future!fic, au, and a little angsty to start with. my first attempt at a multi-chapter.

quick note: a very huge & warm thank you to a huge list of people. i have not met a kinder group of people than those found on this website. you've all been wonderful. :]

as always, please let me know what you think and so on. reviews are my applause and like tinkerbell i totally need them to live.

The plan is to get totally and absolutely hammered because that's what you did for your best friend of twelve years when he's finally getting married. Especially if you were the catalyst of their first major fight, breakup, and the hardest period of their life.

So when Puck learned that Finn was getting married and that he was a Best Man? He did want any good bro would do. He planned the largest, manliest, most badass part known to man and didn't hesitate to call up the old gang from high school.

They're all still unmarried and at various stages in their life. Like Finn? That boy was willingly entering the last form of slavery with Quinn Fabray. That's not to say anyone was all that surprised because if they could survive Baby-Gate? They could survive anything.

Mike is a chef which is kind of a surprise because the guy was always scrawny but he had a real knack when it came to food. He's working at some four-star restaurant in Chicago because it's far enough away from Lima and vegetables that aren't fried that he feels it's pretty accomplished about his life.

Matt is stand-up comedian. Yeah, when Puck first heard that news he laughed uproariously which he supposed was a good enough reason for Matt to be on stage because the mere idea of it? Had Puck in stitches, seriously.

Finn's a teacher. Yeah, that's almost as funny as Matt's profession because there was a board of supposedly intelligent people that had deemed Finn capable of molding the minds of today's youth. He's working at McKinely and while he had always aspired to leave Lima as far behind as possible he found that maybe this place was exactly what he needed all along.

Puck's living the dream, okay. Because he is a rock star. Well, kinda. He hasn't been launched to the top of the Billboards or anything but he makes a living on touring America and playing some pretty badass music. There's even some air play and radio interviews so he's content. And the groupies? Oh dear god, they put the cougars to shame. These girls were ready and willing for anything.

He loves every second of it.

But when Finn rings him up and gives him the news? He drops the blonde groupie faster than her panties did that evening and he's out the door, hailing a cab to take him back to his hotel room so he can get his shit together. It's as good excuse as any to go home since his mom won't stop pestering him. And yes, even shredding guitarists and sultry rock-ballad crooning singers were allowed to be mama's boys. Shut up.

Finding Finn's house isn't all that difficult. It's -get this- yellow and he swears that Quinn picked it just to torture Hudson and that thought makes him laugh because when is that psycho not out to get someone? Puck doesn't know when she was crazier - pregnant and hormonal or engaged and bridezilla. It's safe to say he does not go inside and instead waits in the car, watches as the soon-to-be couple says their goodbye and looks so couple-y that he wants to vomit.

Instead he pops another mint and blows the horn again, waving to Quinn when the blonde glanced towards him. Puck can't read my minds but he's pretty sure that whatever Quinn is thinking right now would put his dirty mouth to shame and there ain't enough soap in the world to rinse her mouth out if she managed to verbalize any of it.

Finn's sliding in to his truck and immediately he taps the air freshener that's in the shape of a music note. His sister buys them for him so shut the fuck up, alright? He misses the little twerp sometimes. "Evergreen? Isn't that a christmas scent? You don't even celebrate Christmas."

Puck has to laugh because seriously? The first time they've seen each other and that's what Finn says? He's missed him. "Anna keeps sending them. What else can I do? Besides, it's a good scent. Covers up all the other things that happen in my baby."

And that truck is his baby. It's quite the upgrade from the one he had in high school and it was the first thing he bought when he recieved that first endorsement check.

"So where's the other guys? Surely you don't expect the two of us to have a party." Finn remarked while sticking one hand out of the window, enjoying the balmy breeze that made Ohio's summers almost bearable.

"They're going to meet us there," Puck replied carefully because he's not willing to give away any of the details. They had went to great lengths to keep this secret. Okay, maybe not, because it's not exactly hard to keep something from Finn (hello, baby's paternity anyone?) but they enjoyed the espionage of it all.

The smile on Finn's face is reason enough for Puck to smile. Maybe he's mellowed out in the last few years but he's still a badass and tonight he is determined to prove that to all of them again. "Just enjoy it. And seriously, don't say a fuckin' word to Quinn when this night is over. She already knows not to asks questions."

