Surprise! I'm a day early. This is long. And this is the last chapter of World Famous Sugar Cookies! As many of you know, this was my first Glee fic. I haven't written fic in a looong time. And everyone who has read, favorited, pm'd and reviewed has made writing and posting this incredibly and amazingly easy. You are really amazing people out there on the interhighway. Thank you so much!

So...I gave an inkling last chapter, a different kind of flashback. I hope that you enjoy. WARNING: Super sucrose ahead. You will need to brush your teeth afterwards, because Sugar is in the title people. It's syrupy sweet.

-Chapter Thirteen-

***April 2010***

"What on EARTH are you doing? What are you thinking, NOAH?"

Puck blinked rapidly, as he stared downward at the insanely loud, angry shouting. Rachel Berry stood in front of his driver's side door, still in those insanely, ungodly fucking red short shorts, her hands on her hips, her face quickly reddening as her blood pressure clearly began to rise in direct correlation with her anger.

"Berry-pants, chillax. You don't need to know about this," Puck assured her, attempting to walk around her to access his truck. She remained unmoving and he said, "Move Midget."

"Absolutely not. If you think for one second that I'm going to let you go to Carmel High again and get yourself expelled over someone as meaningless as Jesse St. Barfbag, you are sorely mistaken, because there is no way in he-NOAH! PUT ME DOWN!"

Puck smirked as he gripped his hands around her waist, easily lifting her up off the ground and away from his truck. He opened the door and quickly sat down, and was thrown completely off guard as she clamored in after him, straddling his lap as she stared at him with incredulous fury.

"You are not going to Carmel. I don't care that 34 tiny baby chicks will never have the chance to live…it's not worth it. We showed them with our Funk number, you don't need to-"

"Like hell I don't! He humiliated you. No song, no matter how awesome and badass, is going to make up for the fact that he smashed poor baby chicks all over my girl's face. I'm going to rip his hands off and shove them up his butt! I waited a few days so that the murderous rage would turn into just a bone crushing simmer, I won't kill the fucker, just maim him," Puck promised.

Very, very suddenly, his anger floated into the stratosphere. Because very, very suddenly, he had Rachel lips smashed on his own mouth. And she smashed lips better than any one person he had ever known. The big mystery of his life? She was the one who taught him how to kiss like a fucking champion that summer in the Poconos. He still had a burning curiosity on where she had learnt it from.

His hands found his favorite ass in the world and they were both groping around for control of the steamy make-out session. She gripped the gold chains still around his neck as if it were a leash of sorts, yanking his body closer to hers. It took just one shift from Puck and suddenly she was leaning against his steering wheel, his hands that were still on his own little piece of ass-heaven bumping against the horn to his truck.

The blaring sound made Rachel jump up from Puck's lap, only to have her head meet the top of his truck with a loud thumping sound. Puck's eyes widened and he shifted her off of his lap and into the passenger seat. He brought a gentle hand to the top of her head and whispered,

"You okay, Berry-pants? Do you have a concussion? Do you remember who you are?"

"I'm Rachel Berry. You said-you said," she mumbled.

"I said you were Rachel Berry? Finest ass in all of North America? Monster singing voice…seriously, it will eat my brain if I let it. I said you were the absolute number one kisser of all time?" Puck questioned quickly, feeling her head for any suspicious lumps.

"You said I was your girl," Rachel whispered softly, reaching up to grab his hand from the top of her head to hold it in hers.

"You are," Puck nodded casually, as if his words were no big deal. He shrugged and admitted, "You've been my girl since you threw that first box of cookies at my head. You're my girl, Berry-pants. You're my end game."

"But…Quinn is having your daughter. And you dated Mercedes…and Santana, and everything is all messed up," Rachel shrugged, her descriptive vocabulary flying from her clearly concussed head. "And, I've been horrible to you."

