'Eyy Gleeks. … I WROTE YOU A STORY. After Puck threw his little hissy fit in the last episode I was sorta like 'Nu-uh honey, that shit's not gonna fly. If this were an actual school, you'd end up in the guidance councilor's office so fast you'd get whiplash. Say, who is the guidance councilor at Mckinley?'

And the rest is history…

And by history, I mean this story.

Truth be told; Noah Puckerman scared the living hell out of Emma Pillsbury. Not that she would ever admit that out loud because she prided herself on her clean vocabulary as well as her clean hands, but Noah Puckerman was just… he was just… Well, he was dirty. The things he said, the things he did, even down to the way he looked at people; there was just something so unsanitary about him. She didn't think he was something even she could clean.

"Will," Emma compulsively straightened and re-straightened the folders on her desk, the intense need for everything to be absolutely under her control rearing its ugly head as she became distressed with the news that one William Schuester was attempting to relay to her. "I just don't think that meeting with me will really be able to help him."

"You'll do great, Emma," Will shot her an encouraging smile and Emma's heart spluttered a little bit because it was almost as if she couldn't physically bring herself tosay no to him. "I really want to help him. You should have seen him in Figgins' office, Em. He was throwing things everywhere and then shouted about how none of us cared about him." Will rubbed at his forehead. "I just think that if anyone can really show that they care, it's you."

"I thought that Artie was trying being a good influence on him." Emma said hopefully.

"Emma," Will leveled a look at her. "He used to lock Artie in the port-a-potti es."

Emma visibly shuddered. Portable bathrooms were the things of her nightmares.

"I just want him to have a future." Will looked at her searchingly. "I want him to want to have a future. Emma, he doesn't think I care. He doesn't think anyone cares about him. He was willing to pick up and leave his mother and sister."

Emma sincerely didn't want to think 'Does he realize that's just what his father did?' but she'd read his file only about a dozen times before and it was impossible not to think, really. This was the boy who was so determined to not be a deadbeat to the baby he impregnated his best friend's girlfriend with despite the fact that aforementioned Quinn Fabray had ensured him in none too subtle terms that the baby was not 'his'.

"I suppose… I suppose I could talk to him." She swallowed and wondered if the boy in question would be terribly offended if she wrapped her chairs before he came in.

And Will smiled at her and thanked her and she couldn't hear any of it becauseit had really just struck her that she'd agreed to council Noah 'Puck' Puckerman twice a week. This epiphany became even more daunting when she stopped to think just how thrilled Puck was going to be with the situation.

Puck's general mantra for life was 'Fuck that noise'. Math? Fuck that noise. Grades? Fuck that noise. Being a generally kind individual? Fuck that noise. So it was really no surprise that when a small, mousy office aide slipped into his English class and handed off a note to him that dictated he makes his way down to Crazy-Pillsbury's office, his first thought was 'Fuck that noise' before promptly crumpling up the pass into a ball and shooting a sweet basket into the trash can.

And when another office aide interrupted his next period history class his first thought was Fuck that noise before tearing the paper into little bits and flicking them at the back of Finn's head.

New passes didn't come for him in the next two periods and he was pleased with himself, thinking that perhaps he'd gotten his message across. And then one came in the beginning of math.

"Damnit." He glowered down at the little slip of paper. "Bitch plays hard ball." It wasn't a big secret among the faculty of Mckinley that Puck absolutely despised math. The fact that he had started showing up at all was a small miracle in itself, mostly due to fear of getting his waffles stolen all the time in juvie again (Waffles are motherfucking delicious. Shut your face.) but here she was, offering him a totally acceptable out. "Damnit." He repeated, 'cause he was totally gonna go for it.

"Oh, hello, Puck." Ms. Pillsbury greeted somewhat skittishly as he threw open her office door without knocking.

"You wanted to see me?" He flopped down into the chair in front of her desk and he noticed her wince a little bit as the dirt from his boots knocked off into the carpet. He contemplated for a moment grinding it in so that she'd have to came back with a toothbrush or some shit later to get it all out, but he wasn't really in the mood for being a douche just for the sake of being a douche.

Don't get him wrong, though. If she pissed him off he was totally gonna stomp his muddy boots on out the door.

"Yes." She cleared her throat and reorganized a stack of papers on her desk. "Some of your teachers have been expressing some serious concerns for you and—"

"Bullshit." He interrupted.

"Excuse me?" She looked up sharply, shocked.

"Bullshit." He repeated. "They don't care about me." And it was mostly true. They thought he was a Lima Loser. The mother of his child thought he was a Lima Loser. Everyone in that whole damn school thought he was a Lima Loser.

Maybe it wouldn't have made sense to them if he ever tried to explain it (which would never happen. Why? Because fuck that noise, that's why.) but he was going to get out of there and the only way to make sure that they all knew it was to make sure they always remembered his name. That one day in ten years when they heard 'Noah Puckerman' they would think 'That kid who used to beat the shit out of me in high school that I was so sure wasn't going anywhere? Fuck!' The closer somebody was to getting the hell out of here; the more opportunity someone had to look down their noses at him; the more he terrorized them, because he wanted them to memorize his name.

"Why would you think that?" Emma tried to smile encouragingly but she couldn't really get over the fact that she had no idea where his shoes had been. She forced herself to focus on Puck's words instead of contemplating the amount of Febreeze it was going to take to get the smell of grass, dirt and tobacco that he radiated out of her office.

"'Cause it's true." Puck shrugged simply. "But, whatever. I guess I'm used to it. And Artie's being all cool now—"

"Is Artie really helping you?" Emma interrupted.

