I've been gone from the site for a few years so I'm not sure if anyone did this yet (and not sure if anyone reads Puckleberry anymore) but I've had one last Puck/Rachel story in me for a while. Disclaimer: Don't own the show or songs mentioned.

###

There was a loud and persistent pounding on the front door, at three o'clock in the morning, that Rachel, Kurt, and Santana were doing their best to ignore. Rachel believed, if it was important, the person would return at a decent hour, Kurt wasn't interested if it wasn't one of the Ryans (Gosling or Reynolds, but he'd settle for Phillippe), while Santana pondered the difficulty involved in controlling blood splatter and hiding a dead body that may or may not have been dismembered. When the knocking began to get louder, and the neighbors started to scream about the noise (hypocrites) with threats of calling the police, Rachel begrudgingly stomped her way to the door.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, standing behind her.

She turned and saw him holding a baseball bat which, she was certain, if it did actually belong to him, it was only due to its use in a choreographed musical number of some sort. Santana cautiously peeked out from behind his shoulder holding, more realistically, a knife that must have come from her private stock since it didn't resemble any of the ones they kept in the kitchen.

Rachel accused, "Why are you hiding behind Kurt? There's nothing to be afraid of."

The other woman straightened her posture and replied, "Santana Lopez fears nothing but, if there's a psychopath on the other side of that door, looking to knit sweaters with our intestines, you can be damn sure I'm pushing Kurt their way and running. No offense."

"None taken since I had every intention of doing the same with you," Kurt admitted.

"One of us had to be honest about it," she answered with a shrug.

Kurt nodded in agreement as Rachel rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. She mentally prepared herself for the possibility of a serial killer, clenched her free hand to do God knows what, then swung the door open to see Noah Puckerman. He held a duffle bag and rolled up sleeping bag in one hand, his arm flexing slightly from the weight, something Rachel (mostly) didn't notice, and a guitar case in his other.

"'Sup, Berry…" Puck said with a head nod then stared past her to Kurt, "…Hummel…" then to Santana and added in an almost sneer, "…Lopez."

Rachel's face held a look of confusion while Kurt and Santana showed irritation at their past classmate's presence.

"This place is turning into a Lima High 'Follow Your Dreams' Halfway house," Kurt bitterly commented.

"Relax," Puck countered. "I'm not here for any of that stupid-ass, believe in yourself, bullshit."

Rachel asked, "Then, why are you here, Noah?"

He gave her a long, calculating stare and replied, "Can't say."

"How long will you be staying?"

"As long as it takes," he answered.

Her eyes narrowed even more than they already had, turning to slits. "To do what?"

"Can't say," he repeated and stepped past her, not waiting to be invited in.

His bags were tossed onto the floor but the guitar case was gently placed next to them as he looked around the large loft. "Nice place," he complemented. "Where do I sleep?"

"At the Motel 6," Kurt answered.

Santana corrected, "Only until the money runs out. Then, the city offers a fine selection of cardboard boxes."

"Stop being rude," Rachel chastised. "Noah, you're more than welcome to stay with us for as long as it takes to…" she hesitated, not wanting to make any assumptions about his future employment (or possible fleeing from law enforcement), then continued, "…do whatever it is you have planned."

"Thanks, Berry," Puck said with a grin that she would never admit was charming. "I always liked you."

Rolling her eyes at Rachel's slight blush, Santana asked, "How are you going to pay your share of the rent?"

"I'll get a job," he answered.

"Cleaning pools?" Kurt questioned with obvious dual meaning, reminding him of his past career track that served as a cover for bagging The Real Housewives of Lima.

Puck glared at the other man and responded, "That's not my thing anymore. I'll get a job doing something else."

"Like what?" Santana questioned. "The only other thing you're good at is sex and the male prostitute quota is full around here. Right, Rachel?"

"Heard about that," Puck acknowledged and, just when Rachel expected an insult about her intelligence for falling into such a situation, he continued, "That dude ever shows his face around here, he'll be losing his money maker, if you get what I'm saying." With that, he rolled his sleeping bag out almost right where he stood, pulled off his shirt, and stretched out on the camping blanket. "Oh!" he exclaimed then sat up abruptly, "I got you guys something." The presents were found relatively quickly and he tossed them to his new roommates.

"Whistles?" Kurt asked.

"Rape whistles," Noah corrected with a grin. "They glow in the dark."

###

Puck slept in that same spot, a few feet from the front door, for the two weeks that followed, leaving just after Rachel and Kurt did for class every day and not returning until they got home. He tagged along anytime they went to Callbacks, where he ushered them to a back corner and sat quietly, glaring at everyone and never joining them onstage despite Rachel's insistence that fate brought the four of them together for an ABBA mash-up. Puck refused, maintaining that it was not okay for a straight man to sing ABBA…ever…and would then turn to Kurt to apologize for any offence incurred for implying that it was acceptable or expected of non-straight men to sing songs popularized by the Swedish group. Kurt never paid attention though, already too excited over the possibilities of combining "Take a Chance on Me" and "Gonna Sing You My Love Song".

Rachel was the only one that seemed to notice the change in Puck over those two weeks and always stared in awe whenever his behavior deviated from the Noah Puckerman they went to school with. He immediately made amends any time he believed himself to have caused offense to anyone, continued to listen attentively to Rachel when she spoke about her day well after Kurt and Santana left the room, cooked meals and cleaned up after, and (she could tell in his occasional hesitation to respond) he started to think about his words before opening his mouth.

It was in those moments, when Rachel became hypnotized by the man, that Santana had to flick her in the forehead to get her attention or, in more extreme cases, spray her with a water bottle as if she were disciplining a cat for jumping on the kitchen table.

Puck was able to find a job right away by playing to his strengths and applying at every gay bar and cougar hangout in a twenty mile radius of the loft. He reasoned, for the right amount of money, he wasn't above getting his ass pinched by an old chick or winking at another dude. So, when they didn't go to Callbacks, they frequented the bar he worked in (at his insistence) where they were supplied with free drinks and food. There was the added bonus of Puck acting as Kurt's occasional wingman, enough incentive to keep the group going back to an establishment frequented, almost entirely, by men. Rachel wasn't sure why, but her initial instinct was to breathe a sigh of relief at finding out he wasn't going to be hindering the inhibitions of horny old women with perverted bucket lists inspired by smutty novels.

They knew he was hired at a themed bar, but had no idea what the theme was or that there was a dress code for employees until their first visit. Puck appeared only slightly embarrassed when three sets of wide eyes stared at him, barely covered in a white toga.

"Adonis," Kurt said, pointing out the name of the establishment, enthralled not by Puck but by his various coworkers in similar attire. "I get it and I totally approve." He looked upward and added, "Thank you, Zeus."

"What happened to 'no shirt, no shoes, no service'?" Santana asked, taking a seat at the bar directly in front of Puck, the only one committed to teasing their friend since Rachel seemed content just to stare at him and Kurt was long gone.

Noah placed a glass filled with pink liquid in front of Santana and winked, the signal that if she kept her mouth shut, there would be more to follow. She took the drink, nodded in approval, and left for the dance floor while Rachel stayed on her stool for the rest of the night, talking to Puck while he served the patrons. The chair became her permanent perch each time they returned.

It took four separate trips to Adonis before Santana realized (more like Rachel told her) Puck wasn't putting alcohol in her drinks and all those 'hangovers' and 'drunk' texts sent to Brittany were a lie. Looking back, she remembered a permanent smirk on Puckerman's face as she consumed large stacks of pancakes and entire bags of potato chips when they got home because, (everyone knows) when you're drunk, calories don't count.

###

One day in the late afternoon, Puck sat on the couch, strumming his guitar when Kurt entered the apartment alone. "Where's Rachel?" Noah asked the second the front door was shut, indicating no one else was going to enter.

While thumbing through the letters and junk mail he'd just picked up from their mailbox in the lobby, Kurt answered, "School."

"She doesn't have class right now," Puck reminded. "She was supposed to come home with you."

Kurt dropped his arms and stared at his roommate. "Her dance teacher is a complete bitch with something against her so she stayed behind to practice for a few hours."

"The sun will be down in a few hours."

"Barring any natural disasters that could stop the Earth's rotation," he commented.

"She can't be out there, on her own, in the dark. Don't you know what happens to young women, on the streets, when it's dark?"

"Vampire seduction?" the smaller man questioned, not understanding Puck's growing concern.

He disregarded the comment and grabbed his jacket, rushing out and down almost an entire flight of stairs before it registered with a still confused Kurt that it fell on him to shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" Santana asked, having watched the entire interaction from the kitchen.

"Apparently," Kurt answered, back to his inspection of the mail, "Puck has something against vampires."

Rachel picked her bag up from the floor in the dance studio, finished with practice for the night, and was startled when an unexpected hand appeared on the strap to gently pull it from her grasp. It took an extra second to recognize the face in front of her since it was out of place.

"Noah," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd see if you wanted to walk home with me."

"You were in the neighborhood?" she repeated suspiciously. He replied with a nod of his head and Rachel asked, "Doing what?"

"Can't say," he answered; the usual response whenever his reason for being in the city was revisited.

She continued to study Puck's face, hoping her intense stare would cause him to break and supply her with a real answer. Instead, her concentration faltered when the warmth of his thumb met her cheek, wiping away at the best placed piece of dirt in the history of the world…no, universe…galaxy? She never took an Astrology class so how was she supposed to know which one was bigger? Wait…is that Astronomy? Doesn't matter. Plans were set in motion to remove the magnificent spec from his finger and set up a shrine or, at the very least, have it framed since it was the first time Noah had made contact with her in the entire month he'd been living in New York. There were several near brushes between them, set in motion intentionally by Rachel, but Puck was always very careful to maintain the imaginary bubble of space that constantly separated their skin, even if it meant jerking his body away as if he were avoiding an open flame.

Rachel wasn't sure when her feelings for Noah developed but, sometime after he showed back up in her life, the dreams started; her initial hint that she was falling for him. They were innocent enough at first. He'd make a brief appearance on the back of a camel, asking if she needed a ride (she should have gotten the symbolism of that one right away) then he became a more permanent fixture, usually wearing his work uniform and doing things that would have made the old Rachel Berry, the less worldly one, blush.

It was why she stayed planted in one spot at Adonis, talking to Puck all night while he poured drinks, and the reason she stopped singing at Callbacks, perfectly happy to stay at their table with him. She found herself hurrying home after class (that night being the one exception) and, pathetically enough, waking up early so she could watch him sleep for a minute or two (after deciding any longer than that would be on the cusp of creepiness).

The stare turned into a soft gaze, from both, as their heads began to gravitate toward each other, him ducking down slightly while she went up on her tip toes.

"I hope I'm interrupting," Cassandra July stated from the door way, breaking the hold Rachel had over Puck…or Puck had over Rachel (she wasn't quite sure who was in control of the situation).

Rachel rolled her eyes as the other woman, literally, sauntered into the room (because, honestly, who saunters aside from prostitutes and strippers), moving her hips from side to side in an over exaggerated fashion to draw attention to them. After Rachel took a step back from him, the teacher walked a slow, predatory, circle around Puck, purposely grazing his arm with her chest along the way (and where were the catlike reflexes when it came to avoiding that one).

Cassie opened her mouth but Puck put his hand up, cutting off anything that was about to come from it. "I'm going to stop you right there because I've been on the receiving end of a look like that too many times to not know what it's for. Not interested. Ready, Berry?" he asked.

Rachel began inspecting the floor as soon as the intentions of her teacher became evident in an effort to avoid witnessing Noah's reaction to such an offer; there being no way he would turn it down. Aside from being a massive bitch, Cassandra July was everything any Broadway hopeful wanted to be; confident, gorgeous, legs for miles, and an incredible singer. Rachel knew she could sing Cassie under the table but her physical self esteem was chipping away at the other woman's constant belittling. That was why she had a hard time wrapping her head around everything that transpired in those brief seconds.

"Ready," she replied after recovering from the shock, with no idea as to how long it took to accomplish the release of that single word. For all Rachel knew, she stood, unblinking, for an hour before the response managed to pass her lips. She followed him out the door without a second glance to her teacher; too busy grinning from ear to ear to feel pity for the blonde's embarrassment. As she exited the room, there might have been giddiness in her step that, quite possibly, displayed itself as a saunter.

###

Puck heard a scream that walked the line between "a serial killer just made me watch as he cut chunks of my boyfriend's face off" scream and "a ghost zombie crawling on the ceiling," scream. It caused him to drop everything he was doing and run, reaching the kitchen on high alert. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

Kurt was the only one there and stared, scandalized, by Puck's appearance. "Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" he yelled but didn't avert his eyes.

