Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I'd be making Puck and Quinn happen. But I don't, so I'm writing fanfic about them. Enjoy.
"Juvie? Really?"
He sighs, expelling it over a few long moments.
"Yeah."
She shakes her head, shutting her eyes tight. She hates it, she hates how he does all these dumb things and she still holds that small, undeniable affection for him. He was like a new puppy that wasn't housetrained; he kept making accidents inside, and yet, every time he'd look up to her with that face, she'd melt. Damn it.
"God. Honestly, what am I going to do with you?" She wishes they were talking in person, and not over the phone. She also wishes that their phone call wasn't being monitored by a prison official, so that she could yell at him and complain to him and tell him how much she misses him.
He avoids her question, obviously as clueless as she is, and asks, "So, you and the new kid?"
She curses silently, vowing to kill whoever told him that. Still, she says, "Yeah," with the same uncertainty as he had given her before.
There's a long beat of silence, and he finally replies, "Oh."
"'Oh'?" she quotes.
"Just a letdown, I guess." He explains honestly. "Doesn't really seem like your type, in my opinion."
"Of course not," she snorts. "I get it, Puck. Okay?"
"You do, do you?" She can almost see the smirk forming on his face.
"Yes, I do," she confirms. "You're still not over m – last year, and I totally understand. Makes perfect sense."
He exhales, and she can tell she's pissed him off because he knows she's right, and he feels a little taken aback.
"So what if I'm not, Quinn?" he asks. "Doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"
She hesitates, because he's right. "I..." She really doesn't know what to say.
"You can't possibly tell me that you don't miss her. That you don't completely regret it. That last year, even though it ruined your perfect reputation, wasn't so bad because you got to spend it with me."
She sat there, alone in her car, listening to his words, wondering how he got into her head. "Well...that... I think that's kind of," she gulps, "True."
"I know," he assures her.
They're both silent for a minute, and she wishes she could just drive to that damn juvenile detention center and get him out of there and he could take her to Taco Bell like he did when she was pregnant and they could be together, in some sense, again.
Maybe someday.
"I don't love him," she says suddenly.
"I know," he retorts, "I'd admit you to an asylum if you told me you did."
"Puck!" she exclaims.
He laughs. "Dude's got some big lips."
She grimaces, the memory of kissing them for the first time last night forever tattooed into her mind. "Listen to me," she laughs incredulously, "Sitting here, letting you bash my boyfriend. Only you, Puck. I swear. It's only you I tolerate," she says seriously.
"I know," he says for about the tenth time today.
She shakes her head, pressing a palm to her forehead. How deep was too deep? With him, she'd never be sure.
"You missed Rocky Horror."
"Eh, it's whatever. Weird show, anyways."
"Yeah, well, you would have made a sexy Frank-N-Furter," she teases.
"I bet you didn't look too shabby yourself, Magenta."
"Who is this insider that's been giving you the latest information on me?"
"I'll never tell," he swears, and she laughs.
"So is that one phone call thing true?"
"Yep, and I totally wasted it on you, babe," he says with a cluck of his tongue.