"Doesn't matter. Quinn and I are friends, probably for the rest of our lives now, just friends. I mean, there's no way either she or I will want to be within ten feet of each other in just our underwear, to be safe. Mercedes was a disaster, both because it lasted less than three days and the fact that Matt's payback involved duct-taping my butt cheeks together. And Santana is…well an unholy she-devil," Puck shrugged. He smiled and kissed her forehead. "But you're my best friend. Not just 97 days out of the year. You're my best friend, Berry Pants. You're still my end game."

"I'm the one you want with you at the end of the game," Rachel nodded. She smiled softly and said, "Okay. But-until Beth is born, I think we should keep things…"

"Basic?" Puck supplied. He could agree to basic for now. He would never say it out loud, but the sheer fact that she was willing to be friends year round was enough for him. It would be enough for a pretty long time. He nodded and said, "Okay. I can do basic. But you can't wear those shorts, and you can't straddle me in the truck."

"They you have to stop saying surprisingly romantic and heartfelt things."

"Berry-pants, I'm a first class ladies man, all the shit I say is romantic and heartfelt," Puck assured her. He settled himself behind his wheel and said, "I say we go get you a smoothie somewhere, and then we go to Carmel's parking lot so we can watch the fucking badass hilarity unfold."

"Noah!" Rachel admonished. "What did you do?"

"Put bed bugs and itching powder on their auditorium seats. Those little fuckers are going to think that their herpes is flaring up."

***June 2020***

"Remember the last time we were all in Vegas like this?"

Noah looked up from the bench he was sitting on to see Mike Chang standing in front of him, all grins and giggles. He rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, that time that you and Matt almost got me, Rachel, Quinn and Finn arrested? And Rachel extradited to Israel? Yeah, those are the good times that I always want to remember, Jackie Chang."

"Well, we're here for better memories. I'm not supposed to let you get arrested though," Mike admitted with a shrug. "And we're not allowed to go see strippers."

"No strippers? But I'm the perfect lap dance apparatus!" Artie pouted from a few benches down, ramming his chair slightly into Matt Rutherford's legs.

"I'm telling Tina, dude," Matt smirked at his long-time friend. "I'm not going against the rules. She'll ninja kick my nads. Then Cadi will turn them into a belt for Kurt, or somethin'."

"Dude, so, we've got high stakes poker in a half an hour at the Stratosphere," Mike announced. "Then we've got extra special seats at that old-ass Playboy bunny's burlesque show."

"You're totally going to get pulled up on stage to dance," Finn assured Noah. He smirked at his friend and reassured him, "At least this time you won't be in drag."

"I'm really, really glad that you guys didn't have a chance to you know, take me along that summer," Artie smirked. "I can't pull off drag."

"Finn makes the prettiest girl in the world," Noah shrugged. "None of us can compete. Does Kurt still have that poster framed?"

"You guys are assholes," Finn mumbled. Yes, his step-brother still did have that small memento of Finn's short time in Las Vegas from ten years ago. It was what Kurt called the focal point for his relaxation study. "I don't know why, eight years after high school ended, I'm still hanging with all of you."

"Cause you can't tell your rights from your lefts?" Noah offered helpfully.

"Cause who else would help you buy the Trix to help you find the bunny?" Mike chimed in.

"Cause secretly, you love us more than you love Quinn?" Matt finished.

"I believe it's because like a lot of relationships we formed through Glee, they're like…cemented together. Why would you look for new friends, when you have eleven people who went through hell and back with you?" Artie poetically posed.

"We should have left Wheelie with the chicks," Noah laughed. "Is this a bachelor party or an estrogen fest?"

"Bachelor party," Mike hopped off the bench as the fountains at the Bellagio began their 8:30 show. "Let's walk…or roll off into the Sin City night, like the badasses we are."

***April 2010***

"You'll be okay to drive back to the hospital?" Rachel wondered morosely, looking down at her hands.

"I'll be good," Puck promised. "Finn and Mercedes are coming along. You okay?"

"Noah, nothing matters right now but you and Quinn. You two are doing something…heartbreaking and amazing," Rachel insisted. "My Daddy J and I were talking about it one day, and he said you were like a Saint or something. Because you know, he wouldn't really have me if it hadn't of been for Shelby letting him adopt me…and he's so proud of you. You know that right? We're all so proud of the both of you."