"I heard a scream and thought Rachel was in trouble," Puck explained with no shame over being completely naked or the fact that water was still dripping off of him from the shower he jumped out of.

Kurt snapped, "Rachel isn't even here!"

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"It shouldn't matter whether you knew it or not. Common courtesy dictates that it's never okay walk around naked in a civilized society!"

"Does common courtesy also dictate that you shouldn't stare at the person that's walking around naked?" Noah challenged smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's still a little hazy on that one," Kurt answered just as the front door opened.

Santana and Rachel entered, carrying grocery bags, and laughing over something said when they were still in the hallway. It took them a moment to realize Puck was standing in the middle of the kitchen naked and, when they did, Santana acted as if it were no big deal while Rachel looked away…a few seconds slower than she would have had it been anyone else in front of her with no clothes.

"Care to explain?" Santana offered.

Puck shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Hummel screamed in a way that was an embarrassment to dudes everywhere and I interpreted it as a cry for help." Suddenly realizing Rachel was in the room, Puck grabbed a small kitchen towel and used it to cover his crotch.

"Let's never use that one to dry dishes again," Kurt requested.

"Right," Santana agreed. "We don't want any of our plates to develop a rash or an unusual discharge."

"You know what they say," Puck retaliated, "I'm rubber, you're a bitch." He didn't give her a chance to continue the battle and moved on, "What were you screaming about anyway, Hummel?"

Kurt looked slightly embarrassed then admitted, "I thought I saw a mouse but it was just my Gucci ear muffs."

"You were close," Santana insulted, "those knock offs were probably made with rat fur."

"Just because I bought them discounted-"

"From the back of a guy's trunk."

While they continued to argue over the authenticity of the fashion accessory, Puck looked at Rachel and, feeling his eyes on her, she took the chance of returning the gaze. He gestured to their bickering friends with a jerk of his head and a smile that she returned.

"Watch this," he whispered then, quite unexpectedly, tossed the small towel so it would land on Kurt's head.

"Gross!" the other man exclaimed, throwing the fabric to the floor as Noah was already on his way back to the bathroom. "Now I have to go scrub my face with steel wool."

Instead of keeping an eye on Kurt's reaction, Rachel forgot all about her need to respect Puck's privacy (since he willingly put everything on display), and watched him leave the room. Rightfully so, it didn't take long before she felt the cold spray of water in her face with the realization that Santana had started adding ice to the bottle.

###

A young woman stood at the bar waiting for the drinks Puck was preparing while Rachel sat in her seat, conversing with him when he was available. All night long, as far as he'd observed from each trip the stranger made to order another round for the bachelorette party she was with, a permanent scowl clouded her features that made RBF look like The Joker in 'Batman'.

He sat the tray full of shot glasses in front of her and inquired, "You alright?"

"My sister is getting married next week," she replied with no sign of excitement whatsoever.

"Is she marrying Charles Manson?"

"No."

"Then why do you look so pissed about it?"

"I saw him first…" she started then drank one of the shots in front of her, "…but she went over to break the ice for me." At the completion of her statement, another small glass of burning liquid was emptied into her mouth.

"And they hit it off," he deduced.

"If I'd gone over myself it would be me getting married next week." A third shot was taken.

Puck shook his head sympathetically and responded, "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"You might have talked to him for a few minutes and found out you had some things in common but, the second he met her, it would have been over for you."

"You're such an asshole!" the woman yelled but didn't leave, as if she were looking for a fight.

"I am," he agreed all too quickly. "But I'm an asshole who knows, when two people are meant to be together, there's not much anyone can do to stop it." He refilled the empty glasses for her. "Look, you're sister met the right guy for her and you need to be happy for them or that little bit of bitterness you have now will grow until it's all you can taste."

Kurt appeared beside Rachel, wanting to talk to her about something that would have to wait because she ignored him, choosing instead to absorb Noah's words of wisdom. Her friend looked back and forth between her and Puck then, after rolling his eyes, went to find Santana to tell her about the sixty-year-old guy, in an all white suit (and matching fedora), that hit on him.

Puck continued, "You should be with the guy that's still out there looking for you." He pushed the tray of shots forward slightly, his way of ending the conversation. "On the house."

The stranger stared at him for a moment, still processing his advice and, with an expression that finally showed acceptance, took the drinks and returned to her friends.

"You're a romantic at heart who believes in fate," Rachel said once the girl left. "Who knew?"

"No one," he replied. "Let's keep it that way."

"Your boss is pretty generous with all the free drinks."

"Not really," Puck replied, keeping an eye on the tray full of his paycheck. "I'll cover it before I leave."

"You end up paying for everything you give away?"

Nearly five feet from her table, the woman was bumped by a salsa dancing couple, sending the shot glasses to the ground while several of her cohorts, obviously drunker than her, pointed and screamed, "Party foul!"

"Shit," Noah said, not replying to the question. "I'll be right back." He grabbed several bar towels and a small hand broom with a dust pan to sweep up the broken glass, then hustled to get to the mess before it could get spread around, creating a potential lawsuit.

Rachel mentally calculated all the drinks and food he'd given to his three roommates over the few months he'd worked there and wondered how much of his money went toward feeding them. She'd always assumed he did something sly like putting in the order then conveniently losing the bill or buttering up the kitchen staff to cook things without a ticket, but she never would have guessed he was paying for everything himself. Her jaw unhinged in shock as her tally reached hundreds of dollars in spanakopita, dolmades, baklava, and some of the pricier dishes (once it occurred to Kurt and Santana that they weren't paying for anything they ordered). Wide brown eyes shot to Puck as he knelt down, unnoticed by most of the bar patrons even as they knocked into him, causing one of his hands to shoot out to catch himself, landing directly in the shards of glass.

He wasn't completely ignored since the bachelorette party saw figurative blood in the water (they were all too oblivious to notice that his hand was actually bleeding) and several of them started to circle like hammerhead sharks (Did she develop a dirty mind from hanging out with Santana or would anyone else think "supreme slut" when they heard "hammerhead"). Rachel leaned over the wooden bar and quickly grabbed a few more towels then could have qualified for the Olympics in the short time it took to get to him, not wanting to give any of the other women the opportunity to drag him off for an, 'I had sex with a bartender in a bathroom stall' story to giggle about with all her best girlfriends on Monday.

She was two steps too late; beaten to him by the same chick he offered advice and free alcohol to barely one minute prior (it was decided she would be named Whorey McWhoreface). Her hand was on top of his, "helping" him soak up the liquid with the rags when Rachel arrived on the scene, trailed closely by Kurt, who was simply being nosey.

Saying, "To hell with it," Rachel dropped down as well, hoping to divert Noah's attention and succeeding when he glanced up as soon as her slender fingers were in his line of sight.

"Don't," he warned. "There's broken glass everywhere. I don't want you to get cut."

"That's so sweet," Whorey said after assuming he was speaking to her.

Puck ignored Miss McWhoreface, or didn't notice she was there to begin with, and lost the ability to sweep up the mess when Rachel grabbed his injured hand to clean the wound with one of her towels.

"I'm alright," he assured but didn't pull away, freezing in place while she worked.

"When do you get off?" Whorey asked, implanting herself back into the situation.

Rachel went into panic mode when the offer disrupted the hold her touch had over him, like implied sex was the trigger to break Noah Puckerman from any hypnotic trance. She was losing him and there was nothing left in her arsenal to bring him back without making things weird between them the next day.

"I really appreciate your interest but I'm taken," he said as gently as possible, yet another difference between the old and new Noah.

"I thought you said you were single, Mr. Puckerman," his boss stated from behind them, causing Puck to spin around suddenly, standing between Kurt and Rachel while Whorey limped off to lick her wounds.

"I was when I started working here," he answered with an effortless lie, "but that all changed when I met this sweet piece of ass right here."

In about one second, Rachel mentally ran through everything she could possibly get away with in order to cover for Puck and was ecstatic she stood next to him instead of Santana. Who knew what the Latina would have pulled for shock value alone and, with their questionable past, he probably would have allowed it. Among the ponderings floating around in Rachel's head, she wondered, could she squeeze in a pet name? Wrap her arms around his waist and press her cheek to his chest? Would she have the nerve to kiss him or, even better, would he take control and do all of those things with her?

To Rachel's dismay, Puck did take the reins but not in the way she'd hoped. She saw it from the corner of her eye and, before she could fully realize what was happening, Noah had his arm around Kurt and a hand on his chin to guide his face to the side, creating a better angle to be able to plant an unexpected kiss on the smaller man's lips.

He pulled away slowly and, adoringly, stared at Kurt. "Is that creepy guy in last year's loafers still hitting on you, babe?"

Kurt was shocked beyond belief but not unpleasantly. Eventually, he was able to simply nod his head in the affirmative and bring an arm up to rest around Puck's waist, unknowingly receiving a glare from Rachel in response.

"It's the price you pay for being so beautiful," Puck complimented then lightly kissed Kurt on the nose. "This is my boss, Martin," he introduced. "Martin, this is Kurt."

"Nice to meet you," Martin said then directed, "Finish cleaning this mess up," and walked away.

"What the hell was that?" Rachel asked, still unsure if she'd imagined the whole thing. The proof that she hadn't was that the pair were still mid-embrace so she put her hands between the men and pushed them apart, offering an angry stare to Kurt in the process.

Puck answered, "He might think I'm gay because I flirted with him a little bit to get my job."

"But, he's not gay," Kurt informed.

"Something I figured out after the fact," he replied with a slight blush of embarrassment. "And, as it turns out, it wasn't a requirement to work here anyway. Aaron and Wyatt aren't gay either."

"Oh, Wyatt's gay," Kurt interjected confidently. "Whether he knows it yet or not. Maybe he needs help figuring it out," he pondered out loud then left in search of Wyatt.

"Why didn't you just play it off as a misunderstanding and tell him you're straight?" Rachel questioned.

"I'd already run my hand down his chest and giggled at one of his lame jokes. I was in too deep." He turned to glance at Kurt across the bar and didn't have to be able to hear the conversation to know he was shamelessly flirting with Wyatt right in front of their boss. "And now, I'm going to have to make excuses for my boyfriend's blatantly disrespectful behavior."

They stayed and waited for Puck's shift to end then all walked home together, Rachel crossing her arms over her chest to fight the chilly November air. Since discovering her feelings for Noah, she'd hoped they were a fleeting infatuation until he draped his jacket across her shoulders, without her asking, and she spent the rest of the walk trying to smell the collar without being noticed.

###

Toast. It was a simple enough breakfast to make, something Rachel had prepared hundreds of times over with no unexpected incidents. She pushed the bread down into the toaster then moved on to preparing a pot of coffee when the smell of smoke filled the air and she looked to the only likely culprit. One second, she saw the flames, in the next, the obnoxiously loud beeping started, and in the one that followed, Noah appeared with a fire extinguisher. Were the flames high enough to warrant said fire extinguisher? No. Did he smother the toaster, counter, and wall with white foam anyway? Yes.

"Are you alright?" he turned and asked even though she was never in any immediate danger.

But that wasn't going to stop her from milking the event for all it was worth. "I think so," Rachel answered and threw herself into his arms, hugging tightly. "You saved me."

"What is that noise?" Kurt shouted, covering his ears.

Puck pulled himself away from Rachel, leaving her with an expression of dissatisfaction, and took a chair over to one of the support beams where he stood on it to reset the smoke detector. Kurt followed and stared at the alarm as if it were a foreign object.

"Has that always been there?" Kurt asked.

Puck answered, "No. I installed them when I got here."

"Them?" Kurt repeated. "There are more?"

"Of course. A place this size needs, at least, four." He notified, "So I went with six. You guys were living in one, big, safety hazard so I put up smoke detectors, got a few extinguishers, and put in some carbon monoxide detectors."

"Why?"

"Because it's the silent killer," Puck answered then moved to the toaster to assess the threat and start cleaning up.

###

It was Puck's night off from Adonis and the first time they'd gone to Callbacks in weeks. Santana and Kurt had already chosen a musical number well before they arrived and were in the process of coordinating the performance while Rachel put forth her best subtle flirtation efforts with Noah. As inconspicuously as possible, she scooted her seat closer to his just before she sat on it then, using the bar's volume level as an excuse, she leaned against him slightly when he spoke, "struggling" to hear him over the loud singing and surrounding conversations.

In the course of their evening, he tugged on her hair once and rested his arm along the back of her chair, causing Rachel to keep her upper body glued to the chunk of wood. Everything was going well until Puck's body tensed at the approach of another male. Noticing his instant agitation, Rachel glanced up to see Brody on his way to their table while Santana and Kurt were finishing their rendition of Billy Joel's 'Tell Her About It'.

"Hello, Rachel," Brody said, smiling.