Puck shrugged again. "He tries, but there's only so much that one cripple can do with this much Puck."

She stared at him for a few seconds with her crazy eyes and Puck was inexplicably reminded of Rachel's crazy eyes. Where this many crazy people allowed in one building together? Add Coach Sylvester to this shit and you've pretty much got an asylum. He reminded himself to look it up later.

"Okay," Emma cleared her throat and blinked herself out of her state. "The reason I really brought you down here was to ask you about home."

"What?" Puck's attention went completely to her.

"How's your home life?" Emma asked again gently.

"Fine." Puck glared. "Motherfucking fantastic, actually."

"So…not good, then?" She smoothed her skirt over her knees.

"The hell do you care?" He muttered to himself.

"People here do care about you, Puck." Emma assured him.

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"Glee club cares about you." She smiled in a reminding tone.

Puck scoffed. "Glee cares about my voice." He continued before she could say anything else. "Football cares about my tackles. Guitar cares about my rockin' ass skills. That's it." He leveled one of his Puckerman Stares of Uncaring at her. "Now that we have this established, can I go?"

"No." Emma said after a moment. "In fact, I think we should meet more often."

"What?" He sat up straight faster than his languid posture normally allowed, absolutely indignant. Somebody was about to get mud all up in her carpet.

"Does twice a week sound good to you?" She asked as she scribbled something down on one of the orange office passes.

"No!" He shouted. Fuck that noise! "It sure as shit doesn't!"

"It's mandatory." She informed him without looking up.

"I don't need to talk about my problems! Especially not with you!" Talking about problems was strictly non-badass. And Noah Puckerman was totally fucking badass.

"If you don't show up your mother will be contacted." She tore the pass off the pad and finally looked him in the eye.

He clenched and unclenched his fist.

"It will get you out of math." She bartered, holding out the pass to him.

He glared at her before standing, snatching the small square of paper out of her hand, and marching straight to the door without a word, making sure to put extra emphasis in the steps of his boots.

"I'll see you Thursday, then." Ms. Pillsbury called after him. He slammed the door shut behind him just in time to collide with something short.

"Oh! Noah!" Rachel Berry stumbled backwards a step after accidentally crashing into his chest. "You should really be more aware of your surroundings. You could have easily damaged me, or even yourself."

"The only way I could 'damage' myself on you is I tripped over your crazy dwarf ass." He grumbled, hoping it would shut her up but already knowing that nothing shuts up Rachel Berry.

"It really isn't politically correct to call people 'dwarves' anymore." She admonished. "The more correct term is 'midgets' or, preferably 'little people', both of which, I should inform you, I am not."

"Right." He rolled his eyes and waited for her to move so he could leave.

She stood there, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" He finally demanded.

"I am waiting for you to move so that I can speak with Ms. Pillsbury about the lowering standards on the quality of student interactions at this school." Puck had a moment to wonder how the hell the 'quality of student interactions at this school' could have possibly gotten any worse for the girl that the majority of the school tormented despite the fact she was Finn's girl before a more puzzled expression came across her face that was so perfectly damned puzzled Puck only had to guess she practiced it in her mirror every night. "Come to think of it, why were you in Ms. Pillsbury's office?"

"I was in trouble." He fabricated quickly because like hell did he need Berry knowing he had just gotten shanghaied into counseling with that crazy eyed clean freak.

"You're a terrible liar, Noah." Rachel informed him. "I understand if you don't wish to inform me of the true nature of your visit with our school's guidance councilor. That sort of thing is private, I suppose." She shot him a brief, dazzling smile that made Puck want to punch himself in his face. "Could you please relocate yourself so I can get to the door?" She asked.

"Yeah." He realized he still hadn't moved, though it wasn't really an uncommon occurrence in the face of Rachel Berry's crazy. One grew so transfixed on the fact that she didn't stop to take breaths when she talked that you just sort of forgot to listen and put all your concentration in taking deeper sympathy breaths so that you forgot where you were, too.

"Thank you, Noah." She smiled at him again before flouncing (because was there really another word for it?) into Ms. Pillsbury's office.

He watched after her for a second and loitered next to the door while he was busy absolutely not eavesdropping. He was… brooding… in manly anguish... and stuff. It definitely was not because Rachel Berry had the biggest pair of lady balls he had ever seen, and anything that sent her scampering to Pillsbury's office without the entourage of her usual diva-fit was something he really wanted to hear.

"Hello, Ms. Pillsbury. Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yes. There's just some dirt in my carpet and I happened to have a toothbrush and… What can I help you with today, Rachel?"

"I think we should discuss Jacob Ben Israel and his growing boldness in his sexual assaults on my person."

"Rachel, we've talked about Jacob before and you said that you thought you could take care of it yourself."

"…He offered to kill his own parents in exchange for my body."

"…Oh… I can see how that might be a little… disconcerting."

"Hey, Puck!" Puck jumped as Mike slapped a hand down on his back. "What crawled up your ass and died?" He laughed as Puck only glared at him.

"Shut it, Chang." Puck punched him in the shoulder. "I've been having a shit day." He grumbled.

Mike launched into an intricate description of how he totally understood because his pop and lock was off today. Puck didn't pay any attention.

He was busy thinking up ways to make Pillsbury's hour and a half stuck in a room with him a living hell.

She'd brought his mother into this. As far as Puck was concerned, anything that came next was completely justified.

Yay! My first chapter of my first Glee story! Did it suck? Please tell me if it sucked.