Buenos Nachos, Mr. Schue!
Title: Buenos Nachos, Mr. Schue!
Rating: R? idek. Puck has a potty mouth.
Word Count: 2,528 (the word drabble just rolled over in it's grave)
Char./Pairings: Puck, Mr. Schuester, PR, slight PS, but mostly Puck/The Spanish Language
Summary: El Puckerone no habla español
PROPS:
Written for adinfinitum who asked for a drabble (LULZ DRABBLE) of Puck being in Spanish class. Um, I love you so much it's retarded. There, I say it.
And for unequivocally and gubeldood208 for not only existing, but also for putting up with me.
Buenos Nachos, Mr. Schue!
-
If Will Schuester was put on the Earth to do one thing, it’s teaching high school Spanish. Sure, singing is his passion, but being a teacher - a molder of minds - is his calling. Teaching kids new languages and introducing them to the diverse people and cultures of the world inspires him every single day. Opening them up to new places and ways of communicating...There's nothing quite like it.
Will Schuester wouldn't give up teaching for the world, and yet...Whenever he sees Noah Puckerman's face, he seriously begins considering alternative career paths.
-
The first time Noah Puckerman takes Spanish he’s a freshman and he spends the first term shouting “¡Yo tengo un pitón en mis pantalones!” randomly from the back of the room, when he bothers to show up at all. When Will tracks him down right before winter break to tell him he’s at risk for failing the class, Noah gives a heartfelt ¡Ay, caramba! before shoving the parental notice to the back of his locker and wishing him a “Buenos Chanukah.”
He doesn’t see Noah again until a random Tuesday in the spring.
“Adriana Lima,” is all Puck says when he shows up in the middle of class one day, interrupting Christina Henley’s oral on the economic exports of Chile. “I need to get on that.”
Mr. S makes him wait after class and he feels genuinely sorry as he tells him, “Mr. Puckerman, Adriana Lima is Brazilian.”
“What’s your point?” When Mr. S stares up at the ceiling before sighing and turning to walk away, Noah calls after him, “Hey, how do you say ‘I may not be loaded yet, but baby, I’ll be so good to you’?”
-
When Will shows up to class the following school year and sees PUCKERMAN, NOAH on the class roster he feels a tiny glimmer of hope that Puck (yes, that’s what he’s been asking the teachers to call him) has decided to buckle down and put some serious effort into studying this time around. That is, until he breezes into class with a jaunty, “Hola, Señorita Schue,” and proceeds to fall asleep on his desk, moaning a heavy, right there Ms. Pillsbury yeah.
Things don't change much until Will walks in his classroom one day and sees Puck sitting front and center, notebook open and pencil in hand. He’s wary of asking but after two weeks of perfect attendance and completed (and entirely wrong) homework, he needs to make sure that’s not a pod-person sitting there with a bright red twenty plastered across it's chest, horribly conjugating the verb to have.
“Puck.”
“Schue.”
“It’s Mister Schue - look, far be it for me to question your academic integrity but we both know your routine. You don't show up to class, and on the rare occasion you do, you're loud and disruptive. Then the year ends, I fail you and ask you to try to find another extra-curricular, and you show up again...” he trails off, and Puck stares at him blankly.
Will throws his hands up in defeat and walks off, shaking his head. It doesn't take long for Puck to catch up to him in the parking lot.
“Alright, Mr. S, Imma be straight with you. I’ve got this, uh, pool-cleaning business, and there’s a new client...” he stops suddenly, his face taking on a cautious expression. When he continues, it’s in a slow, wary tone. “We’re dealing with some serious breakdown in communication. And it’s affecting... business.”
“Well, there’s a chapter in the workbook on common and helpful phrases related to financial transa-”
“Oh god, Schue, the workbook sucks. I read that thing front to back and for one? MORE PICTURES PLEASE. And okay that shit book didn't include any of the important stuff.”
“Puck, if you have specific concerns about the curriculum...”
“We need some Benicio Del Toro up in here, teaching us some badass español. Who the fuck cares where the library is when there’s a party in my pants and the señoritas need to know they’re invited?”
That’s when Will gets it. He remembers his junior year, standing under Terri's bedroom window, wooing her with Spanish songs.
“What do you need me to translate?” he grins, pulling a pad out his messenger bag, clicking the pen from his pocket open.
“Okay, how do you say, 'When does your husband get home?'”