"You know him?" Noah inquired before Rachel could reply, not needing an introduction to know he didn't like the guy one bit.

"Yes," she answered. "Noah, this is Brody."

"Brody," Puck repeated with irritation and stood, putting himself directly in front of the other man, cutting off Rachel when she moved to her feet to, of all things, potentially protect Brody.

Santana and Kurt returned to the table, both glaring at the unwelcome addition to the group, and Brody had to lean around Puck to comment to Rachel, "Another boyfriend?"

"Don't say it like that," Noah warned.

"Like what?"

"Like she has some sort of shady past filled with throngs of men and a revolving door on her bedroom. Rachel Berry is the closest any of us will ever get to meeting a saint."

Confused, Kurt said to Rachel in a sidebar, "I'm guessing you Jews aren't familiar with the sort of behavior that would exclude an individual from sainthood."

Santana stated, "Sending someone to a crack house."

"Stuffing ballot boxes," Kurt added.

"Having sex with a male prostitute."

"Sh!" Rachel chastised, wanting to listen.

Puck continued, "She's the smartest, most talented, driven person I've ever met and she's damn sure not going to let her life revolve around jumping from guy to guy. I refuse to stand by and let some jackweed insult my best friend like that."

While Rachel was enthralled by the majority of Noah's speech, leaning forward in excitement for the duration of it, she slumped back at the phrase, 'Best friend'…the kiss of death and confirmation that she'd made no actual headway with him. She heard a whispered 'Damn' from Santana, the only proof Rachel needed to know her pursuit wasn't as discreet as she'd originally thought and that a little bit of her dignity was lost in that brief interaction.

"Well," Brody stated, "this was a weird experience. It was…interesting to see you all again but I'm next to perform." Speaking directly to Puck, he inadvertently challenged, "You know the saying, 'Those who can, sing. Those who can't, sit on their asses and watch'."

"Actually," Rachel bragged, "Noah is an incredible singer and performer."

"Really?" Brody asked, puffing his chest as if singing ability and dance off's were the way disputes were settled in the real world. "Well then, why don't you take my spot and sing a song for us?" Puck's confident smirk turned to confusion when Brody amended, "From the banned list."

"Banned list?" Puck repeated. "What the hell is that?"

Rachel pulled him into a huddle with Kurt and Santana then explained, "It's a list of songs that have been forbidden from Callbacks due to being overplayed on the radio, over performed here, or overly cheesy." She took a pause so they could stare at the list and Puck followed their eyes to a framed, neatly typed, piece of paper hanging on a nearby wall. Two stared in reverence, as if it was sacred, Santana showed little interest, and Noah continued to be baffled by the seriousness of a situation that was, as far as he was concerned, one step up from karaoke. They returned to their conversation. "If everyone likes your rendition, you gain legend status. Free drinks every time you come in plus you get to jump to the front of the line to perform."

"If you bomb it, you're banned for life, hence the double meaning of 'Banned List'," Kurt notified. "The last person to succeed was eight years ago."

"Amanda Rowland," Rachel confirmed. "Celine Dion, 'My Heart Will Go On'."

Kurt continued, "She only got away with it because her boyfriend was deaf and she threw in sign language for him. Totally got the sympathy vote."

Noah rolled his eyes and left the social circle to approach the list as a hush fell over the bar and everyone stopped what they were doing to observe him, wondering if he would dare to tackle a feat that was rarely attempted. He studied the words for barely a minute before turning around to ask, "Anyone have a guitar?"

When he began to pluck the strings, the notes were slow, beautiful, and unrecognizable as anything anyone had ever noticed on the banned list. Shortly after, he started to sing slowly and all eyes narrowed, trying to place the song.

Kurt declared, "Ricky Martin, 'She Bangs'. Genius," he complemented simply and continued to listen as attentively as every other person in the bar.

Not only did Puck perform a song but, by the time Rachel's eyes glazed over with desire, he'd launched into an on the spot mash-up, merging it with lyrics from Foreigner's, 'I Want To Know What Love Is'. Scratch that, a mash up of three songs because, randomly, he threw in a few lines of Abba's, 'Take A Chance On Me' with a wink to Rachel in the process, completely ignoring the fact that every woman present (with the exception of Santana and Rachel) was vying for the position of front row, center. While Santana appreciated his musical prowess, it held no power over her and, on the other end of the spectrum; it had such an effect on Rachel that she was completely incapable of operating any of her limbs to be able to propel her body forward. It was musical foreplay at its finest and Rachel longed for Santana's squirt bottle, not to kick her out of the haze she was in (since there was no going back), but to cool her down.

"Never in my life did I ever think I would be aroused by Noah Puckerman," Kurt commented at the conclusion. "I need someone to-" his request was cut short when Santana's open hand smacked across his face. He recovered and placed his own hand over the spot that was certain to be covered with a red, four fingered, imprint. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she replied.

###

The next morning, after a slew of unintelligible sentences from Rachel to Puck, and a fluster in her cheeks all through breakfast, Santana pulled the small brunette into the bathroom.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Santana asked. She raised her hand to stop the explanation before it could start. "It was rhetorical. I know what's going on and I don't want to watch you go through the process of trying to lie your little ass through a bullshit excuse. Why are you being so weird with him?"

"I don't know," Rachel admitted in a slight panic. "I've had a thing for him for-" she stopped suddenly and had a very clear change in demeanor from stressed to secretive then downplayed, "… a little while."

"Pretty much since he got here," Santana stated.

Rachel didn't deny the accusation and continued, "Whatever is going on now, didn't start until last night."

"When your 'thing' decided it was love," she concluded.

"No," Rachel argued. "I know what love feels like; it's what I had with Finn. This can't be love because I've never felt this before."

"That's because you're comparing cute, cuddly, teenage love to lustful, grown ass woman, love. There's a big difference between the two."

She could see the emotional journey in Rachel's features that started at denial, made a pit stop in the land of confusion, briefly passed by something that looked like indigestion, stopped at the red light of, "Holy Shit, I'm in love with Noah Puckerman", then parked herself in a fairly sweet spot at acceptance.

"What am I going to do?" Rachel questioned, back to the slight panic she'd entered the small room with.

"Get me and Kurt a gift certificate to spend a week at a spa then use that time to have your way with him all over this place."

The thought of being intimate with Noah in various areas around the loft derailed her momentarily before she answered, "Not going to happen since he said I'm his best friend, meaning he doesn't feel the same way. I'm not going to keep throwing myself at him until he's forced to give me the, 'I like you, I just don't like you, like you' speech."

"Keep throwing yourself? When did you start?"

"I put a bowl and a spoon on the counter for him every morning for his cereal. I sit in the same room as him when he watches that horribly violent programming…"

"UFC," Santana corrected.

Rachel proceeded without acknowledging the interruption, "I always wipe the grease off his chin whenever he eats pizza and, here's the worst one, the other day, he farted in front of me…" she paused, clearly to be dramatic, "…and I laughed."

"Damn, slut. You better rein your shit in before he finds out he has a stalker."

Her face dropped. "You think I'm acting like a stalker."

"No. I think you're acting crazy and you need to start acting like the hot shit that you know you are. He would be lucky to have you." She rolled her eyes and amended, "Any man would be lucky to have you and, if he doesn't see that, then he's not worth a shit."

"You really mean that?" Rachel asked, her eyes watering slightly from the touching, yet forced, admission.

"I guess." She grunted from the force of Rachel's body smacking into hers and humored her friend with a light pat on the back instead of joining in the full blown hug.

When they left the bathroom, and Puck asked why they went in at the same time, Rachel replied nervously, "Both go we to reasons for our business." Aware of her jumbled words, with wide eyes, she let out a barely audible squeal then escaped to her bedroom to practice being the 'hot shit' that her friend believed her to be.

"What was that about?" Noah asked Santana.

Santana answered simply, and honestly, "Bitch is crazy"

###

Rachel was in her room, staring at the words in Patti LuPone's memoir but, really, daydreaming about Noah, starting with him throwing her bedroom curtain open, his eyes dark from desire, and ending with them on her bed; a position she'd been in with him years prior and, unfortunately, took for granted. The middle of the fantasy was ever changing since she would reach the end then rewind it to rewrite what was said and done over and over, trying to get the imagining perfect.

She wondered if it was possible to will something to happen or if she was just psychic when the curtain swung open to reveal Noah with a serious expression and eyes that (to her) screamed with an extreme longing.

To her great disappointment, his mouth stretched into a wide grin and he declared, "It's the first night of Hanukkah!" His arm popped out from behind the curtain, revealing a box wrapped in blue and white paper that he held out to her but didn't enter the bedroom. "I got you this."

After staring at him in slight amazement, Rachel went over to retrieve the item then gently pulled the gift wrap away and removed the lid from the box. Her jaw unhinged slightly at the sight she was met with.

Puck explained as she continued to be rendered speechless by the object, "I've met all kinds of cool dudes at the bar. One guy works in a place that can print a picture on a piece of metal. How sick is that? And, I have a regular that's a welder so he put it together for me."

She pulled out the silver menorah with a sheet metal picture attached to it, and held it up. "You made me a Barbara Streisand menorah?"

"No," Puck corrected, "It's a Fanny Brice menorah. Check this out." Hidden behind the picture was a small black, plastic, cube and, with more excitement than she'd ever seen anyone with, he pointed to the button on top of it. "Push it."

Doing as she was told, her slender finger pressed the red circle and, as a result, a sound clip from 'Don't Rain On My Parade' played. "That's me," Rachel marveled, recognizing her own voice immediately.

"From Sectionals. Jacob Ben Israel recorded it and I gently encouraged him to help me with this."

The brunette continued to study the object and pressed the button twice more then, as if she'd almost forgotten about it, exclaimed, "I got you something!" She practically jumped for the present hidden under her bed and took it to him.

In stark contrast to her, Puck ripped the paper aside and opened the small box then laughed at the pack of thick socks and a pair of slippers that he slid on immediately.

"A few weeks ago, we were sitting next to each other at breakfast. My foot brushed against yours…accidentally," she tacked on even though it wasn't entirely true, "and it felt like an icicle." Feeling self conscious, she stated, "It's nowhere near as nice as what you got me."

"This was very thoughtful," he said. "Thank you." They maintained eye contact for a long moment before he looked away with an exceptionally brief expression that she could only equate to sadness. Suddenly, he changed his demeanor to be more joyful, and recommended, "Why don't we go put some candles in that thing and show those gentiles how to party?"

Santana and Kurt grumbled when they were dragged to the living room to light the menorah and Puck had to pry the object from Rachel's hands to put it in the window. When he explained to their roommates that he was simply trying to put a little more Jew in the place, Rachel's eyes shot daggers at Santana, urging her not to make any sort of crass comment about Rachel wanting/needing a little more Jew in her as well.

The next day was the same except it started with 'Hava Nagila' blaring as loud as his computer speakers could go just before appeared at her bedroom. "Second night of Hanukkah!" he announced then tossed her a small pouch.

She dumped the contents out and grinned at the chocolate covered in gold foil to look like coins. "Wait," Rachel called when he turned to leave her "doorway" then went to the same hiding place as before to retrieve a small gift bag and crossed the space to take it to him.

He reached inside and removed the contents. "Mittens?"

"You don't have any gloves," she defended.

"Mittens?" Puck repeated then pulled them on. "A grown man can't be taken seriously wearing mittens." For the second day in a row, Rachel almost regretted the gift choice until he added, "Especially not super comfy, way warm, mittens. Just so you know, if anyone gives me shit over them, I'm gonna say they're boxing gloves that I wear all the time in case a fight breaks out."

On the third night, he pushed her curtain aside with a wide grin, and asked, "Wanna spin the dreidel with me?"

She'd hoped he was using hip slang for something nowhere near as wholesome as watching a small, rotating, piece of wood until he opened his hand to show her an actual dreidel. When he made no attempt to move deeper into her room, Rachel got up to follow him to the kitchen table after grabbing his third present, a winter hat that simply had a bow on it.

"To match your boxing gloves," she explained.

"Sweet," he said, pulling it on without removing the bow then lead the way to the kitchen table where they took turns spinning the dreidel that was given to her when they were done.

The next evening, she watched the clock with a gift bag resting on her lap. Puck never directly said he would be visiting her bedroom but, as evidenced by the three days prior, it was expected. Instead of his presence at the curtain, that she left wide open in anticipation of his arrival, she heard his loud cursing and the unmistakable smell of fried grease.

"Ouch!" he shouted just as she walked into the kitchen to see him standing at the stove. Having heard her approach, he looked up and was punished with more popping oil burning his arm. "Shit!" Noah exclaimed then jumped away from the frying pan. "I made you latkes."

