The McKinley High hallways buzzed with the usual chaos—Cheerios strutting in perfect unison, football players shoving lockers shut just to hear them slam, and the faint echo of Mr. Schue’s show tunes leaking out of the choir room. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder, trying to ignore the stares that came with being Finn Hudson’s twin.

It wasn’t your fault that every teacher compared your grades, every student assumed you’d join glee club just because he did, or that half the football team thought teasing you was the best way to get under Finn’s skin.

Which is exactly why Noah Puckerman leaned against the lockers now, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes sweeping over you. “If it isn’t Hudson 2.0. You ditching class, or are you actually trying to be the responsible twin today?”

You shot him a glare, already bracing for trouble. Puck had been Finn’s best friend since forever, which unfortunately meant he’d been a thorn in your side just as long.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” you asked.

“Not really,” he shrugged, grin widening. “Annoying you’s kinda my hobby.”

You rolled your eyes and started to move past him, but Puck pushed off the lockers, falling into step beside you.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice just enough so only you could hear, “between me and Finn, I always figured you got the better genes. I mean—Hudson’s got the height, sure, but you…you got the looks.”

Your head snapped toward him, cheeks heating, though you tried to play it off. “Wow. Did the great Noah Puckerman just give me a compliment without an insult attached? Mark the calendar.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Don’t get used to it. Gotta protect my rep. But, uh—if you ever need someone to walk you to class, you know…keep the creeps away—I’m your guy.”

You opened your mouth, caught between laughing and telling him off, when it happened.

Cold. Sticky. A tidal wave of red ice slush slammed into your face, dripping down your hair and shirt, staining everything in its path. The hall erupted with laughter.

“Nice aim, Karofsky!” someone hollered from down the hall.

Your breath hitched as you blinked through the freezing syrup, heart pounding from the humiliation.

Puck’s smirk vanished. His jaw tightened, fists balling at his sides as he rounded on the jock who threw it. “Real funny, man. You wanna try that again? See how it ends for you?”

The laughter died down a little as Puck stepped forward, the protective edge in his voice making it clear he wasn’t joking.

Karofsky’s grin faltered as Puck closed the distance, his eyes dark and dangerous. “What’s the matter, Puckerman? Can’t take a joke?”

Puck shoved him hard against the lockers, the clang echoing down the hall. “That wasn’t a joke. That was you being a coward. You want to pick on somebody? Pick on me.”

The crowd went quiet, watching like vultures circling a fight, but Karofsky lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. She’s a Hudson. She can handle it.”

“Yeah, and she’s also my problem if anyone touches her again.” Puck’s voice was low, sharp enough to cut. He let go with one final shove before turning back to you.

The hall buzzed again as Karofsky slunk away, muttering under his breath, but no one dared throw another word.

Puck’s eyes softened when they landed on you, slush dripping down your hair and cheeks. Without a word, he tugged his sweatshirt over his head and held it out. “Here. You’re freezing.”

You hesitated, lips parting. “Puck, you didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. He draped the sweatshirt over your shoulders before you could argue. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up before Finn sees and goes full Hulk mode.”

For once, there was no smirk, no teasing. Just Noah Puckerman—looking at you like he meant every word.