Basic Disclaimer:

1. I don't own Glee.

Notes: Once again written for the drabble meme over at the Livejournal PR community. Once again, it turned out too long. Un-beta'd.

Warnings: Puck's dirty mouth.

Spoilers: Season 01

Prompt: Finn slushies Rachel instead of Kurt in Mash-Up...Puck is not down with that.

Mean What You Say

When Puck turns the corner he's not really expecting anything special to happen. OK, this week has been a weird one but he doesn't expect shit like alien invasions to start happening just because he's dating Rachel and chose her over football. He would always choose women over football. Footballs don't have boobs, don't give blowjobs, and sure as hell can't kiss like Berry can.

He spots her by Hummel's locker and they actually look like they're chatting instead of bitching at each other. She's wearing another raincoat (plain pink this time and still totally ridiculous) over a cute white top (he only knows because he drove her to school this morning) and that seriously tiny black skirt (it's his favourite and she knows it; this is the second time she's worn it this week). He takes his time admiring the view—as is his right as her boyfriend—and realises that for the whole of this week, he hasn't seen hair or hide of her usual animal prints or argyle (the plaid is totally sexy naughty school girl).

...Is she making an effort for him? Damn, he could get used to having a girl like her. (She's hot in that skirt, man. Smokin')

He glances away from her ass when he sees a familiar form turn into the hallway ahead. Finn is carrying a slushy and looking tense as all get out. Warning bells start pealing in Puck's head for two reasons: a) he knows Finn sucks at the whole slushy-in-your-face bit and b) Puck knows the only way Finn can keep his rep on the football team would be to do something like this. Hudson might be quarterback but he's not badass enough to go back without paying the toll.

Puck speeds up his gait, going from a leisurely saunter to a near jog. He's three steps behind Finn when Hudson's arm jerks suddenly and Rachel is covered in frozen coke.

Puck can hear Kurt gasping and Mercedes's shriek of, "Oh-no-you-didn't, White Boy!" coming from behind him but his focus is on Rachel. He catches the quiver of her lips and wetness of her rapidly blinking eyes and the utter heartbreak conveyed by her whole body. A few weeks ago, this scene would have had him rolling with laughter and high-fiving anything in a letterman jacket. Today, with his new knowledge of how terrible it feels to be on the receiving end of a slushy and his new appreciation for all things Berry, Puck's only emotion is rage.

Before he even realises that he's done it, Puck has tackled Finn's shell-shocked body onto the cold linoleum and has his fist raised to strike. In the second he takes to blink the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, he feels small, chilled hands curl around his arm.

"Noah," she whispers, "Noah, don't. Please."

He swallows hard and glares down at the boy pinned beneath him. It's obvious that Finn is as shaken by what he's just done as the rest of them are. Puck has fought Finn before; Hudson's height advantage is exactly that: an advantage. The fact that Puck still has the upper hand says a lot about the other boy's state of mind.

Puck turns his head just a fraction towards Rachel and nods very, very slightly. Then he turns back to Finn. His fist unclenches in the air and reforms around his best friend's collar. He lurches the taller teen toward him and speaks in his face:

"Listen up, chicken-shit. You chose football. Fucking whatever; but never do that again. I will beat your ass down so hard your grandchildren will still be limping," then he drops his voice so only Finn can hear when he says, "I know you think you had something with her but fucking back off. Quinn is having a baby and she chose—you're the father."

Puck wants to bite his tongue when Finn frowns at his slip up—he needs to wrap this up before he says shit he shouldn't. He glances back at Rachel, who is still standing there shivering and dripping ice everywhere but watching them (him, Puck—Noah) with uncomprehending curiosity. He needs to get her cleaned off.

He pushes Finn away and stands up. Rachel reaches for his hand and he twines his fingers around hers. Finn is on his feet and staring at the two of them like he's never seen them before. Puck has never been able to resist having the last word and he thinks he's needs to make this known to their audience. He tugs Rachel a few inches closer.

"She's my girl, Hudson."

He thinks that says all he needs.

She finds him later that afternoon after she's gotten cleaned up. She wound up needing to change her shirt despite the raincoat because slushy has seeped under her collar and soaked the lacy white she'd been wearing. He's outside; far from the football field because he thinks (knows) that if the douches he used to call teammates say anything to him about Rachel, he'll probably wind up suspended.

"Noah?" She's using that quiet voice and soft tone he's only ever heard when they're alone. He likes to think of them as his just because he's possessive like that.

"Yeah, babe?"

He doesn't know he speaks differently to her too. The harshness, the cockiness and arrogance goes out of his voice. He doesn't even talk to Quinn like this—he gets sarcastic in the face of her bitchiness but in the face of Rachel's softness his tone matches hers. Rachel doesn't know him well enough to think of anything as 'hers' but she likes to think that he's a bit more patient with her than normal. Whether or not that means he genuinely likes her she can't be sure. But now, more than ever (ever) before, she can hope.

"Are you ok?" she asks.

He shrugs. He's not bad although he supposes he could be better. It really all depends on how much she lets him kiss her in the next half hour. She nods vaguely and he almost smirks. She doesn't even know she's cute.

"I wanted to thank you. For earlier," she starts. "You didn't have to defend me and you certainly didn't need to tell Finn about us so unequivocally but you did so thank you."

He feels like a first class schmuck. He's made her the outcast she is and now she's thanking him for doing what any decent human much less any remotely invested boyfriend should have done. Then he wonders, briefly, when he became invested. She's still talking.

"...and even though I know this relationship started out in fantasy—I'm fully aware of the equally romantic bad boy/good girl trope in modern storytelling—I think it's become more than that. I know that it has for me. After your exceptionally chivalric though somewhat barbaric display of male protectiveness, I can say with surety that I feel something for you, Noah, and I'm willing to explore that if you are. I want everything in life far too much and I've started wanting this—wanting you—so— "

"Jesus H. Christ, it's a good thing you're so hot, Rach."

That shuts her up. He thinks it's because he said she was hot. Actually, she stops because that's the first time he's ever called her 'Rach' and it makes her breath catch so her words lodge themselves against her larynx.

"Thank you?" she ventures because even though he's called her hot offhandedly before, back when he was still throwing slushies in her face (and maybe that has something to do with why she doesn't hate him for it), she's never had to reply.

He grins at her. Could she be any more hilarious? She's watching him the way people look at tigers in circuses and he thinks he likes the comparison. Of course he's a badass predator. And right now? He's got his eye on something delicious. He steps toward her and he's proud of the way she stands her ground. Glad of it too; he really didn't want to have to chase her across the parking lot for a decent make-out session.

"No, thank you," he murmurs as his hands slide around her waist. "Good-looking girls make the world a better place."

She giggles as he draws her into his arms and dips his lips to brush against her ear. "Just this skirt you're rocking is enough to get me to school every Monday."

Her cheeks are totally crimson as her mouth moves silently. He's so smug at making her speechless, he kisses her. He knows he's got to answer her soon. In the week they've spent together, he's learnt that she can be distracted by tangents but never expect her to forget what she was talking about originally.

He pulls back just enough to speak, even if his lips still rasp against hers with every word.

"If you wanna do this for real, babe, I'm game."

She kisses him.

Damn, he thinks he's gonna like a having girl like her.

end