Rachel laughed then joined him at the oven and dared to shoot her arm out to adjust the burner controls, turning the heat down.

"Hey," he chastised and snatched the spatula back when she picked it up. "It doesn't count as a gift if you take over the cooking and I'm not going out into that crazy dangerous city to get you a replacement present."

Taking all the joy out of gift receiving, she opened the present she carried out for him and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "This should help with that," Rachel said. "It's a strangulation apparatus. You know, in case you need a weapon to protect yourself during those fights that just happen to break out." As if he needed more convincing, she added, "I saw it in a kung fu movie."

"What kung fu movie did you watch?" he questioned skeptically with one eyebrow raised.

"Crouching Cashmere, Hidden Pashmina," she answered with a straight face. "It was all the rage in Milan and Paris."

After brief deliberation, he conceded, "I'll allow it," and overdramatically tossed one end of the scarf over his shoulder then held up an already made latke in front of her mouth.

Rachel's eyes darted to the potato pancake then back to him and, without diverting her gaze, leaned forward to take a bite. "They're good," she complimented in a soft whisper after swallowing the small portion.

"Mom's recipe," Noah answered in a similar tone, mesmerized by her.

"Have some," Rachel offered. Going one step further, she took the pancake from his grasp then held it up for him as he returned her stare and slowly moved to bite a piece of the latke off.

"Why the hell does it smell like rotten fries cooked in ass oil?" Santana asked rudely, and loudly, entering the room and startling the pair. The glare from Rachel was the only visible sign that she'd interrupted something and was curious as to what words the smaller woman was mentally throwing at her. There was a twinge of emotion in her, that could have been guilt from ruining Rachel's progress, but since the feeling was so new to her, she ignored it.

He was back to her room the next night and stopped at the curtain where she met him with a wrapped box. Noah opened it and grinned at the ugly snowman sweater before pulling it on.

"I feel like you're going for a theme," he stated.

"You don't dress warm enough."

"I don't need to. I'm so hot, I'm impervious to cold," Noah bragged then smiled down at the obnoxiously large, hideous, snowman. "I had something for you tonight but, now, I want get the thing I was going to give you tomorrow."

Rachel took delight in the fact that he'd planned out the sequence of his gifts, meaning he'd given them and her, at least, a small amount of thought in the process. She didn't see his original present but he had a mischievous grin when he returned and passed the new one to her. The loud, almost melodic, laugh she released had no chance of being contained when her eyes landed on the brightly colored kitten sweater.

"Don't get me wrong. I like the new look. I just miss the animal sweaters," he said. "There's something underneath."

She moved the thick fabric out of the way to find matching knee socks and laughed harder than before. Her finger raised, as she tried to calm down and keep a serious face, to signal that she needed a moment of privacy then pulled her curtain closed. When it reopened, not only was she wearing the sweater and knee socks but it was like she stepped into a time machine and the old Rachel Berry was back; complete with a short, pleated skirt and Mary Jane's.

"That's more like it!" Noah complimented. "I just had the overwhelming urge to go buy a slushie."

"That's not nice," Rachel chastised, smacking him in the chest.

"Not to throw at you," he clarified. "I was going to dump it on myself and let you clean it out of my hair…relive our glory days…well, day."

They stopped grinning at the same moment, remembering their sad attempt at dating in high school; the relationship that never was since they both entered it for the wrong reasons.

Puck backed away with a forced smile. "Same time tomorrow," he reminded.

Her sixth gift for him was a wool pea coat that seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"I can't take this," he argued. "It probably cost a fortune and all I got you was that stupid shot glass."

"It didn't cost me anything. It was daddy's and he grew out of it because he's been stress eating since I left."

Just like every other article of clothing she'd given him, he put it on and, bravely, Rachel buttoned the front for him, allowing her fingers to slide down his chest along the way.

"Are all of your warming up methods exhausted yet?" he asked playfully. "I really don't think you can go anywhere else with this unless you get me a space heater or a trip to Florida."

"There are so many other ways to keep people warm," she flirted, keeping her hands on the front of the coat and batting her eyelashes up at him.

He seemed to respond well to the contact, softening his tone, and replied, "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well…" she inched closer, "…there's blankets."

"I've heard of those."

Closer. "A fire."

"Kind of falls in with the space heater," he teased but didn't change his volume level.

Closer. "The inside of a Tauntaun," Rachel said, referencing one of the movies they'd watched together.

He smirked. "Not one of the cleanest ways."

Closer. "A warm bath," she commented and saw his throat move from the gulp that she could also hear.

"That could end up being unclean in a completely different way," he…flirted? It had to have been flirting because, what's not clean about a bath unless there's someone there to make it dirty?

"Body heat." Rachel was only willing to travel but so far to avoid looking completely desperate. She was not quite on her tip toes, her chest just barely pressed against his, and her chin tilted up ever so slightly; leaving the rest of the journey to him.

After a long exhale (borderline groan), he agreed, "Yeah."

In a last ditch attempt to get him to close the final inches (because it was as suggestive as she could possibly get), she whispered, "Friction."

What followed could have been a growl or him clearing his throat but he then nodded slowly and, with a blink, took a step back. "So, you're saying I'm getting a blanket tomorrow."

After all the options she'd given him, and the brief glimmer of hope he gave her, he still chose a blanket. It was almost like an all out rejection and served as the confirmation that he wanted nothing more than friendship. Then and there, she vowed to never put him in the awkward position of being on the receiving end of her shameless advances again.

On the seventh night, he held a concert in the living room featuring every stereotypical Jewish song he could think of including '8 Crazy Nights', a few selections from 'Fiddler on the Roof', and several Streisand classics just for Rachel to sing as she kept her distance. When they were done, she handed him a small box that caused his eyes to light up when he saw what was inside.

"A new yarmulke!" He pulled it out for a closer inspection then exclaimed even louder, "It has the Batman emblem!" Placing it on his head, he commented, "I feel like the baddest ass Jew in all of existence."

"Looks good," she said simply, an effort to avoid complimenting too heavily, then went to bed.

They exchanged gifts on the eighth night as Puck excitedly insisted she go first and Rachel carefully removed the same covering he used on the other presents.

"It's a guide to talent agents," Puck said, pointing out the obvious since she was able to read the title, 'Ultimate Guide to Talent Agents'. "I highlighted all the ones that would jump at the chance to represent you."

"They're all highlighted," she replied, thumbing through the pages covered in bright yellow ink, with a tear falling due to the sweet gesture.

"All but one. I didn't think they'd get you in Wisconsin." He watched her examination of it then, as if it never occurred to him, commented, "You've probably already got a book like that."

"Not like this," Rachel replied truthfully, hugging it to her chest. Every relative she had, and several family friends, all sent her similar reference books when they found out she was moving to New York. She'd combed through the pages of all of them, making sure there wasn't a single agent listed in one that wasn't in the others, and compiled a definitive spreadsheet on her computer. "Thank you," she smiled. There was the strong urge to do more than that; to hug him or kiss his cheek, but she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

Noah bounced around in anticipation and inquired, "Where's mine? What'd you get me?"

The present was handed over and she explained, "I, kind of, saw it as the ultimate mash-up."

He opened the gift then jerked his eyes up to Rachel and she could see the enthusiasm dancing in them as he declared, "It's a Throwing Star of David!"

She laughed, glad he got the 'mash-up' clue.

"This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me in my entire life. I can be a Jew Ninja." He gasped and revealed, "I can do Ninjitsjew."

Not as careful of their boundaries as she was, Puck swept her up, spun them around, then placed her on her feet with a kiss to the top of her head. On a high of excitement, he ran off to show the only other male in the loft, not stopping to realize Kurt would have no interest in the item whatsoever.

###

They decided to keep their New Year celebration low key. The four agreed to a simple dinner, watching the ball drop on television, and a sparkling cider toast to celebrate. Santana volunteered to cook the main course while Rachel and Noah prepared a salad and Kurt set the table.

"So…" Kurt started casually, perfectly positioning the plates, silverware, and napkins, "…Blaine wants to get back together."

Before Rachel or Santana had the opportunity to respond, Puck answered, "Not a good idea."

At some point, the universe decided to play a massive joke on humanity and made Kurt and Puck friends. That didn't stop him from hatefully glaring at the man. "It's a good thing I'm not looking for your approval," Kurt practically spat.

"Obviously, you are or you wouldn't have mentioned it. If you really didn't care what we thought, you'd already be back together, bumping whatever it is gay dudes bump."

"Forget I said anything," Kurt replied with anger still in his voice. "It's nobody's business anyway."

"But it is," Puck corrected. "You're our friend-"

"I see us more as acquaintances," Santana cut in.

"Whatever," Noah said, "You're my friend and I care about what happens to you." He held his hand up to stop Kurt from arguing. "Just hear me out." Kurt's arms crossed over his chest but he didn't speak, simultaneously signaling to Puck that he could continue even if Kurt wasn't going to be receptive to what was said. "If anyone knows cheating, it's me. No additional comments necessary," Noah stated without looking at Santana but, obviously, addressing her. "There's always an excuse for it, 'You hurt me', 'I wanted to hurt you back', 'I felt so alone because you weren't there for me', 'It was just one time', 'It didn't mean anything', but, deep down, at the root of everything, there's a fundamental set of morals that keep people who say they're in love from cheating. Can you understand how absolutely disrespectful he was to you? For however long it took to do the deed, he either kicked you out of his mind or he was thinking of you and wrapped his pig in another blanket anyway."

Focusing on his words, Rachel wasn't paying enough attention to her knife duties and cut her finger. "Ouch," she muttered then raised her hand to look at the wound.

Noah was at her side, bandaging her finger with the hem of his shirt before she had time to see the blood. Rachel gazed at him as he continued to preach to Kurt about the importance of relationships while tending to her, "How long were you out of Lima before Blaine found himself some strange?"

"Is it cool to say 'strange' anymore?" Santana questioned contemplatively as she stirred a pot of pasta.

"I say whatever the hell I want," Puck shot back then returned to his conversation with Kurt. "Look, Blaine's my bro but, he made a dick move. You'd be doing a disservice to yourself if you took him back. You're better than that and you deserve better, Hummel. I see you with a Jake Ghyllenhaal type."

"You know Jake Ghyllenhaal isn't really gay, right?" Kurt asked with slightly wet eyes and a smile to break the tension, clearly moved by Puck's concern.

"Semantics," he replied with a smirk.

Rachel wasn't entirely sure if he knew what the word meant but he could have replied with something completely nonsensical like, 'bumfuzzle' or 'cattywampus' and she still would have stared at him as if he were the only man on the planet.

###

There were only three blocks left in Rachel's walk back to the loft. Kurt went out (on a possible date) after class and she stayed late to sing out her feelings. Three more blocks and she would be home, looking online for a new batch of songs about unrequited love and all the heartache that goes hand in hand with it. She was just three blocks from the place she felt safest and happiest (sometimes simply because it was where Noah was) and that was when her body was roughly jerked into an alley and thrown to the pavement.

Lots of things went through her brain in those few seconds as the dark figure knelt over her. For one, she prayed that it wasn't actually happening. That she was either having a nightmare or Santana was screwing with her but the pain she felt ruled out the nightmare scenario and there was no way Santana would have been callous enough to backhand her so severely when she tried to scream for help. Other thoughts involved the wording of her obituary and whether or not her friends would gather to pay homage to her in song, preferably 'Wind Beneath My Wings', or if Kurt would remember to play the video they shot of her singing, 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' at the memorial service.

She'd never been more terrified in her entire life and she began swinging wildly, while a hand briefly clamped over her mouth, until it was her attacker's turn to be jerked roughly, thrown off of her and into a nearby brick wall. His body was kicked several times by a shadowed figure and, when whoever it was moved to her side, Rachel flinched back with residual fear.

"It's alright," Noah said, purposely not touching her. "It's just me."

"Noah!" she exclaimed in relief then threw herself into him, clamping her arms around his neck.

The next thing she knew, his arm went under her knees and he lifted her off the ground, carrying her those final three blocks back to the loft where he gently placed her on the couch. He left her side, but only momentarily, so he could sprint to the bathroom and back with a small first aid kit. Kneeling in front of her, Noah carefully cleaned her knees and palms, picking small bits of gravel from them, then applied alcohol, anti-biotic ointment, and bandages to each spot of damaged tissue.

"When did we get a first aid kit?" she questioned.

He answered without looking up from his work, "When I moved in." The topic was changed, "What happened to your rape whistle?" he questioned then finally turned his eyes up to her face. She pushed her hair behind her ear, unintentionally revealing the already formed bruise below her eye and eliminating her need to answer. "He hit you?" Puck growled then jumped to his feet and shot to the door.

"What are you doing?" Rachel questioned.

