A/N: Hey everybody! This is my first Glee fic. I began it after my bffffff (I really don't what those extra f's stand for) suggested I write a prom fic and it took off during the latest hiatus when the cast keeping tweeting about shooting the prom episode. There's no real spoilers in it, I just had fun envisioning Rachel trying to find a prom date. Title was taken from my favorite Josh Groban song. Ever. So, that said, I hope you enjoy my first foray into the world of Glee fanfiction. Oh yeah! This going to be a two-parter. I don't have the second part written yet, but I know what's going to happen, so hopefully it'll be up soon :)

Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I wouldn't be sitting around writing fanfiction about it, would I? No. I be off enjoying my millions. And oh yeah- and hanging out with Darren Criss.

Rachel Berry was on a mission.

Normally, she would never let anything get in the way of her intense focus and preparation for Nationals. Ever. After all, the upcoming competition was all but guaranteed to thrust her into the spotlight she had for so long desired and adored. She had already heard through the grapevine (aka: the show choir chatrooms) that Broadway scouts were going to be in attendance. If she did well, it could be exactly the kind of break she needed to fulfill every one of her dreams of stardom.

But today, Rachel Berry had other things on her mind. More specifically, she had one thing on her mind. One thing, two words: Casino Night. Casino Night was the chosen theme for this year's prom.

Rachel shuddered just thinking about it. Casino night? Was that really the best that the mindless peons that made up the prom committee could come up with? She couldn't wait until next year when she was a senior and would be able to be on the committee. Next year she will be dancing the night away during Broadway Lights. Or better yet- Best of Barbra.

But alas, until then, she would have to make do with the hand she was dealt. (Which was a considerably appropriate metaphor given the whole casino theme.) After all, if there was one thing she learned from her immeasurable amount of theatre classes she had taken, it was 'the show must go on'.

Rachel decided she would allow herself one night off from her rigorous training to attend prom, so she was determined to make the best of it. And, as all things in her life, the night needed to be perfection. And as hard as that notion was considering prom was being held in McKinley's gym, she knew she could overlook that detail as long as she had the one thing that every little girl dreams of on her prom night: the perfect date.

Which leads us back to her mission.

In Rachel's opinion, her perfect date would be Gene Kelly, but since he was neither available nor alive, she knew she had to be a tad more realistic and choose her prince from what McKinley had to offer. And since the extent of the boys she knew at the school pretty much was limited to the male members of the glee club, she decided she would start there.

Knowing that Mike and Artie were out of the question as they both had seriously ties to Tina and Brittany, respectively, that narrowed Rachel's pickings to only a handful. When she thought of the remainder of her options, she decided she would first ask the one whom she knew she would never have a dull night with.

Rachel spotted her target in the hall between second and third period. "Noah!" she called, seeing Puck leaning casually against a row of lockers. "There you are!"

She charged her way through the crowded hallway to catch to him, no easy feat when you consider her less-than-average stature. "Just the person I was looking for."

Puck held up his hands in front of his face defensively. "Look, Berry, if this is about that damn dalmatian sweater of yours, I gotta tell ya, I had nothing to do with it," he said trying, but failing, to keep the guilty tone out of his voice.

"What happened to my dalmatian sweater?" Rachel asked, wrinkling her nose at him curiously.

Puck, realizing too late that the sweater was not what she wanted to talk about, was caught. "Wait. What?"

Rachel's hands flew to her hips. "What did you do to it? I love that sweater. My dads gave it to me for landing the lead in Lima Community Theatre's production of The Wiz," she said angrily, poking him in his well-toned chest every so often for emphasis.

He brushed her finger off of him."I don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel was quickly getting exasperated. "Noah!" she exclaimed.

Puck could tell he was beginning to distract her. "Why do you always accuse me of everything? God, Berry!" he shouted, turning the tables by faking irritation with her.

It worked. "I'm not accusing you of anything!" she exclaimed, now flustered. "I'm just-" she trailed off. "Hold on. What are we even arguing about?"

Puck, knowing he had won, simply shrugged. "You tell me. You're the one who came stomping through the halls like a woman possessed, looking for me."

