Sooo... Hey. Sup. I missed you all, so I came back, and this might be bad and I'm pretty sure some of the tenses might be messed up and I'm getting back into the groove of how Puckabrina works, but I hope you enjoy :)
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"Is this seat taken?"
Sabrina shrugged, not looking up. The library was a public space, and it was finals week, so sharing table with strangers was a normal reality. What did she care of sharing a table? She'd get the same amount of work done.
"So, come here often?" The boy asked. She still hadn't bothered to look up, but the voice was male.
"Hm," she grunted, scribbling down a sentence or two on the importance of the Eruption of Tulsa.
"Hey jerkface, are you going to look at me already or what?" The voice, previously cheesy and smug turned annoyed, and it was the familiarity of his whine that drew her attention.
Her eyes shot up to meet leaf green irises, twinkling with amusement. She reared in her seat, disbelief coloring her features, and blinked hard. That all-nighter was making her see things for sure, because there was no way he was here in the middle of her finals week, sitting at her table in the school library.
She stared at him, rubbed her eyes and then stared at him again.
"Surprise," Puck said weakly, extending his fingers in a semblance of jazz hands.
The first thing she noticed was that he needed a haircut. His sunshine curls were tumbling past his ears and were almost brushing his shoulders. The next thing she noticed was that his jaw was now even more finely chiseled, and his skin was tanner than it had ever been. The final thing she noticed in those milliseconds was his beaming smile directed at her. Her.
Sabrina returned to her textbook.
"Wha- hey! No hey Puck, good to see you after six years? Or maybe wow you're so hot now, please date me?" He complained, and she ignored him.
"How about some good old-fashioned eye contact?" He said sarcastically, resting his chin on folded arms so he was on her level.
She sighed deeply, and raised her sapphire gaze to his, arching an eyebrow. "Do you need something?"
"Do I need-? Sabrina! How about some acknowledgement?" He said loudly, prompting glares from the other students.
Sabrina's face flushed red, and she mouthed a 'sorry', before grabbing Puck by his shirt front and pulling him so their noses were inches a part.
"Listen here, faery boy," she snarled, eyes ringed in darkness, and coffee on her breath. "It is finals week for those of us who attend school, and you are going to shut up and let me study. I don't care if the goddamn Dalai Llama showed up, I need to pass AP history. Understand?"
He nodded, cowed, and she released him, attention returning to her page.
There was a silence, occupied only by her absent mumbling and the sound of her pencil scratching on the page. Puck was quiet, just watching her, and as she finished her sentence, she looked up expectantly.
"You taking me out to lunch, or what?" Sabrina asked irritably. "I need a break."
Puck grinned.
…
When they stepped outside into the bright sun, Sabrina's face crinkled into a frown.
"Sweet mother of god," she muttered, the shadows of her face even more pronounced in the glaring brightness.
"Don't be such a grump, Grimm," Puck said cheerily.
"Whatever. It's not like I-," her words were cut off with an ear-piercing shriek, as her companion, apparently growing bored of the banter, scooped her up and shot into the air.
It was an uncomfortable position, his forearms hooked under her armpits, and her kicking legs swinging them off-balance as she thrashed in his grip. It was the way he carried her when they were both eleven, but she was seventeen now, and it didn't quite work as well.
"Ow, quit that!" He shouted, trying to keep a grip on her.
"You're gonna drop me!" She screamed, and he groaned loudly.
"Jesus, Grimm, how many times have we done this? And how many times have I dropped you?"
She was stubbornly silent, and he smiled in victory.
"Well it's not the same as that," she muttered. "I haven't travelled by faery in a while, okay?"
The pang in her chest was painful and she shook it off, because she was not happy to see him, and she did not miss him while he was gone.
Puck didn't respond to that, only swung her -with another yelp from Sabrina- into a bridal-style hold.
"Better?" He asked, but instead of being sensual, it was a little too loud in her ear, and his breath smelled like egg salad. Her nose wrinkled, and she crossed her arms, turning away from his face inches from her own.
"Brush your teeth, gasbag," was her only reply.