"I'm going to see if that piece of shit is still there and, if he is, I'm going to kill him. If he's not, I'm going to hunt him down and kill him."

"Please, don't leave," she requested with several reasons for the appeal. Rachel was still unsettled with what happened and, understandably, afraid to be left alone. She was worried the stranger was capable of much worse than he'd done to her and would hurt Noah. But, most importantly, because of the murderous glare in his eyes, Rachel didn't want Noah to follow through on the threat in the heat of the moment and end up in jail for the rest of his life.

His resolve waivered at the sight of the small woman on the couch, bandaged and bruised, pleading with him to stay with her. Puck's shoulders relaxed and he moved to sit next to her, studying her face then, with the gentlest touch she'd ever been on the receiving end of, he grazed his thumb along her injured cheek.

"If Kurt's not around next time, call me and I'll come get you," he said.

Her eyes welled up with tears at the thought of what could have happened had he not been there and she simply nodded then nuzzled into his side. One of his arms fell to her back, hugging her to his chest while the other lightly stroked her hair.

They were already in bed by the time Santana (and, later, Kurt) returned home, leaving the question of why his sleeping bag was positioned outside of Rachel's room, with her curtain open, to wait until morning. At that time, after recounting the ordeal to their roommates, Rachel left for class with her pink, glow in the dark, whistle hanging from her neck and Puck by her side.

###

Two months went by where Noah called Rachel every synonym for 'friend' imaginable (buddy, pal, compadre, bestie, amiga, homeslice…hell, she'd even gotten 'bro' and 'dude' a few times). There was no need for the constant reminder of their status, as she'd stopped all flirtation efforts after 'The Hanukkah of Shame' but, still, he threw out labels that had to have come directly from a thesaurus (Where else would he have gotten 'chum'?).

So…not in an attempt to make him jealous (something the high school Rachel Berry would have done), but in an effort to try to move on, she started dating. It could have been that she gave off an uninterested vibe with the guys, thinking about what Noah would have said or done in certain situations during the outing, or she just wasn't the their type, but not one of them (only three total), called after the first date.

When she received the third rejection (via voicemail), she resolved herself to interact more in conversations, do whatever it took to keep her eyes from glazing over with boredom, and stop checking her phone for random (but adorable) texts from Noah about the need for background checks and references.

She returned home from class one afternoon to find, of all people, Sam Evans sitting on the couch with Puck. The two men were in the middle of, what appeared to be, a serious discussion when she entered and Sam glanced up to say, "Hey, Rach." After an elbow to the ribs from Noah, the blonde stood, smiled, and regreeted, "Hello, Rachel," sounding as if he'd purposely lowered his voice.

"Where the hell is Kurt?" Puck asked, angry. "Did you walk home by yourself?"

"He stopped to talk to one of the new guys moving in downstairs," she explained. "What's going on here?"

"It's a no go," Kurt said, from the hall as he walked up to Rachel. "They're together. Why are all the good ones gay and taken?" he asked just as he'd reached the doorway and peered inside. "Oh, hell no!" he declared upon seeing Sam. "Who else is with you?"

"It's just me," Sam replied, confused.

"Why are you here and how long are you staying?" Kurt questioned.

"Well," Sam answered, "that all depends on Rachel."

Her forehead furrowed. "Why me?"

Another elbow from Puck caused Sam to move toward her. "I've been giving things a lot of thought and I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime. Nothing overly extravagant, just a nice, quiet, evening chaperoned by one or both of your fathers."

"What's happening?" Kurt questioned in shock.

Rachel softened. "That's very sweet of you Sam and I'm flattered that you came all this way to ask me out-"

Knowing full well what she was going to say next, Sam lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing his abs, then gave his best model-selling-sex look to make himself more difficult to resist.

"While that is impressive…" Rachel admitted.

"Hold on," Kurt said. "Let him make his case for just another minute."

Noah stepped forward and intervened, "Why don't you just give the guy a chance?" He glanced back at Sam, noticing how he looked, and ordered, "Turn it down a little."

Like a child that had been scolded, Sam slowly lowered his shirt and reluctantly let his face fall to a normal expression.

"Because it's ridiculous to think that he and I would be compatible on any level," she replied, irritated that the one man she wanted to be with was trying to play matchmaker for her.

Sam interjected with a wink, "We'd probably have pretty good chemistry in the bedroom." His comment earned him a smack to the back of the head from Puck, a glare of warning, and led to an angrily whispered interaction between the pair. They both calmed down simultaneously and he resumed the conversation with Rachel. "I disagree about us being incompatible. We both love music. We're both incredibly good looking. We both…" Everyone in the room waited for him to finish and he stretched to come up with a third commonality. "…have skin."

"You're not my type," Rachel reasoned.

Noah notified, "The only type you've been into recently is losers that fold at the first sign of mild adversity."

Rachel asked in confusion, "What adversity?"

He admitted nonchalantly, "Me telling them that if they hurt you or tried to touch you, I'd break their necks."

"You've been scaring my potential boyfriends away," she accused.

"Ok, first of all, I wouldn't say any of them had boyfriend potential. They were random dudes that took you out on predictable, typical, first dates with the exception of the second one who took you to a weird ass book store that smelled like my grandma."

"I'd do special things with you," Sam said, leaning between Puck and Rachel.

She put her hand on his face and forcefully pushed him aside. "It was a specialty shop that only sold first editions," Rachel defended before her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How did you know that? I didn't tell anyone what Tyler and I did." Putting two and two together, she accused, "You're following me on my dates."

Puck explained, "I'm leaving the loft just a few seconds after you, walking behind you to make sure you make it safely, then sticking around in case they try to make an unwelcome advance. If you want to call that following you then, yeah, I guess I've been following you."

"I'd rule that more as stalking," Kurt stated as Sam nodded in agreement.

Rachel inquired, "And when does the threat of neck breaking happen?"

"Usually when you're in the bathroom," Noah answered.

"I can't believe you!" she yelled.

"Why are you so upset? You should be thanking me. I'm weeding out the quitters who don't want to be with you bad enough!"

"Because you threaten to kill them!"

He defended while Kurt and Sam watched their heated discussion, "It's not my fault they hear 'break your neck' and automatically assume 'death threat'." Puck put his arm around Sam's shoulders and stated, "Sam Evans is a stand up guy that would gladly take any pain at the chance to be with you."

Sam cut in, "About that, I max out at a six on a scale of one to ten for pain tolerance."

Noah continued, "He's the kind of man that you can build your life around. He's got great hair, he's dependable, a gentleman, and he has a bright future ahead of him."

"True story," Sam agreed. "I've only been in New York for a day and already got a job at 'The Feral Cat'."

"Really?" Rachel commented in a know-it-all fashion, crossing her arms over her chest, then turned to Puck. "I'm going to build my life around a stripper?"

Noah growled at Sam and pushed him away, "I thought it was an animal shelter."

"Does that stop this from happening?" Sam questioned, gesturing to himself then Rachel.

She responded, "This was never happening!"

"Hey, just cause I'm dancing go-go, it don't make me a ho, no," Sam spoke in offense.

"It's not that you're a stripper," Rachel replied, at the end of her rope and completely frustrated with the situation and everyone in it. "It's because I'm in love with someone else!" Her mouth clamped shut, afraid she'd already said too much, and she spun on her heel to go to her room then "slammed" the curtain shut.

The three men were silent until Sam declared, "Got her right where I want her."

###

The next day, when she'd calmed down after spending the entire night analyzing everything that transpired in that short interaction, Rachel decided to confront Puck about his involvement in Sam's arrival. She waited until Kurt and Santana left to take their visitor sightseeing, Santana grumbling the whole way out of the apartment about having to spend the entire day with Sam. Seeing the look in Rachel's eyes, Noah tried to go with them, wanting to avoid the 'Truth or Truth' session he knew she had planned. Despite his best efforts, the door was shut in his face with a smirk from Santana being the last thing he saw before he turned to face the small woman. She gestured to the kitchen chairs, signaling for him to sit, then joined him.

"Why is Sam here?" Rachel inquired.

"Can't-" he started, staring at the table.

"No," she interjected, cutting him off from his usual response. "I'm going to trust you to give me the actual answer without lying to me."

His eyes shot up to meet hers. "I'd never lie to you. You have to know that. Sure, I'll avoid questions or change the topic but I'd never lie to you, Rachel."

"Then why is Sam here?"

Noah was hesitant and she could tell he was trying to think of a way to phrase his answer before he opened his mouth. "You weren't seeing anyone when I got here then, all of a sudden, you went out with a few different guys." He exhaled then continued, "None of them were good enough for you and I didn't like that they were wild cards."

"Wild cards?"

"I didn't know anything about them. I didn't know if they saw you as a fling, or were using you for your talent, or if they were respectful enough to wait if you said you weren't ready." Unexpectedly, he blushed in embarrassment at just the implication of her having sex. "I thought, if you wanted to be in a relationship, there was no reason why it couldn't have been with someone I knew I could trust."

"And you picked Sam?"

"He has a big heart and he'd do absolutely anything for the people he cares about."

She couldn't argue with his reasoning for the selection but there was still the question of why her personal life had been meddled in at all. "Why would you think it was your place to choose my suitor?"

"I was just trying to look out for you."

Rachel studied him as he stared at his thumbs, avoiding direct eye contact, then asked, "Why?" She could see his jaw tighten and a hint of moisture appear in his eyes.

Puck finally admitted, "Finn was so worried about you being in this city." Rachel's heart grew heavy at the mention of her first love but she didn't interrupt. "He wanted to be here to take care of you but he had to start college. I didn't have anything going on, except screwing off, so he asked me to do it."

"Two years ago."

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Two years ago. I told him I would then blew it off and went to Atlantic City instead. I tried my hand at up-close magic, in hopes of getting my own show, but could only get really good at one trick. There's an eight of hearts in your pocket, by the way. Finn dying like that, so…suddenly…it showed me what a shitbag I was and probably still am and I got out here as soon as I could."

"Finn…" she hesitated when her voice cracked at the speaking of his name then continued, "…died over a year ago."

"I went back to Lima to make sure his mom was alright and slept on her couch until she could make it through a day without bursting into tears. After that, I caught the first bus here. I promised Finn I would take care of you and, even though I got a late start, I'm going to come through on that promise. I'm not going anywhere until I can push you out of the nest and you fly instead of smacking your cute little face into the ground."

She ignored his insulting use of the word 'cute', knowing it was yet another nail in the already well sealed coffin of their being anything between them besides friendship. "You're doing this for Finn," Rachel noted, holding her temper in check by not immediately pointing out that she'd been soaring before his arrival.

"I did a lot of messed up things to him," Puck stated. "This is the only way I know how to try to make it right."

Everything clicked into place. All the protective behavior he'd exhibited, that she'd hoped was him expressing interest, was explained away with duty and obligation; walking her home from class, childproofing the loft, the glares he gave other men, and saving her in the alley. In a way, the events were diminished slightly when she found out they weren't done, specifically, for her but, in a completely different way, they meant so much more. She realized the entire ordeal was something he needed to do more for himself than anyone.

They both released tears over their lost friend, not hysterical sobs, but the controlled tears of two individuals that were experienced in the shedding of them. When the others returned home, Noah and Rachel had collected themselves and started preparing dinner in the kitchen.

"So, Rachel," Sam said smoothly, leaning against the counter beside her. He raised his hand to move some of her hair from her face but it was abruptly grabbed by Noah and pushed away.

"That's not a thing anymore," Puck notified.

The blonde argued, "But I didn't even get to work my A game. You tied my hands with all your…" he deepened his voice, added a slight growl, and even contorted his face into an angry expression "…'Be respectful'. 'No touching', 'Don't make direct eye contact'. Give me five minutes of laying down the hard core charm and she'll be putty in my hands."

He didn't get the chance to argue when Rachel requested, "Let him try. I've always wanted to know what human putty looks like."

Sam gave Puck a cocky smirk then, almost in one fluid motion, he ripped off his shirt, put his hands under Rachel's arms to lift and sit her on the counter, then positioned himself between her legs, his mouth inches from hers and his hands on her thighs.

"Really?" Puck questioned, unimpressed by the tactic.

Santana agreed, "A little forward."

Kurt responded, "But, let's see where he goes with it."

In his best seductive whisper, Sam said, "Hey girl."

The words resulted in chuckling behind him but Rachel dug deep into her acting bag of tricks to find the ability to stop the laugh she wanted to reply with and kept her face as serious as his. "Hey yourself," she responded.

He moved closer to breathe warm air on her neck and tickle the skin there with his nose. "You like what you see?"

Her eyes shot briefly to Noah, who stood with his arms crossed and had an intense scowl, before answering, "I do."

