AN: This is the first of many Puckleberry stories that are part of the More Than You Think You Are series. Each story is inspired by songs by Matchbox Twenty! This one was inspired by The Difference which even if you listen to as a whole is totally a Puckleberry song!

Usually these stories are one shots but this one got so long that I chose to post it in four parts instead.

HUGE Thanks to Sassy_26 for looking over this before and helping me work out some of the kinks!

R&R

Yeah, for all you know
This could be
The difference between what you need
And what you want

When Puck was in high school his life was always navigated by what Puck wanted. He wanted his best friend's girlfriend, he slept with her. He wanted to make sure everyone feared him, he threw people in dumpsters. He wanted to be a badass, he got his nipple pierced and slept with most of Lima's cougar population (which was surprisingly high). So now that he was a high school graduate (by some miracle or some other kind of phenomenon) he had to figure how what he wanted to do next.

He had pretty much decided that going to school was something he DIDN'T want. He'd spent the last four years barely scraping by with a 2.0 grade point average and he currently wasn't in the frame of mind to actually apply himself, at least academically. He was telling the truth that day he told Quinn he thought school was for suckers, he didn't need to be trapped by teachers and homework. But his mother told him she wasn't going to continue to let him live under her roof if he was just going to lay around and be a slob all day. And really, that wasn't his plan. He does't want to sit around and do nothing.

But there really isn't a whole lot for him to do over the summer. His mom requires him to fill out job applications, daily, but with the economy basically in shambles, no one is hiring, especially some punk straight out of high school. So Puck spends most of his time in his bedroom, playing with his guitar, or listening to music. That's what Puck really wants to do, he wants to play music. He wants to feel the same rush he felt up on stage when he performed with the glee club. Only this time, the spotlight would be on him and him only. He really hasn't admitted this to anyone, but he's been writing, like lyrics. It's totally not badass so he hides them, because he doesn't want anyone to know he's been doing it. But sometimes, when no one is home, he'll pull out some of it and fuck around on his guitar until he actually has a song, a very crappy song, but there is a melody and some lyrics and Puck is sure that its at least better than the crap his sister listens to. But he still isn't sure of what he's going to do with himself. That is until Rachel Berry calls him one day asking for his guitar skills.

She'd asks him to meet her down near the bar on Allentown Road. There's a deserted parking lot there and when Puck pulls his truck into what has basically just become a gravel pit, he thinks Rachel has completely lost her mind. But his guitar is sitting across the bench and really, he doesn't have anything better to do. He hops out of his truck just as Rachel's silver Prius comes pulling into the spot next to him. He props his guitar case against the tire of his truck and leans himself back against the bed as he waits for her to exit. In her hands she has several dress bags and she's pulling that pink trolley bag that he'd hope to never see again, behind her.

"What's the big emergency, Berry?" Puck asks.

"Thank you for coming, Noah," Rachel says stopping in front of Puck, "Like I said on the telephone, I need your guitar skills. My normal accompanist broke his finger doing who knows what and you were my only other option."

"What about Artie?"

"He seems to be on a vacation with his family before he leaves for school."

"Ah. Where do you perform?"

"Over there," Rachel said pointing her finger at the bar across the street.

"The bar? Neither of us can even get in there. Well, not legally. And I've never taken you for a fake ID kind of girl."

"I'm not. My Dads know the owner and he lets me play there once or twice a month."

"Play, like you perform? In a bar?"

"Yes. While I admit the audience would unlikely be filled with talent agents and the sort – people I actually need to progress in my career- it is exposure and you can never have enough practice being on stage. So will you help me?"

"Yeah sure," Puck says without any hesitation as he picks up his guitar and follows Rachel across the street. He thinks this could be fun, something that could benefit him as well.

Puck is pretty sure that it is illegal for Rachel to be in the bar; he'd looked online when doing his job searches and found that you had to be eighteen to work in a bar, Rachel, though just out of high school was not yet eighteen. It was totally legal for him to be there though, at least to work. But as Rachel walks through the main entrance, no one stopped her for anything other than to say hello, Puck thinks this is going to be pretty cool. Puck follows Rachel into one of the backrooms where she puts all of her stuff down in front of giant vanity.

"This is the last thing I thought I'd see in a bar, at least one that didn't have strippers," Puck comments.

"I had my dads bring over this old one when we bought a new one for my bedroom," Rachel says as she begins unloading her cosmetics all over the counter, "And Randy, he's the owner, was nice enough to let us store it here."

"What are we singing?"

"No. You're not singing. I am. Your job tonight is simply the guitar. I've got the piano covered and we should be set."

"Ay Ay Captain," Puck says using his pointer and middle finger to salute.

"I'm glad you are so compliant. Travis was always trying to get me to allow him to sing. And honestly he has a horrible voice."

"I don't have a horrible voice." "No you don't. But still, this is my showcase."

This is the Rachel Berry he'd been dealing with since he joined glee. The only time he found her the least bit willing to not be in charge or in the spotlight was the week they were dating their sophomore year. This is the Rachel Berry that usually drove him crazy. But he wants to perform, even if it was with a small crazy brunette, so he does it.