Even after he throws his bag into the car, gets in and slams the door shut, he can still hear Puck shouting from the parking lot as his drives away, “ ‘I’m young but I’ve got stamina’? Or ‘Turn over, I think you’ll like it’? Shit, TEACH ME, MR SCHUE!”
When Will informs Puck two weeks later of his second failing grade, he’s interrupted by the new transfer student, Enrique Marquez shoving past them, stopping only to give Puck the stink-eye. Puck turns back to him, a shit-eating grin on his face, and claps him hard on the back with a “Hasta la vista, baby” before strutting down the hallway.
-
The first day of class Puck's junior year is marked by two events: Will taking over glee club and Puck walking into Spanish class with a Cheerio slung over his shoulder.
Will’s never had to handle the problem of a student attending his classes when they shouldn’t but from the way Puck acts mildly subdued with Santana Lopez in his lap, he decides to make an exception and let’s her stay, telling himself the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Halfway through class, Puck’s phone almost buzzes straight off his desk and Santana snatches it up and flips it open. Will’s about to remind them of his no cell phones policy when she unleashes a loud, terrifying “WHO THE FUCK IS CATHY?” before throwing it against Puck’s head and flouncing out into the hallway.
Puck just jumps up and throws a “BRB, my dictionary’s running away!” over his shoulder and sprints out of the room.
When midterms roll around, Will sighs when he sees Puck’s test with a Noah Puckerman scrawled in a girly, loopy writing across the top and every answer grammatically correct and perfectly conjugated. He corners him at the slushy machine in the cafeteria as Puck's filling up a huge cup of purple frozen slush. “Did you really think you’d get away with making Santana write your midterm for you?”
“Hells no,” Puck scoffs, foregoing a cover for the drink as he weaves his way expertly through the throng of students while Will struggles to keep up. “But she refused to eat your burrito to get me an A. Pfffft, women, am I right?”
Shaking his head and refusing to let himself process what he heard, he tells Puck in a firm voice, “I’ll have to give you a zero on the test, Puck.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he shrugs. “But yo tell me, she rocked it, right?”
“She got 100%,” he admits and he’s surprised at the look of genuine pride on Puck’s face at the news. And then he remembers who he’s talking to and narrows his eyes at the drink in his hands. “You forgot to take a straw.”
Puck places a hand on Will’s shoulder and looks down at him. “Mr. Schue,” he starts, his voice both patronizing and completely serious, “sometimes a man needs to step up and mark his territory, like the Vikings did. Or in your case, the Mexican Vikings.”
He walks off down the hall singing Feliz Navidad, the drink hoisted high up in the air, perfectly in key. “Prospero año y felicidad...”
When Rachel Berry comes stomping by covered in grape slushee, Will fills out a detention slip silently and considers early retirement.
-
When Puck joins Acafellas, Will’s just grateful for the talent and extra body.
When Puck joins Glee, Will just tells himself he’ll probably quit soon, anyway.
-
“Puck, you skipped class again today, and if you miss one more that’s an auto--”
“Hey, wait, we’re bros right?”
“No, no we aren’t --”
“So I need you to be straight with me. How far did you let Little Miss Crazy Eyes get when she was all hot for teacher?”
“Puck, I’m married.”
“Seriously? Shit. You don’t own a pool do you? Cause if you do, I totes didn't mean to--”
“Detention.”
“Oh, sure thing. See you at 3, Mr. S. I’ll bring the cards. Suavemente.”
-
Walking into the music room to find the star of his glee club sitting on the piano is standard. To find the bane of his existence kneeling down between her legs is an aneurysm.
It turns out the news of Puck dating Rachel Berry breaks the following morning and Mr. Schue got himself an extra-special sneak-peek (Puck’s words, not his) at McKinley’s newest couple.
He tries to approach them about discretion at school, but Rachel bursts into tears and Puck just says “No hablo español.”
Will almost feels bad when he mutters “Tell me something I don’t know” under his breath but from the way Puck clutches his sides in laughter, he figures there’s no harm done.
-
When he steps out of class one day to fetch a book that he left in the teachers’ lounge, he finds Puck sitting in front of Rachel’s locker tearing a page out of a magazine.
“You’re missing an interesting lecture on El Salvadorian history, Puck.”
“Is that the one Mel Gibson made where a jaguar eats a guy’s face off?”
“What?”
“What?”
Will decides to cut his losses and get back to his students when Puck calls him back. “Yo, Mr. S. You got a pen I can borrow?”