Suddenly reminded of her mission, Rachel shook herself out and refocused on the task at hand. "That's because I need you to be me a favor."

A sly smirk played at Puck's lips. "Oh, so you need me now?" he asked cockily.

The innuendo, however, was lost on Rachel. "Did you just make a pun on that duet we sang together? Because, that was actually very clever."

"You sound impressed," he replied, not at all offended.

"Incredulous may be the more appropriate word."

"I don't know what that word means, but I'll say 'thank you' anyway."

Rachel, choosing to overlook Noah's blatant ignorance, continued. "So, listen, about that favor-"

"Why would I do you a favor? We're not friends," Puck snapped, perhaps a little too sharply.

Rachel's face fell. "We're not?" she asked softly, her bottom lip starting to quiver.

Puck knew had he gone too far. "Christ, Berry, now don't go crying on me or anything," he said, rolling his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. It was just a joke. Cra-hazy," he muttered under his breath.

Puck grabbed a book from his locker with one arm and slung the other around Rachel's shoulders. Now, come here. Tell me what Papa Puckerman can do for you. You need some alcohol? A fake id? A little puffpuff?" he said, miming a hit off a joint. "You name it- I'm your man," he said as they began to walk side by side down the hall.

There was nothing Rachel could but stare up at him. "You are mentally unstable."

"What?" Puck shrugged innocently with a look on his face that indicated that he thought he, himself, was Mother Theresa incarnate.

Rachel knew otherwise. "You know what?" she asked, ducking out from under Puck's heavy arm. "Never mind. This was a bad idea; a momentary lack in judgment if you will. Forget I even said anything." And with that, she turned on the heel of her shiny mary jane shoe and began to walk away.

Puck cursed under his breath and, letting his conscience get the best of him, turned around to chase after her. "Hang on, hang on. Seriously, Berry, what's going on?"

Rachel thought she saw a look of genuine concern radiating in his hazel eyes. She knew there was a good guy hiding somewhere underneath his 'bad-ass' exterior so decided to give it a shot. "I just thought that maybe- if you didn't have any other plans-" she began nervously.

"Spit it out," Puck prompted.

"?" she mumbled, suddenly much more interested in picking at a miniscule piece of lint on her sweater than looking at Puck.

"Yeah, I didn't quite catch that."

Rachel refused to peel her eyes up from the ground. "I said, 'would you want to go to the prom with me?'" she said, annunciating her words more, but not speaking any louder.

Puck cupped a hand around his eared and leaned closer to embarrassed brunette who was growing increasing redder. "You gotta speak up."

Frustrated, Rachel took a deep breath before shouting, "WOULD YOU WANT TO GO TO THE PROM WITH ME?"

Finally looking up, she noticed that all activity in the hallway froze for a moment as they processed her outburst. Much to Rachel's relief, nobody said anything and after a few seconds, they continued on their respective ways. "Look what you made me do," she hissed at her mohawk'ed companion, now more angry than embarrassed."

"I heard you the first time. I just wanted to see far I could push this," Puck said, trying to smother a laugh. He knew she was pissed, and as tiny as she was, he knew she was perfectly capable of beating him silly with her tiny, yet surprisingly hard, fists.

He was right. Rachel's brown eyes were blazing. "You're an ass," she spat, punching him in his well-defined arm.

Puck brushed her off, trying to resist the urge to rub his arm which was already beginning to throb. "You really think calling me an ass is the best way for you to get me to take you to this vomit-inducing social norm society calls a prom?"

All of the anger Rachel had been feeling only seconds earlier, flew out of her body hearing that last statement. "I-," for one in her life, Rachel Berry was speechless. "Have you been paying attention in philosophy?" she asked, stunned.

Apparently not. "What?" Puck asked, sincerely confused.

Quickly dropping the subject, Rachel went back to her original purpose. "Please, Noah."

Puck looked down at her with a cocky expression. "Ask nicely," he taunted her, folding his arms across his chest smugly.

"Noah-" she began, her voice dangerously bordering a whine.

He wasn't about to let it go that easily. "Berry," he retorted.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel relented. "Noah, would you go me the great honor of escorting me to the prom? I would be forever in your debt."

"I'll think about it."