"Yeah," Puck nodded. "I'll see you when I get home, Berry-pants."

"Okay," Rachel smiled sadly and watched as he walked towards Mercedes' mother's car. She turned and got on the bus, going towards her customary back seat and frowned when she saw Santana sitting on the last bench.

Rachel paused in front of the Cheerio and Santana blew out an exasperated breath, "Man-hands, SIT."

Rachel did as she was told, all of her energy sapped from her due to the enormously exhausting and heartbreaking day they had all just experienced. She sat primly next to Santana, holding her breath. Suddenly, Santana had her arms around her in a surprisingly non-awkward hug.

"Uhhh, what?" Rachel squeaked as Santana hugged her fiercely.

Santana pulled away and shrugged, "You looked like you needed it. And you know…maybe I did too."

"Okay," Rachel nodded. She smiled weakly and offered, "You're going to be fine, Santana. I mean, with your talent and amazingly strong voice, you're going to have plenty of opportunities to perform."

"It wouldn't be the same and you know it. I like our group. I like being the boss of you guys," Santana admitted peevishly. "Speaking of which, why didn't you go with Puck to the hospital?"

"It was just a little too overwhelming," Rachel said quietly, her voice barely over a whisper.

"Cause his first kid is some adopted bastard and not with you?" Santana hypothesized. She took Rachel's silence and slight pout as an affirmative and said, "Yeah, I was kind of pissed that he and Quinn did that without my permission. And the fact that he was dating me at the time."

"Why do you-I don't quite understand, Santana, why do you have to be in charge of everyone?" Rachel furrowed her brow. "Why did your need for control effectually cause my last place popularity status for the last six years?"

Santana crossed her arms in front of her defensively and averted her eyes to the window, where the flat Ohio landscape was rushing by in a blur of green grass and grey concrete. The pair of girls remained silent for a few minutes as Santana tried to compose her thoughts.

"You met my Dad once," Santana stated flatly. "He's big on being the boss of things. My friends, my social life, my religion, my thoughts, everything. Not to get into the messy details, but he asserts control in like, the crappiest way ever. I rebel. I find different outlets for the bad feelings. If I can't control my own life because I'm afraid my Dad'll knock the crap out of me, then…"

"You'll control everyone else," Rachel said softly.

"And I know I was mean-I still am mean," Santana clarified. "But, I think that the minute I saw you, I was really jealous. I mean, you're Rachel Berry, dammit. You have two gay dads who probably held up fabric swatches in front of your two day old face to let you choose your bassinette blanket."

"My head slightly turned towards the pink butterflies," Rachel nodded. "They took that as my confirmation of liking it more than the soft yellow daisy pattern."

"I'm not done with the heartfelt confessions, Man-hand. I know it's hard, but you can try to keep your trap shut for five seconds, at least," Santana snapped. She then smirked a little and let out a low and throaty chuckle, causing Rachel to let a small grin take over her face. Santana looked back out the window, and then to the front of the bus where Brittany was huddled with Mike Chang. "Your dads would love you no matter what. If you decided to come home as a member of a troupe of singing and dancing high school freaks, they would love you. If you decided to bring home a mohawked idiot, they would love you. If you decided that maybe you're meant to only love one girl for the rest of your life. They would love you."

Santana went silent again, her eyes slightly shocked that she had let so much out, to Rachel Berry of all people. Rachel let one full minute of silence pass before she took Santana's hand in hers and squeezed.

"You have eleven other people here that will love you, no matter what," Rachel offered. "It sounds trite, I know. But you can't go through something like this year, and not have the friendships forged in tons of Elmer's glue."

"I could do without some of the eleven, I mean, Artie is such a drag," Santana sarcastically asserted. They both laughed again, quietly, garnering a strange look from the boy in the wheelchair, who had a sixth sense that the two hot girls were whispering about him. "All right. I spilled my guts. Am I forgiven?"