"You're one to talk, smelly," He shot back sharply, but she thought she caught him running his tongue over his teeth a couple times.
They touched down at the Blue Plate Diner, and she wobbled for a second, trying to find her balance. His hand closed around her wrist, and he roughly steadied her. Sabrina wondered why she wished he was being a little gentler, and little softer. Shutting the thought out of her mind, Sabrina walked through the door, intentionally not holding the door for him.
"Mature," He remarked dryly, as the door shut in his face, and he had to reopen it himself.
She stuck out her tongue in response.
A woman showed them to a booth, and after a second someone came over to take their orders.
Puck set the menu down and smiled brightly at the waitress.
"Hey, can I get the blueberry pancakes, the grilled cheese, the cheese burger, a large meat-lover's pizza, and a vanilla milkshake?" He asked as if it was a perfectly normal order.
"I'll get a double shot of espresso and a slice of blueberry pie," Sabrina said, giving him a look. He pulled a face at her and she rolled her eyes, handing her menu to the waitress. When she was gone, awkwardness seeped into the space between them.
"So…" Puck started, and was it her imagination, or was there a touch of nervousness in his voice? "How's the family?"
"Fine," she replied stonily. "How's Jake?"
"Fine."
They'd reached a stalemate.
"Okay, then," Puck said with a slight chuckle. "Uh, how's school?"
"You'd know, if you'd stuck around to go with me," she responded bitingly, realizing exactly how passive-aggressive that was.
He winced and shook his head. "Yep, I deserved that."
They sat quietly, Puck still stinging from the rejection, and Sabrina too proud to initiate conversation. When the food arrived, they both dug in, him starting at his pizza, and her delicately cutting a bite of pie.
"So, why didn't you write to me? Um, us, I mean. I think Jake really missed you guys," Puck said nonchalantly, and already Sabrina's temper was rising.
The lack of sleep, the stress, the loneliness, it was all rising in her, and she set her fork and knife down with a violent crash.
"Why didn't I write? Why didn't I write?" She demanded, eyes flashing with fury. "Why didn't you visit! We saw Jake stop by four months ago, and where were you?"
"Well, if you really what to know, Peru," he offered weakly. "Jake wanted me to-,"
"No! No! You never, ever prioritize a mission over family, you shitface!" She thundered, standing up, and towering over the boy. "Daphne cried twice when she found out you weren't coming, and Basil is six, Puck. He's six."
Her voice cracked, and it wasn't all anger.
"When is the last time you've seen Basil, Puck?"
"Well I-," his face fell as he realized how long it had been.
"You weren't even at Christmas," Sabrina snapped scornfully, sitting back down. The stares of the other patrons were burning into her skull, but she ignored them. "Basil doesn't even know who you are."
The cringe in his expression mollified her somewhat, and she turned her attention back to her pie, cutting it wrathfully.
"I'm sorry," He offered, and she looked to him, eyes a mask of ice.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said flatly.
"So, what else did I miss?" He asked in a whisper.
Sabrina set her utensils down once more, and pushed the plate away, appetite lost.
"Too much."
She told him about it.
…
It was reluctantly Sabrina found her mood lifting as she recounted the events of her life over the six years he had been gone. She told him about the first time Daphne came home with a girl, Basil's first day of school, and Red's scholarship to the art school of her dreams. She told him about Pinocchio turning fourteen, and her parents' twentieth wedding anniversary, and her progress through the first years of high school. And with every story, she found herself more involved in the events, gestures appearing and fond nostalgia leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.
"So what about you?" She asked, chin resting on her hand.
"What about me?" He shrugged.
"You've been traveling the world, Puck. Surely you have at least one story to tell," she said.
And it was his turn to regale the events of adventures past. She found herself drawn to the stories he was telling, and wondered if perhaps she could take a gap year in college to accompany them.
As he wrapped up a story about a yeti in Alaska, she regarded him with a warmer expression, and he trailed off under the gaze.
"What?"
"What?"
"What's what?"
Both were suddenly blushing, neither quite understanding it, although one of them had a pretty strong idea of why, and it certainly wasn't Puck.