And Quinn was smart enough not to because she knew when Puck got involved that it was going to be a crazy night. She had ruled out Vegas because after watching the Hangover she's quite certain that these boys could make a sequel that would put that movie to shame. But Columbia was still fair game so that's where they're headed.

Well, kinda. First there's a pit stop to really kick the night off. A bar off of the interstate that advertised wings and women. Who could say no to that? Even while Finn protested and said that no, this tradition wasn't necessary, Puck still led him through the doors.

Inside it wasn't hard to spot Mike and Matt despite the dim lights of the establishment. When the smoking ban in place it was easier to see through the fog of strobes and the fall of glitter. It seemed this place had a never-ending supply of it in the air vents. Not that Puck really cared. That sparkly shit was kinda hot the next morning because each sparkle was a reminder. Of course, he had to buy new sheets each and every time so he's limited himself.

"Chang! Rutherford!"

It was amazing how males could fall easily back into their old habits. Distance and time meant little to them. Each was able to stand and greet and follow up with some complicated hand gesture that they had spent weeks trying to perfect back in the days of McKinley.

"Puckerman! You actually have hair. When did that happen?" Matt asked as he dropped back down into his seat with his beer grasped a moment later.

The two boys had managed to find a table that's close enough to the entertainment but away from one of the massive speakers so that conversation was easier to flow. After twenty questions about his life and Finn's plans and babies Puck is starting to wish that they had sat next to the speaker. At least then everyone would shut the hell up and enjoy the show.

He, for one, was enjoying it. No matter how high the number of one night stands and trysts and threesomes (and numerous other activies that are too explicit to list) he could never get enough. Women just had this ... power over him. That was something he was not ashamed off. They were his motivation behind waking up at the ass crack of dawn every single day to hit up the gym, to eat healthier shit. Don't get him wrong - he enjoys his steaks and burgers and typical macho man food but in healthier doses than his high school days. After all, abs were harder to maintain once you got older, a lesson he's learning all too well.

"- and I heard that Brittany is teaching dance classes now." Evidently Puck has stopped paying attention because he didn't even realize that they were discussing old classmates and where-they-were-now. Granted, he still has a dick unlike these giant vaginas so he's watching the show. Blonde at three o'clock, anyone?

"What about Rachel?" Finn asked between a pull on his corona. "I haven't heard anything from her."

Now that's somewhat shocking to Puck. After all that eye-fucking and flirting in high school he was certain that Berry and Hudson would remain BFFs. "Isn't she on Broadway or some shit?" Puck's just tossing that out there because he doesn't really know but he's kinda curious.

Mike is just shaking his head. "Naw, she never left for New York but no one knows where she is either. Her dads don't even live in Lima anymore. They just kinda ... left."

After a hard shot of tequila Puck finds himself intrigued in the conversation. He motioned for another drink when the pretty redhead walked by but didn't even pause to flirt with her. A first. "So she just vanished? What about that St. Dick guy?"

When the fuck did Mike become Rachel's keeper is what Puck wants to know, because yet again the asian is shaking his head. "They broke up a few months after she finished up school from what I hear. I don't know why she even got back with that fucker after the omlette fiasco."

Thing is, Puck didn't know either but it's not like he spent his nights thinking about that (maybe just one or four). Their last two years of high school were actually pretty bearable. After that first Nationals win? She had cooled. Yeah, she was still a bucket of crazy but it didn't overflow nearly as much. He had actually started to like, talk to her and shit.

"Know what I think?" Puck started as he lifted his recently obtained shot glass in the air and gestured for the others to follow. "We're spending too much time talking about her crazy ass when we could be admiring far better things." They cheered his toast, downed their shots, and dragged their attention towards the stage that was illuminated in neons of bright greens and pinks.

On stage there's a pretty smokin' brunette. Everything on this girl is firm and toned. There's nothing he appreciates more than a girl who spends time on her body. That shit is hot. This woman obviously knew her stuff. Did strippers have a good workout regiment? Had to with the way they worked themselves on poles.

