Puck had never been normal, at least for Lima.

He had a mohawk. He was Jewish. He was awesome.

Completely out of the ordinary.

Rachel Berry was just another way for Puck to rebel against conformity.

The first time he had set eyes on Rachel, it had been the first week of high school. Fresh out of middle school and eager to take advantage of the other forms of entertainment high school had to offer, Puck had feasted his eyes on the girls threading through the hallowed halls of McKinley High. A few of them giggled when they caught his eye and Puck smirked. Being on the varsity football team guaranteed stud status after all.

Then out of nowhere came the best pair of legs he had seen outside of Popeye's. They were toned, perfectly muscled and looked about ten feet tall. The pleated skirt that had Puck licking his lips were illegally short. He frowned when he saw the high collared shirt but that lessened when he took in plump lips and doe, brown eyes framed by chocolate waves.

He was totally willing to forgive the schoolgirl headband for those legs. Damn.

'Hey,' Puck said. The girl had spun around and fluttered her long lashes.

'Hello,' she replied cautiously.

'I'm Puck,' he told her when there was no glint of recognition in her eyes. Weird. Everyone knew who Noah Puckerman was.

'Is that a moniker?'

'What?'

'It's just that Puck is the name of an elf in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream who is reknown for being a wise knave,' she seemed to lecture him. What the hell was this?

'Err okay,' Puck replied slowly, drawing out his words.

Dude, remember those legs. Besides, what you have in mind she isn't going to be talking much anyways.

'So I was thinking me and you-'

'You and I.'

'Should do something tonight,' Puck suggested casually, ignoring her interruption.

'Excuse me?' She looked confused. Puck thought she was just blinded by sheer, unadulterated lust to comprehend what he was trying to say. Curving his lips just so, he leaned closer towards her.

'How about it?'

'I haven't even given you my name,' the girl pointed out. Puck looked expectantly at her and she seemed to wilt. 'I'm Rachel Berry.'

'So Rachel Berry, how about tonight?'

Rachel angled her face and their eyes met.

'I'm sorry but I already have a prior engagement.' She looked contrite.

'Huh?' Was this chick turning down a night of Puck?

'I travel to the local community college for show choir practice since McKinley seems to lack one. It's important to keep my vocal skills intact if I'm going to be-'

'You're turning me down for show choir?' Puck asked incredulously. 'Do you know who I am?'

'Well yes. You just told me your name was Puck,' Rachel replied, a bit confused. 'Though I doubt that is the name your parents gave you.'

Puck shook his head, resisting the urge to clear his ears out. Had he heard her right?

'So let me get this straight – you're turning down a night with the school stud to go prance around with a bunch of other losers who think singing and dancing around like a bunch of gleeks is fun?'

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say because Rachel's features seemed to stiffen in anger.

'If I'm such a loser, than why would you want to go out with me?'

'Because you have a smokin' pair of legs,' Puck told her matter-of-factly.

Her face twisted up in what looked like disgust.

'Then I'm afraid that my answer to your generous offer must be a resounding no,' was all she said before slamming her locker door shut with a loud bang. Puck watched her walk away, mouth half-open.

Did Rachel Berry just reject him?

Puck saw her later that day during lunch. She seemed to be staring at something with a lovelorn expression on her face. Following her line of sight, he rested his own on Finn Hudson.

Well fuck me.

Finn was his best friend but what the hell did Frankenteen have that Puck didn't? It sure as hell wasn't brains – because while Puck would ride or die for the guy, there was no escaping the fact that Finn wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. It couldn't be looks because all it had taken was one well-placed smirk before Puck had had Santana Lopez locked up in a broom closet with him the hour before. The only thing left was personality and Puck was the most charismatic motherchucker you would ever meet, hands down.

Rachel must have noticed him staring because she looked right at him before turning her nose up and pointedly showing him her back.

Oh, it was on.

The next morning he had been at the 7-11 a few blocks from his house when he had overheard a couple of kids bragging about dousing one of their friends in a massive slushie waterfall. Puck stood there for a moment, considering. The giant Big Quench had sweated in his cup holder the whole way to school. It kept slipping in his hands as he weaved his way through the crowd. A couple of the football players spotted him and gave him quizzical glances as he passed them with a somewhat devious lopsided sneer.

It wasn't hard to pick out Rachel's legs. She was absently closing her locker, head bent down over one of her textbooks.

'Hey Berry.'

She turned to face him and gasped when he upended the Big Quench into her face. Time stood still. People around them went silent. Rachel seemed to be frozen in place, a horrified expression etched into her face. Puck simply leered.

No one ignores Noah Puckerman. No one.

The guilt that Puck had felt when Rachel gave a tiny, wet gasp flitted away when the quarterback of the varsity team slapped him on the back.

'Classic Puckerman. Absolutely classic,' Brad Whitman had said and Puck had practically fallen over as the rest of his teammates tackled him with praise.

That was the first day he had given Rachel Berry a slushie facial.

So when he had had that dream about Rachel and the glowing Star of David, Puck knew that the day before would be his last slushie attack.

He'd gotten a grape slushie for her, because he knew that was her favourite. Puck had walked up to her, straw behind his ears. He pretended it didn't bother him when she flinched back instinctively, closing her eyes tight and rocking back on her feet. When nothing happened she cracked open one coffee-tinged iris.

'I got you this. It's grape. I know its your favourite because you licked your lips the last time I got one,' Puck said, extracting the straw and holding it out to her along with the Big Quench.

It was a peace offering which she took with cautious hands. Her fingers brushed against his and his stomach swooped like the first time he had laid eyes on her.

Because while other boys got a girl's attention by pulling their pig tails, Puck had opted for a more modern method of sandbox psychology.

'Thank you Puck,' Rachel replied softly, earning a triumphant grin from the left tackle.

And he'd been successful.

After all, he hadn't had to introduce himself this time did he?

Normal be damned.