Puck realises that sometimes, life can be like a cheesy movie. That doesn't make it any less amazing. Puck/Quinn. This is a companion piece to Weather it Together, but you don't necessarily have to read that first.I don't own Glee or Something; they belong to Ryan Murphy and Shakira respectively. I hope you like it…
XOXO
I sigh as I walk through the doorway of my house. I have a lot of apologising to do, I know that well enough. Arguing with my fiancée and storming from the house isn't a regular occurrence, but it happens occasionally. Sometimes, she's the one to walk out for an hour or two. It depends on the argument.
I can hear her singing in our baby girl's bedroom, which makes the corners of my lips tug upwards into a small, wan smile. Quinn Fabray isn't a "strong" singer – she leaves the power-singing to Mercedes and Rachel – but she has a sweet, pure voice. It is perfect for the song she is singing. I creep closer to her voice.
"Before I met you, I wasn't terribly lucky
Every prince charming lost charm after twelve,
But then you came and made the past look so funny,
Put my old sadness to sleep on a shelf…"
I am definitely smiling now – I know she loves this song, so the fact she is singing it after an argument with me is all the proof I need to know that she still loves me.
"If this was meant to be
Don't condemn me to be free,
And even if we never marry,
I will always love you, baby,
Childishly…"
I am just outside baby Naomi's door now. Quinn. I love her a lot more than I believe I am ever able to express to her. So I do the only thing that feels right for the occasion. I join in.
"'Cause something,
You've got something I can't resist,
Things are what they will be
When I look into your eyes,
They say to me that God still exists
And there's something
You've got something I can't resist
Things are what they will be
When I look into your eyes
They say to me that God still exists
You make me believe
You make me believe…"
Our vocals intertwine as though we have rehearsed the song. To her credit, Quinn doesn't even stop singing as she hears me singing from the other side of the closed door. She doesn't even pause when I slide the door open and step inside. She has her back to me, facing baby Naomi, and she doesn't turn. Not yet.
"I love the temperature and smell of your body,
The shape of your lips and the size of your nose,
I love that everything you say is so funny,
Plus you're the best kisser that I've ever known…"
And so I sing to Quinn as if my life depends on it. I don't see the smile that has spread across her face until she turns to sing the next part to me.
"You see the way I am
Without make-up, without clothes,
And you accept me like nobody
And I will always love you, baby
With eyes closed…"
Quinn closes her eyes and moves closer to me, until we are within touching distance of one another. We repeat the chorus together, and I reach out to touch her arm. She smiles, and I see the tear tracks running down the pale skin of her cheeks. I instantly feel about a hundred times worse than I did before. Reaching up a hand, I brush the tear marks away and step closer to her. Quinn looks up at me, and we both inhale at the same time, our song long forgotten.
"I'm so sorry, Quinn," I whisper softly.
"It's okay," she replies. "I'm sorry too."
We stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and I'm all too aware that this is exactly like a scene from a cheesy rom-com of some description – the sort I hate. But I can't hate this moment, so I make the most of it, like some sappy male lead in the aforementioned cheesy rom-com. Angling my neck down a little, I swallow her apology with my lips, and the kiss is perfect. Just like in the movies.
"Bye, baby," Quinn whispers to Naomi, in the cot behind us, mercifully sleeping peacefully. I tug at Quinn's hand, and we slip from our little girl's room. As Quinn reaches up on tiptoes to plant a dozen or so kisses along my neck and hairline, I realise that the movies are clichéd, but life can be too. And I'm perfectly content. Quinn makes me believe – in God and life and love, and if that's clichéd and sappy and too lovey-dovey for people's liking…well, I couldn't care less. And that's got to count for something.
