Puck kissed Sabrina 3 times in his life.
The first time, he was 11. He didn't like her, or anything, but she just wouldn't stop talking and he wanted to know what it would be like. Momentary lapse of sanity, of course, but turns out it wasn't too bad. A bit warm and, had he been in a girly mood, he would have said he liked it, but he wasn't so he didn't. She tasted like strawberries and chocolate.
He wished he could say he didn't care that she punched him, but he did so he couldn't.
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The second time, he was 15. He had spent the last 4 years hating her on the principle of smelling nice and being clean and making him grow up. He had spent his entire life bragging about being a boy forever, and he looked a fair arse suddenly needing bigger clothes. He had been to busy sulking to notice she was needing bigger clothes as well, and suddenly his teenage boy instincts were much more prominent. He hadn't planned it, or anything. It was just one day they were talking on her bed and the next his lips were on hers and his hand was on her hip and the Old Lady was yelling up the stairs that dinner was ready. She tasted like salt and coke.
He would have preferred a punch in the stomach to her embarrassed indifference.
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The third time, he was 19. He couldn't understand why he was still aging as he watched asshole after asshole walk through the door and break Sabrina's heart, and he had decided he'd had enough. It wasn't a big production number- just one day he was there and the next he wasn't. Marshmallow was cut, of course, and Relda 'wished he didn't have too,' but they all knew why he did. He could feel her eyes from her bedroom window as he sauntered out the door, not needing anybody because nobody needed him. He really thought he'd heard the last from her, until one day there was a knock at his door at 3 am and he opened the door, ready to kill whoever was on the other side, to Sabrina freaking Grimm standing there, looking like a drowned rat from the rain and bags under her eyes.
'Hey,' he said.
'Hey,' she said, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him so fiercely he thought she'd never stop. She tasted like vodka and ice cream.
He didn't mind that he was woken up, anymore.