And this girl? She had mastered the art, he swears. There was just something graceful about the movements, something that had him on the edge of his seat, utterly enthralled. It's not some pansy shit either, it's because her ass is fine. You don't come here to appreciate the eyes or their soul or any other part. Just the basics so that's what he did. Not that it mattered anyway because there's a fedora on her head angled just so.

As hot as that hat is on a chick he can't wait until she tossed it because when he gets his hook up for the evening (fuck Finn if he thinks Puck isn't getting laid tonight) he wants to imagine this girl. Her petite fingers are grasping the rim and even though her back is to them he's leaning even further forward, grateful that he's only had a few shots otherwise he'd be sprawled on the floor. Gravity is a bitch after too many shots, he's learned.

Chocolate curls fall further down her back now that they're not contained and he just has this ... this feeling. He just knows that her hair is soft and those curls will bounce back after being tugged on and he thinks he can smell citrus and white jasmine. The scent is familiar, gnaws at something in the pit of his stomach. All he wants is for her to turn around. To turn around and just ... well, fuck, he doesn't know. He wants something.

Matt must have a sixth sense about shit like this because he's calling the girl over, enticing her with a five dollar bill. Seriously? A fiver? That boy really needs to get laid. But Puck can kind of understand because there's something about this chick that makes him want to reach for a bill higher than a one too. Mike's upping the ante by holding up a ten and Finn is just relaxed back in his seat with a grin that was probably worth more than any amount of money he could have produced. Woman flocked to his good-guy appeal. Fucker.

Puck is all smirks and trademark cockiness because he's getting his way without having to hold up a single note. She's interested enough to head towards them and she is fucking on her knees and crawling. Seriously? Could this night get any better? All that hair is spilled in front of her face, a curtain between them and he wants it all to just be gone. Preferably over one shoulder as he has her bent over a bed or couch or some hard surface.

Her hands are tiny when they start to brush through her hair, pull the strands through her fingers before she reached out to collect the money that was offered with the ease that was expected from a woman in this profession.

That's when he sees her eyes. Remember all that shit about admiring the basics? Fuck it because her eyes? Those eyes? They've got him all excited. Puck doesn't even think he can remember how to breathe.

It's not until she blinks, breaks the spell and suddenly gets up to stand and march off that he realizes what the fuck just happened. Those eyes? Fuck, they're familiar and he knows why. He knows who.

And judging by all the stunned looks and dropped jaws that were currently at his table, everyone else recgonized her too. Rachel Berry. Looks like she hadn't dropped off the face of the earth after all. This information is hard to digest and he finds himself seeking the answer in the bottom of a tumbler of scotch. He's not sure who it belonged to or where it came from but it was downed before any of the members of his party could protest.

"Oh, she's on stage alright," Mark began and Puck swears that Rutherford's eyes were getting ready to spring from their sockets in a crazy, cartoon fashion. "It just ain't Broadway."

Finn swallowed hard. Of all the things to see tonight. He's not sure if this is the best party ever or the absolute worst. As the announcer makes excuses overhead ("you guys are just too hot for miss starr!") the silence starts to descend over the table.

"I'm headed to the bar." Puck announced before he stood, left the now empty glass on the table and strutted towards the oasis in this fucked up shit.

But he ended up making a detour. He's been to enough of these joints, hosted enough parties and has enough celebrity to know how it works. He is out the side door before he even realizes what's happening. The door to the wardrobe room is ajar and fuck if he doesn't push it open, ignores the squeals of delight from the girls that have seen enough magazine covers to recgonize him.

Any other time and he would be all over it but tonight he's got a mission and unfortunately, none of these girls are on his to-do list. Instead he finds the slumped over form of one Miss Berry who is crying so hard her shoulders are shaking. There is way too much alcohol in his system for him to feel too sympathetic so he just grabs her arm and yanks her out of the seat.

Ignoring her protests, sputters, and slaps on the biceps he drags her from the comfort of her changing area and out the door. Rain has started to fall but it's just a light splattering that he doesn't really care.

Judging by the way she shakes and glares, rubs at the smeared mascara and eyeliner that streaked down her face, she does. "You have no right, Noah Puckerman."

"Yeah?" he says lowly, almost dangerous in the way he speared her with a look. "What the fuck are you doing here Berry? Santana I could see here but you? Long way from Broadway."

