Break My Heart, a glee fanfic

A/N: Okay, I've never written Puck/Quinn before. I've never dabbled in Quinn's mind, mostly because I never really liked her (especially this season. What the fuck, Q?), but amelias-nature wanted me to write a story about Puck singing 'Break Your Heart' and the opportunity was there. Probably not exactly what amelias-nature had in mind, but here goes.

Like I said: first Quick fic. Be gentle.

Puck watched from across the room as Quinn giggled with Aretha and Hummel, feeling more than jealous of the way that she occasionally glanced at Finn. Wasn't it obvious that he preferred Rachel? Those two were the most fucked-up couple he'd ever seen, but somehow they worked.

He felt like a pussy for thinking it, but, G-d, why couldn't he be enough for her? They had history, that had that chemistry thing Hummel and Rachel bitched about all the time, and they looked damn hot together. That made them the perfect couple. Except, apparently, in Quinn's mind, which was completely devoted to Frankenteen.

How could he win over a girl that not only had no interest in him, but thought that his touch was the plague? He had totally tried to prove he could be a good guy, but Juvie and the thing with Rachel early last year totally fucked that up. He had tried to prove he could be a good boyfriend, but then his girlfriend/proof made Quinn hate her! He couldn't win. The universe was out to get him. Hell, he had even run for Prom King in an attempt to be up on that stand with Quinn, and fucking Karofsky and Hummel had won.

"Bow chicka wow wow," he could hear Quinn say in the relatively quiet room. Huh, Berry was gone. That made sense. Now Finn looked lost.

"Oh hush." Hummel was blushing very obviously, and this so wasn't a conversation he wanted to 'innocently overhear'. Not that anyone would ever buy that excuse, of course. When was he ever innocent?

"I wish I had a guy that romantic," Aretha added dreamily, glancing towards her phone.

"Mercedes," Hummel sighed melodramatically. G-d, sometimes he just wanted to go back to throwing him in the dumpster. "Sam moved away. You can claim that you two weren't dating all you want, but you're definitely not dating now. You need to move on, girl."

"I wasn't waiting for a text from Sam," Aretha argued.

"Getting back to Blaine, he is such a sweetheart," Quinn said with a gorgeous smile, looking like the innocent girl who lit up the room back in eighth grade. "I can't think of anything more perfect than having a guy serenade me." Bingo.

"Too bad Blaine's song choices can be... dismal, at best," Aretha smirked, and Hummel flushed again.

"At least it wasn't When I Get You Alone." The group busted up laughing at that, and Puck started to tune them out. So, Quinn wanted a serenade. He could do that... but he would inevitably screw it up. Who could he turn to?

"I need your help." Puck straddled his chair, facing the distracted countertenor, having arrived at Glee twenty minutes earlier to talk to him.

"And now the shoe's on the other foot," Hummel commented without looking up from his phone. Well, wasn't that fucking rude?

"What the fuck?" Puck didn't handle shit like that from losers like him. Yeah, sure, Hummel was a teammate and Puck wouldn't slushie him anymore, but he was still a loser, and he always would be.

"Throwing me in dumpsters, asking me for help... the two seem different enough to warrant the use of the expression." Hummel still didn't look up from his phone, probably fake-texting to avoid Puck. Definitely wasn't going to work. If he was going to get Quinn back, he would have to do this all-out.

"Dude, are you still on that?" Puck hadn't thrown him in a dumpster since the beginning of sophomore year. Any other trips to the dumpster weren't his fault or under his supervision. Sure, he would beat the fuck out of Karofsky for him any day now, but Kurt would never let those damn dumpster-dives go.

"First of all, I will say to you what I say to Finn at least daily, do not call me dude. Second, I'm running relatively low on patience today. Talk fast." Kurt looked up from his phone this time, only to give Puck a scathing glare (yes, he knew what scathing meant. Just because he didn't talk like some Harvard-stickass doesn't mean he isn't smart).

"Chicks." Not fast, but simple.

"Ah, the lovely ladies. Speaking of lovely, if slightly robust, ladies, aren't you dating Lauren?" Puck wasn't sure what robust meant, but Hummel clearly didn't get the idea of dating for popularity. G-d knows he's spent enough time around Quinn (not that he blamed her for it... or anything really. G-d, he was so whipped) and Rachel.