She sings a full set. Ten songs. Every single one of them perfect. Puck notices that she actually incorporates a lot of variety into her set list. She sings the Idina, because they share the same strength in their voices. She sings some of the Barbra, but she's added some Sara Barellies and Sarah McLachlan, and Colbie Caliet in there and Puck is somehow surprised by her range of genres, even though he shouldn't be. He's heard her sing so many different songs ranging from Broadway to contemporary stuff and each time it was with flawless execution. Some of the crowd ( the part that actually paid attention) loved her, even though he's pretty sure that they've never heard most, if not all of the songs she sang. But Puck knows that Rachel Berry has a way of captivating an audience and that, mixed with the half priced happy hour spirits makes for a wonderful response from the crowd. They cheer after each song and even put some money in the tip jar that she has put on the bar. A few of them were so drunk that they yell "Free bird" and Puck almost thinks Rachel is going to break out and do it. He is severely disappointed when she doesn't. When she's done, she thanks her audience for their wonderful support (though she really doesn't have it) and thanks Puck publicly before practically skipping off stage. She grabs the tip jar and scurries back into the "dressing room" they'd been in before, Puck following close behind.

When Puck enters the dressing room, Rachel is dumping all of the contents of the tip jar onto the vanity. Puck is surprised that there are actually a lot of bills in there, and not all of them are singles. Puck watches as Rachel organizes the currency in her hand by domination before counting it out.

"How much is there?" Puck asks out of sheer curiosity. He honestly wasn't expecting the pay out he was witnessing.

Rachel counts the last of the bills, "Seventy-four dollars and twenty-three cents."

"Seventy-five? Yeah there were people in there but I didn't even think anyone was paying attention." "Noah, when I sing, everyone pays attention. Even if it is because I'm singing entirely in forte."

"Yeah but I didn't expect them to leave you seventy -five bucks."

"They do it every time. I'm grateful; I will get to my goal sooner than I had originally planned because of their generosity."

"What's your goal?"

"At the end of the summer I'm leaving for New York. I've decided that wasting my Dads money on college when I don't want to go isn't the best idea. But if I don't go to college they are less willing to assist me with my living expenses. I have a savings account and that will last me a while, but I still need to wait until I turn eighteen to access it. So until that day I have to be able to support myself come September."

"How much do you need?"

"I have configured about four thousand dollars, pending I find an apartment that doesn't cost so much, though everything is expensive in New York. That will include the plane ticket there."

"And how much do you have?"

"Three thousand seventy four dollars and twenty three cents."

"Wow. And that is just singing here?"

"No. Last summer I competed in several competitions and won over a thousand dollars in prize money. I've been saving for this since I turned sixteen."

"That's…kind of amazing."

"I think so," Rachel said, "and if I can convince Randy to let me come in every weekend this month then I should get pretty close. My parents are giving me some money since they refuse to let their little girl live in New York with absolutely nothing. But still, I like that I can do this without being entirely financially dependent on them."

"That's pretty badass Rachel."

"Thank you. I suppose you are expecting a cut of the money?"

"Nah," Puck says even though a few extra bucks in his pocket sounds better than what he's got, "consider it my donation to the 'Rachel Berry for future star' fund and remember to add my name to acceptance speech for whatever thousand awards you're going to win."

"You really think I'm going to win awards Noah? That I'm going to be a star?"

"Are you kidding me? You're like scary determined and crazy talented. There's nothing else for you to do with your life."

"I just wonder sometimes if I'm making the right decision. If skipping college is really the best idea."

"Do you want to go?"

"Well, no."

"Then don't. I don't want to go, so I'm not."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Not a damn clue. I don't know what I want to do, just what I don't want to do." "Very brave."

"It's badass. I don't want anyone expecting things from me."

"Even with a job there are expectations Noah."

"Maybe. But I want a job where I can set the expectations for myself."

"I suppose opening your own pool cleaning business could be profitable, at least during the warmer months."

"See, even with that, people are expecting things from you."

"I don't think you are ever going to find a job where people don't expect things from you Noah. I am a firm believer in doing whatever makes you the happiest, but I think you should at least do something."

Puck just shrugs and puts his guitar back in his case.

Once Rachel has her pink trolley bag packed, she doesn't bothering changing out of the outfit she'd changed into before her showcase. She and Puck walk back across the street to where their cars were still sitting in the abandoned parking lot.

"We should park in the parking lot of the bar," Puck says loading his guitar into his truck from the driver's side, "Less risky. Too many cops around here would be more than happy to find a reason to give two abandoned cars a ticket."

"They won't. No one ever uses this lot but Randy owns it. It's private property, no one will give us a ticket here. It's under surveillance too."

Puck looks around because there isn't much room for a lot of electronics, but he spots something on the top of the single light post illuminating them.

"Oh," Puck says simply.

"Thank you again Noah, I don't think what I would have done if you hadn't said yes. I suppose a simple piano only set would have done. But I've always been so fond of adding the guitar when needed."

"You're welcome Rachel. It was fun."

Puck watches as Rachel opens the door to her car and gets in, and only then does he make his way to the other side of his truck and climb inside. When he gets home, and his mom asks him where he had been, he lies and says that he's been with Mike. There is no way that Puck can tell his mom that he was at a bar, and he can't tell her he's been with Rachel Berry.

Once Puck is in his room, he closes the door and puts his guitar on his bed. Sitting down in front of it Puck reaches into the dresser drawer next to his bed and pulls out the notebook that he writes some of his lyrics in. He pulls it out because he wants to write, he feels inspired.