ok, second story in the ropes then. for those of you who have read battle scars and reviewed, you are all awesome. not only that, but for those of you that left really long, really thought-out, really good reviews, just know that you made, like, my entire week.

the update for battle scars will not be posted until next week, which is the same for this story, because I am going on a mission trip and will not be able to bring the old laptop. which is depressing but hey, I'll be helping people and all so that's a good thing.

(anniepear's on the same trip so i'll be blackmailing her to hurry up her writing, don't worry)

and lastly, this story is less of a strictly-plot story and more of a character development story. each chapter will be a new thing sabrina learns about puck, or at least that's my plan as of now. things may change, who knows? either way, it's gonna be puckabrina and it's gonna be sweet as well as angsty and everything in between so give it a chance folks!

Ch.1: Talking

***in which Sabrina discovers just how much Puck likes to talk***

I honestly should've known something like this would happen to me, of all people. I mean, the most trouble I ever caused at school was when I vomited on that kid during an awards ceremony, and that was not only three years ago but a complete accident. And yet since then, it seemed like the school unanimously decided to never let me live it down. Of course, getting pegged with a locker right next to Puck Goodfellow's was just the icing on the cake.

I groaned when I saw his name plastered on the locker to the right of mine, all shining and in-your-face and cocky, just like the boy himself. I guess it only made sense that this would happen. Junior year had been way too easy – something shitty was bound to happen eventually.

And Puck Goodfellow definitely translated to "something shitty," so accurately that even Google Translate couldn't screw it up. As if his notorious reputation as the school's most prestigious rule-breaker and party-thrower extraordinaire wasn't bad enough, he was also agreed to be the local eye-candy, a fact that he flaunted around easily with his big green eyes and ridiculously perfect hair. If Puck Goodfellow didn't translate directly into "something shitty," then it was most likely because he translated to "dick-head" instead.

Either way, our first real encounter was him walking up to see me glaring intently at the label of his name.

Even though we'd never really had a face-to-face talk, I could've recognized his laugh anywhere. Turning around, I watched as he sauntered up easily, slapping his palm against the locker to the right of his, belonging to a "Charlotte Holland" and leaning a bit towards me, grinning that trademark smirk of his.

"So, you either have a sick loathing for inanimate objects or you're just really excited to be locker buddies with me. Which one is it?"

I rolled my eyes, choosing to show just how over the not-even-begun conversation was by opening up my locker and blocking out his face with the door. He laughed again.

"Ouch. I'm going for the latter. Unless it is the hatred-for-inanimate-objects one, in which case you might want to talk to our school counselor."

I leaned down to take three binders out of my book sack and shove them into my locker, hoping ignoring Puck would do the trick. Apparently, it didn't, because as soon as the binders were in place Puck hopped over to the other side of my locker, where the door couldn't cover him up.

"Seriously though, her name's Christy. She's pretty nice, in case you were wondering. She diagnosed me with a classic case of attention-seeking though, which is stupid, because honestly, anyone who knows me knows better than that."

At that I had to raise an eyebrow, because anyone who actually did know Puck, anyone who had even heard of him, had to know that was the exact opposite of the truth. In ninth grade, a lunch lady hadn't given him another burger when he'd asked for two instead of one, so he lit a napkin on fire and made the smoke-alarms go off, dowsing everyone in the cafeteria.

If that's not attention-seeking, I honestly don't know what is.

"Ah, the stone statue breaks! The great goddess falters!" he said happily when he noticed my eyebrow. I quickly corrected my face back into a cool, disinterested expression, but he was already smirking gleefully and fuck, even I had to admit he had earned the eye-candy title. Didn't mean I had to like it – there were already enough annoying assholes leading the school just because they looked nice. We didn't need anymore.

"So, is this what our year is going to be like? You sitting here basking in my glow while acting like you're not? Because I'm ok with that, it's just gonna be really boring…"

He trailed off, watching me expectantly. I just gave him a pointed look and leaned down to grab the last two binders. Seeing my plan, he quickly stretched out his arm and beat me to it, grabbing both of them in one hand.

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from attacking him right then and there. His green eyes twinkled.

"Not so fast, Misses," he leaned backwards to look at the name on my locker, "Grimm."

I shot him a flat look to let him know how proud I was that he had figured out my name. That made him grin, a dimple popping out in his left cheek.

"I'm not giving these back until you speak to me," he said importantly.

I crossed my arms. Two things Puck would have to learn about me. A: I didn't like being bossed around and B: I could probably find a way to beat a mute person in that hush-puppy game if I really wanted to.

After about twenty seconds, Puck began to crack. "Come on, you seriously can't hate me that much. I mean, how much can one word hurt? Just a little 'hi.' Or a quick, 'My name's Sabrina Grimm and I refuse to acknowledge other life forms because I am above them.'"