"Dude, are you dumb? I was her trip to New York and her votes for Prom Queen." All that wooing for fucking nothing. That definitely wasn't happening this time.

"So, you got dumped, in Philistine terms. And once again, a reminder to not call me 'dude' is necessary." Kurt sounded a little happier now, but it was probably entertainment at the fact that the sex shark of the school had been dumped by a fatass. Damn, that sounded bad, even in his head. And when the fuck had Hummel became 'Kurt'?

"Who says I wasn't the dumper?" He had to try and salvage a silver of his reputation. Honestly, if even Hummel could get more tail than he could, there was a problem around here.

"Didn't Lauren's parents sue the school so that she could join the wrestling team? Didn't she hand Santana's ass to her?" That was a diva's way of saying Lauren was ultimately more badass than he was, so she was the dumper. While that was totally true, and the reason he'd liked her, it was also the reason they didn't work out. Lauren wanted to feel like a lady, meaning finding a bigger badass than herself. Good luck.

"Fine. I got dumped. Happy?" Puck leaned back in his seat, giving Kurt a glare which didn't seen to faze him as he returned to his damn phone.

"Extremely, as a matter of fact. We still haven't reached the part where I need to advise you. I couldn't see you and Lauren as endgame, ever." They could have totally been endgame if Lauren hadn't been such a bitch. Didn't matter anyway, he was even more King of the School now, retarded crown on Karofsky's avocado-shaped head aside.

"I want Quinn back." Hummel's eyes practically rocketed through his hairline at Puck's statement. Puck kept it simple, because Hummel probably wouldn't be as inclined to help him if he heard the explicit details about how much Puck wanted to bang his best friend (not that sex was all he wanted, of course).

"Why?" Hummel was falling into the protective-girl rut, and Puck rolled his eyes. What was it with girls, their fathers, and his 'intentions'? Honestly, everyone knows his 'intentions' for any woman but Quinn.

"Because I do. Less questions, fairy, and more advice." The insult just slipped out, he swore! Knee-jerk reaction and all that. Hell, maybe Hummel did want to hear about how much he wanted to bang her!

"To be quite honest, I don't care to help people that call me a fairy unless they answer my questions." Hummel's voice was cold and detached from his words, but his eyes had returned to his phone from where they were threatening to eviscerate Puck with a glance.

"I had a kid with her. We should at least try at a relationship." He had also told her he loved her in a moment of stupidity outside of the hospital room (and the fucking feeling hadn't gone away), but Hummel wouldn't pick up on this shit. He wasn't actually a goddamn girl, no matter how much he sounded like one.

"You had a kid together over a year ago. I'm not stupid, Puckerman." He read minds. That was the only solution. He read minds.

"I... I love her, 'kay?" Puck whispered it, glancing to the other side of the room, as if Rachel could hear their conversation over her loud, obnoxious, and screechy scales.

"Finally, a confession. Relax, I'm not going to rat you out for the unmacho crime of having human feelings to your plebeian friends." Hummel rolled his eyes but finally put his phone away, turning to face Puck.

"Advice, Hummel."

"I thought I was supposed to be the bossy one here," Hummel said disdainfully, his eyes clearly saying 'you will die if you disobey me.' "Have you considered singing a song to her? It's worked for you in the past. However, based on the disastrous results of Fat Bottomed Girls, I must approve of your song selection before you so much as whisper a note of it to her."

"I've sung songs to her in the past, Sherlock." Actually, Finn had stolen part of that song to sing to the boy in front of him, which had totally stolen his awesome, KISS-singing thunder, but Quinn had still cried and named the little girl after it. Well, Shelby had at his suggestion, but that was just details.

"'Sherlock?' How hackneyed, though I shouldn't expect anything more at this point. You will choose a song, and then you will come to me with a copy of the lyrics and sheet music. I will approve or disapprove, and we can move on from their." Kurt moved over towards Rachel, and if that wasn't a clear sign that someone would rather jump off a building than continue talking to you, Puck didn't know what was.

"Mr. Schue, I have something to sing." Okay, maybe Puck wasn't the best at following directions. Honestly, all Kurt had told him was what he already knew. The moment a guy sang a girl a song, the panties were coming off (unless that girl is Rachel, in which case she proceeds to analyze every note of your performance and tear you apart with criticism before pecking you on the lips and walking away). He had chosen an awesome song that totally fit them, and he didn't need Hummel's goddamn approval.