Puck doesn't appreciate the changes that he sees. There's no sparkle to her eyes when Broadway is mentioned. Instead it's a dark shadow that flickered briefly in jaded eyes. A hard swallow and a shake of his head dispells the notion that he cares because he doesn't. He just doesn't like her being on that stage, being ridiculed because if he made it out of Lima, out of Ohio? She damned well should have. No excuses.

"Don't you dare judge me, Puckerman. Don't you dare. You can't even being to comprehend my circumstances."

"What? You tried and they gave your solo away?" Puck scoffed and found himself shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. She's shaking so hard he's almost afraid for her (not of, obviously).

When her jaw clenches and those muscles start to tic? He's a little bit turned out. But then her words are spat with such venom that he doesn't have a clue who the fuck this bitch is, but he's not a fan. "I'll have you know that some of us were forced to grow up. Some of us couldn't chase after their dreams because there were circumstances behind our control. Some of us have to be responsible."

The way she says that? Pisses him off. Like he's some immature little kid. He's not that high school loser who was forced to give up his first child and he's damned sure not some bitch that Berry can push around. He's all up in her personal space now, no regard given to the pain sure to be caused from the press of the brick wall against her underdressed, frail form. She's not shaking anymore. Too livid, he figures.

"What the hell Berry? Since when did I become your punching bag because you failed? Sounds like you're still that selfish bitch you were back in high school. What? Things were too hard so you fucking gave up? Don't you lecture me because I'm doing what you are obviously too fucked up to do. Seriously? Flaunting yourself to strangers like that? It's fucked up. You're fucked up."

Never in his life has he disrespected a woman so much but he's so full of rage he doesn't know what else to do. His hands are clenched so tight the knuckles are white. He really, really does not like her being here, dressed like that, pushing all his goddamn buttons. But then there's tears and he groans because really? What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

"Rach, don't cry. I just want to know why you're here, how you got here..." he trails off and his voice is soft and low and everything that he hates.

When her shoulders start to shake he's absolutely fucked because the only thing he knows to do is pat her on the back and so he pulls her close and does just that, unable to hear what she muttered against his shoulder inbetween hiccuping sobs that wracked her body. He frowned and pulled her away slightly, trying to find her eyes inbetween that transculcent film of moisture. "What Berry? Speak english."

"I have a son."

And suddenly he's pulling away from her because his stomach is rolling and all that alcohol in his system? All that money spent on pouring drinks down his throat this evening? It's all wasted because he's puking against the side of the building. Yeah, he's been on a few benders and the burn of an alcohol-induced vomiting is always the worst but when it's forced by a confession that has literally shaken the foundation of his world? Yeah, this is the worst.

"How old?" he rasped as she just stood there, looking everywhere but at him, at his mess.

"Four."

Exactly the amount of time that he had been gone, the amount of time that he had left, the amount of time since their ... No. No fucking way. "Who's the daddy?"

Her chin juts forward, "Jesse."

Never in her life had Rachel Berry been a good liar. Career choices didn't change that. Puck is aware that she just lied to him.

But he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be involved in this shit. She wants to pull a Quinn and claim some other dick to be the daddy? Fine. Fuck this. "I see. Shouldn't he be providing for the kid?"

"He's gone." There's a bit of the venom in her voice then and Puck doesn't dare question his whereabouts. What a fucking loser. He knew he should've just kept pummeling the kid after their first encounter. "Don't say a word about this Puck. I mean it. I don't want anyone to know. It's why I left Lima."

"And this? This is your solution? You're going to run away and strip your way through life to provide for this kid? I thought you were smarter than that."

Rachel's eyes become slits and there's an unbridled hatred rising in that gaze. This feels like more familiar territory. "And I thought you were better than what everyone else thought. Looks like we're both wrong."

And when she turns to leave? He doesn't reach for her, doesn't stop her. Instead he goes inside and drags the guys out because Rachel be damned if he stays. If he did he might do something crazy like steal her away to his basement or knock some fucking sense in her.

So he does exactly what he just accused her of, he runs. They move on to the next bar and he gets so wasted that they pour him in a hotel room that's not far from their stop. They're all stuck there and having a good time even while he sulks, foul-tempered over in the corner of the room with little to be said.