Fed up that she did what he asked and yet he was still being stubborn, Rachel switched to a new tactic. "Please?" she asked with her bottom lip jutted out as she looked up at him with big old puppy dog eyes.

Puck only laughed. "Begging doesn't look good on you, you know."

Offended, Rachel scoffed. "Excuse me, I wasn't begging. I was simply to trying to reiterate my position previously stated-"

Puck cut off her ensuing tangent before it was too late. "English, please, Berry."

"I was not begging," Rachel huffed.

"You kinda were." He thought about it for a minute before amending, "It was actually pretty hott."

That was the final straw. Anger once again began coursing through her veins. "You're a misogynistic pig, you know that?" she asked, punching him for the second time, this time in his stomach.

Puck didn't flinch. "Again, not really the way to a man's heart."

Rachel had had enough. "I officially retract my proposal. Please forget I ever asked and I would appreciate it if you would never bring it up. This is a humiliation I do not care to relieve," And without another word, she took off down the hall.

Since Puck could take one stride for every three of Rachel's, he easily caught up to her. "Hey, easy there, Berry," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders to spin her around so she would look at him. "I would love to bring you to prom. Being two good-looking Jews, we would bring the Gentile study body to their knees if they saw us all snazzed up together. But, I happen to already have a date," he told, sincerity echoing in his voice for the first time in their conversation.

Rachel felt her heart drop into her stomach."Oh course. What was I thinking? You're Noah Puckerman. I'd imagine you have a waiting list of all the girls who want to go with you to prom," she said, a sad smile on her lips.

"I do," he answered unabashedly. "But I'm taking the only one that matters. It's time to face facts. I've been Zise'd."

Rachel squinted her eyes at him. "I don't know what that means."

Puck sighed deeply."It means that my heart belongs to the one Lauren Zises. And there ain't nothing neither one of us can do about it. You had your chance, Berry. It's time to move on."

He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Catch ya later, Berry." And then he walked away.

After Noah's rejection, Rachel was determined not to let herself feel defeated. She still had two guys from Glee left to ask. She found one of the two sitting alone in a chair in the back row of the rehearsal room, waiting for practice to begin. She decided she would try a different strategy than she had with Noah. It was time to put all those chick flick movies to the test.

"Excuse me, Samuel?" she asked, striding into the room full of confidence. Sam was a nice guy. Surely, he wouldn't turn her down.

Sam looked up from the book he was flipping through in surprise. He turned behind him to see who Rachel was talking to. When he realized he was the only one in the room, he turned back to her. "Oh. You mean me?" he asked, his voice a combination of surprise and confusion.

Rachel slid into the chair next to him. "Of course. Who else would I mean?" she asked with, what she hoped was, a flirtatious giggle.

Sam pushed his blonde bangs out of his eyes. "Well, it's, uh, Sam, actually. But you've ever only called me 'Ken'. And I'm pretty sure the only thing you've ever said to me was 'Your giant head is blocking my spotlight.'"

"That can't possibly be true," Rachel said, playfully shoving him in the shoulder in a continued effort to flirt with the blonde.

Sam thought for a moment. "Oh, and 'No, reach with your right hand on the end note. Your right. Your other right, you idiotic, directionally challenged dolt.'"

Rachel opened her mouth to defend herself, but she quickly ran through a mental list of all her and Sam's interactions. Sure there was plenty, but he was right: none of them actually involved any conversations. For the second time that day, and possibly for only the second time in her life, Rachel was silent. He had caught her.

Sam sighed. "What do you want, Rachel?" He may have only been in New Directions for a few months, but he would have only needed to be in the club a few minutes to understand its dynamic: there was motive to every move Rachel made, which always benefited her.

Rachel's hand flew to her heart ala southern damsel in distress. "Why would you assume I want something?" she asked while comically batting her eyelashes.

"Because we've never had a conversation," Sam answered bluntly, still regarding her curiously.

"Right. And I will willingly accept full responsibility for that. In fact, I have a great idea. You're still technically the 'new kid', and as official glee captain and ambassador, I am here to extend an offer of invitation in hopes of further strengthening and nurturing our still weak relationship with a fun night of getting to know each other."