"For six years of torture?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"I'll figure out a really awesome I'm sorry gift for you later," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Finn told me that he loves me," Rachel blurted.

Santana looked at her in shock, her eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets. "No shit," she whispered. "But…that ruins everything. No, that's impossible. He has to have seen what you and Puck are by now. No one is that stupid."

"I think I may have led him astray," Rachel said morosely. "Last week, Noah and I…well, had a steamy kissing session in his truck. It's been happening quite a bit lately. I blame the completely out of control teenaged hormones and the fact that physically, we are very comfortable with each other…"

"Really?" Santana smirked. "Because I remember seeing a video on Matt's phone that showed you dry humping him in the janitor's closet."

"It's just, we agreed to be basic for now. Just friends until all of the feelings and consequences are sorted through," Rachel sighed. "And I wanted to see if I kissed Finn again, it would make me feel like I feel when I kiss Noah."

"It didn't, I could have told you that, you idiot. The next time you want to know how you feel, just save yourself the time and ask me," Santana ordered harshly. "I know everyone on this bus better than they know themselves."

"Yes, evil puppetmaster, I get it," Rachel sarcastically shot back. "Still…now Finn thinks that there's something between us…"

"Finn's an idiot. He loves Quinn, still does. But you have this nasty habit of making men feel really great about themselves. Like greater than they actually are or ever will be," Santana accused. "If you could stop that, it would be fan-freaking-tastic."

"What do I do?" Rachel asked very quickly, hoping to appeal to Santana's need for control. She would gladly give this huge problem to Santana, just to avoid the heartache.

"Leave it to me, I'll take care of everything."

***June 2020***

"Man-hands! Out of the tub! You've soaked long enough. Brit's going to moisturize you while Quinn gently dries your hair with the microfiber towel. Tina! I think that what you really want to be doing right now? Isn't texting Artie. You actually want to be doing what I told you to do, which is letting Mercedes fix your nails. And where in the hell is our nine-thirty room service? There will be hell to pay if we don't get our cinnamon crunch bagels."

Rachel giggled as Brittany carefully applied the very expensive moisturizer and Quinn began very non-gently slapping a towel against her wet hair.

"Girl, if you don't dry it properly, it will frizz out. Rachel's got a secret jew-fro, and there is no product in the world that will fix it if you don't dry it right!" Mercedes yelled from a corner of the room where she had wrangled Tina into allowing the black and blue polish to be removed from her nails.

Santana grinned as her minions did her bidding. She hadn't built an empire of event planning at the age of 26 by being a sweet little Tulip. She had harnessed her fabulous bitch powers and pulled off some of the greatest parties and weddings in the last six years. And although she would never admit to it, this was going to be her very favorite.

"If I keep rubbing her, this is going to get dirty, and she just took a bath…so…" Brittany shrugged helplessly as she continued to apply lotion to a very supple and moisturized Rachel. "And then I'm going to need serious girl time before we can leave the room."

"I'm not having sex with you," Quinn asserted quickly. "I'm not even making out with you again."

"She's properly moisturized," Santana rolled her eyes. "Time to get into the binding undergarments."

Rachel said nothing. After countless birthdays, general celebrations and eventually premiere parties that Santana had planned, Rachel had learnt her lesson. Just let the control freak do as she pleased, and eventually, the harsh, shouted commands would stop and only an awesome party would remain.

"Brittany, if Santana says it's okay, do you think you could do me a favor?" Rachel asked sweetly, not directing her question to Brittany at all, but to Santana instead.

"It's already taken care of, Man-hands," Santana smirked. "Please, I know you. Mike's going to give it to him an hour before the ceremony."

"Oh, well, thank you," Rachel grinned.

"Thank you for -" Santana goaded.

Rachel bit back her flippant response and sarcasm. She kept the genuine grin on her face. She would not poke the dragon. Not on today of all days. "For your ultimate wisdom and superior decision making skills. Thank you for everything, Santana."