He watches in vague horror as Puck flattens the page he’d just ripped (the centerfold of some adult magazine with a buxom brunette writhing on the beach) and scribbles THINKING OF YOU XOXO on it before folding it and slipping it into Rachel’s locker.
“You know, Rachel’s a very smart, studious young woman.”
“Hey,” Puck wags a finger at him, “don’t go getting any ideas, okay?”
Will rolls his eyes, “I meant I’m sure she’d be impressed if you’d apply yourself to your studies. Say Spanish class, maybe?”
“I dunno, Berry’s livin’ la vida loca,” Puck shrugs. “It’s not so much Spanish I need right now but an English-to-Crazy dictionary.”
Schue just rubs his forehead. “Puck, has it ever occurred to you that there are a whole host of reasons to take up a new language that don't include seducing some poor girl?”
Puck just blinks and Mr. Schue gives him detention for loitering in the hallway.
-
Puck doesn’t take Spanish his senior year. Will doesn’t know why he’s up all night trying to figure out what that means.
During his lecture on South American lakes, he pauses after naming Lake Titicaca but nobody falls off their chair to roll around on the floor laughing and he refuses to let himself be bothered by that.
-
“Dude, they’re not letting me graduate!” The door to Will’s office bangs back on its hinges and both he and Jessica Holden jump in their seats.
“Puck, I’m with another student...”
“You know those Fs you gave me? They’re holding that shit against me!” Puck throws down a paper detailing his incomplete credits.
“I assumed you’d be making those credits up in another class!”
“Schue, you can’t assume that kinda shit with me, okay? God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? Graduation’s NEXT WEEK.” Puck sinks into the now-empty seat in front of his desk, head in hands. “My mother’s going to kill me. You’ll never find the body.”
Normally, he wouldn’t care. Well, he’d care but failing the same class three times has to be some sort of academic failure that absolutely does not merit any sort of second chance. But...
Puck’s a bit of a douchebag, ok? And he feels bad thinking that about a student if Puck didn’t proudly call himself that all the time. And yet, Will sees a side of Puck in Glee that gives him hope for this asshole’s future. When he helps carry Artie out of the auditorium or when he fights tooth and nail to win back Finn’s trust or hell, just when he performs, like there’s not much else for him at this place but there’s this and Will remembers why he started Glee in the first place.
“One last chance,” Will tells him. “A paper, in Spanish, on what matters most to you. On my desk. Tomorrow morning.”
(That night, Puck’s all set to get crackin’ on it - has all his tabs opened to online translators and everything - and then he gets a text from Finn about the guys meeting at the football field for a senior prank involving an insane amount of hotdogs and well, he figures Schue’ll understand.)
(He doesn’t.)
“Ok, so, new plan,” Puck announces that next day, walking into the music room as Will sets up for the last Glee practice of the year, “ just because I think it’s for suckers it doesn’t mean I don’t rock the shit out of it. Another year of high school doesn’t seem all that bad, right?”
Will stops to sigh and give him a disappointed frown before going back to getting the room ready.
“Being older than everybody will automatically make me top dawg, not that I ain’t already, and shit, who wouldn’t want to spend another year watching Berry bop around in those little skirts, making an ass out of herself on a daily basis?” He starts piling chairs up alongside him and Will tries not to notice that Puck carries about double the amount he does without stopping his speech. “Not that it matters, but she’s pretty retarded when it comes to dudes and I know some asshole from the fucking lacrosse team will probably convince her that it’s in her best interest to date him when it totally isn't. She needs me around to explain these things to her.”
“Have you told Rachel any of this?”
“Are you fucking retarded? You still see me standing, don’t you? Shit, that’s why I came to see you. I was hoping you would.”
-
So Puck’s real last chance is just anything.
“Anything?”
“Puck, anything that involves the Spanish in some equivocal way.”
“...is that like a triangle that has the same four sides?”
“You have one hour.”
A hand slams a sheet of creased notebook paper on Will’s desk, exactly three and a quarter hours later. “There,” Puck grins, breathless. “Done.”
“What is it?”
“A song.”
And Will gets that feeling - a firm, unshakeable faith that he can feel deep in his bones - that music can change the world and that everyone, everyone, is just someone waiting to let the music out --
“Sung to the tune of Mexcio’s national anthem, La Cucaracha.”
-- even Noah Puckerman.
Will uses a bright red marker to write a D on the paper, right above the title, Los Panties de Rachel Berry.
When Will congratulates him and shakes his hand, he looks up at the ceiling to hide his misty eyes and at Puck’s gruff “Muchos gracias, Señorita Schue,” he lets out a chuckle.
