A/N: This is Alternate Universe, set in the future when Puck and Quinn are almost twenty, and they don't know each other. I'm considering making this around three or four chapters - but it may only be this and another chapter. It starts off a bit confusing, I think, but by the end of the chapter it's pretty understandable. This is completely random and I'm not sure why I decided to write this; I guess from the current lack of Puck/Quinn on the show. This is rated T now, but may be changed to M. Please review!
Noah Puckerman stands next to a window near the back of the subway, eyeing two hot girls standing directly across from him. They ignore him, not even glancing in his direction. He smirks briefly, it fades just as quickly, and he sighs as he turns around to stare out the black window, the surface outside racing by until it comes to a sudden, complete stop and he's waiting to get out of the subway. A small blue and white backpack is thrown around his sinewy toned shoulders.
He gets a cab and exits downtown New York City until he reaches eastern Brooklyn; snow is lightly falling, however melting before it even hits the ground. Puck looks up and touches a snow flake. "The hell? Snow in November," he mutters to himself, shaking it off to avoid talking to himself. The sky is already pitch-black as he steps up on the small step and rings the doorbell of the brick house and he knows he's probably missed Thanksgiving dinner.
He doesn't know what to expect since it's the first time he will be living with someone in two years, since he turned eighteen: his mom, setting up the Christmas tree two days after Thanksgiving, his sister watching in a pleasant silence; it all had passed in a surreal blur to him.
The door opens, and a girl quite a bit shorter than him with dark hair wearing a red dress stands behind it. "You must be Puck," she smirks. The way she moves her body to stand more in the doorway tells him she's hitting on him. Any other day, he thinks, because this chick is hot, but he's not in the mood.
"I must be," he says arrogantly, and they just gleam at each other for a minute. "Well, move aside," he announces, "are you planning on keeping me out here all night?"
She says something but his mind shuts her out for a moment because he catches a faint glimpse of a blond girl looking at the doorway as she passes through the room. Finn mentioned Santana, saying something about how they were on-and-off for a while and she wanted someone to live with, but he said nothing about another girl living with them.
He walks inside the room when she finally moves out of the way, and steps into the living room and the adjoining kitchen. The lights in the den are dim, but inside the kitchen yellow light sneaks out – smoke, he sees smoke too.
"I hope you're not hungry," the dark-haired girl says, moving to stand in front of him and rolling her eyes, "because it'll be our luck if we end up not eating."
He's not sure what to say but he just nods, giving her his famous smile and she just thinks about how good it looks on him but she doesn't dare let it show. He looks at her incredulously and she holds up a finger and shushes him. "Your room is the last one down the hall. I'm guessing you want to start unpacking whatever it is you have in that"— she tilts her head in the direction of the backpack.
"Never seen a backpack before?"
"Not one so girly on a guy like you."
She thinks he's going to laugh, but he just shakes his head and says, "I didn't have anything else. Now move."
She crosses her arms and moves out of the way, saying something that he doesn't catch as he walks down the hallway. The hall is rather small and dark, but during the daytime he could assume that it's light and open, a couple of large glass windows on the left side.
All the doors are closed. He kicks the last one open and looks in: it's surprisingly large, twice the size of his old apartment bedroom, carpeted floors and a golden-comforter bed with tall, wooden posts on each end, and another door opening up to a closet. He throws the bag down on the bed; it was all he brought, but he didn't plan on staying here anyway.
For a minute, his mind is elsewhere as he reminisces, the flashbacks creeping up on him again. He just shakes his head and turns the backpack upside down, dumping the items and clothes onto the bed. He sorts through it and pulls out a golden chain necklace that has a cross attached and a girl's name engraved at the back in small letters. He rotates it around in his hands a moment, takes a deep breath and tosses it back down.
Behind him he hears a faint knock on the door, and he jumps, turning around and watching as the door quietly opens. "Hi," the blond girl says, biting her lip angelically. He's never been in love before, or felt any emotional attachment to a girl, but he finds himself getting lost in the sea of her green eyes, shadowed by something else that's too deep for him to see.
He clears his throat. "Hey. Uh, nice room."
"I'm glad you like it. So you think you'll be okay here?"
"Yep, thanks."
She walks into the room, stepping closer to him and peering at his stuff lying out over the bed. "You didn't bring much," she notes, then returns her eyes to him. "I'm Quinn. It's good to have you here, Puck."
"I'm glad you think so," he says, smiling playfully. "Someone else doesn't seem to feel that way."
She pulls her eyebrows together briefly and then apart, as if realization suddenly hits her. "Oh, Santana – no, that's just how she is."
He nods. "So tell me, Quinn, what's a nice girl like you doing living with a chick like Santana and a guy like Finn?"
"You know Finn—"
"We're best friends," he tells her. He notices how Quinn skillfully avoids the question.
"Oh, he didn't mention—"
He nods. "It's probably best," he says under his breath, changing the subject. "So, I'm late."
"What?"
"I'm late. The subway left later than I thought."
She laughs lightly, but her eyes are apologetic. "Finn burnt the turkey." She says it as if someone committed a sin.
He looks down at the pile of his clothes, searches through the pile, and then reaches in a pair of jeans and pulls a wad of green paper out. "You hungry?"
Still smiling, she pulls up one eyebrow in an adorable, pixie-like way, "I'm starving," she admits.
"Dinner for two?" he asks smugly holding the money up.
She laughs and looks over her shoulder as if checking to see if anyone is watching. "That sounds nice, Puck."
xx
They've slipped away without either Finn or Santana noticing. They're sitting at a small table in the back of a diner in Times Square next to a window. They order and sip silently at their Coke. Quinn scoots her drink back a little, resting one hand on the table. "How old are you, Puck?"
