He wakes up to find Rachel tossing her hair over her shoulder and tugging on a pair of his boxers. He raises an eyebrow at her, because yeah, hot . . . But why?

"Morning, sunshine," he snickers at her painful frown.

"Morning," she grumbles, placing her head in her hands and groaning for a second.

"So, can you remember anything from last night? Or is it all just a blur of giggling and piggy-back rides?" he asks, shifting to rest on his elbow.

"Yes. No. I don't know. How did I get here? Wait, no, everybody just stop! Okay, whew. It hurts to think. Wait no, oh God, what did I do last night? It all stops after the third shot. Do you know why I was doing shots? Goodness. I must have been utterly delusional. Please get me a drink of orange juice, with two pain-killers. The type that knocks you out in one go," she murmurs, rolling back onto his bed with an oof.

He narrows his eyes and pokes her in the gut. "What do I look like, a maid?"

She replies, "Orange juice has lots of vitamin C."

He still gets her two aspirins and one glass of juice, one of chilled water. But you know, just because he was hungry and he passed through the kitchen.

There's a knock at the door two hours later when she's curled up by his side, groaning every so often. He mumbles a 'please come in, sir' or something like that, burying his face in his pillow with one arm still wrapped around Rachel.

Arnold Berry is staring him down like he's a fly. And Mr Berry? He has a fly-squatter just itching to be used.

"S'up, Mr Berry?"

"I'd like my daughter back, thank you," Arnold says through gritted teeth, taking Rachel's wrist. She moans, flopping back onto the bed as her father lets go. Ryan joins him, but he doesn't even look half as mad.

"Dude, how'd you know where I live?" Puck asks, standing up (and looking at it from a different angle, you could say he was in a defensive position, protecting Rachel. He'd deny it, though). He figures that 'dude' is not the right term to call your girlfriend's gay father when he thinks you're pretty much holding her hostage.

Rina, Puck's mom, steps around the Mr Berry's and scowls at Puck. "We met a long time ago, Arnold and I. We met when we were just kids at Sunday school."

Ryan coughs next to him, muttering "bed wetter's camp" under his breath. Puck laughs, and wonders whether it's wrong to have a favourite father. Arnold slaps Ryan over the arm gently, with a fond but slightly-stern look.

"Noah! Why didn't you tell me you where seeing a Jewish girl? Oh, Noah. Finally you're manning up! And to think, you whisked her away to some mysterious place, the two of you lying to everyone. It's so romantic, Noah."

Rachel must have woken, because she suddenly pipes up. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Puckerman. I shouldn't have come here. I should have . . ." She trails off, seeing her fathers' faces.

"Oh sweetheart!" Mrs Puckerman gushes. "No, no, no. You really are welcome to come any time. I mean, look at his room! It's clean- sort of. Noah, how many times do I have to tell you to clean up after yourself?"

"Shut up, ma!" Noah groans, stretching. "Look, Mr Berry's, I really dig your daughter. Not just 'cause she's smoking, either." The disapproving look from Arnold Berry does not go unnoticed by anyone. "Because she puts up with me. Because she's always dreaming and she believes in me, even though I probably don't deserve to be believed in. Because she can cook and I can't, and she's, like, a freak A+ student in, like, every subject. Because she spent the summer with a loser like me, and because she doesn't mind who I am. Heck, that's probably why she loves me."

"You love him?" Ryan asks with a fond smile.

Puck thinks that it might be a bad sign that instead of replying, Rachel hurdles over the bed for the bathroom. She doesn't bother shutting the door, and everyone cringes at the sound affects.

"She, uh . . . She has food poisoning," Puck mumbles, following her out the door. He holds her hair back and grimaces every time she upchucks. "You'll be fine, Rach. Nothing an aspirin and a movie on the couch can't fix," he murmurs to her.

"That sounds good," she replies quietly, wiping her mouth and flushing the toilet. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Mrs Puckerman and fathers."

Arnold grumbles as he heads out the door, followed by Rina, who is sniffling into a tissue.

"Get it together, Ma," he calls out the doorway. Rachel follows behind them, still muttering apologies stiffly, obviously embarrassed.

Ryan pats him on the shoulder. "She's hung over, isn't she?" Ryan says with a light chuckle, not waiting for a reply. "Thanks for taking care of her. She deserves a guy like you."

Puck thinks that's the first time anyone has ever said anything like that to him at all. Ever.

"Nah, sir, you got it all wrong. I don't deserve her."

"You're both lucky then. Only a few of us are," he says, watching Arnold walk down the hallway. It's kind of gross because does Mr Berry seriously want them to go down the gay path? But Puck's eyes wander to his mom, and he agrees. Not a lot of people do get to be lucky, even people who deserve it.

Mr Berry pats his shoulder and follows the rest of the crowd out.

He thinks he has a favourite Dad.

(He knows it's not cool, because how is he supposed to know what a Dad is like? He doesn't haveone. But maybe that's why it's so easy to pick a favourite – the one he'd want to be his own father.)

Rachel is watching Rina cook some breakfast for everyone (thought Rachel refuses, as she doesn't want another episode) when she has a flashback to a one-on-one with Mr Schuester. He told her she would find a boy who really loved her for who she was.

And though he hasn't really ever said it, Rachel is almost positive Noah loves her even if she has an obsessive need for fame and even if she's a little bossy. Even if she can be emotional and painful and annoying and she talks a lot about things most people don't care about. She knows he loves her, flaws included (she promised herself she would never have any flaws, but she guesses it's hard to be perfect). In his words, hell, he might even love her because of those things.

She likes the idea of that.

He gives her a smirk and a wink, brushing his elbow against hers.

(Still sends those butterflies fluttering.)

Her Daddy doesn't look happy one bit, but she can deal with that. Love is always facing troubles. Love is a trouble.

"We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night, nothin' new is sweeter than with you," he hums under his breath. The sound of his voice is just all right; the feel of breath against her neck is all right. She thinks that this was what the whole Finn thing as supposed to be like.

"Ah, home. Let me go home. Home is whenever I'm with you," she sings back, taking the jug of orange juice and pouring herself a glass. "Ah, home. Let me go home. Home is whenever I'm with you."

Arnold is watching them curiously, his eyebrows knit together. "You sound lovely together, darling," he murmurs to her, and she'll take it as an approval or blessing or anything. She'll just take it.

She's lucky. She knows it.

A/N: The end.

I've been so preoccupied with my next story, I've been a terrible/lazy author and not updated.

But seriously, it is the end.

And just a note to sunshine, as I couldn't reply to her message. The whole point is that Noah is not exactly religious. He'd say anything to shut Quinn up.