Prologue

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Noah 'Puck' Puckerman had one simple rule for every relationship he had:

Nothing serious.

In fact, none of the flings he'd ever had had been "relationships", exactly. They'd been one night stands, and fucking good ones, too, because—well, let's face it, he knew how to choose them. He looked for the thigh and the boobs, the lips…by the way they arched or curled when they looked at him, he could tell if this girl would kiss well, or would fuck everything up once they started going for it.

The way they walked. Virgins or non-virgins? This was very important, because, shit, he didn't want to feel guilty for being the one who took some chick's virginity and then it meant nothing to him, then they went crying to their girlfriends and bam. He was doomed for life.

Plus, if they weren't virgins, chances were they were much more fun.

And he needed no pick-up lines, either. The ladies came up to him, because, well, if you would just look at him…he was just attractive. He wasn't afraid to admit it, I mean, why should he? He knew he worked to get the body he had now, and his handsome face was a gift from God! Why deny such a great gift? He was a ladies' man, a player, he was happy that way, and there was nothing else to it.

Sitting at a bar, this was all going through his head; his usual pep talk as he scouted for new girls. He did this weekly; or when he just got tired of talking to Finn, his best friend, when he needed someone to have some heavy intense sex with, no strings attached, and leave satisfied until the next one came up. Yeah, he was living the life a lot of guys would want to live, and he was getting away with it.

These were not the thoughts of a young green-eyed blonde serving the men in that particular bar, though. In fact, no thoughts of "relationships" crossed her mind. She was fully intent on getting enough money to get the hell out of this place, get an education, and never have to see Lima or any of the people living there again. She only rolled her eyes at the wolf whistles she got every day, and it took everything she had not to spit on the fucking pedophiles that walked in here thinking they had a chance with her.

They didn't.

She needed someone who wasn't a Lima loser.

And everyone living in Lima?

Yeah, they were all Lima losers.

Quinn Fabray set down the order of drinks some guys (who were probably going to be cut off soon) had screamed at her for, ignoring their dirty words towards her and their incompetent personalities. She walked up back to the kitchen and sighed, laying on the counter, waiting for her friend, Brittany, to finish tying her apron.

She smiled sadly. "You need some help?" she offered. Brittany turned to her and smiled.

"Thanks, Quinn," she said, giving her back to her. "Knots have always been my weak point."

Oh, Britt, thought Quinn. Everything's your weak point. Not that she would tell her this; she loved her friend, another waitress in this cheap bar, it was just that she wasn't the brightest…she never let her take a shift if she or her other friend, Santana, weren't there. She would most probably leave with one of these disgusting men and…well, they couldn't let her do that.

"I know, Britt," she said, sighing, and tied the knot for her. "Your table's waiting, sweetie."

Britt smiled brightly and, thanking Quinn again, grabbed her tray of drinks and retreated back out into the bar.

Quinn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling that deep sense of annoyance she always does at this hour. She didn't even jump when some idiot dropped some pans on the floor, or when they started yelling at him for being, well, an idiot.

She was about to open her eyes when she heard a familiar voice. "Falling asleep on the job, Q?"

Quinn sighed and opened her eyes, seeing her best friend (and sometimes the most fucking annoying person she'd ever met) Santana smirking at her, her hands on her hips, her hair in a bun. Santana raised an eyebrow at here. "Again?"

"I'm not sleeping, Santana," she said, walking back to the sink, washing her hands. "I'm trying to calm down enough not to kill any of these guys."

"Whoa, déjà vu," she said, following her to the back. "Don't we have this conversation every day?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and you always start it."

"Huh." Santana nodded thoughtfully. "I guess we're stuck in a rut."

"Exactly what I'm trying to get away from." Quinn muttered, finishing washing her hands and looking over at the Latina. "When is your shift over?"

"Whenever Bob wants me to leave," she said, looking at her nails. "I never have a set time, remember?" she looked at Quinn and smirked.

Quinn sighed. "You're such a slut." She said, her voice low. Santana laughed bitterly.

"It's what I do." She looked over at the door as it was being opened by one other waitress, then looked back at Quinn. "Hot guy out there, by the way. He's alone. And he has got it going on."

"I don't care," Quinn said. "Like I never do. So why do you keep trying to set me up with someone?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Because, it's no fun being a slut while your best friend is the fucking perfect image of a virgin. You need a guy, and you need to lose it, quickly."

