special credit to indecisively yours/lucyqpuckerman on tumblr for the puck. i provided the quinn.

Central Park

After her conversation and lots of hugs with her roommate Brittany, Quinn had decided to contact Puck so they could talk about what had occurred in the afternoon. Once they had agreed to meet at Central Park, Quinn had picked up her hair and changed from her shorts to a pair of pink sweats and flats, not really in the mood to wear sneakers, and grabbed her peacoat and an umbrella before saying bye to Brittany and heading off.

She's now making the short walk to the park and before she knows it, she can see Puck standing at the entrance to the park, facing away from her. Her hands begin to shake and she feels a bit nervous. She takes a deep breath before crossing the street and making her way over to him.

"Hi," she greets, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

He's nervous. Completely nervous. Fuck, he's been at this park for what seems like forever, jacket slightly drenched and potential pneumonia looming in his future. When he gets his text from her, he's surprised, honestly, that she's willing to talk to him and that she contacted him first.

Just too much. Too fuckin' much.

He feels a light tap on his shoulder. When he contemplates turning around and shooing the stranger away, it's the voice that gets to him. Her voice. Slowly, he turns around to face her.

"Hey," he says, voice void of much emotion.

"Let's walk," she says. But before they start she holds her hand out, hoping he'll take it.

You already told her you love her; holding her hand won't dig your grave any further, he tells himself. As if on instinct alone, he takes her hand, looking away as they begin the walk along the path and Quinn holds her umbrella over the both of them.

For a bit, neither one says anything. Quinn is trying to compose her thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to him first. She decides to not beat around the bush and just tell him straight up.

"You love me?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she's still trying to get that through her head.

"Yes," he says without a moment's hesitation. He looks up into her eyes, her green ones reflecting back at his in the light of the night. "Especially now."

Especially now. When he says it, her heart skips a beat, the words making it real; trumping all of her fears of his confession being an 'in the moment' thing. He loves her. He's in love with her. She bites her bottom lip, a blush creeping up to her cheeks, as she looks into his eyes. She smiles bashfully and looks down at her feet.

"I wish you hadn't run off," she tells him. "I mean I get it; you got scared. I'm scared, too," she says. "I'm scared because I feel so much for you. I think it'd be safe to say I'm head over heels," she confesses, thinking back to what she and Brittany had talked about regarding him. "But I don't know if I should call it love. I can't tell you I love you back if I don't know what what I'm feeling means."

"It sounded right at the time," he admits to her, eyes cast down as they continue to walk along the path. "Sounded so natural, as if I had been saying it for ever now and it was something I said often."

He stops them, turning to face her, deciding to try something. Looking down at her, he tilts her chin up, green eyes back on green.

"I love you, Quinn Fabray," he says after a short moment's pause. With a shrug, he turns back and faces the path, pulling her along to continue their walk. "Still feels right to me."

"It sounds so beautiful coming from you," she says, resting her head on his shoulder as they continue to walk.

"But it's just not what you're feeling right now…" he trails off. "I get it. You don't have to say it back, you know."

"I just want to be completely sure. I don't want to say it on impulse and then take it back like that guy Max on The Nanny," she says, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood. "You don't deserve that. You deserve more and that's what I want to give you. I'm getting there, I promise."

"Yeah," he says, crestfallen just a bit. "No, yeah, I get it. It's no big, honestly."

She stops him and steps in front of him. "It is a big deal. A really big deal," she tells him. She brings up her hands and cups his cheeks gently, standing on her tippy toes to press her lips to his. "I almost love you," she murmurs against his lips. "Getting there, promise," she adds before kissing him.

He's not sure what comes over him at that point, but for some reason he pulls away, lightly pushing her back and creating space between them.

"It's either you do or you don't, Fabray," he snaps at her. "There's no fucking in between with something like this!" he shouts. "Obviously, you don't love me. Apparently, I do. But stop with the almost and the getting there because that means shit to me right now."