"Excellent, Puck, go right ahead. I hope it appropriately fits into our theme of children's movies." Mr. Schue gave him a mistrusting look and Puck just smirked.

"It totally does. It's from fucking Nickelodeon." As he talked to Mr. Schue, he spared a glance first for Quinn, who was watching him with interest while half-listening to Mercedes talk in her ear, and then Hummel, who looked ready to murder him with blunt objects.

So you're the girl?
I heard the rumor
You got the boys wrapped around your finger
Such a sweet heartbreaker
If you're the game, I wanna be a player

Oh, you can do whatever you want
It's all right with me

Why don't you break my heart?
Make it hurt so bad
Come on and give it your best
None the less, I insist,
I want it just like that

Why don't you break my heart?
Sounds good to me
Do it over again, again, again
You're just what I need
Why don't you break my heart?
Yeah, break it

Stare me down, intimidate me
Baby, please you'll never break me
Bring it on, 'cause I can take it
You're so cool, the way you play it

Oh, you can do whatever you like
It's all right with me

Why don't you break my heart?
Make it hurt so bad
Come on and give it your best
None the less, I insist,
I want it just like that

Why don't you break my heart?
Sounds good to me
Do it over again, again, again
You're just what I need

Why don't you break my heart?
Yeah
Break it, break it, yeah
Yeah!
Break it
Come on and break my heart
Break it

Why don't you break my heart?
Make it hurt so bad
Come on and give it your best
None the less, I insist,
I want it just like that

Why don't you break my heart?
Sounds good to me
Do it over again, again, again
You're just what I need
Why don't you break my
Why don't you break my
Heart, yeah!

Now almost all the girls in the room looked ready to murder Puck with blunt object along with Hummel. Brittany, however, had her trade-marked confused look.

"Puckie, why would you want someone to step all over your heart?" Puck chose to ignore the question, leaving Santana to care for her beloved Brittany (even if they wouldn't admit it), as he gauged Quinn's reaction... which wasn't quite the reaction he'd been hoping for.

She looked a perfect, picturesque mixture of shocked and appalled and Hummel looked smug behind her, knowing that she had hated it and that Puck would have done better if he had let Hummel approve his song. Well, fuck.

"Do you think I'm some sort of... player?" Quinn asked, completely outraged, ignoring the fact that the whole club was present in favor of laying down the law for Puck. "Do you think I'm some sort of tease? Some sort of bitch? That I just wrap guys around my finger to toy with them and crush them?" Quinn stormed out before Puck had a chance to explain his serenade, and Kurt snorted.

"Told you she wouldn't like it." Puck shot a glare at the countertenor. Really, was now an appropriate time for an 'I told you so'?

"Fuck off, Hummel, no one asked your opinion anyway." Damn, why did his serenades always suck?

"Actually you did, and you would have done well to listen to it. I warned you, and yet, this. This is a Blaine-worthy song-choosing fail. I'm actually impressed by how bad a choice you made. I didn't think it was possible to be this idiotic." Puck had a feeling this rant could continue for quite a while, but they met eyes, and Kurt just stopped.

"Uh, dismissed, guys." Mr. Schue seemed to be at a loss, but this wasn't exactly a surprise. If the teacher knew half of what happened in his club he would never leave them unsupervised again.

"Puck," Hummel said quietly, acting like a scared animal out of nowhere. "I think I have an idea on how to help you win Quinn back. Maybe this time you'll actually listen to my suggestion?" Hummel raised an eyebrow. Puck had to admit: Hummel had spunk.

"Maybe." Gross. Note to badass self: never use the word 'Hummel' and the word 'spunk' in the same sentence again.

"Mr. Schue, I have something I want to say to Quinn, and I kind of want everyone else to hear it." Puck was in the Twilight Zone, repeating the very words (or... close enough) that he had said when Quinn was wearing a pink, orbital Lady GaGa dress that hid her baby bump well, only a few weeks before she had given birth to Beth.