"So, why are you back, then?" She wondered, and he smiled sheepishly, running his fingers through his too-long locks. Her eyes traced the motion, and her own fingers twitched in her lap.
"Well, I figured this town could use some Trickster King in it. After all, wouldn't want it to get boring or anything," he explained with a smirk. But she'd know him longer than that. She saw what he was really saying.
(I missed you guys.)
"And y'know, Jake wanted to come and visit," (I begged him to take a detour here on the way to California.)
"Plus, Marshmallow sent me a letter, asking me to come back," (I slept with that letter under my pillow.)
"And I wanted to make sure no one died or anything." (I care so much about all of you.)
Sabrina was surprised she could still read his graceful features after all this time, and wondered if he still smelled like pine and rain and the electric charge of air in a storm. Immediately, she banished the idea, but it nagged at the back of her consciousness.
"Well, good," she replied somewhat lamely, wrestling with her thoughts.
"Y'all ready for the bill?" The waitress made an appearance, and Sabrina nodded.
"I'll pay," Puck said, once she disappeared.
"I can pay," Sabrina offered half-heartedly, but she was quickly becoming tired, and her eyelids were drooping.
"I got it, Grimm."
He did, and they were out moments later. The sun was setting, and she leaned against him, purely exhausted from staying up two nights in a row.
Puck was surprised by the gesture, but swept her into a bridal hold, gently this time, and took off to the sky.
She curled into his chest instead of away, turning her back against the wind and cherishing the warmth emanating from him.
He stiffened at the familiarity and tenderness of the action, the comfort of her head fitting into the hollow of his neck, and her arm curled up against him, but didn't say anything. They flew in silence, and when he touched down outside of the Grimm house, Sabrina was sound asleep. She didn't touch her espresso, so no wonder, but he was surprised nonetheless.
Ringing the doorbell with one awkward hand while keeping a comfortable hold on her, he waited for someone to answer the door. Memories, hundreds of them flooded him as the door opened, and Henry stood there.
"What are you-!" Upon seeing his sleeping daughter, his voice dropped to an aggressive whisper. "What are you doing here?"
Puck shook his head, and pushed past Hank to climb the stairs to Sabrina's room. He'd stop by tomorrow and say hi to Marshmallow and the folks, but now his mission was getting Sabrina to bed undisturbed.
He nudged the door of her room open with his foot and set her down in her bed. It was bigger now, and the room was redone in cream and blue. It suited the place, but Puck couldn't help but miss how it used to look.
"Hey."
He looked over as Sabrina's sleepy eyes opened, and he smiled. "Go back to sleep."
"I missed you," she slurred, eyes already beginning to close.
A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, hardly more than a puff of air. "I missed you too, Sabrina."
"Puck, 'm t'red," she whined softly, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
"Good night, Grimm."
"G'night, love you," she murmured, eyes closing for good.
He stood there, frozen at her words and stared at her peaceful expression softened by slumber. It was nothing more than a slip-up most likely, but it caught him by surprise.
"Sweet dreams," he called quietly, opening the window and climbing out. He didn't want to go back and face Hank, so this was how he made his exit.
It was harder to fit than when he was a boy, but he wiggled out and hovered for a second outside Sabrina's window.
In the moonlight, she was reduced to a younger version of herself, a version he grew up loving, and he forced himself to turn away before he was claimed by memories. But the ache inside him clawed at the hollows in his chest, like the slow drag of a nail across a chalkboard. Agonizing.
"Sorry," he said to her sleeping form.
Unsurprisingly, she didn't answer, but he didn't move just yet.
"I missed you," he tried the words, as if testing the feel of them on his tongue. They didn't fit quite right in his mouth; they caught on his canines and tangled his tongue
"I love you," he said the words carefully. They were light and delicate, and they shone like the moonlit silver strands of her hair spilling across the pillow.
"I-," he shook his head in frustration at his inability to communicate emotion. "Whatever, Grimm. I hope you pass AP History and stop being so grumpy."
But he might as well have spouted prose and romantic poetry, because for these two? These two clashing, angry, sarcastic teenagers, young in the eye of the sun?
That was how they loved.
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