This is my attempt at writing the infamous night when Puck and Quinn got together. Enjoy:)
One of the hardest things in life is watching the person you love, love someone else - Unknown
It was so hot; almost unbearably so. Sprawled out on the lush expanse of grass spread out in front of McKinley High, the girls had abandoned their usual shirts for skimpy halternecks, their long tanned legs peeking out from beneath equally tiny skirts. A bottle of water gripped shakily in her hand, Quinn was completely unable to concentrate on Santana's bitchy gossip concerning a supposedly pregnant senior, such was her dismay at the score she had received on her Chemistry test. A B minus. Not even a B, she considered dismally, feeling nauseous at the thought of having to break the news to her father. Russell Fabray would freak out, she knew, he would blame Finn, blame Ms. Adams, her Chemistry teacher, blame the time she spent turning cartwheels and performing handstands for the Cheerios, anything but put the blame on his precious Quinny. Long cast in the role as the perfect daughter, Quinn was well aware that that prestige came with certain expectations; being president of the celibacy club for one. There were advantages of course; Quinn was always dressed in the best and most expensive of clothes and her brand new, red convertible was without a doubt, the hottest car in the school parking lot.
Finn hadn't understood, Quinn considered unhappily, sprawled out on her back so her blonde hair splayed out like a golden halo around her head. He had seen the humiliating mark scrawled in angry red across the top of her test paper and he had shrugged dismissively like it was nothing, like it wasn't going to drag her GPA down in embarrassingly giant proportions. But then, Finn didn't need to understand; his coveted position as star quarterback of the football team meant that he could walk onto whatever college campus he so desired. It didn't matter that his grades rarely averaged above a C or that he could barely manage the basic concepts of algebra.
"You're coming to Brittany's house tonight, right? Her mom is away for the weekend and she's having a party," Santana informed her excitedly, a wicked glint dancing in her brown eyes.
"A party?" Quinn echoed uncertainly, shielding her eyes from the cruel glare of the sun. Determined to right the obviously unjustified B minus, Quinn had arranged with Ms. Adams to earn some extra credit by writing a paper on thermodynamics. A vodka fueled hangover, the inevitable result from a night partying with the Cheerios, would not make completing the already dreaded task any easier.
"Yeah, a party," Santana reiterated dully, gazing at Quinn as though she had inexplicably grown two heads. "What's up with you lately, Quinn? You used to be fun. Now it's all about Finn and school and the Celibacy Club. You need to chill out, girl,"
"You need to have some vodka cocktails," Brittany chimed in giddily, her wide smile displaying her pearly white teeth to perfection. "My mom has a shit load of drink locked away in the spare room. She thinks, I don't know," the blonde revealed deviously, as she triumphantly produced a silver key from the deepest recesses of her hot-pink backpack.
"It does sound like fun," Quinn relented reluctantly, a night spent working on a Chem paper coming up pretty poor on the trade off between a night spent indulging in drunken partying with her friends. "Who's coming?" she asked casually, already deliberating between wearing a decidedly flimsy blue miniskirt or the altogether more wholesome white cotton dress.
"The usual," Brittany replied blithely, the usual referring to the elite few, chosen from the lofty ranks of the Cheerios and the football team.
Finn would be there, Quinn realized and she immediately decided on the white. She didn't want to be giving him any ideas.
"Okay, guys, you've got me convinced," Quinn declared brightly, her words immediately followed by an enthused cheer from both Brittany and Santana. "What time do we start?"
--
Her blonde hair trailing in loose waves down her back, Quinn shifted on the sofa awkwardly as she made room for Finn to sit beside her. Predictably, Finn had drunk too much, four cans of beer capable of rendering him completely incapacitated and already he was slurring, talking absolute crap while Quinn was fighting to keep his hand from creeping any further along her bare thigh.
She felt heavy and uncomfortable in the plain white dress, and suddenly wished she had opted for the dangerously short blue minidress, which would have commanded every eye at the party. Like Santana was doing, Quinn realized unhappily, watching her friend flirt outrageously with Puck, her ridiculously short skirt, exposing acres of tanned, leaned flesh and guaranteeing her the football player's undivided attention.
Weighing herself that morning, Quinn had made the unhappy discovery that she had gained two pounds. A whole two pounds and her period wasn't even due, Quinn considered ruefully, pulling the white material of her dress self-consciously down over her knee. Though she knew she was bring irrational, Quinn now felt fat and unattractive and even worse, she was positive she had caught Finn gazing appreciatively at Brittany when he had thought his girlfriend wasn't looking.
"Quit it, Finn," Quinn hissed at her boyfriend in warning, as his hand snaked down the front of her dress and cupped the delicate lace of her bra.
Finn always did test the boundaries of their relationship, especially when he was drunk.
"You never let me do anything," Finn moaned in annoyance, though he did at least withdraw the offending hand.
Understanding from Judy, that compromise was important in a relationship, Quinn leaned in close and pressed her lips against Finn's, kissing him softly. Her blonde hair freshly washed and some expensive perfume liberally dabbed on her neck, Quinn knew she was enticing and trailing her fingers absently down her boyfriend's well muscled chest, it wasn't long before his sour mood had evaporated and in it's place was a much more agreeable Finn.
"See, I'm not so bad," Quinn murmured teasingly, pressing her lips to his one last time before pulling reluctantly away.
"Hey, where are you going?" Finn demanded, though his words were garbled and confused and the hand still clutching onto her arm was surprisingly strong. Pulling Quinn close to him, Finn pressed his lips to hers again but this time there was an edge of almost desperation to his actions. The hand wrapped around her waist was definitely edging lower and lower until it was almost cupping her ass and being drawn ever closer into his embrace, Quinn was certain she could feel the outline of his erection brushing against her leg. This was altogether too much.