"Damn straight. Tina! No skulls on those nails, dammit! FREAK!"

***May 2010***

"Do you want to make out again?"

"Brittany, really, now is not the time," Rachel laughed. "And we agreed, that we would never speak of it. You remember your promise. And now, especially now, you can never repeat it to Santana."

"Too late. She wasn't too mad. She only crushed like, one beer can against her forehead," Brittany revealed. "And it wasn't full that time, so she wasn't too mad. I think she's interested in a foursome with us."

"Who would be the fourth?" Rachel asked cautiously, completely dumbfounded.

"Mike, of course. He's the only one allowed at girl time," Brittany confided. "We're all going to be married someday."

"That's more than bi-sexual…that's triangular," Rachel whispered. "And very, very greedy."

"Greed is good. Also, threesome sex," Brittany nodded happily. She reached out a hand and yanked Rachel across the school hallway. "I almost forgot. We have to go to the auditorium."

"Wh—where are we going? I don't want to be a part of girl time. Believe me when I say that I have far too many romantic avenues in my life right now, and I'm not ready for any of them," Rachel stammered.

"Oh, this will help. Or it might make your head explode," Brittany smiled, leading Rachel to the auditorium. "Santana set it up. It's pretty."

They opened the door to the auditorium, and it was pitch black, except for the distant twinkling of fairy lights on the stage. The tiny sparkling lights began to multiply, soon filling up the whole stage like the most beautiful night sky. A single spot flared on the stage, and Puck was sitting on one of the stools, his guitar on his lap as he began to strum. Another spot went on and Finn was behind the drums, playing a steady, subdued beat, sounding very much like a heartbeat. Artie was illuminated next, playing his bass.

Matt was the next to have a spot shine down upon him. He was in front of a turn table, and the record he was currently spinning was the soft and beautiful sounds of strings. Brittany grabbed Rachel and forcefully sat her down in one of the chairs before rushing towards the stage herself.

###"See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side.
I wait for you.
Slight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you

With or without you
With or without you…."##

Puck's earnest voice echoed throughout the auditorium beautifully. A new spot lit up Mike and Brittany, and the two danced gracefully together, neither performing ballet nor modern dance, but a lovely mixture of the two, their bodies interpreting the words that Puck was singing.

###"Through the storm, we reach the shore
You gave it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you

With or without you
With or without you.
I can't live with or without you.

And you give yourself away"##

Rachel watched enraptured as her peers performed for her. She tore her eyes away from the beautiful scene for just a moment and saw the rest of the Glee club manning the spot lights. Suddenly, Santana was sitting next to her with a smile.

"I'm a pretty fucking brilliant director, Man-hands," she whispered. "You should convince Schue to give me control of one of the numbers next year."

"Absolutely, this is lovely," Rachel nodded. "I'm incredibly impressed, Santana."

"We wanted to sing it for you. Just you. Because we sang Schue a song. And then he sang us all a song. This is for you."

##"My hands are tied, my body bruised
She´s got me with nothing to win
And nothing left to lose.

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give, and you give
And you give yourself away.

With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you."##

"It's therapeutic, of course," Santana shrugged. "Puck's singing it to you and his daughter. The rest of us are singing it for just you though. Because as annoying as you are, we really do appreciate it. But its pretty fucking unbearable most of the time."

"I love it," Rachel sighed, watching as Puck sang the rest of the song, looking directly at her. She couldn't help the small whisper escape her lips, "I love him."

***June 2020***

"Hungry?"

"No fucking way. My girl is the shit," Noah grinned, attempting to take the white box with the pink ribbon tied around it. Mike evaded his grasp and Noah actually growled at him. "Not funny, Jackie Chang, give me my fucking cookies. They're mine."

"They came with a message. No cookies, unless you do a good deed," Mike smirked.

"I joined Glee, that meant cookies for life," Noah insisted. He launched himself for his agile and athletic friend, and wasn't surprised when Mike easily evaded his grasp. "You've been dodging sixteen years of well-earned beatings, Miyagi-san. One of these days I'm going to ambush you and you won't be able to walk for a week."