"I'm not good with words." Or, Hummel said he wasn't. "I can't do fancy speeches and shit- stuff. Sorry, Mr. S. I can't be the perfect, popular, frontman that tries, and fails," Hummel glares at him for adding that, but it was totally his speech, "to win you Prom Queen, like you always wanted. But we have a connection, all that chemistry shit, sorry Mr. S, that Rachel and Hummel bitch about. Uh, sorry Mr. S. Anyway, we're made for each other. We're both totally hot," Quinn giggled, like Hummel had said she would, "and we had a baby together. We have history. Can we at least try?"

For the record, Puck would never, ever sing the song Kurt had chosen for him. Not in a billion years. Not even for Quinn. His song was totally better anyway.

Beauty queen of only seventeen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

Quinn smiled at 'beauty queen,' but Puck had a feeling the song was kind of a harsh reality for her. So be it. Hummel looked murderous, but Puck was beginning to think that was just his face. Finn looked confused on the last line when Puck looked at him (his default expression), then his face settled into half-anger, and half-confusion.

I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more

I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know you tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore

Since Puck had no insecurities to speak of (he was badass. What could be improved on?), he changed the lyrics a little, earning a glare from purist-Rachel. Focusing on the small know of people that was Finn, Quinn, Rachel, and Hummel, he didn't dare to see the reactions of the rest of the club. It was none of their business anyway.

It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along, yeah
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want

I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved

I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful

Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye

Yeah
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Try so hard to say goodbye

Silence met the end of his song, but he kept his eyes locked with Quinn's. Soft tears rested at the edges of her eyes, not falling, but hovering, threatening to fall at any moment. Her eyes were a mess of emotions, confused, angry, happy, but the small shine in her eyes and the slight smile at one corner of her mouth dominated her expression.

"I love you, Quinn Fabray, and it's about time all these fuckers knew it." Puck heard flesh hit flesh as Hummel slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Puck, can we talk outside?" Queen Bee Quinn looked around, obviously very aware of her audience. The girls looked murderous, except for Rachel, who was staring up at him with wide-open, half-crazy eyes shining with tears, Mr. Schue looked hopelessly lost (as always), and most of the guys were texting, except for Hummel, whose hand sitll covered his face, and Finn, who looked resigned, but nodded to Puck, almsot like... permission. Like he needed Finn's permission, but he nodded back to his one-time best friend all the same. Good deed of the day.

"I really think serenades shouldn't be your go-to method of wooing. You're not very good at them when they have romantic intentions." Of all the rooms they could have entered, they had to be in the astronomy room. Puck wondered if Quinn was thinking of Sam, and the thought made his blood boil.

"Hey, that song was totally awesome!" Puck defended his badassness, but Quinn just smiled, reaching up to lightly touch Venus on one of the hanging models.

"I shouldn't like you. Your charm is unbearably rude, you can't stand most of my friends, you don't even try in school, my mother will hate you because you're Jewish, and you put no effort into anything or any friend because you're too scared to open up to anyone but me." This didn't exactly make Puck feel better.

"You're really helping my ego, Q," Puck faked his usual cocky tone.

"Your ego doesn't need any help, Noah, and I wasn't finished. I shouldn't like you," she repeated, "but I do. You're funny and sweet and... two entirely different people." She paused, leaning against the desk, looking for all the world like an untouchable statue. "For the record, I like Noah, not Puck, and I think a lot of people would if you gave them the chance." She smiled at him softly.

Okay, to be honest, Puck had gotten tired of this 'feelings' shit about a minute ago. Crossing the room, he grabbed the girl of his dreams (uterus growing as he thought these ridiculous things) and kissed her, ending the conversation for good. Just for all the sappy, romance-novel-obsessed girls in the world, Puck made a mental note that there were no stars, or fireworks, or instant clutching at each other and having sex right there (he wished). It was just a kiss... but more of one than he ever thought he'd have.

Bang bang bang! The sound of someone banging on the classroom window broke them apart. Hummel. Of course.

"You're welcome!" he shouted through the glass, clearly not aware that classroom doors did not act as good mufflers (Puck would know), and he realized the whole damn club must have been out there. Flipping Hummel off, and knowing (hoping) he would take the gesture the way it was meant (oddly friendly), Puck returned to his girl.

Noah Puckerman always got the girl.

A/N: There. All done. Plot bunny dead.

Songs used:
'Break Your Heart' from Spectacular!
'She Will Be Loved' by Maroon 5

Reviews are Love.