"What the hell, Finn?" Quinn demanded angrily, immediately pulling free from his strong embrace, though inwardly she knew Finn couldn't help it.
Stalking out of the darkened living room, she was almost relieved when Finn didn't bother to follow her out.
--
The floor sticky with spilt drink and abandoned, half-drunk plastic containers of beer perched on every available surface, the kitchen was a mess. Music blared at an incredible level out of the stereo system and Quinn was surprised that the neighbors had not yet complained. Girls standing on chairs and tables, danced unsteadily, their drinks clutched possessively in their hands and the guys looked on, enthralled, the girls' skimpy dresses displaying their toned, tanned bodies to their best advantage.
"Quinn," Brittany welcomed her brightly, immediately passing a container of something pink and strong smelling into her hands. "It's a Cosmopolitan," she informed with an encouraging smile, taking a long swig from her own drink. "Try it,"
Taking a hesitant sip from the drink, Quinn's spluttered in protest as the vodka concoction burned down her throat. "Fuck, Brittany. Are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning or something," she retorted, pushing the drink pointedly away.
"Don't mind her, Brittany," Santana cut in jokingly, smoothing a hand carefully over her perfectly positioned dark pony tail. "Quinn's just not drunk enough yet,"
"True," Quinn agreed with a wry smile, a quick survey of the cramped kitchen testifying to the fact that she was, without a doubt, the only sober person in the room. "But then, I've spent the night trying to keep Finn from practically impregnating me on Brittany's living room sofa,"
"A definite case of TMI, Quinn," Santana shot back disapprovingly as she took a delicate drink from her plastic cup. "Some of us don't want to know the dirty details of your relationship with Finn,"
"I do," Puck chimed in with a lecherous grin, earning him a withering look from Quinn and exasperated sighs from both Santana and Brittany. "What? Quinn is hot," he retorted defensively, gesturing in explanation to the blonde cheerleader.
Though Puck was a sexist pig, he could be a very charming sexist pig and Quinn smiled inwardly as she tucked a length of blonde hair self-consciously behind her ear.
"If you want something to drink, you can have one of these," he offered her with a friendly wink, reaching on the table for a six pack of wine coolers. "I got them from my mom," he revealed with a shrug, obviously keen to dissuade any implication that he would have purchased such a ridiculously girly drink for himself. Noah Puckerman had a reputation to protect.
"Thanks, Puck," Quinn smiled gratefully, accepting a bottle of the wine cooler before turning back to her friends with an excited little skip. The night was going to be fun; she was sure of it.
--
Two hours later and Quinn's head was spinning, the pristine white of her dress splattered liberally with split wine. Beside her, Brittany was chattering excitedly about some guy she was crushing on and Santana was already wrapped around Mike, the pair eagerly becoming acquainted with one another, completely unmindful of their audience. Her brain so clouded and confused by the effects of the alcohol, Quinn could barely understand what Brittany was saying and making a swift decision, she pushed open the backdoor and stepped outside into the cool of the night.
It was a beautiful night, the inky-black sky aglow with millions of twinkling stars. Shakily taking a seat on the creaking swing, Quinn closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of the cool air creeping over her skin, when she felt someone squeeze in beside her. Her blue eyes popping open in surprise, Quinn felt a small smile creep across her face when she made sense of Puck's handsome face gazing at her appreciatively.
"Puck," she exclaimed curiously, pushing her blonde hair out of her face, the ends sticky with drink. "What are you doing out here?"
"Having a smoke," he shrugged lightly, though there was no evidence of the smoldering remains of a cigarette on the porch. "Where's Finn?"
"Passed out upstairs as usual," Quinn snorted disapprovingly, though she didn't refuse him when Puck passed her his container of beer.
His fingers grazed against hers and Quinn's heart thumped furiously in response. Puck always did have that effect on her. They'd kissed once, way back when she was twelve and her blonde hair was so long, it almost touched the waistband of her jeans when she sat down.
The beer was warm and flat but Quinn gulped it down nervously, both thrilled and uneasy by the feeling she got when she felt Puck's green eyes sweep over the length of her when he thought she wasn't looking.
The frenzied sounds of the party drifted out onto the porch but Quinn hardly heard them, so absorbed she was in the delicious feeling of Puck's hand pressed against her bare knee.
"You want some more," Puck offered, stretching out his hand lazily and passing her the now almost empty plastic container. His fingers lingered traitorously on her arm but Quinn didn't pull away, she just sat there transfixed, mesmerized by the warmth of his touch.
"No, I'm fine, thanks," she finally brought herself to answer him, suddenly grateful for the darkness that concealed the blush that was glowing on her cheeks.
Fuck, she was drunker than she thought, Quinn realized shakily, making a start to step up off the ancient swing, when she felt Puck's hand close slowly around hers.
"You know, I've always liked you, Quinn," he revealed in an endearingly self-conscious tone, that was so unlike Puck, who always seemed so assured and in control of himself. "I felt sick when Finn told me you two were dating,"
Quinn knew she should go back into the house, find Brittany and Santana and allow them to drag her up dancing with the other drunken Cheerios on the tables. Instead, she found herself gazing into Puck's green eyes and straying into thoroughly forbidden territory. "Why do you care?" she asked, barely breathing as she waited for a response.
"Because I wanted to be the one who got to be with you, who got to take you to the movies and kiss you, like this," he murmured and then his lips were on hers and his touch was so gentle and so full of longing, that Quinn felt utterly spellbound as she melted into his kiss.
"Give me a chance," he murmured and Quinn couldn't find the words to formulate a response. Allowing Puck to take her hand and pull her up gently onto feet, Quinn felt dazed as she followed him into the garden, the grass cool under her bare feet as they ran hands entwined to the waiting sanctuary of the white-painted summer house.