Sam's head was starting to spin. "An invitation to what?" he asked slowly.

"To prom," Rachel answered with a glittering smile on her face.

"You're asking me to prom?" Poor Sam was still confused.

Rachel put a hand on his shoulder. "Was my invitation not clear enough?" she asked, concerned.

"That's really nice of you to offer, Rachel, but-" Sam began.

Just as Rachel prepared herself for another letdown, a sharp voice echoed through the choir room. "Hey, Yentel!" Santana shouted, entering the room. "Get your grubby, hairy man-paws off my man. Were you even listening to my original song submission? Them's guppy lips be mine."

"-I'm going with Santana," he finished pitifully.

Santana strode across the room to the pair. She proceeded to pluck Rachel's hand off Sam's shoulder before plopping herself down in his lap. "Damn straight, you're going with me, why would you even…" Santana trailed off, the topic of Sam and Rachel's conversation just then registering in her mind.

"Hang on. I think I just hallucinated," she said with a laugh, speaking directly to Sam. "Are you telling me that Frodo here just asked you to prom? Oh my god, that's hilarious." She then turned her attention to Rachel. "You really think that this fine-ass piece of man meat would even consider escorting a frumpy, little hobbit like you to the most important social event of high school?" she asked harshly, waving her finger around in Rachel's face.

"You don't have to be mean about it, Santana," Sam said, pushing the fiesta Latina off his lap.

"Don't bother, Sam," Rachel said calmly, masking her disappointment. "It's obvious that you are already spoken for. I won't waste any more of your time," she stood up from her chair, smoothed her skirt down and moved down to her place in the front row.

"Sorry, Rachel," Sam called after her.

"Don't be so down, RuPaul," Santana, who was apparently recycling jokes, taunted. "It's for your own good. If Trouty Mouth and I weren't together, and if by some slim chance you two got together; I'm picturing an apocalyptic- you two are the last two people on earth scenario- and god forbid you actually procreated, your children wouldn't have faces. They'd just be a whole lotta lips."

Rachel turned around to stare blankly at Santana, a look that was mirrored by Sam. "Because you both have ginormous lips," Santana added, with a 'no, duh' expression on her face.

"Thank you for that clarification, Santana. As always, it's been a pleasure. It was nice talking to you, Sam."

"Later, Unibrow."

The fact that Rachel was now down to her final option was a thought that plagued her during the entire rehearsal. In fact, even Mr. Schue noticed, asking her if she was feeling all right. Rachel didn't know how to answer the question. Was she all right physically? Yes. Was she all right mentally? She wasn't sure. There was only one person left to ask to prom. One person who held the fate of her perfect night in his hands. And that one person was none other than her on again/off again boyfriend, Finn.

She cornered him after rehearsal, once everyone else had left. "Hello, Finn," she began cautiously.

"Rachel," he politely replied, but his expression was stoic.

This was not off to a good start, but Rachel pressed on. "I just wanted to say how impressed I was with you in practice today. You hit that note inMore Than a Feeling with surprising ease."

"Uh, thanks, I think."

Rachel smiled softly. "You're welcome."

"Is that all?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow at his ex-girlfriend suspiciously.

"No, not really," she admitted. "I've missed you, Finn," she said, moving to take a step closer to him.

Finn held a hand out to stop her. "Rachel, don't."

When she saw the pained expression painted on Finn's features, Rachel felt her heart shatter. "Don't what? Tell you that I miss you? Tell you that you're the last thing I think about before going to bed each night and the first thing I think about when I wake up each morning? Tell you that I think we've made a big mistake? Tell you how I'm actuallyfeeling?" she asked passionately, willing the tears that were threatening to fall to stay put.

"Why are you doing this? Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" Finn asked, the irritation growing stronger in his voice.

"We belong together, Finn," Rachel said, once again trying to move closer to him.

Finn dodged her by taking a seat in a nearby chair. "You know, I thought that too once. But then you cheated on me. With my best friend."

If the expression 'looks could kill' were true, Rachel Berry would have been a very dead woman at that moment. "Are you going to hold that against me forever?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

Finn refused to look at her. "It's not something I can forgive that easily."

