A one shot in which Noah Puckerman offers Quinn a role of a lifetime.
Disclaimer: I do not own glee. Period.
Note: This was sort of based on a tumblr post I saw so...but not all of it.
There is a time in everyone's lives where they think, "What the hell was I thinking?" It is not experienced everyday for this thought occurs when something bad or extraordinary happens. The first time Noah Puckerman thought, "What the hell was I thinking?" was when he was lying naked on Quinn Fabray's bed with only the moonlight illuminating the room. They had sex. Or made love as Puck wanted to think at the time (he still does.) A million thoughts raced through his mind, chasing each other like heartbeats.
The first one was "What the hell was I thinking?" The second was the way Quinn's soft lips were on his skin, the way her mouth tasted, the heat of her skin, the way her body fit perfectly with his, the feel of her hands all over his body and the soft look in her hazel-green eyes when they did it. What he also thought about was what would happen next. Of what will happen when they realize what they did, of what will happen when the have to face each other, of what will happen when everybody finds out and of what will happen when he will have to tell her that he loves her.
The next "what the hell was I thinkings" were in between and all had to do with Quinn Fabray. She was his biggest "what if" but never a regret although it seemed like the other way around for her.
But now sitting by himself in a corner at the Lima Bean, he was definitely thinking, "What the hell was I thinking?" Quinn was ten minutes late and he knew how punctual she was. It was so unlike her. He was holding her coffee in his hand. Caramel macchiato was her usual coffee order and he thought it'd be nice to get her one. Puck had just finished his screenplay and trying to make it an indie film with the help of Artie as his director. He was still trying to sell it with no such luck for the few weeks. But he recently gotten an e-mail from an indie film company that his film had been funded 10,500 dollars. Puck's worry now was the casting and so far everything was going smoothly.
Only one part was open and that was the main character which he invited Quinn for coffee so they could discuss it and see if Quinn would take it.
He saw Quinn stride through the doors of the Lima Bean, wearing a pastel colored cardigan and cute baby doll dress. He signaled her to come and she smiled politely. Quinn strode over to him, having to sidestep a couple of teenagers with bad facial hair.
Puck gave her a casual half-wave coupled with his trademark Puckerman smirk. She smiled back in return. When she sat down, he offered her the caramel macchiato. Quinn nodded slightly, taking the coffee and taking a sip.
"My coffee order. You still remember." She acknowledged, pleasantly surprised.
"Yeah, I'm a gentleman now." He figured that their relationship was back to normal. Normal as in talking minus the condescending tones and the incessant shouting.
"Santana told me you finished your screenplay and sold it as well."
Puck smiled. "I did. The people from the film company liked it. What's that word where they review it and it's badass?"
"Rave reviews." Quinn answered.
"Right, they pretty much gave it rave reviews."
"That's great Puck. I'm really happy for you." And the great thing was that she really genuinely meant it. Puck grinned. "So did you come make me come all the way here just so you could tell me that?"
"No actually. Um, everything's going great except that I don't have anyone to play Lynn Cabaret. The main female part." He wasn't really original on names and couldn't think of anything else. He knew it rhymed with Quinn's name and he hoped she wouldn't notice. "I thought you'd be perfect for the role."
"Wow. Can I read your screenplay?" Quinn asked.
Puck reached into his bag and pulled out the original copy of his screenplay. "Before I give it to you, I just want you to know that this story is really familiar to you." Quinn gave him a raised eyebrow look and took a sharp intake of breath when she saw the title "Lima Loser".
When she read through the first few scenes featuring their first night together, she held back the tears in her eyes. Not only did it feature 64 spelling errors and counting but it was their story through Puck's eyes. It was probably the most beautiful thing she has ever read besides the Bible and the Lord of the Rings.
Puck's character's name was Mark, Finn's was Luke, Rachel's was Rebecca, Mike's was Matthew, Sam's was Adam and Santana's was Eve just to name a few (Puck was too lazy and unoriginal so he took the character's names from the Bible, he hopes no one notices.)
Quinn handed it back when it was the delivery scene. "It's beautiful Puck. But I can't play the role of Lynn."
"Why not?"
"Because…"
Puck didn't let her finish. "Look, I wrote this part for you. Okay Quinn? For you. There' snot a person in this entire universe that can play her. I don't give a fuck if fucking Emma Watson or Nina Dobrev played this part because it's not theirs. It was never theirs. I wrote this story about a fuckup who fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world and how everyone thought, including her; how ridiculous and stupid and idiotic this fuckup was and how this fuckup fought and made up and talked and danced and sang and kissed and laughed and cried and lost each other and found each other and had the most beautiful daughter anyone could have. If that's not enough then I don't know what is."
Puck was used to rejection from Quinn so he prepared himself for her answer.
And then a miracle happened.
"Yes." Quinn said, choked up and fighting tears because let's face it, Quinn Fabray doesn't cry in coffee shops. Puck smiled, feeling his heart pound madly in his chest, elated. "But only if you'll play the part of Mark. I don't think anyone has that chemistry that we have."
"No problem babe. I wouldn't mind doing the sex scene for real though. "Puck smirked
Quinn blushed and said, "Has anyone told you that you're an idiot?"
"Yup. But I'm your idiot."
And it was Quinn Fabray's turn to think, "What the hell was I thinking?"
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