Disclaimer – I do not own Glee!

*Rated T

*Humor/Romance

Summary: Puck, desperate to do something nice for Quinn, enlists the help of Finn in his romantic venture.

Picking Flowers

"This is so stupid," Puck mumbled under his breath. He was currently on his hands and knees, searching through the flora near the football field. "What the hell am I supposed to be looking for, anyway?"

Finn stared blankly at him. "Puck, she's your girlfriend now. Not mine. How am I supposed to know? Why am I even here?"

Picking flowers! Whose stupid idea was this? Oh, yeah…that's right…it was his. When Puck discovered that Quinn beamed over anything colorful and sweet smelling, he'd opted to pick flowers for her; it made it seem more…considerate.

But there was only one little problem with that: he didn't know what the hell he was looking for. Puck growled as he eyed a green…something.

"Puck? I think that's a weed," Finn said.

"But it has a flower," Puck argued.

Finn sighed. "Just because it has a flower doesn't mean it's not a weed. Gaah! I've been around Kurt too long; I can't believe I'm actually arguing with you about plants! Plants! Just pick some stupid flowers, give them to Quinn, and let me get on with my life! Plants! Plants! I hate plants!"

Puck watched as his best bro romped back into the school going on about his newly found dislike for all plant life. Well, it looked like he was on his own. His eyes glanced over the ground once more. He sighed. This was going to take forever.

"Yes!" Puck proclaimed, holding up his—questionable—bouquet like a trophy. "Heh. I can finally show Quinn—what the hell are you looking at, huh?" he huffed at the gardener, who'd stopped pruning to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Puck.

The gardener just shrugged his shoulders as he recovered himself and went back to pruning.

Glaring daggers at the man, Puck made his way back to the school so that he could find Quinn, only to be intercepted by Santana.

"Fuck," Puck gasped as he shoved his bouquet into the confines of his letterman. He couldn't have anyone see him being all sappy and shit.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Santana.

"Nothing," replied Puck as he quickly made his way past her.

"It's about time," Puck muttered breathlessly. It took him fifteen minutes—fifteen fucking minutes—to get to the choir room. New Directions members just kept popping up out of nowhere. What the hell were they? Ninjas?

Making for the choir room, he peeked inside, hoping Quinn was the only one there. It was supposed to be their rendezvous point this time of day, after all. "Quinn?"

"Puck?" she answered, smiling at him sweetly.

"Um," Puck began, "here."

Quinn almost sprang back when she felt something thrust into her hands from Puck's letterman jacket. She looked at the bundle in her hands and felt tears stinging behind her eyes when she realized what it was.

Oh, God! Puck thought frantically. Was Quinn crying? His gift wasn't that bad, was it? Puck started growing anxious. "Quinn, I can expl—"

"They're beautiful!" Quinn exclaimed, interrupting him. "Thank you, Puck." She leaned up and placed a light kiss on his lips.

Puck just stood there in shock. He'd just given Quinn a crumpled bouquet that looked half dead…and she loved it?

Well, hell! If he'd known these little sappy things made her happy, he'd have done it a lot sooner. I wonder if she'd like it if I wrote her a poem or something, Puck thought to himself, a serious look crossing his features.

Quinn noticed. It looked like he was learning; he was finally grasping the art of romance.

Author's Note – That was sappy, I know. But I thought Puck picking flower would be funny and sweet. Unlike him, but sweet.