tone is lovely and there's no question that his guitar playing adds a certain dimension."

"I agree. Technically, he's as good as he's ever been. But there's something missing, some spark and if we're going to win Nationals, everything has to be perfect, not just technically excellent. And we've only got two weeks until Nationals to fix this."

On stage, the spotlight tightens until the only possible focus is on Noah, his chiseled features, the lines of his body, his hands moving surely along the strings of the guitar.

Kurt's right, Rachel knows he is, even if the change in Noah's performance is almost infinitesimal and impossible to define. They missed the top ten at Nationals by a hairbreadth last year. This year, she's determined to take it all.

She listens intently as Noah breaks into the final stanza and chorus.

That's when you need someone
Someone that you can call
When all your faith is gone
It feels like you can't go on

Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me

With the last notes of the music trailing away, Puck gruffly thanks the Brad and the rest of the musicians and stalks to the wings. Rachel can read frustration in the set of his shoulders.

Kurt makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "Poor boy. It's practically seeping out of his pores."

"What are you talking about Kurt?"

"Puck's problem. The one that's got him so tied up in knots. After exhaustive research in which I made use of all available sources, including, ugh, Jacob Ben Israel's blog, and by the way, have you considered a restraining order?"

"Every single day. Get to the point, Kurt."

"Right you are. Anyway, I found out what the problem is. Sex. Specifically, the lack thereof. Our resident sex shark isn't getting any and it's throwing him off."

Rachel scoffs. "Firstly, that's a ridiculous correlation. There is no causal link between sexual gratification and vocal ability. And secondly, I sincerely doubt that Puck isn't 'getting any' as you so charmingly put it. I doubt he's gone without for as much as a week since he lost his virginity to Hannah Jacobs at age thirteen."

Kurt raises one eyebrow and Rachel grudgingly explains, "The J.C.C. basement during the youth group Hanukkah party. I was sent down to get extra cups and..."

Clapping his hands over his ears, Kurt squeals, "TMI! TMI!," and then seeing Rachel's mouth close cautiously continues. "Well all I can tell you is that all my sources agree. Puck hasn't had carnal relations with anyone for at least a month. Not since Brittany's party during spring break."

Rachel chokes. "Brittany's party? Spring break?"

Kurt sounds awed. "Hard to believe, isn't it. But nothing. Not Cheerios. No Cougars. It's like a total sexual interdiction."

Rachel is still stuttering. "Well...even if...how can you make the connection?"

"Oh Rachel, Rachel. Poor innocent Rachel. Do you remember Invitationals, sophomore year?"

"Of course."

"April Rhodes, locker room."

"That drunken floozy! But that's just one case."

"And Regionals, junior year? Puck's amazing rendition of Sympathy for the Devil?"

"How could I forget? It was wonderful!" And incredibly hot.

"Apparently so were Santana and Brittany. In the back of the bus."

Ugh. Really? "The bus we traveled in?"

"Unfortunately. And the Holiday concert..."

"Enough! Please. Let's say you've proved your point. Let's say that Puck sings better when..." she trails off.

"When he's all sexed up," Kurt finishes her sentence.

"Well, lets say he does. What can we do about it?" She already feels a little sick. Yes. That is absolutely how she is going to define that funny feeling in her stomach.

"Not we. You."

"Me?" she says, panic creeping into her voice. "Kurt, you're...that is..."

Kurt looks at her critically. "I agree, it's not ideal, but when you look at it from a practical standpoint, you're the only possible candidate." He pulls out his GLAM notebook to show her the series of graphs and graphic organizers that he's created. (Darn him for using her weaknesses against her!) "Face it Rachel. This needs to stay within Glee Club. Puck can be very distractible. We can't very well bring him to Nationals in this state. Who knows who he'll end up with?" He looks at her significantly and Rachel makes a face at him. Jesse St. James was a long time ago.

As much as it pains her to admit it, Kurt may have a point. She certainly doesn't want to see Noah engage in any relations, sexual, romantic or otherwise with a member of a rival team. Solely because it would be terrible for New Directions of course. But there's definitely an out here.

"Santana! Or Brittany, or any of the other girls," she blurts out, ignoring the voice in the back of her head asking her if she really wants an out. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Noah's warm drawl breathing into the crook of her neck while she's pressed between him and Brittany's bedroom door, the music from the party pumping a steady beat while him hand slides up her leg to trace the elastic of her panties. She ruthlessly clamps down on that memory (she's has a lot of practice doing just that recently) and drags her attention back to Kurt.

"Where have you been?" he asks chidingly and she flushes. "After the scare with the suspiciously placed rash last week, Santana rejoined the abstinence club and took the pledge. That should last for a couple of weeks or at least until the test results come in. And Brittany finally completed her list three weeks ago, so I think she's off men unless we get a transfer student or something. Mercedes and Tina are both in serious relationships and Quinn's made it very clear that he's not willing to take another ride on that crazy train."

"And you think I am?" Aren't you Rach? That voice again. She much be losing her mind.

"Why wouldn't you? You wouldn't have to date him, just...enjoy his talents! And frankly? Puck's crazy train would be right at home in your station."

"Thank you, Kurt. That's very sweet."

"Now don't go all Joan Crawford on me. I just meant that you can hold your own. But really, if you don't think it's a good idea, just forget it. Maybe we'll get lucky and one of those top ten teams will slip up. Perfection's overrated, right?"

Oh no. She's not stupid enough to fall for this.

He carefully returns his notebook to his bag and smiles brilliantly at her before continuing: "And really, if you aren't up for it, you aren't. After all, we can't all be Evita."

She lets out an annoyed puff of air. "I know that you're trying to do, Kurt."

"Is it working?"

Absolutely not. "Yes." Darn it!

Kurt squeals and hugs her. "I knew you wouldn't let us down! Don't worry about a thing, I'm sure I can come up with the perfect plan. You can wrap this up in a couple of days and then Nationals here we come!"

Really? She's going to take advice on how to seduce Noah from a man who's skin-care regimen is more rigorous than her own?

She swallows heavily and squeezes her thighs together to assuage the unexpected ache. (And it is. It is absolutely unexpected, because why in the world would she be thinking about Noah...and his lovely arms...and his bad boy persona...and his talented mouth...and his roaming hands in that way? Because Brittany's party was clearly just some kind of fluke.)

Oh lord. She can absolutely do this. It's for the greater good after all.

A/N: Song: Let It Be Me by Ray LaMontagne