"You forgave Quinn for doing the same thing. Except what she did was worse."

That got his attention. "Leave her out of this, okay? This is between you and I," he snapped, his eyes locking with hers.

The intensity of Finn's glare forced her to avert her eyes toward the ground. "You and me," she muttered softly.

"What?"

She willed herself to look back up at him. "'I' is a nominative pronoun and is used for the subject of a sentence while 'me' is an objective pronoun and used for the object."

"Come on, Rach," Finn pleaded, looking at her exasperatedly.

Rachel decided it was now or never. "Will you go to the prom with me?"

"Rachel-"

She cut him off before he could flat-out reject her. "We can go as friends if you'd prefer."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"We can't be friends," Finn said as he stood up, grabbed his backpack and headed for the door.

Finn's words stung. "Because you know you can't deny the attraction that was between us; that'sstill there between us?" Rachel asked, tears finally beginning to fall.

Rachel's words stopped him in his tracks. He turned back around. "That's not what I'm saying," For a second, Rachel's heart soared. But as quickly as it rose, it fell, when she heard the rest. "I can't take you to prom because I'm already going with Quinn."

"So you two are official now?" she asked even though she wasn't sure she actually wanted an answer.

"We never made sense, Rachel," Finn replied, officially frustrated.

Rachel was insistent. "But we worked."

"No, we didn't," Finn retorted sharply. "Because if we did, we'd still be together."

"You're the one not giving us a chance," Rachel knew she was now practically begging, but she didn't care. She was desperate.

"Look, I'm done arguing about this with you. I'm going to the prom with Quinn. End of story."

Rachel could hear the finality in Finn's voice so she didn't call after him when he walked out the door, leaving her alone with her tears.

Once she had pulled herself together, Rachel headed to The Lima Bean for her biweekly coffee with Kurt and Blaine. Immediately, the two guys knew something was off. While they were talking about the previous night's episode of America's Next Top Model, Rachel was shockingly quiet.

"And then Tyra told the girls that the overseas location was going to be Pigfarts," Kurt said, eyeing Rachel to see if she was actually paying attention.

She wasn't. "Mm-hmm," she said, staring at her coffee while absentmindedly stirring it

"Which is on Mars," Blaine added.

"That's nice," Rachel said with a heavy sigh.

"That's it," Kurt said, placing his coffee carefully on the table. "What's wrong, Rachel? I haven't seen you this depressed since Catherine Zeta-Jones beat Sheri Rene Scott for Best Leading Actress in a Musical at last year's Tonys."

That caught Rachel's attention. "Sheri was robbed."

"A moment of silence for Ms. Scott," Blaine offered, clasping his hands together in prayer.

All three bowed their heads and for a few seconds, sat in silence. "Amen," they finished together.

"Okay, seriously, Rachel, what's going on?" Kurt asked again.

"It's just been a day full of complete and utter rejections," Rachel sighed again, probably way more overdramatically than necessary.

Kurt shrugged. "Look on the bright side; you can think of this as practice for the many, many rejections that are sure to come once you venture into your sure-to-be fruitless career in show business."

Blaine stared at his co-Warbler incredulously. "Helpful, Kurt."

He turned to Rachel, grabbing her hand across the table. "Tell Blaine what's going on. Who rejected you?"

"It was Finn, wasn't it? Again," Kurt asked, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"Kurt!" Blaine admonished.

"What?" Kurt asked with an innocent 'who me?' look on his race.

Blaine turned back to Rachel. "Go ahead, Rachel," he prompted.

"No one wants to take me to prom," Rachel cried, throwing her head down on the table, burying her face in her arm that wasn't currently being held by Blaine.

"Is that all?" Kurt scoffed. "I thought it was going to be serious."

"There's nothing wrong with going alone," Blaine added, trying to be encouraging; unlike Kurt, who was not helping the situation. At all.

Rachel lifted her head and pulled her hand out of Blaine's grasp. "There is when every other person in the world has a date," she muttered pathetically.

Kurt sighed. "Always the drama queen. Rachel, I'm sure not every single person in the school is going with a date."

"It seems like it."