Quinn turned around and glared at her. "Have I mentioned how much I hate you sometimes?"

"Just as much as you've mentioned how much you love me." Santana smiled innocently and left the kitchen, carrying a tray of food and drinks. Quinn stifled a scream of frustration and stormed out behind the counter to tend to the bar.

Puck looked back to see who was storming out, then looked back to check out the fine Latina waitress, then did a double take.

That was it. First mistake: he looked twice. He shouldn't have done that. He would later learn that he should've stuck to the other waitress and just left it at that.

But there was something about this blonde one…she wasn't just hot, like all the other girls he'd seen before, she was outright gorgeous. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her eyes green and big, her figure perfect, the black dress she was wearing suiting her perfectly, some strands of blonde hair falling on her face, and for some reason, he couldn't stop looking.

Second mistake: he checked her out. Not the way she walked out, not the way her lips curled, just…her. Too obviously. He never should have done this, because then it would later lead to them having a conversation, then…well, then you'll see.

Quinn looked over to the guy who was looking her over and rolled her eyes, walking over to him. She raised an eyebrow. "Need another drink, sir?"

Puck blinked and looked up at her, grinning lazily. "I actually want something else."

Quinn stared at him.

Not getting a reaction out of her baffled Puck, but he composed himself in time to raise an eyebrow at her. "Now a good waitress would ask what I'd rather want."

Quinn took a step back, a repulsed look on her face. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, coming in here and telling her what a good waitress was or did?

She took a deep breath, calming herself, doing everything in her power to not slap this guy across the face like every single other men that walked into the bar. She plastered an obviously fake smile on her face and looked at him. "What would you rather want, sir?"

Puck raised an eyebrow, taking everything she had done out of context and thinking, like every single other overly confident guy the she so wanted him. He smirked. "You."

Quinn's smile faded and she scoffed. "Ugh, like I haven't heard that one before." She grabbed his cup, ignoring his confused look, and served him some more of…whatever she had just gotten, because she didn't pay any attention, really, she was pretty pissed. "Do me a favor and get some new pick-up lines."

"Well I'm sorry I've never needed any before," he retaliated, holding up his hands defensively. "Usually every girl seems to come up to me." He eyed the Latina he was looking at before, as she gave her a seductive smile.

Quinn looked over at Santana, noticing what the guy was looking at, and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she would." She stared cleaning the bar top. "She's up for nothing serious. She likes to fuck and then not give a fuck."

Puck looked back at the girl, noticing how bitter she sounded about that. "Damn, too bad you don't like that. It's my motto."

Quinn laughed bitterly. "And why am I not surprised?" she finished cleaning the area of the bar top close to the creep and smiled at him, the smile faux once more. "Well, it was sure nice talking to you." Quinn retreated back into the kitchen, muttering about immature idiots who never left her alone and how she wished she could get out of Lima already.

Puck sat there in silence for a few minutes, then he shook his head. What the fuck just happened? Was he actually just rejected? By a girl? Not that he's ever been rejected by a guy—in fact, he's never been with a guy. He shook his head, trying to land his thoughts back. He was just rejected. By one of the most gorgeous girls he'd ever seen. How was the even possible?

He looked down at the drink she had served him, which looked like a mix of shit and dirt. He wouldn't be surprised if it was, actually, but he wasn't going to taste it to find out. He grabbed his coat and walked back into the kitchen, determined not to lose this fight.

Quinn turned around, expecting to chew out Santana for getting that creep horny in the first place, instead being greeted by the creep himself. She gaped and threw a rag she was carrying on the floor furiously. "You can't be back here!"

"Says who?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, his posture nonchalant.

"Says morality, idiot. And the bar regulations. Now get the hell out of the kitchen before the boss sees you and gets me in trouble." She glanced nervously outside, where the office was, hoping the Bob didn't actually decide to come out of his office all of a sudden.

Puck didn't realize this and just stared at the girl. Damn, she was beautiful. So damn beautiful. He needed to get in her pants. Soon. "Look. I'm not getting out of this kitchen without getting your name."

"Quinn." She smiled bitterly. "Now get out of here."

Well, that was easier than he thought. Not according to plan. He cleared his throat. "You didn't let me finish." he watched her get frustrated, and it did crazy things to him… "You also have to agree to go out with me tonight."

Quinn scoffed. "Like hell." She couldn't believe he was doing this in front of everyone. Her face turned red in anger and embarrassment. "Now get out of here." She hissed.

