A/N: This was inspired by a manip I made on Tumblr. Just a one-shot, AU of Prom Queen.
She takes one last look in the mirror before seeing the portrait of Jesus reflecting above her head. The same portrait she tried to ignore the day Noah Puckerman charmed his way into her life (and spankies). Here she was again, over a year later, about to go to Prom with the same guy she wishes she could blame for ruining her life. But she can't. She wanted it. And she let herself be swayed by his charms . Her mother's intoning of her name pulls her out of her memories.
She sighs deeply before patting down a stray hair. She can do this. They're just going as friends. It's unacceptable for a Prom Queen candidate to attend prom alone. Puck's just being a friend. Friends. She can do this.
Puck turns off the engine of his beat up Chevy in front of the Fabray house on Dudley Road and sits in the driver's seat running his palms through his hair, then once down his pant legs. He psyches himself up, telling himself he's the man. He laughs at how ridiculous he sounds, even in his own head. He knows this girl. They're going as friends, no pressure. He can do this.
It was out of the blue that Quinn even asked him to escort her to Prom. Both were left suddenly single, it made sense. He'd always be her second choice, though, and a part of him was okay with that…for now, it was better than nothing. His confessing to loving her scared her away. It was probably best to let her set the pace, if there was even going to be anything to pace.
He rings the doorbell once before Judy Fabray is swinging it open. He feels her eyes on him, looking him up and down; she probably hates the fact that he isn't wearing a tie, and has a Mohawk…..and knocked up her daughter at 16.
She flashes a forced smile and invites him in.
He shoves his sweaty hands deep in his pockets, playing with the loose change hiding in there while Mrs. Fabray sings "Quinnie" up the stairs.
After what seems like forever (made even worse by the awkward tension) Quinn appears at the top of the steps.
His jaw drops, and he can't pick it up off the floor. Judy exclaims that she looks like Cinderella, and she does. He only knows who Cinderella is because of his little sister.
He feels underdressed, and is suddenly concerned that Quinn will disapprove and change her mind.
She sees Puck standing with her mom at the bottom of the staircase. This is so awkward that they're all in the same room on prom night, but all she sees is him, and he's unable to take his eyes off of her. Friends, she reminds herself.
"Pictures!" Her mom snaps their attention to her and the camera that is waving through the air. They pose in front of the door. She notices he's sticking his tongue out, so she elbows him in the stomach.
She and her mother look at all of the shots and are finally satisfied enough to leave.
He can't help but stick out his tongue. He's Puck. And he likes to rile her up. So, he deserved the jab in the stomach. He owns it.
He paces and looks at his cell phone the entire time Mrs. Fabray and Quinn are scrolling through the pictures they just took, looking for one suitable one.
He finally coughs loudly and motions to the grandfather clock. They have reservations at Breadstix.
Mrs. Fabray looks at both of them and Puck thinks she's about to puke or something.
"Kids, I know this is Prom night….and there are certain things that," she pauses. Puck glances at Quinn and she's mortified, they both know what's coming.
"We're not having sex," Quinn interrupts.
Mrs. Fabray smiles and pats Puck on the arm and whispers something into Quinn's ear as she hugs her.
Quinn thinks about her mother's words all the way to and during their meal at Breadstix.
Be careful, Quinnie.
What is she doing? She can't trust herself around him. She knew better. But here she is eating a cobb salad in the same booth with Puck on prom night. They don't say much, even though there is so much that needs to be said.
Puck knows she's distracted. He wonders what her mom whispers in her ear, but he doesn't ask. He's learned his lesson for a little while. He's got her, if only for a little while, and he'll be damned if he pushes her away tonight.
Forks scrape against plates. Idle chatter fills the void of awkward silence.
Puck looks like he wants to say something, and every time she gets the feeling he's going to do it, she brings up something about his truck, school or Super Mario Brothers.
He's relieved when she pushes small talk. He's not stupid; he knows what she's doing. He goes along with it, because even after a fucking year, he's still not ready to deal with it. He knows she's not, and probably never will be. He's just going along with what she told him once, "If you don't talk about it, it will go away."
He knows that's not true, but he can't afford to scare her away…again.
He insists on paying for her meal, even though they're going as friends, and this is not a date, she finally surrenders when he explains people are hiring him like crazy, now that it is warmer, to prep their pools for the summer.
Way to keep it simple. She thinks to herself.
She's not sure if the butterflies in her stomach are from the anticipation of what could be the greatest night of her teenage life or from the way Puck keeps staring at her.
She thinks she might throw up.
The gym is crowded and hot. Puck is already ready to get out of his stifling suit. But this is Quinn's night, and he's going to make the most of it.
He drags her to the dance floor and they dance. He shows off his moves, and she's amused. Dancing prevents talking. Especially when the only thing left to talk about is the one thing no one wants to talk about.
They dance for a while until a slow song comes on, and it's either get close, or sit down and force more small talk.
He's about to suggest they sit down when she wraps her arm around his back and draws their bodies close. They haven't been this close in a while. And he had almost forgotten how much he missed it.
She's seen Puck dance in glee, but having him dancing around her, and with her, looking at her like this has her stomach doing somersaults. It immediately loosens her up, and she dances along.
The music changes to a slow song and she fights every instinct she has that's telling her to run into the bathroom.
But instead, she's drawn to him. She always has been.
She pulls their bodies flush and they slowly move to the music. One of her hands move up and down his back, the other gently strokes the back of his neck, her thumb mindlessly playing with the bottom of his Mohawk.
"Thanks for tonight."
Winning Prom Queen is the last thing on her mind right now.
He relaxes into her body. He remembers how they fit so well together. He's proud of himself for keeping his hands in check, though he'd love nothing more than to move them lower. But that would be crossing the unspoken line that was set for the night.
The music plays on and he wonders if their first dance on their wedding day will be like this. He silently chastises himself, remembering he's Puckzilla, just in case someone in the gym has telepathic powers and will figure out he's completely, utterly, and totally whipped – even if they're not together.
He barely hears her whisper over the music.
He kisses her forehead. She doesn't pull away.