Rating: R? idek. Puck has a potty mouth.
Word Count: 2,528 (the word drabble just rolled over in it's grave)
Char./Pairings: Puck, Mr. Schuester, PR, slight PS, but mostly Puck/The Spanish Language
Summary: El Puckerone no habla español
PROPS:
Written for adinfinitum who asked for a drabble (LULZ DRABBLE) of Puck being in Spanish class. Um, I love you so much it's retarded. There, I say it.
And for unequivocally and gubeldood208 for not only existing, but also for putting up with me.
Buenos Nachos, Mr. Schue!
-
If Will Schuester was put on the Earth to do one thing, it’s teaching high school Spanish. Sure, singing is his passion, but being a teacher - a molder of minds - is his calling. Teaching kids new languages and introducing them to the diverse people and cultures of the world inspires him every single day. Opening them up to new places and ways of communicating...There's nothing quite like it.
Will Schuester wouldn't give up teaching for the world, and yet...Whenever he sees Noah Puckerman's face, he seriously begins considering alternative career paths.
-
The first time Noah Puckerman takes Spanish he’s a freshman and he spends the first term shouting “¡Yo tengo un pitón en mis pantalones!” randomly from the back of the room, when he bothers to show up at all. When Will tracks him down right before winter break to tell him he’s at risk for failing the class, Noah gives a heartfelt ¡Ay, caramba! before shoving the parental notice to the back of his locker and wishing him a “Buenos Chanukah.”
He doesn’t see Noah again until a random Tuesday in the spring.
“Adriana Lima,” is all Puck says when he shows up in the middle of class one day, interrupting Christina Henley’s oral on the economic exports of Chile. “I need to get on that.”
Mr. S makes him wait after class and he feels genuinely sorry as he tells him, “Mr. Puckerman, Adriana Lima is Brazilian.”
“What’s your point?” When Mr. S stares up at the ceiling before sighing and turning to walk away, Noah calls after him, “Hey, how do you say ‘I may not be loaded yet, but baby, I’ll be so good to you’?”
-
When Will shows up to class the following school year and sees PUCKERMAN, NOAH on the class roster he feels a tiny glimmer of hope that Puck (yes, that’s what he’s been asking the teachers to call him) has decided to buckle down and put some serious effort into studying this time around. That is, until he breezes into class with a jaunty, “Hola, Señorita Schue,” and proceeds to fall asleep on his desk, moaning a heavy, right there Ms. Pillsbury yeah.
Things don't change much until Will walks in his classroom one day and sees Puck sitting front and center, notebook open and pencil in hand. He’s wary of asking but after two weeks of perfect attendance and completed (and entirely wrong) homework, he needs to make sure that’s not a pod-person sitting there with a bright red twenty plastered across it's chest, horribly conjugating the verb to have.
“Puck.”
“Schue.”
“It’s Mister Schue - look, far be it for me to question your academic integrity but we both know your routine. You don't show up to class, and on the rare occasion you do, you're loud and disruptive. Then the year ends, I fail you and ask you to try to find another extra-curricular, and you show up again...” he trails off, and Puck stares at him blankly.
Will throws his hands up in defeat and walks off, shaking his head. It doesn't take long for Puck to catch up to him in the parking lot.
“Alright, Mr. S, Imma be straight with you. I’ve got this, uh, pool-cleaning business, and there’s a new client...” he stops suddenly, his face taking on a cautious expression. When he continues, it’s in a slow, wary tone. “We’re dealing with some serious breakdown in communication. And it’s affecting... business.”
“Well, there’s a chapter in the workbook on common and helpful phrases related to financial transa-”
“Oh god, Schue, the workbook sucks. I read that thing front to back and for one? MORE PICTURES PLEASE. And okay that shit book didn't include any of the important stuff.”
“Puck, if you have specific concerns about the curriculum...”
“We need some Benicio Del Toro up in here, teaching us some badass español. Who the fuck cares where the library is when there’s a party in my pants and the señoritas need to know they’re invited?”
That’s when Will gets it. He remembers his junior year, standing under Terri's bedroom window, wooing her with Spanish songs.
“What do you need me to translate?” he grins, pulling a pad out his messenger bag, clicking the pen from his pocket open.
“Okay, how do you say, 'When does your husband get home?'”
Even after he throws his bag into the car, gets in and slams the door shut, he can still hear Puck shouting from the parking lot as his drives away, “ ‘I’m young but I’ve got stamina’? Or ‘Turn over, I think you’ll like it’? Shit, TEACH ME, MR SCHUE!”