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops at his sudden reaction and she's smacked with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. He had acted exactly the same way when he had confessed to her that he had more than friendly feelings for her and she couldn't reciprocate because she had to think.

"Why are you like this?" she asks, unable to formulate any kind of response.

"Because you push me," he tells her. "You push me and push me until I jump off the cliff. And then what do you do? You look down at me from the edge with a 'fuck you' and walk away as I'm falling." He turns away from her, somewhat maniacal laughter consuming him. "You always make me jump because you're too much of a coward to jump with me," he points out.

"Hold on just a second," she says, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to face her. "I don't push you to do anything, all right? I neither pushed you to fall for me nor did I tell you to love me. You didn't have to do any of those things, you did that all yourself," she points out to him, anger consuming her. "Do you know how much it sucks for someone to say one thing and then mean another? Because I sure do," she tells him. "When you told me you had feelings for me, you made me seem like a total bitch for not being able to tell you that I liked you back right then and there and now you're doing the same thing. You're making me seem like the bad guy for wanting to be completely sure of my feelings for you."

"You think I was completely sure about that earlier today? That I had left my apartment thinking, 'Hey, I'm going to tell Quinn that I love her.' Because I didn't!" he emphasizes. "That phrase isn't in my dictionary. It's not filed between 'I want you' and 'I'll call you.' You're the first person I ever, EVER say that to and this is what I get out of it?" His head. "You don't love me, fine. Part of me's convinced you're just keeping me around as some kind of pity relationship because I obviously like you more than you like me. It's okay," he tells her. Stepping closer, eyes leveled and faces closer, he says through gritted teeth, "But don't fuckin' think that I'm just going to stand here and take all that 'almost' bullshit with a smile on my face."

"Bullshit!" she shouts. "Bullshit! You know I don't do that pity shit! I've gotten it my whole life from my parents and I know how much it fucking hurts," she tells him. She takes a step back. "You want to hear it? Fine. I love you, I love you so much it scares me. I'm scared to tell you I love you because despite the put together image I have, I'm fucked up. My 'perfect' family life screwed me up completely and this is just me trying to make sense of it all. Of what loving someone really is. Trying to not put it all out there so I don't lose it in the process."

"You don't think I know? Hell, Quinn, I've met your parents and both of them combined make my father look like the pope!" he shouts back at her. "But this is me we're talking about. The guy who fucked a different girl once a week to forget about you. The guy who had three girls kick him out of their beds because he said your name, not theirs. The same guy who bought you lilies every single year for Valentine's day and let you think that some other guy gave them to you just because he wanted to keep that smile on your face. This is ME," he emphasizes, "The guy who would never in a million years do remotely any of this shit, but because it's YOU, I'd be willing to jump in front of a bus if it meant you'd be happy."

"That's how I know," he says, voice soft. "And I'm tired of being afraid of what this means for my feelings or being afraid of being so fucking in love with you. I don't care who knows at this point and I hope everyone does. I'm in love with you!" he shouts.

"So stop being afraid of being in love with me, too," he mumbles.

There it was. The push she needed. The key to opening up her heart, jumping, and knowing he'd be there to catch her.

She's done being afraid. Of course, she isn't going to stop 'cold turkey', but a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. And this was hers.

She takes a step forward, no pun intended, and grabs his hands.

"I…" she takes a deep breath. "I love you. I'm in love with you, Noah," she murmurs.

The smile on his face widens to the point where his cheeks are starting to hurt. She said it. Finally said it and meant it. Look who pushed who this time.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he teases. "I don't think I heard you loud enough."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, yet smiles just as widely as he does.

"I'm in love with you, Noah Puckerman!" she shouts this time. "I'm so, so madly in love with you!"

"All right, shh," he says. "You're going to attract the hobos with your mating cries" Leaning down, he places a kiss on her lips. "I love you too," he mumbles against her lips.

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