"You should buy him dinner first."

Noah turned and actually let out a happy chuckle as the woman in her mid-thirties threw herself at him.

"Suck-it-lots, you made it!" Noah swung her around in a bear hug.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world!" Andrea grinned. "I am the reason behind today's glorious nuptials. Thanks for having it in Vegas. My husband and I haven't had a kid-free vacation in…well, ever."

"We've got an emotional connection to Vegas," Noah shrugged.

"It was the first time he dressed in drag for Rachel. Not the last time, though," Mike jeered. He regretted it, because Noah hit him with a sneak attack, swatting him in his mid-section and leaving him breathless.

Noah grabbed the box from the prone Mike and tore off the ribbon eagerly. He handed the box to Andrea with a stern warning, "You don't get any. Those are bad ass husband cookies only."

"Right," Andrea nodded, watching as he twirled the ribbon expertly around itself, creating a rosette on the end, allowing the rest of the ribbon to stream downwards.

"Where's Kurt?"

"Here," Kurt said breathlessly, handing him a bouquet of pink ribbon rosettes. "Aren't you glad I made all of you boys attend bi-monthly scrapbooking sessions?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally glad you made me semi-gay. No offense Berries," Noah smiled back at his soon to be father's-in-law. He handed the bouquet to Jerome and was surprised when the older man pulled him into a hug. Noah actually laughed when Micah joined in. Noah could feel a burning in the back of his throat as he whispered to them, "I'm really glad Rachel's making good on her promise. I can officially share you now."

"We're very happy to make it official," Micah smiled as he and his partner released the young groom. "Right on time, too. Your mother's timeline only permitted six more months."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Noah smiled. "Can you give her that? I took care of the something old."

"So romantic," Kurt sniffled.

Andrea handed Noah back his box of cookies and chuckled as he ripped into it, much like he was eleven all over again. She full out snorted when Mike and a newly arrived Matt tried to procure one of the star shaped cookies and each received a bruised midsection.

"Mine. Remember the metaphor!" Noah growled.

"Keeping in line with that, Rach is totally going to hold out on the cookies now that you're going to be the ball and chain," Mike teased.

"Bull shit. Have you seen by fine body? She wants me all day, every day. We're like god damned bunnies with a life-long prescription for Viagra," Noah smugly asserted.

"Too much information. I'm going to go and sit down now," Andrea quickly made her getaway. She grabbed her husband's hand and allowed an usher, one Will Schuester, to seat them in front of the Bellagio fountains.

Andrea waited patiently as Noah clearly finished his cookies, allowing him to take his place up at the front of congregation of wedding invitees. She grinned and waved at Rabbi Greenburg who had a hand clasped on Noah's shoulder in congratulations. Loud, blaring music began playing suddenly, and Mr. Suck-it-lots grinned with excitement as a jazzy, big band version of "Here's to The Night" began playing.

"I introduced them to this music," he reminded Andrea needlessly.

"I'm sure they're eternally grateful," Andrea smiled back patronizingly at her husband. She watched as Noah's groomsmen and Rachel's bridesmaids walked down the makeshift aisle towards the iconic fountains.

Tina sat on Artie's lap, and the young man began popping wheelies with his chair, rhythmically to the music. Behind him, Kurt and Mercedes were actually vogue-ing down the aisle, to the delight of all the wedding guests. Kurt blew a kiss towards the Hudon-Hummel contingent and placed a full-on kiss on Schuester's lips before he and Mercedes parted ways at the front of the aisle. Mercedes giving Noah one slap on his ass for good measure before standing next to Tina.

Next was Finn and Quinn, swing dancing as best they could. It worked for them despite Finn's atrocious dance skills, as he just had to flip Quinn around as best as he could, the lithe young woman making up for the fact that Finn was basically a walking, talking trampoline. Finn spun Quinn towards the front and she nearly crashed into Noah, who reached out and hugged the girl tightly, before shaking Finn's hand.

