A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from. It may suck, but I'm posting it anyway in case it doesn't. So enjoy this little drabble-y thing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but maybe if I'm good I'll find Puck underneath my Christmas tree…

He can't remember the last time they had a conversation. She's been keeping her distance from him since the end of sophomore year. Hell, she hasn't even acknowledged his presence since he got out of juvie.

He doesn't blame her.

Besides, it's not like they have anything more to say to each other.

He's missed a lot. He knows that.

He doesn't really understand how so much can change in just a few weeks, and he sometimes still thinks he was in juvie for a lot longer.

But then he checks the calendar, and yeah, it's really only been three weeks since he stole an ATM. Only three weeks since she decided Sam was best for her.

She's probably right.

He acts like he doesn't care. He's pretty good at putting on the badass façade and pretending he isn't bothered by their newfound "true love" for each other.

True love he probably could have prevented.

You know, if he wasn't a freaking moron who tries to steal ATMs.

It isn't until Sectionals that she finally gets her well-deserved solo, and he doesn't realize he's staring at her at first.

She walks through the aisles, and he notices she's staring at Sam the way she used to stare at him. They circle around each other the way Finn and Rachel would, and he can't believe he's comparing her to Rachel right now.

Her hair is down, her skirt is short, and she looks gorgeous and she sounds gorgeous, and she's singing that frickin' Patrick Swayze song with Sam and-

It should have been them, damn it!

He wants to forget about them. He wants to escape it all. So when Rachel calls him up with an offer, how can he refuse?

They kiss and it's meaningless and he can tell that neither of them are really enjoying this. Rachel's probably already feeling guilty and as for him…

Well, all he can think about is the last time he was with one of Finn's girlfriends.

So he leaves Rachel before they can do anything they'll really regret. He's actually sort of proud of himself.

On the drive home, he finds himself thinking about that night so long ago, when her lips tasted like wine coolers and she let herself be vulnerable for the first time.

It's Christmas time. Not that that means anything to him, but it's kinda hard to ignore when Christmas cheer is being shoved down your throat at any given moment.

Even though he's a Jew, and a good one at that, he still participates in Christmas decorating at Glee, 'cause it builds morale, or some crap like that.

Oh, and then Sam and Quinn are singing carols together and kissing under the mistletoe and could they be any more clichéd?

Their PDA is totally not building morale.

It's Christmas Eve, and he only remembers this because a group of carol singers showed up at his door and wouldn't leave until he threatened to pour eggnog down their pants. He's at the mall, because he's bored and looking for a one-night stand. He turns on the charm and is ready to hit on everything in a skirt. But then he sees her.

She's sitting on a bench just outside the toy store. She's staring off and he knows she doesn't see him. He almost turns and walks away, until he sees the little blonde baby doll in her hands and the tears in her eyes.

He lowers himself onto the bench and stares at her face. As always, she acts as if he's not there. He slowly puts an arm around her shoulders and she stiffens and turns away, her sniffles turning into sobs.

He pulls her closer and lets her cry on his shoulder. She begins to mumble through her sobs, and he's sure he hears her say, "Beth" and "first Christmas," and she clutches the doll close to her.

It doesn't even matter that they're sitting in a mall, surrounded by strangers who have begun to stare. She's the only one that matters to him.

Just like always.

It's New Year's Eve when he tells her he loves her for the second time. She doesn't respond. Instead, she gulps down a plastic cup of champagne. And then another.

And then a few more.

She's not drunk, but she's certainly not sober, and she spends the majority of the night clinging to his side.

She kisses him at midnight in a corner where no one else can see them. Her lips are soft yet firm, and she grasps his white T-shirt in her long fingers. She whispers that she loves him, and he can't find it in himself to feel guilty.

Screw Sam. She's probably never kissed him like this.

A/N: There you go. I hope you enjoyed it. And remember, reviews are what keep writers alive. You don't want me to die, do you?