"Nineteen."
"So did you transfer out of college or what?"
"Nope. I haven't gone to college yet."
"Oh," she says, meeting his eyes and slightly shrugging her shoulders. "Neither have I."
"Why not?"
"I don't have the money," she admits. "My parents are rich – but they kicked me out once I turned eighteen. I was too much trouble, my father said." She closes her eyes warily for a moment and doesn't say anything else.
He's not sure how to respond to that, knowing that whatever he says would end up sounding stupid or out of place. He doesn't question her, just shrugs off the temptation to reach over the table and touch her arm.
"What were you like in high school?" she asks, suddenly grinning. "I was a Cheerio."
He crinkles his face. "A cheerio? Is that some kind of girl scout—"
"Cheerleader," she corrects him, doing that cute thing again where she bites her bottom lip and raises her eyebrows.
"I was totally bad-ass," he says. "Still am. I was on the football team and kind of got suckered into joining the Glee club."
"You sing?"
"I sang," he says. "Past tense."
"I—I was in the Glee club too," she admits with a soft laugh. "Sometimes I sing for the choir at mass."
That strikes Puck hard just for a minute when he realizes this girl is religious and has expectations that a normal girl wouldn't have. He used to say he believed in God, but never really went to church.
But then when she grabs his hand from across the table, he realizes that this girl is nothing like any other girl he's ever met before.
xx
When they finish eating, they're walking side by side down the sidewalk in Times Square, looking at the stores as they pass. Quinn pulls her hands inside the sleeves of her pink sweater and wraps her arms around herself. It's cold enough that they can see their breath in the air. Puck looks at Quinn for a moment, smirking, and she notices and meets his eyes and smiles. "What?"
"Nothing," he says.
She laughs, looking at the top of his head. "You look cold."
"Hm?" She stops walking for a second, grabbing the tiny hairs on his head and he shakes her off a little with a laugh. "I'm growing it out. You'll see. I'll have a mo-hawk by Christmas."
"Oh, let's go in there," she says, catching him off guard as she points toward the glass window of a music store. "I think it's open."
Puck thinks about how he wouldn't do this for anyone else; since he was eighteen he's been closed off about his music, but Quinn somehow convinces him to buy a Les Paul guitar that he doesn't even know if he can afford and has to charge. Afterward they're walking the opposite direction to get home, both in a comfortable silence as the snow falls gently. But they don't go home first; they sit down at a bench and Puck plays the guitar for her, not really playing a song, just strumming. He holds her fingers on the strings to make a note, though she doesn't know what she's doing.
And he doesn't know what he's doing, either, because one second they're playing guitar and the next he's pressing his face to hers and kissing her, and she kisses back for a moment and stops, their foreheads touching for just a moment until they go on like nothing happened.
xx
They get back just before eleven o' clock. As they're walking in they hear the TV turned onto something on MTV and Finn and Santana are heating up something in the microwave in the kitchen.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Santana comments as Quinn enters the room, Puck following behind her.
Quinn opens her mouth to snap something back, but Puck makes a low chuckling noise in the back of his throat, although he doesn't think it's funny, and says back at her, "Look what it hacked up."
She turns around. "Um, I was kidding." She leaves from behind the counter and passes Quinn first, then Puck, shoving his chest before leaving the room, although she doesn't budge him.
Puck silently thinks she fucking wants me as he opens the refrigerator; the microwave beeps and Finn takes a TV dinner out and sets it on the counter. "So, man," Finn says, "how's guitar going? Are you joining Glee club again in college or are you playing professionally now—"
Puck takes a beer out of the fridge, shutting the door loudly. "Neither."
"Neither?"
He absentmindedly takes a sip of beer, Quinn eyeing him questioningly from the doorway. "Nope."
Finn shakes his head and says quietly, "Man, you have to move on."
Finn can see the withdrawal in Puck's face. The prison around his heart slowly builds as he tightens his jaw, moving his shoulders back and breaking eye contact. "Dude, I am moving on. I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, but it kinda feels more like you're running away. You could have gotten gigs by now, you were awesome."
"I've just given it up, okay?"
"But why? Because of Maya? What - what happened to your sister – you couldn't have stopped it."
"Damn, just screw it." He turns away from Finn, facing Quinn, but doesn't look at her. "I'm fine."
xx
Later when Santana and Finn have gone to bed and Puck's sitting at the sofa playing Super Mario with beer entangled in his free hand, Quinn peers in the room and sits down at the couch with him, making sure to leave a considerable space between them. "What are you doing?"
"Playin' Super Mario."
"You're quite good at it," she comments.
"I've had lots of practice."
Quinn nods, silently watching him for a minute. She sees four bottles on the floor and wonders if he's drunk already – she doesn't drink anything other than wine coolers so she wouldn't know.
"So, Puck, about your sister earlier – what was that about?"
She sees his face slightly jerk almost inconspicuously and she waits for him to reply, but he doesn't answer and continues racing through levels on Mario. She can see something, obscured by the childish game he's playing, that he's holding inside. His face is hard and cold and he just silently takes a swig of his beer and she's scared to ask again.
xx
Quinn goes to bed at around two-thirty, but she can't sleep. She closes her eyes and when she feels herself draw closer to somnolence, she can hear the sound of music in the distance – it's quiet and she feels sad listening to it. She gets up and goes down the hall and sees Puck there sprawled across the couch in the middle of the night, strumming the guitar in his arms.
He takes another painful swig of beer, and Quinn recognizes the look in his eyes and suddenly feels closer to him. He's lonely, just like her.