He laughed. "No way, babe," he said, standing his ground. "I've never been rejected before, and I'm not about to start being rejected now."

Frustrated with him, Quinn slammed her notepad on the food prep table and pushed her way out the back door. She sat on the steps, not caring what happened to that creep, as long as she didn't have to look at him. She huffed and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Forty-eight minutes. Forty-eight minutes until she was out the door of the filthy bar and on her way home to her warm bed. Forty-eight minutes and she'd be away from the disgusting pigs that couldn't control their urges to stare and make gestures at her.

She sat for a minute, letting her eyes slip closed as she tried to collect her thoughts. Just as she was about to muster up the energy to go back inside, she felt the door open behind her, and tensed up.

"Sleeping on the job?" her hands curled into fists at the sound of his voice. The familiarity of that sentence sickened her. She was sick of his desperate games, and especially his cocky attitude. She watched as he brought a lighter to the long cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"That's a disgusting habit." She spit, her anger getting the better of her. He put his hands up defensively and dropped the cigarette after taking a puff, and blowing it in her face as he put it out with his boot.

"You happy now?" He said with a smirk.

She waved the smoke out of her face and rolled her eyes as she pushed her way past him. "I'll be happy when you leave me the hell alone." She muttered, and then stormed angrily back into the kitchen, slamming the door in his face.

Fuck. What the hell was this broad's problem? Puck was frustrated with himself now. Usually it only took a little persuading to get a wary girl in his bed, and by now he would have given up, and gone for the next hottie that caught his eye… but something about her was different. Every time she rejected him, he just wanted her more, and he wasn't going to give up until he found a way to get her underneath him.

Quinn steamed as she filled an order, piling plates onto a tray. Santana walked past, a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to that guy at the bar?"

"Who cares?" Quinn muttered harshly, focusing on not blowing up, glancing at the clock. Forty-three minutes.

Santana rolled her eyes as she clipped an order up for the cooks. "I should have known you'd just scare him off." Quinn ignored her, glancing at the backdoor, her face still smug.

"Jesus Christ Quinn, at this rate you're going to be a fucking virgin forever. Besides, you seriously need to get laid, maybe it'd loosen the stick up your ass." She gave her a 'you-know-I'm-right' look.

Quinn rolled her eyes and turned to her, putting a hand on her hip, "I can get laid whenever I feel like it, thank you very much."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I'll believe it when I see it."

Quinn folded her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow, her eyes shifting to the backdoor, deciding he must have gotten lost. She thought for a brief second and opened her mouth, saying the last thing she'd planned to, almost
instantly regretting it. "Pick a guy, and I'll do it."

Santana raised an eyebrow and chortled, "Yeah right, I'll never hear the end of it. I'd be to blame for the demise of Quinn Fabray's precious virginity."

And that was it.

Quinn had never been the type of girl to do things just because everyone else was doing it, but night after fucking night she had suffered through Santana's constant ridicule of her innocence. And Santana was right, Quinn needed to give it up eventually, and it might as well be with a complete stranger. It was better that, then embarrassing herself with a potential future boyfriend. It no longer mattered who it was with as long as it was out of the way.

"Before I change my mind, Santana." Quinn said confidently, knowing there was no turning back now.

A sly smile appeared on Santana's lips, and she wet them quickly as she peeked her head into the cramped bar, eyeing every man very carefully, making sure not to stick her best friend with a complete freak (because, even though she didn't show it too much, she loved Quinn, and would never do that to her). She smirked when she saw him, back on his barstool, taking a gulp of his whiskey.

"Him." She said, a pleased smile on his face.

Quinn's stomach sank when she heard Santana, her fate being sealed right then and there. She gulped as she moved over to where she was standing, following Santana's gaze.

Of course.


Hello. :-) It's Claudia & Mikayla again, with another collabortation.

BEFORE YOU COUNSELING FANS KILL US:

Understand that once the inspiration is gone for a story, it's not so easy to get it back. Maybe one day we'll pick it up again in the future, but for now...it's not going to be updated. Sorry, guys.

NOW ALL QUICK FANS:

This is AU, and it's really like a romantic comedy, something you'd see in a movie. It's going to be humorous, and don't worry, the chapters will be longer than the prologue. I hope you enjoyed this, though. :) By the way, the pairings? Aren't going to be Finchel. Just saying. So if you're willing to overlook that: continue reading. :)

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~Claudia & Mikayla.