When Will informs Puck two weeks later of his second failing grade, he’s interrupted by the new transfer student, Enrique Marquez shoving past them, stopping only to give Puck the stink-eye. Puck turns back to him, a shit-eating grin on his face, and claps him hard on the back with a “Hasta la vista, baby” before strutting down the hallway.
-
The first day of class Puck's junior year is marked by two events: Will taking over glee club and Puck walking into Spanish class with a Cheerio slung over his shoulder.
Will’s never had to handle the problem of a student attending his classes when they shouldn’t but from the way Puck acts mildly subdued with Santana Lopez in his lap, he decides to make an exception and let’s her stay, telling himself the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Halfway through class, Puck’s phone almost buzzes straight off his desk and Santana snatches it up and flips it open. Will’s about to remind them of his no cell phones policy when she unleashes a loud, terrifying “WHO THE FUCK IS CATHY?” before throwing it against Puck’s head and flouncing out into the hallway.
Puck just jumps up and throws a “BRB, my dictionary’s running away!” over his shoulder and sprints out of the room.
When midterms roll around, Will sighs when he sees Puck’s test with a Noah Puckerman scrawled in a girly, loopy writing across the top and every answer grammatically correct and perfectly conjugated. He corners him at the slushy machine in the cafeteria as Puck's filling up a huge cup of purple frozen slush. “Did you really think you’d get away with making Santana write your midterm for you?”
“Hells no,” Puck scoffs, foregoing a cover for the drink as he weaves his way expertly through the throng of students while Will struggles to keep up. “But she refused to eat your burrito to get me an A. Pfffft, women, am I right?”
Shaking his head and refusing to let himself process what he heard, he tells Puck in a firm voice, “I’ll have to give you a zero on the test, Puck.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he shrugs. “But yo tell me, she rocked it, right?”
“She got 100%,” he admits and he’s surprised at the look of genuine pride on Puck’s face at the news. And then he remembers who he’s talking to and narrows his eyes at the drink in his hands. “You forgot to take a straw.”
Puck places a hand on Will’s shoulder and looks down at him. “Mr. Schue,” he starts, his voice both patronizing and completely serious, “sometimes a man needs to step up and mark his territory, like the Vikings did. Or in your case, the Mexican Vikings.”
He walks off down the hall singing Feliz Navidad, the drink hoisted high up in the air, perfectly in key. “Prospero año y felicidad...”
When Rachel Berry comes stomping by covered in grape slushee, Will fills out a detention slip silently and considers early retirement.
-
When Puck joins Acafellas, Will’s just grateful for the talent and extra body.
When Puck joins Glee, Will just tells himself he’ll probably quit soon, anyway.
-
“Puck, you skipped class again today, and if you miss one more that’s an auto--”
“Hey, wait, we’re bros right?”
“No, no we aren’t --”
“So I need you to be straight with me. How far did you let Little Miss Crazy Eyes get when she was all hot for teacher?”
“Puck, I’m married.”
“Seriously? Shit. You don’t own a pool do you? Cause if you do, I totes didn't mean to--”
“Detention.”
“Oh, sure thing. See you at 3, Mr. S. I’ll bring the cards. Suavemente.”
-
Walking into the music room to find the star of his glee club sitting on the piano is standard. To find the bane of his existence kneeling down between her legs is an aneurysm.
It turns out the news of Puck dating Rachel Berry breaks the following morning and Mr. Schue got himself an extra-special sneak-peek (Puck’s words, not his) at McKinley’s newest couple.
He tries to approach them about discretion at school, but Rachel bursts into tears and Puck just says “No hablo español.”
Will almost feels bad when he mutters “Tell me something I don’t know” under his breath but from the way Puck clutches his sides in laughter, he figures there’s no harm done.
-
When he steps out of class one day to fetch a book that he left in the teachers’ lounge, he finds Puck sitting in front of Rachel’s locker tearing a page out of a magazine.
“You’re missing an interesting lecture on El Salvadorian history, Puck.”
“Is that the one Mel Gibson made where a jaguar eats a guy’s face off?”
“What?”
“What?”
Will decides to cut his losses and get back to his students when Puck calls him back. “Yo, Mr. S. You got a pen I can borrow?”
He watches in vague horror as Puck flattens the page he’d just ripped (the centerfold of some adult magazine with a buxom brunette writhing on the beach) and scribbles THINKING OF YOU XOXO on it before folding it and slipping it into Rachel’s locker.