"Wanna see more of it?"

"I would love to," she answered unexpectedly. Turning the table on him, Rachel slid down the counter, allowing the front of her body to slowly rub down his. Her pointer fingers hooked into his belt loops and she used the hold to control him, switching their positions so he was the one against the counter. "We could go somewhere more private," she suggested then gently ran the back of her fingers down his chest, continued past his stomach, and stopped at the waistband of his jeans, noticing the goose bumps that resulted on his skin.

With the sudden loosening of the material around his hips, he realized she undid the button of his pants. "Holy shit," Sam muttered in surprise.

"Would you like that?" she asked then bit her bottom lip.

"God, yes," Sam answered.

"You know what would be sexy?"

"Hm?"

"If we went to the roof."

"Sounds good," he agreed with a slight squeak in his voice.

"Then you should go there, take off all your clothes," she directed, and returned to grazing her fingers along his chest, "and wait for me." Without further direction, Sam took off running and Rachel turned around to the others as if nothing had happened. "You know, I don't feel like cooking. We should go out instead."

"That's cold," Puck said, in more ways than one since they were still just on the verge of spring. "I might not have to stick around for as long as I thought."

Then, to keep him on his toes, and feign the need for help, Rachel suggested a restaurant in a notoriously bad neighborhood.

###

He started to teach her how to protect herself; not that he'd ever received any formal training outside of action movies and a nunchaku tutorial on VHS that he stole from a neighbor's garage sale when he was thirteen. Then, when he ran out of knowledge (after two lessons), he began studying YouTube videos, perfecting each technique with Kurt as his 'practice dummy' before he worked on it with her. Kurt complained about rolling on the ground with Noah but, Rachel knew, he didn't really mind it one bit, especially once the shirt came off. Luckily, Noah was hot blooded and the shirt always came off which is why she sat and watched to "study" their practice sessions.

There were times, mostly when a tight hold was involved, that she found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on the intricate movements, and instances where she enjoyed being trapped in his arms too much to want to escape. In those moments, Kurt was always quick to step in, push her aside, and allow Puck to toss him around.

Rachel often wondered if she was actually retaining the information until, one day, Noah warned, "I'm going to swing at you. Just do what comes naturally." He threw a punch (more like gently tossed it) at her face and, instinctively, she blocked the strike, shot her fist out to connect with his solar plexus (not taking the same care he did in the attack), then used both hands to twist his arm and pull his body to be face down on the floor.

"That was awesome," he complemented out of the side of his mouth that wasn't pressed against the ground.

She let go and exclaimed in shock, "I just did that!" He rolled over to his back while she continued to marvel at her abilities. "I can't believe I took you down. I'm like, one of those fenced in combatants."

"Cage fighter," he corrected in a groan, recovering from her hit.

Rachel's face fell with a sudden understanding and she declared, "I'm going to have to register as a deadly weapon." Caught up in the excitement, she threw her body on top of his and hugged him in gratitude but, all too soon, realized the position they were in. "Sorry," she said and pushed herself up with her hands on his chest.

He put his much larger hands over hers to trap them there and hold her in place. "No, this is good," he replied, surprising her.

Taking it the way she wanted to, ever so slightly, her upper body began to lower back down to his and her eyelids grew heavier the closer she was to him, zeroing in on his lips.

"Perfect," he announced. "Stay right there but put your hands on my throat."

She shot back up. "What?"

"There are a lot of great ground defenses that we can work on from this position."

"Yeah," Rachel answered, trying to sound enthusiastic. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"It's crazy how we're always on the same page," he responded, oblivious to the fact that she was in a completely different book.

###

"I need you two to be a couple," Kurt announced to Noah and Rachel as soon as he entered the loft, not even bothering to put his bag down. The two were reading magazines on the couch and glanced around in confusion, ensuring that he was addressing them, before he continued in a rush, "I met this gorgeous guy at the library and asked him to dinner tonight but he prefers to do double dates the first few times he goes out with someone new. I didn't want to hang out with a bunch of his friends because, naturally, I want to be around people that will make me look good, so I told him I knew the cutest couple we could double with." He finished with a wide grin, staring expectantly at the pair.

"Have Sam and Santana do it," Puck advised then went back to reading about muscle cars.

"They hate each other, you and Santana can't get along long enough to make it look real, and Sam's still mad at Rachel over the whole roof thing. I've thought of every possible combination, including Rachel with Santana, and you two are my only hope. Please," he begged. "Please, please, please, please-"

"Will you go away if I agree?"

"Yes!"

"Then I'll do it."

Kurt's eyes shot to Rachel, whose insides were dancing with excitement, and she remained outwardly calm to answer, "If you can't think of anyone else…"

"Well," Kurt interrupted, searching his memory, "now that you mention it, there is a girl in one of my classes that would do it for acting experience."

"No," she argued, "that would put Noah in an uncomfortable position. I'd be happy to do it."

"Thank you!" Kurt exclaimed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

Noah reminded, "You haven't gone away yet."

"Thank you," he said one last time then ran to his room to start going through his clothes.

Rachel raised her magazine back in front of her face, grinning widely then, once she could control her expression, went to her room to start trying on outfits as well. She decided on every woman's "Old Faithful"; a little black dress that revealed enough cleavage to get Noah's attention but not so much that it said 'I charge by the hour'.

She walked into the living room and was met with a whistle from Kurt while Santana sat on the couch in her pajamas arguing with Sam over what to watch on TV and smacking his hand away from her popcorn. He didn't live with them (as far as they knew) but he seemed to always be there, eating their food and, as Santana often complained, breathing her air.

"Damn, girl," Santana complemented.

Sam kept his face and tone even when he said uninterestedly, "I've seen better."

"Where's Noah?" Rachel asked just as there was a knock at the door.

Of all people, Sam was the one to stand up to answer it then laughed at the sight he was met with. Puck was there, wearing slacks, a button up shirt, and a tie.

"What are you wearing?" Sam questioned, still laughing. "Do you have a job interview at a bank or something?"

Noah's cheeks immediately burned in anger and embarrassment. He defended, pointing to Rachel, "I'm supposed to be dating a girl that looks like that. It wouldn't look very realistic if I went around dressed like a slob."

She smiled at the compliment as Sam continued with his teasing, "Why did you knock? You live here."

"No he doesn't," Santana and Kurt corrected at the same time.

"I'm trying to pick her up at the door like a gentleman."

Rachel cut it, "It's very sweet of you."

"Don't fall for her charm," Sam warned, giving Rachel a spiteful stare. "And don't go to the roof. Things happen up there…bad things."

"How did you two meet?" Kurt's date, Ben, asked Noah and Rachel later at dinner.

Their evening was going well. Just before they reached the restaurant, Puck had Rachel link her arm with his "to keep up appearances" and, as they sat, he let his arm rest along the back of her chair. Normally, her posture kept her from even using the seat back but, taking advantage of the position, she relaxed into it so her shoulders touched his arm. She planned to tell Ben all about their high school relationship but was surprised when Noah answered first.

"Third grade," he said.

Rachel had long forgotten about the childhood experience because it was such a brief period of time before he was transferred into a different class.

Noah continued, "She was that know it all kid that came off as being a snob and it got her into trouble."

"How so?" Ben questioned.

"There was this kid…" he paused, obviously searching his brain for a real name and not trying to make one up, "…Jeremy Hinson." Rachel became even more alert at the mention of her first, official, bully as Puck resumed, "He was a dick. Rachel would always have the answer to every question the teacher asked and, every once in a while, she even corrected the old bat."

"Noah," Rachel warned.

"It's the truth. She looked the other way whenever Jeremy gave you shit. One day, he pushed Rachel down and that hateful, old, witch said she didn't see it and that Rachel was probably making it up for attention."

She added, "Which, if I'd wanted to get attention, I could have launched into one of the numerous dramatic or comedic monologues I had in my repertoire."

"Your comedic ones, Babe, not all that funny." Everyone laughed and she smacked his chest to Kurt's delight since the interaction made them appear to be a legitimate couple. "I figured, if the people put in place to protect her weren't going to do anything about it, then I needed to step in and handle things. So, I followed Jeremy home, beat the literal snot out of him and told him that if he went anywhere near her again, I'd make the next time worse."

Intrigued by the story, Ben inquired, "Did he leave her alone?"

"He did," Noah revealed. "But, as it turns out, the school's principal was Jeremy's mom and she switched me to a different class to protect her baby. After that, because of the injustice of the situation, I did everything I could to piss her off, thus propelling me down the path of badassness that made me what I am today."

Unsure of whether he was telling the truth or creating a back story for them, Rachel controlled her reaction to the recollection. She did remember Jeremy Hinson coming to school with bruises just before Noah was transferred out of the class.

"And you guys have been together ever since," Ben commented.

"I wish," Puck answered. "You see, the path of badassness was paved with popularity and cheerleaders. I'm ashamed to admit, I got so caught up in that lifestyle that I became her worst tormentor." He turned to Rachel but kept speaking to Ben, "There's not a day that goes by where I don't wish I could do that part of my life over. I'd go back and share a few grape slushies with her instead of throwing them in her face." He placed his hand on her cheek to gently rub his thumb along the skin and, reflexively, she tilted her head into his touch. "Stop myself from saying all those nasty things and tell her that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. I'd sing a few more duets with her," Puck said with a smile that Rachel matched. "I'd make sure she understood that everyone who teased her was just jealous because she is…exceptional." Rachel's eyes misted over with tears and she was certain that would have been the appropriate moment for an actual couple to share, at the very least, a brief kiss but Noah turned away from her suddenly to announce, "That's enough about us. Let's talk about how amazing Kurt is."

Up until that moment, Rachel had been reserved in her actions, for fear of taking advantage of the oh-so convenient set up that Kurt placed in her lap. But, Noah was setting a pretty high bar for their "relationship" and there was no way she could allow herself to be upstaged, thus leading her to go "full couple".

After dinner (that Puck paid for because, "Kurt picks up the tab all the time."), they went to a nearby theater that only showed classic movies where Puck grumbled quietly to Rachel about not getting to see something more recent (or violent). She took the opportunity to wipe away at an imaginary smudge on his face (just in case Ben decided to turn around and look at them) while he spoke. Once again, in their seats, his arm went to the back of her chair while she positioned her body to lean against his and, eventually, the limb dropped from the seat to rest around her shoulders. In every walking situation the evening presented to Rachel, she held Noah's hand as if she would drift off into the atmosphere were it not for the constant tether between them.

Ben went with the group all the way back to the loft where Rachel asked Noah, "Are you spending the night?" while playfully tugging on his tie.

"Do you really have to ask?" he questioned then shook Ben's hand and entered with Rachel maintaining her grip on his neckwear, pulling him into the apartment.

Sam and Santana were asleep in the same positions they were left in and neither stirred when the door opened then closed…both times since Kurt and Ben entered right behind them, nearly startling Puck and Rachel.

"I'm going to give Ben the tour," Kurt explained. "Don't let us hold you two up from going to bed. I know how much you like to be alone together," he stressed the last three words to emphasize the dual meaning in the statement.

"To bed," Puck answered nervously. "That's where we're going."

Knowing what leaving meant, they chose to hesitate, while Kurt silently pleaded with them to go, before the "couple" headed for Rachel's bedroom. Noah stopped just outside of the perimeter of her assigned space then pulled the curtain shut behind him, content to stand in that spot for the rest of the night, even though his body caused the curtain to protrude and his feet to stick out underneath.

Rachel glanced back and, with their, 'I'd never lie to you' policy, whispered, "Why do you always stop there?"

"You've never invited me in," he replied just as quietly.

"Are you a vampire?"

His eyes narrowed. "What is it with you and Kurt and vampires?"

"Come in," Rachel said, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward for a single step that allowed the curtain to fall naturally.

They proceeded to stand, neither sure of what to do, until Noah's eyes lit up and he announced, "We should jump on the bed."

"I'd like to think that we've progressed to a point in our relationship where we don't have to have sex every time we spend the night together," Rachel replied once his reasoning registered.

"Look at us. Of course we're going to want to have sex when we're together."

Doing as requested, she looked at him then agreed, "You're right. We should jump on the bed."

She giggled at first, as they bounced up and down, but Noah pointed out that laughing was not appropriate bedroom behavior. So, they started talking in hushed tones about trivial things, like the weather, Rachel's classes, and Puck's work while interjecting the occasional moan. She was impressed with his commitment to the role when, every once in a while, he sped up or changed the force of the jumping and continued long after she'd decided to lay down; her body being jostled with his vigorous movement.

After a grand finale, that he insisted include several rounds of loud, pleasured, noises, they laid on their sides, facing one another.

"Why are you doing this for Kurt?" Rachel asked.