"Why is it so important for you to have a date?" Blaine asked. "Do you think Patti Lupone would let a little thing like a guy, well, lack thereof, get in the way of her having a good time? No," he slammed his hand down on the table for emphasis, earning a jump from both Rachel and Kurt. "She'd show up, in a fabulous dress, and rock the prom with her pure diva-tude."

"Normally, you'd be correct, Blaine, but I was hoping that for this one night I would be able to feel like a princess. How many princesses out there do you know without a prince charming?"

Blaine pondered her question for a moment. "There has to be some guy at your school who's not going with anyone."

Hearing Blaine's words, a light bulb suddenly went off in Rachel's head. "Hang on. What did you just say?" she asked, suddenly excited.

Blaine was not prepared for this sudden shift in momentum. "Uh, 'There has to be some guy at your school who's not going with anyone'?" he answered curiously.

"Blaine, you are such a genius!" Rachel exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "I could kiss you right now!"

Seeing the amused expression on Blaine's face and the one of horror on Kurt's, she quickly added, "I won't."

A look of relief crossed over both guys' faces. Rachel continued. "Oh, this is so brilliant! I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. Kurt, you're a guy."

Kurt adjusted his bangs. "Generally speaking, yes. Go on," he encouraged, curious as to where she was going.

"And you don't go to McKinley anymore, so there's no way you could already have a date to McKinley's prom."

Kurt now knew where this was heading. "Actually, Rachel-"

She didn't seem to hear him. "I mean, I know we haven't always been the closest of friends, but I'd like to think we've gotten closer these past few months-"

"Rachel-"

"You would be doing me the biggest favor, and it would be a fantastic opportunity to see all your old friends, and-"

"Rachel!" Kurt finally shouted, getting the attention of not only Rachel, but the entire coffee shop. "Mercedes already asked me to be her date."

For the fourth time that day, Rachel felt her heart deflate. "Oh. I understand."

"You know I would go if I could."

"I appreciate the thought, Kurt, but it's okay. She asked first. And apparently, I am just destined to die alone in a cabin in the woods singing heartfelt love ballads to my 27 stray cats."

"Rachel-" Kurt began, trying to reel in the crazy before it got too far out of hand.

Too late. Rachel was off. "You know what? I can just call Jesse. It's not ideal, but I'm sure he'll be more than happy to take a trip out here to escort me to prom," she turned to Blaine. "Jesse is my old boyfriend. We broke up because he moved out west to attend college at the University of California, Los Angeles. It's in Los Angeles," she explained, her voice getting increasingly higher with each sentence.

Kurt could only stare at her. "You broke up because he was a spy from our archrival glee club and he cracked an egg on your forehead."

"Minute details," Rachel acknowledged, waving Kurt off.

"You're delusional."

"Wait, are you by any chance talking about Jesse St. James?" Blaine asked, his voice piquing in interest.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Well, no, not exactly. But I heard he's kind of a douche," Blaine answered with a slight laugh.

Rachel's jaw dropped as if she couldn't fathom how someone could say that about her "beloved" Jesse. "For your information, Jesse St. James is an extraordinarily talented individual, perhaps so much so that is talent could be viewed by others, who might not be as accomplished and therefore may not understand such talent, as cocky or arrogant or maybe even-"

"Douchebaggy?" Kurt supplied.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Again, helpful."

"What? You're the one who called him a douche in the first place."

Before the guys' argument could go any further, Rachel pushed back from the table. "Well, I must be going," she announced. "I'm off to contemplate my life of solitude."

Kurt watched her go, slowly shaking his head. "That girl's always got one foot on the crazy train, but if we don't do something about this prom situation, I'm envisioning a full-blown, Sissy Spacek/pig's blood type of crazy."

Blaine threw a fist in their air. "Team Klaine to the rescue!" he exclaimed, a goofy smile spread across his lips.

"Don't do that," Kurt reprimanded.

"Sorry," Blaine amended. "Hey! Do you think we could set her up with one of the Warblers? I know Matt is single."

Kurt turned to his friend, an evil smile on his face. "I think we can do better than that," he declared. "Here's what I was thinking..."

A/N2: Second Part will be the actual Prom! Will Rachel find a date? And what exactly does Kurt have planned for her?