I just kept on staring. He got restless pretty quickly, shifting the binders into his other hand.

"What if I offer you my cookie at lunch?"

Nothing.

"Come on, that's a big deal. The chocolate chip cookies here are basically, like, the most sacred things on this campus. Unless you don't like chocolate, which would not only suck but would make my respect for you go down approximately four notches."

Beat.

"Please tell me you like chocolate? At least that. I have to know that I'm not being stuck next to an unevolved chocolate hater for all of my senior year."

Silence. Puck used his empty hand to drag over his eyes as he let out an exaggerated groan. "You don't, do you? You hate it. You've forbidden yourself from ever eating it again. God that's so fucking wrong. You don't know what you're missing, Grimm."

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Of course I liked chocolate. Who didn't like chocolate? What else was supposed to save me when 'that time of the month' rolled around?

"Unless, of course, you're allergic to chocolate, in which case I'm terribly sorry. Hopefully it's not a touchy subject. Do you have to carry around one of those leg-stabber things for if you have an allergic reaction? If I give you your binders back, will you show it to me? Those things are bad-ass."

This was possibly the biggest waste of time I had ever endured. And I'd already gone through three years of high school, just to put things in perspective.

"Ok, if it's such a personal subject for you, you don't have to show me. It would probably be good for me to know how to work it though, in case someone sneaks chocolate into your next cookie and I'm the only one who can save you. I mean, do you really want to die because you were too stubborn to show me your leg-stabber?"

He paused for a moment, apparently thinking very hard, before his face lit up. "EpiPen! It's called an EpiPen!"

That time it was physically impossible not to roll my eyes. Puck all but threw my binders into the air and fell to the ground as if worshipping me.

"The great Grimm blesses me with a sign of emotion! I may as well die now, for my life has been fulfilled!"

A teacher chose that moment to walk by, looking more than a bit confused. We made eye-contact, and I waved awkwardly. Puck was still on his knees, making these weird chanting noises as he bowed down at my feet. The woman's eyes got a bit larger and she quickly turned her head and continued walking (a bit more hurriedly) to the other end of the hall.

Fantastic. So far, first impressions were being nailed on the head this year.

I kicked Puck in his forearm, and when he didn't move, I hissed a quick, "get up" at him. Which, of course, only made him sink further.

"Words! Actual words! Oh, what have I done to deserve this honor? Please, good lady, speak again! I am merely your humble servant, living off of the hope that your voice may once again grace my ear-holes."

The use of the term 'ear-holes' is what really blew it for me. I grabbed him by the elbow and heaved him off the ground. We both grunted as he was pulled up to his feet, still smiling hugely.

"Wow. Just, wow. This has been the best first day of school ever."

"Wish I could say the same," I mumbled. He tried to look offended, but was still smiling.

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to take up even more of the oxygen with his never-ending flow of nonsense, but just then a boy I recognized from his 'posse' showed up.

"Yo, Puck, Denny's got a waffle-maker all set up in his locker. He's taking orders right now if anyone wants some. You wanna hit that up?"

Puck was still looking at me as he answered, "Is that a real question?"

The boy laughed and grabbed Puck by the shoulder, ready to wheel him away from me. Before he did, he gave me a quizzical look, no doubt because I was not a regular on Puck's list of people who he spoke to. I gave him a flat smile and he returned it after a moment, still looking a bit confused.

Before the two left, Puck grabbed my hand in his own, deliberately meeting my eyes with as much intensity as he could muster.

"Thank you for this beautiful conversation, Miss Grimm. I am truly a better man for it."

I snorted, and he laughed again, and then he was turning and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder as the two all but skipped off to where Denny's locker no doubt was, both shooting a pair of girls a suave, "hey ladies," as they walked by.

I rolled my eyes yet again and turned back around, picking up the binders Puck had left on the ground and putting them carefully into my locker.

And that morning marked the first thing I learned about Puck: that he could out-talk anyone. 'Carrying the conversation' was a term I didn't feel like I had fully experienced until then. Also, I would have to remind myself to bring earplugs to school the next day.

I pulled my book sack back onto my shoulder and closed my locker, expecting that to be that, expecting Puck to forget about me by tomorrow. Unbeknownst to me, this was just the beginning of a long, long journey, in which I learned far more about Mr. Puck Goodfellow than I had ever intended to.

so, that's that. hope you liked it, and if you did, go ahead and tell me! and if you didn't like it, well, go ahead and tell me that too! (let's keep it friendly though guys)

until next time, enjoy your fiRST DAYS OF SUMMER YES

-cLeoo