“You know, Rachel’s a very smart, studious young woman.”
“Hey,” Puck wags a finger at him, “don’t go getting any ideas, okay?”
Will rolls his eyes, “I meant I’m sure she’d be impressed if you’d apply yourself to your studies. Say Spanish class, maybe?”
“I dunno, Berry’s livin’ la vida loca,” Puck shrugs. “It’s not so much Spanish I need right now but an English-to-Crazy dictionary.”
Schue just rubs his forehead. “Puck, has it ever occurred to you that there are a whole host of reasons to take up a new language that don't include seducing some poor girl?”
Puck just blinks and Mr. Schue gives him detention for loitering in the hallway.
-
Puck doesn’t take Spanish his senior year. Will doesn’t know why he’s up all night trying to figure out what that means.
During his lecture on South American lakes, he pauses after naming Lake Titicaca but nobody falls off their chair to roll around on the floor laughing and he refuses to let himself be bothered by that.
-
“Dude, they’re not letting me graduate!” The door to Will’s office bangs back on its hinges and both he and Jessica Holden jump in their seats.
“Puck, I’m with another student...”
“You know those Fs you gave me? They’re holding that shit against me!” Puck throws down a paper detailing his incomplete credits.
“I assumed you’d be making those credits up in another class!”
“Schue, you can’t assume that kinda shit with me, okay? God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? Graduation’s NEXT WEEK.” Puck sinks into the now-empty seat in front of his desk, head in hands. “My mother’s going to kill me. You’ll never find the body.”
Normally, he wouldn’t care. Well, he’d care but failing the same class three times has to be some sort of academic failure that absolutely does not merit any sort of second chance. But...
Puck’s a bit of a douchebag, ok? And he feels bad thinking that about a student if Puck didn’t proudly call himself that all the time. And yet, Will sees a side of Puck in Glee that gives him hope for this asshole’s future. When he helps carry Artie out of the auditorium or when he fights tooth and nail to win back Finn’s trust or hell, just when he performs, like there’s not much else for him at this place but there’s this and Will remembers why he started Glee in the first place.
“One last chance,” Will tells him. “A paper, in Spanish, on what matters most to you. On my desk. Tomorrow morning.”
(That night, Puck’s all set to get crackin’ on it - has all his tabs opened to online translators and everything - and then he gets a text from Finn about the guys meeting at the football field for a senior prank involving an insane amount of hotdogs and well, he figures Schue’ll understand.)
(He doesn’t.)
“Ok, so, new plan,” Puck announces that next day, walking into the music room as Will sets up for the last Glee practice of the year, “ just because I think it’s for suckers it doesn’t mean I don’t rock the shit out of it. Another year of high school doesn’t seem all that bad, right?”
Will stops to sigh and give him a disappointed frown before going back to getting the room ready.
“Being older than everybody will automatically make me top dawg, not that I ain’t already, and shit, who wouldn’t want to spend another year watching Berry bop around in those little skirts, making an ass out of herself on a daily basis?” He starts piling chairs up alongside him and Will tries not to notice that Puck carries about double the amount he does without stopping his speech. “Not that it matters, but she’s pretty retarded when it comes to dudes and I know some asshole from the fucking lacrosse team will probably convince her that it’s in her best interest to date him when it totally isn't. She needs me around to explain these things to her.”
“Have you told Rachel any of this?”
“Are you fucking retarded? You still see me standing, don’t you? Shit, that’s why I came to see you. I was hoping you would.”
-
So Puck’s real last chance is just anything.
“Anything?”
“Puck, anything that involves the Spanish in some equivocal way.”
“...is that like a triangle that has the same four sides?”
“You have one hour.”
A hand slams a sheet of creased notebook paper on Will’s desk, exactly three and a quarter hours later. “There,” Puck grins, breathless. “Done.”
“What is it?”
“A song.”
And Will gets that feeling - a firm, unshakeable faith that he can feel deep in his bones - that music can change the world and that everyone, everyone, is just someone waiting to let the music out --
“Sung to the tune of Mexcio’s national anthem, La Cucaracha.”
-- even Noah Puckerman.
Will uses a bright red marker to write a D on the paper, right above the title, Los Panties de Rachel Berry.
When Will congratulates him and shakes his hand, he looks up at the ceiling to hide his misty eyes and at Puck’s gruff “Muchos gracias, Señorita Schue,” he lets out a chuckle.