He shrugged and answered, "Same reason I do anything nowadays. I did some bad shit to him and I want to make up for it." Noah changed the topic and explained, "Rest up. If we want this to look realistic, we'll have to do a few more sets."

Her heart sped up more than it had during her twenty minutes of bed cardio and she closed her eyes, envisioning the real thing. She didn't wake up until sunrise and felt her insides glow when Noah was directly across from her, still on his side, sound asleep. His eyes opened shortly after hers and they both faced the embarrassment of having slept right next to each other all night. When they exited the room, Kurt was at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

He stood and appreciatively clapped for the pair. "You know, I expected a phenomenal performance from Rachel but, Puck, you were magnificent. Now, about next time…"

###

They were at Adonis, all in their regular places; Santana and Kurt (and the new addition of Sam) on the dance floor, Puck behind the bar, and Rachel on her stool when a young man approached her while her favorite bartender glowered at him.

"Hi," the stranger said. "I'm Andrew."

Rachel replied with an 'I acknowledge your presence but I would not like to continue to interact with you' expression. It was a look she'd been working on with Noah, as part of his lessons, that included a barely noticeable upward twitch of her mouth and a short, quick, head nod before looking away. Noah grinned with pride at her mastery of the move as he continued to clean glasses, pretending not to notice the interaction.

The man persisted, "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, thank you," Rachel responded without looking at him.

"How about a dance?"

Maintaining her position, she repeated without eye contact, "No, thank you."

"Come on," he urged playfully then took hold of her hand in an effort to guide her to the dance floor.

Taking the rejection to the second phase of her training, the direct approach, Rachel turned to the man and stated, "I'm not interested," and pulled her fingers from his.

"You don't have to be such a bitch about it," the stranger insulted.

Rachel opened her mouth to reply but Noah beat her to it, "Obviously, she does since you didn't accept her polite refusal. Here's some advice, if you're looking to pick up a chick tonight, a gay bar isn't the place to do it. Now, apologize to my friend and get out of here before I throw you out."

There was a quiet, grumbled, apology before he disappeared and Rachel asked, "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," Puck answered. "Some guys just can't take a hint."

Later, when they were at home, he revisited the incident to build on one of her lessons after Santana and Kurt went to bed and Sam mysteriously disappeared. They vaguely remembered him walking back to the loft with them but, once they arrived, he was gone. One of the explanations for the sudden disappearance was that he froze to death on the roof the day Rachel sent him up there and they were being haunted by his angry spirit.

"Every once in a while, you're going to come across a pushy asshole," Noah notified as they sat at the kitchen table. "Tonight was the perfect example of that."

"He was harmless," she defended.

"He called you a bitch."

"True," Rachel agreed. "But, if I'd asked to be left alone-"

Noah wrapped his hand around hers, just like Andrew did at the bar but, at the same time, not at all like Andrew did since a wave of warmth started at her fingers then flowed all the way to her toes as a result. He stood up and gently tugged her to her feet. "That dude would have pulled until you were out of your chair, then what?"

Rachel glanced down at their hands, baffled by the softness of his skin then remembered she needed to reply. "I would have said, 'I appreciate your interest but-'."

"It's just one dance," he interjected, cutting her off. "When has one dance ever hurt anyone?"

"Obviously, you've never seen 'Footloose'."

Noah kept pulling her until they made it to his pretend dance floor where he put one hand on her hip and swayed them. "See. We're dancing. It's not so bad, is it?"

"No," she answered, forgetting all about the fact that they were pretending and she was supposed to resist his advances.

"Then," he pointed out, "he'll act like he can't hear you over the loud music and he'll move closer to you." Not only did he move closer but he also pulled her into him until their bodies were pressed together and Rachel lost all ability to reason.

Rachel defended, "It would just be for one song." Between Callbacks and Adonis, the very same tactic was employed on him countless times, leaving her to feel the slightest bit guilty. She grew to enjoy places with loud noises as it gave her all the more reason to be close to him.

"What was that?" he asked, acting like he couldn't hear her. To resolve the problem, he placed his hand on her neck and leaned closer until her mouth was to his ear, their cheeks against each others. "And then he'll say things to complement you."

"Like what?" she asked breathlessly, dizzy from their proximity and the way he continued to touch her.

"You know, the blatantly obvious stuff. How gorgeous you are, your beautiful eyes, amazing smile, sexy legs…it won't be anything that's not true."

Rachel hoped he couldn't hear the sharp intake of breath that she responded with, at the implication of him finding her to be, among other things, gorgeous and sexy. They were the adjectives that she'd wanted him use when describing her; words she never thought she'd hear pass his lips in reference to her.

He continued, "Guys like that don't understand how beneath you they are…that they don't stand a chance with a girl like you."

"Then who does?" she questioned, leaning back so she could look into his eyes.

There was an instant nervousness about him but he answered honestly, "I don't know. I'd say a doctor or a lawyer but, even those guys can be jackholes." Noah stopped swaying them but maintained his hold. "I guess, someone that's smart but not a know it all because there wouldn't be room for two of you. Someone that gets that you can be funny in your own way and laughs even if what you say isn't that funny." He thought about it then added, "A guy that can step up to protect you but knows well enough when it's time for you to handle things yourself. Someone that respects you physically and mentally."

"Someone like you," Rachel said boldly, planning to backtrack and say she was using him simply as an example if he didn't seem open to the suggestion.

He studied her for a moment then began to tilt down to her. Closer to a kiss than ever before, his top lip lightly grazed hers before he snapped his head away with a panicked expression. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," she commented, hoping he would forget his arms were around her but was disappointed when their warmth vanished.

"I do because I keep doing that to you and you have to be sick of it," Puck rambled. "I put you in these weird positions and you're great because, every time I do it, you play it off and act like nothing happened. Then things go back to normal until I do it again." His face dropped and he declared, "Oh, shit! I'm the pushy asshole!"

"What?" Rachel asked, surprised.

"You don't have to pretend you don't know anymore."

"But…I don't…know," Rachel responded, in such a state of shock that she had to struggle to find the words.

"Yeah, right," he said sarcastically. "You don't know I've been completely into you since just after I got here. That, if I did what I wanted to do every time I caught a dude ogling you, I'd seriously run out of places to hide the bodies. That I go to bed thinking about you, wake up thinking about you, and spend a good chunk of my day thinking about you. You never stopped to think that, I do all those things because, I'm hopelessly and pathetically in love with you."

"You're in love with me?"

She didn't think it was possible for his face to fall even more but it nearly touched the floor when he stated, "You really didn't know?"

Rachel's head shook slowly as she kept replaying his words in her head, praying she didn't mishear or misunderstand anything.

He growled, "I'm such an idiot!"

"No," she argued, "you're not."

"Everything would have been fine if I'd just kept my mouth shut," Noah pointed out, pacing. "Now, things are ruined between us, I'm going to have to move out, and-"

Rachel interrupted, "I'm in love with you too."

Her declaration stopped his nervous stride and she rushed toward him in, what she felt, would be their happy ending. She did most of the work with her approach and placed her hands on his chest. Really, all he had to do was meet her anywhere in that small amount of distance which, for a second of pure bliss, seemed as if it was going to happen. Rachel finally knew that Noah felt the way she did for him, his hand went up to rest on her cheek, and his mouth was starting to gravitate toward hers.

Then, painfully, he took a step back and shook his head. "I can't."

"I don't understand," she said then followed him as he retreated across the room. "If you're in love with me, and I'm in love with you, why can't you?"

Noah picked up his bag and guitar on his way to the door (breaking her heart in the process since it meant he was leaving), then declared before crossing the threshold out of the loft, "Because, I don't deserve you."

###

Several days went by and Rachel didn't hear a word from Noah despite numerous attempts to call him (straight to voicemail) and frequent texts sent to what she hoped was still his phone number. Otherwise, someone else was on the receiving end of a full gambit of messages that were too long for a single text bubble and quite a few consisting entirely of emojis (she wasn't particularly proud of those but, sometimes, only a row of sad unicorns and angry frogs can properly convey your feelings).

Finally, one morning, she woke up, exited her room, and nearly tripped over his sleeping form outside of her curtain; like he'd never left. The first thing she did was breathe a sigh of relief to see that he was still alive and well. The next thing she did was check her phone, to make sure the slew of unanswered messages she sent him were still there and that their previous interaction wasn't some elaborate dream. Her third order of business was to kick him, not quite as hard as she would have liked to, in the ribs to wake him.

"Ouch," Puck grumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Where have you been?" she asked with another swift kick. "I was so afraid something happened to you," Rachel growled, accentuating each word with a strike.

"I can tell," Noah answered and allowed her to continue her assault.

"Do you have any idea how I felt not knowing where you were?"

He ventured a guess, "Like being kicked in the stomach repeatedly?" She moved on to straddling his waist to be able to use her hands. "Ow!" Noah defended as she smacked his shoulders, "I told Kurt where I was." The statement came just as the other man walked out of his room, observed the scene, then turned back the way he came from.

"Had Kurt just admitted he was in love with you right before you left?" At Rachel's admission, Kurt reappeared to listen.

"No."

"Then he wasn't the one you were supposed to call," Rachel yelled between punches.

Puck advised, "You're not even making a fist the right way. You're going to hurt yourself."

Rachel's jaw set in irritation and, with every ounce of strength she had, punched down to his stomach then stood as he rolled onto his side in pain.

"Good one," Sam commented between bites from a bowl of cereal, no one knowing how long he'd been watching or even how he got into the loft. "You should kick him in the balls."

"No!" Puck disagreed, curling his body up to protect his groin. "Please, don't kick my balls. Rachel, I'm so sorry I left like that and I'm even sorrier I didn't tell you where I was."

Santana was the next to show up and asked, "Did you see Brittany in Lima?"

"Shit," Noah muttered.

The small brunette's temper flared back up and she jumped on top of him, like an angry flying squirrel, smacking his arms again. "You told Santana where you were going?"

"If it will help get him kicked in the balls," Sam said, with his phone pulled out to record the 'fight', "he told me he was going to Lima too."

"I can't believe I wasted months of my life being in love with you!" Rachel declared then attempted to stand back up.

Puck put his hands on her waist to hold her in place then sat up suddenly, not caring about the injuries he'd suffered, leaving her straddling his lap and the smallest amount of space bearable between their faces. "Wasted?"

"Yes," she confirmed, holding her head a little higher.

"Can we just address the fact that no one knew you were in love with him to begin with?" Kurt questioned.

"She told me," Santana answered.

"I knew too," Sam agreed. "I even had an awesome couple name for you guys…" he said in a side note to Rachel and Puck then waited for anyone to ask but, when they didn't, finished with a grin, "Rack. So, whenever I saw the two of you together, I could be like, 'Nice Rack'."

Kurt did his best to ignore the statement and revealed, "At least I knew Puck was in love with Rachel." All eyes were on him and he explained, "He told me."

"I knew too," Sam reiterated as the stares shifted to him. "You pick up a lot of secrets sleeping on the support beams."

They all looked up to the ceiling to see a blanket hanging over the thick wood and Santana questioned, "How do you not fall down from there?"

Sam proudly replied, "I tie myself to it Katniss style."

Frustrated with the turn the conversation took, Rachel asked him, "If you knew how we both felt, why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to be all up in your business," Sam responded.

"Everybody except Rachel shut up!" Puck ordered then guided her face to look at him. "You don't love me anymore?"

She glared at him, while everyone else waited to hear the answer. "Does it matter? You don't deserve me anyway."

There was a mixed reaction of "Ouch", "Damn", and "I know that's right" from the spectators.

"I don't deserve you," he confirmed, "and I never will." Her shoulders slumped in defeat, thinking that was the end of the discussion but he continued, "I told them where I was then shut my phone off so I wouldn't be interrupted. It's no excuse for my actions but, I figured one of them would, at least, let you know I was alive."

Their three friends/roommates all answered at the same time.

Kurt stated, "She never asked."

"I've got my own shit going on," Santana muttered, studying her fingernails.

Sam practically whispered, "I try my best to stay unnoticed."

Puck continued, "When the flood of messages came through after I turned it on yesterday, I was already headed back here and figured I needed to reply to some of them in person."

"Which ones?" Rachel inquired, knowing the full spectrum of emotion she'd covered in the various texts and voicemails could leave the potential for two very different conversations.

He replied, "Preferably, the ones that didn't include pictures of monkeys with blood covered mouths or knives lodged in skulls." She blushed in embarrassment but he wouldn't let her look away from him. "To answer in order of importance, which was determined by the number of times you asked or accused something, we'll start with your first concern. Yes, I'm alive. Like I said, I wasn't answering you because my phone was off. I went back home because I had something I had to do. I'm a huge jerk and I'm glad you don't use more colorful language because, we both know, I've been called much, much, worse. I don't deserve you because I'm still recovering from years, maybe even decades, of being a complete and total piece of shit. I can't just change my behavior for a small fraction of my life and be able to accept that I'm, in any way, worthy of your love." He suggested, "Now that you know all that, ask me."