The last four to come out were the respective maids of honor and best men. Matt, Mike, Brittany and Santana grooved their way down the aisle, the music having changed from big-band to more hip-hop. The rest of the congregation stood even before Rachel made her entrance, dancing along with the exceptionally talented foursome as they walked down the aisle. They reached Noah finally and buried him in a tackle hug, and Santana broke down in joyously happy tears all of a sudden as Brittany linked her pinky with hers and walked her to stand with the rest of the ex-Glee girls.

The music faded suddenly and all eyes were back at Rachel, who was sandwiched between her two fathers, a mega-watt grin easily spotted from behind her veil. She clutched Puck's ribbon bouquet to her chest as she began a very slow walk up the aisle.

##"Where it began? I can't begin to know when

But then I know it's growing strong

Was in the spring, And Spring became the summer

Who'd have believed you'd come along"##

The wedding guests, turned enraptured audience, actually cheered as Noah began to sing the song as his bride walked towards him. The cheers became louder as the ten people who grew up with him joined him. Schuester was sobbing his eyes out next to Alison Puckerman, who despite her ridiculously happy tears, was still manning a video camera that actually recorded in 3D, as well as a professional grade digital camera. He swore she had bought the technology that would have made the freaking Harry Potter pictures jealous.

###"Hands...touching hands…reaching out…

Touching me, touching you…

Oh sweet Caroline, Good times never seemed so good

I've been inclined, to believe they never would"##

All of the video's that tourists were now filming of the wedding in front of the fountains that were practically synchronized to the sung bridal march would either be sold to tabloids for hefty sums or become viral within minutes of posting. And Noah Puckerman had that shit bookmarked and would show it to anyone he met, beaming with pride.

They were married by their Rabbi in front of the people that they loved and cherished the most in the world. If you had told Noah Puckerman in September 2009 that he would marry Rachel Berry and have real cookies for life, he might have had to fight the urge to faint dead away or start bawling like a big, fat ass nerdy baby. He would have fought that urge and cockily assured everyone that of course crazyass Berry would want to tap his hot ass for life.

And that was still true for the most part. As they greeted their many guests throughout the evening during the wedding receptions to end all wedding receptions (seriously, Vegas had never seen a party so epically awesome), Noah couldn't help but think of one thing every time a drunken Will Schuester would sloppily congratulate them.

It had been about the journey. And what a fucking fantastic one it had been.

***June 2010***

"I think that its unfair that we have to be seventeen to be camp counselors, I really wish that Rabbi Greenburg would reconsider. I'm willing to put in a call to the ACLU to see if we can't find a solution to this problem. I mean, Noah shouldn't have to work at Linens and Things. Have you see what that store does to people? Look at Mrs. Schuester!"

"Berry-pants! Calm the fuck down!"

Puck's eyes widened and he looked down to the little girl sandwiched between him and Rachel in the truck. Rachel looked shocked at little Amberlee Puckerman's language, but Puck let a slow grin spread across his face as he held up a hand for a high five.

"Out-fucking-standing, Puckerman," Noah praised.

"If we had established a swear jar when we were eleven, you would have the money to buy Vocal Adrenaline twenty-four Army tanks," Rachel muttered in annoyance.

"All right shrimp, are you okay to get home?" Puck wondered. "Ma will be home by five-thirty, but if you want, I could be at home for you."

"Noah, I'm ten. You and Rachel were wandering the streets at ten, for Christ's sake," Amberlee rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm going to find my Noah this year at camp."

"I think you should find a Rachel instead," Puck smirked. "You're already a Noah."

"Whatever dude. See ya when I see ya," Amberlee hugged him quickly, then did the same with Rachel before climbing out over Rachel's lap and rushing towards the synagogue.

"I miss camp," Rachel said softly, as Amberlee disappeared into the building. "Last summer was okay, but camp summers were always the best."

"Yeah," Noah grinned. "We'll find new adventures this summer, Berry-pants. No worries."