Rachel held Noah's gaze, knowing there was only one mystery that resulted from his speech and inquired, "What did you have to do in Lima?"

"I went to see Mrs. Hudson-Hummel," he explained. "I told her how I feel about you and why I thought it was wrong for us to be together."

"And what did she say?"

He smiled softly. "That I'm a dumbass and to stop feeling sorry for myself before I let an amazing girl slip away. To make it official, I asked her if it would be alright if you and I went out."

"You asked Carole for permission to date me?"

"No. I asked for her approval and acceptance but, I did swing by your dads house to ask their permission."

Rachel hadn't mentioned to her fathers that she was interested in Noah and there was no way she would ever tell them he was staying in the loft. In fact, one of the last things she remembered saying, specifically, about him was that he'd gotten another girl pregnant. "And they gave it?"

He nodded. "They were a little skeptical at first but I convinced them. So, in response to your final message, that it's not up to me to decide whether or not we can be together…you're right," Noah said, locking his fingers with hers. "While I will never feel like I deserve to be with you, I will take full advantage of the fact that you don't realize that and stick around for as long as it takes you to figure it out. That is, if you still want-" He was cut off by her mouth attaching to his followed by a relieved exhale from their friends.

Still watching the scene, with no desire to leave even after Rachel pushed Noah back to lay on the ground, Sam commented, "I don't know about you guys but, he had me at, 'Please, don't kick my balls'."

Puck pushed his body up, disappointing Rachel with the sudden move, and stood. Without an explanation or warning, he headed for the door, giving her flashbacks from days prior.

"Where are you going?" she questioned, on the verge of panic from thinking he was walking out on her again.

Noah answered, "Apartment hunting so we don't do things backwards. I'm going to court you properly," he grinned charmingly.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied breathlessly, her brain already running wild with all the possibilities of what being courted by Noah Puckerman would entail.

He stepped back to her confidently, placing one hand behind her neck and the other on her hip, not caring about boundaries in that moment, and declared, "Starting after this." His lips dropped down to hers causing the need for her arms to snake around his neck to steady herself.

"Nuh-Uh, Ms. Everdeen," Santana said, grabbing the back of Sam's shirt as he tried to slip away to his makeshift 'bedroom'. "You take your stripper ass and the greasy dollars you pull from it with him. He needs a roommate 'cause I'm not having my girl up in whatever shit hole he can afford by himself." She glanced back at Puck, who had Rachel backed up against the door. "Hey!" Santana called. "What the hell happened to proper courtship?"

###

If Rachel had to sum up Noah's idea of an actual courtship in one word, it would be 'slow' and, if given the option of using a second word, she would have gone with 'excruciatingly'. Never in her life did she think she'd be the one in a relationship pushing to be more physical, and yet, there she was, week after week, unsuccessfully trying to convince him to enter the loft after each time he walked her to her door. Surprisingly, her fathers were present for their first few outings since they "happened" to be visiting just after Noah returned from Lima. By the time they left, they were patting him on the back, laughing at all of his jokes, and daddy even set up plans to revisit to attend some sort of professional athletic event with him (she should have paid more attention to the specifics but doubted daddy even knew what sport he agreed to watch).

It wasn't until a month into dating that Noah finally kissed her again and it was a peck to the back of her hand (she wouldn't say she was disappointed but she wouldn't say she wasn't disappointed either). They hadn't mentioned anything about love since the day he told her he went to see Carole and, after the last time she'd said it, Rachel had no immediate plan to make the declaration again.

They stood outside of the loft after their twenty-third official date (he was the one keeping track) and she waited expectantly for him to make a move that would involve her mouth, and maybe even her tongue.

"Noah," she said, keeping her fingers wrapped around his after his lips pressed to the back of her hand. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the contact, she was just anxious for a little more of it and, if it happened that her shirt came off in the process, there would be no complaints. "I'm pretty sure I've been courted thoroughly."

He studied her for a moment, seeming to gather courage, and agreed, "You're right. It's time to take things to the next level." His face gravitated toward hers and Rachel's eyes fluttered shut as her mouth opened slightly in anticipation of the arrival of his lips. Unexpectedly, she felt the warm pressure of a kiss on her cheek instead and exhaled a huff of frustration. "I'll see you tomorrow," Noah smiled sweetly.

Rachel was certain that his behavior had nothing to do with a lack of desire for her, as Sam revealed that there were numerous cold showers that left Puck's nipples looking like they could "cut the ice in Queen Elsa's palace" (and why he looked that closely at Noah's nipples, she never needed to know). So, if things were going to go farther with him, it was clear, she would have to be the initiator, which she'd attempted from their first date. Sure, her parents were present but they could have looked the other way and called it square from the moment she walked in on them in the living room only a week after she'd moved out.

Her planned tactic was simple; get her lips to his, thus causing the self control he'd been exhibiting to crumble. Before he turned to walk away, Rachel pulled him back to her with the grip she maintained on his hand. "How about a hug too?" she requested, opening her arms and giving the best innocent eyes she could manage.

He appeared reluctant, like he also knew the small embrace would test the limits of his willpower, before, almost awkwardly, wrapping his arms around her waist but making every effort to keep the rest of his body from touching hers. Then, the battle began. It was like riding a bull; a test of determination to see which of them could stick to their guns and ride it out the longest. His arms loosened to keep the upper hand by ending the hug so, in response, hers tightened and she pushed her hips forward until they made contact with his, creating an impressive angle in her spine.

"I should get going," he informed.

She didn't let go or reply but, ever so slowly, pulled her head back to be able to look into his eyes...eyes that showed massive amounts of weakness. Her options were weighed; a slow approach would give him time to evade and escape while a quick, let's be honest, forceful one would catch him off guard, possibly giving her the advantage she needed.

Deciding to employ a diversion first, she started, "I had a lovely-" then cut herself off to shoot her head forward, capturing his lips. As assumed, he responded to the move, allowing his mouth to move freely with hers for a few seconds before she felt his body go rigid, her indicator that the spell was close to being broken. The introduction of her tongue bought her more time and she capitalized on it by sliding her hands down to grasp his shirt then slowly walked backward. There was no way he wasn't aware of their movement but, she figured, if she kept her steps unhurried and steady, he wouldn't be jolted back into reality or notice how far they'd traveled by the time they reached her destination.

One hand released him briefly to open the door and Rachel pulled him through the entrance, praying she knew the layout of the apartment well enough to make it to her bedroom without tripping on anything. The door wasn't closed by her but she could hear it being shut and she was vaguely aware of the sound of furniture sliding across the floor and the occasional hand on her shoulder, guiding her in different directions; all things that wouldn't become priorities because, as long as she didn't hit anything, she wasn't stopping to see what magical force was assisting their journey. The backs of her legs pressed against her bed just as she heard her curtain close followed by, what could have been, a high five.

The next obstacle was getting him into the bed since she never considered the possibility of making it that far with him to begin with. Her falling back on it came with the risk of losing the hypnotizing contact she managed to maintain way longer than she expected and turning him around to push him onto it might have had a similar result. Content with just being able to kiss him, she resolved herself to stay standing in that spot until he inevitably "snapped out of it", apologized for his behavior, and exited with no plan to return until he had better control of his shameful urges.

To her surprise, and extreme pleasure, his hands went to the backs of her thighs, lifting them up so her legs could wrap around his waist and he settled them on the mattress. Things reached a fairly heated pinnacle, as mouths wrestled and hands wandered (over clothes), then gradually, and naturally, they cooled down.

They were laying on their sides, her leg hooked behind his hips and his hand tangled in her hair with their foreheads pressed together and eyes still closed. His nose gently rubbed against hers and, missing each other's mouth, they took turns stretching forward to reunite their lips. When their breathing finally calmed, and the time they went between each kiss grew longer, they opened their eyes at the same time. Rachel expected a look of bewilderment from Noah, just before he shot to his feet, with him having no idea how they ended up in her room. Instead, he smiled softly and gently stroked her dark hair leaving her to grin so widely it hurt her cheeks.

"Silly question," Rachel whispered, sliding her fingers up and down his side. "Does this mean we can be done with the courtship?"

"Absolutely not," Noah answered, noting the brief displeasure in her features. "I'm never going to be done courting you but, we can be done with that whole 'proper' thing," he clarified with a bob of his eyebrows before pushing her onto her back.

###

Knowing he couldn't be a bartender forever, Noah eventually started to examine his options for future, long term, employment. When his search efforts started to get a little ridiculous, especially once 'I could be a bounty hunter' morphed into 'I could be a contract killer', Rachel placed a stack of papers on his lap. It included information for the New York Civil Service examination and several letters of recommendation from Mr. Schuester, Coach Beiste, and Congressman Hummel (all containing information as to why Noah Puckerman would be a phenomenal asset to the NYPD).

To humor her, he took the test but never thought it would go beyond that and the same pessimistic mentality prevailed all the way up to his acceptance to the academy when he pointed out, 'I'll probably fail out in the first three hours'. He was thankful for sealed juvenile records and the fact that, anything he did past his eighteenth birthday, went under the radar. After finding out Sam also got in, with the same encouragement from Rachel (letters and all) because she wanted Noah to know someone at the academy, Puck decided their selection process must have been based off of desperation, thus explaining his own acceptance. Needless to say, the months of training that followed were filled with 'Police Academy' type shenanigans that almost got Sam kicked out when the FDNY's "Hot Dog" Dalmatian costume went missing and he was the one left holding the mascot's oversized head.

Many years later (okay, maybe not that many) they were married back in Lima and, during a planned speech, Rachel revisited a statement Noah didn't even remember making when she said, "When two people are meant to be together, there's not much anybody can do to stop it." Of course, she then proceeded to launch into a medley of every song that held significance to the couple including 'Sweet Caroline'.

Rachel spent her entire life preparing for Broadway and, because of that, it didn't take long for her to find work after graduating from NYADA. True, she was, technically, an understudy (and there was a questionable event involving an injury to the star she ended up replacing), but once she stepped into the spotlight the part became hers permanently. She took a brief break from the show after the birth of their first child, Avigail Finnley, and planned to place the baby in daycare when she was ready to return to work.

The epitome of a 'doting father', Noah didn't trust any childcare providers because, "Babe, you drop your kids off in places like that and you don't even know what they're doing with them all that time. They could be Michael Vick-ing our kid in a baby fighting ring." So, knowing his wife was more than capable of providing for their household, and being secure enough in his masculinity to accept that, Noah Puckerman took on his new life challenge; being a stay at home dad.

The fanny pack he wore everywhere, filled with first aid supplies, was completely unnecessary for an infant that couldn't even walk but, Rachel decided, was absolutely adorable on him. When he took Avi on walks past the park, he pointed out the dangers involved in playgrounds to other caregivers that included the woodchips (splinters), merry-go-rounds (momentum could rip them straight off and send them flying into previously mentioned unsafe woodchips) and, well, every other part of a playground that you could imagine. He not only started a Neighborhood Watch for their building but was the leader of all the meetings and served as the only member on call 24/7 to deal with any threat that presented itself in their apartment complex, no matter how small. True to his word, on top of everything else he took on, he never stopped courting Rachel; taking her out on dates, surprising her with flowers, and writing songs for her (to name a few activities).

One night, at two in the morning, Avi started to cry and Noah shot out of bed before Rachel was alert enough to hear anything.

"It's okay," he soothed when he arrived in the nursery. The intention was to simply comfort her briefly but he couldn't resist the urge to lift her out of the crib. "Daddy's here." Noah stared down at her as she rocked in his arms and her tears calmed down with his presence. Sometimes, just looking at Avi, he felt mini panic attacks come on at the thought of all the dangers that would present themselves in her lifetime. "I would lose my shit if anything ever happened to you or your mommy. You know that, right?" The baby cooed softly, grasping Noah's finger in her small hand. "There are so many scary things in the world…so many ways a person can get hurt and I'm not just talking about cuts, bruises and scrapes. There are a lot of assholes out there that get enjoyment out of manipulating people and trying to break them any way they can. I know because I used to be one of them. You're going to come across a lot of people that have been through the ringer. They'll have scars that you can see and scars that you can't. But, lucky for you, you're never going to have to worry about any of that because I'm going to dedicate every second of my life to protecting you." He paused to kiss her forehead. "I promise."

Smiling at the words that came through the baby monitor beside the bed, Rachel closed her eyes and drifted off to Noah quietly singing to their daughter.