"What time did Santana say we had to be at the pizza shop?" Rachel looked at the clock on Noah's dash. It was completely incorrect, as per usual.

"Uh, I think we'll make it on time. What's this mandatory bullshit about anyway?" Puck demanded.

"She's got plans and other things to work through with us. I trust that Santana has a master plan. As always," Rachel smiled.

"I hate it that you too are like, tight now. It's creepy. She's going to turn you and she's going to get that quadrangle shit she's always wanted. Fucking Mike Chang. He's going to get to be with the three of you!" Noah complained. "I don't understand why I'm not allowed in on girl on girl action."

"Mike Chang is a lovely and respectful young man. You're kind of a jerk, no offense," Rachel smiled smugly.

"If you ever let him touch your cookies, I will fucking implode, destroying all of Lima…maybe all of Ohio," Puck muttered darkly.

"Basic, Puckerman," Rachel sharply reminded him. His possessive side always inadvertently turned her on. It was a very, very bad thing.

"Right, basic. Right," Puck repeated. "Hey, Finn and Quinn are here."

"Oh?" Rachel wondered, her voice a little too innocent to be truthful.

"You're hiding something. You just used one word when the truthful Rachel would have used fifteen," Puck muttered, hopping out of the truck and going for her door.

"You're….ridiculous," Rachel scoffed.

"Again, two words where thirty would have been normal," Puck shook his head. "I'm being scammed, aren't I?"

"No! Scammed? NO!" Rachel batted her hand in the air as if dismissing his claims. Suddenly the door to the pizza shop opened and she saw herself staring at Finn and Quinn. "There's no scam!"

"Rupaul, what are you talking about? I'm post-partum, remember?" Quinn sighed. "I don't have time for your fun games. Or you know, mind-numbingly dull games."

"All I know is that Santana wanted us all here," Rachel said quickly. "I don't know what she has planned, and quite frankly, I'm worried. It could be anything…and knowing Santana it could be absolutely terrifying!"

Suddenly the screeching of tires squealed into all of the quartet's ears obnoxiously and they turned to see a huge black Cadillac Escalade hurtling around the corner of 5th and Court. It screeched to a stop and two figures in black emerged from the backseat, rushing toward a nearby comic book store.

"What in the ever loving hell?" Puck breathed.

Screams echoed throughout the previously peaceful street and the four high school students watched in shock as the two figures in black ushered a bound and gagged Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford out of the store, pushing them violently into the waiting get-away car. The tires squealed again and Rachel held her nose at the offensive smell of burnt rubber as the truck sped away, two kidnapped boys in the back.

"What in the ever loving hell?" Puck repeated.

"Mike and Matt were just…were they just kidnapped?" Quinn demanded incredulously.

"Shit, we definitely don't have enough money in the Glee budget to pay ransom!" Finn nervously asserted.

"This is…this is a horrible atrocity. Our very best dancers have just been kidnapped!" Rachel squealed in annoyance. She pushed Noah towards the truck and grabbed Finn and Quinn by the elbows, steering them towards the pickup. "We have to follow them and make sure that they're safe. For the good of the Glee club's future. For our friend's future. We have to save Matt and Mike! Noah, for the sake of our whole…world, you have to catch up to that truck!"

"DRIVE PUCK!" Quinn harshly commanded.

Puck didn't need two of the most important girls in his life telling him twice. The four of them squashed together on the bench seat of his truck. He only had to take one look into Rachel's worried, tear-filled eyes and his foot was slamming on the gas, in hot pursuit if the kidnapped Mike and Matt.

The End?

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SONG CREDIT: U2 "With or Without You" and Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline"

Will Matt and Mike survive? Who are the figures in black? How do Puck and Rachel go from sort of pseudo-dating Quinn and Finn (Respectively) and keeping things basic to a fabulous Las Vegas wedding? And seriously, do Puck and Finn dress in drag?

All of these questions and more will be answered MONDAY in the first installment of

Fuickleberry Saves the World: The Dramatic and Badass Rescue of Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford!