There are always gaps. Things that he knows that Quinn don't know yet. She's never ahead of him like he's ahead of her. He's had this whole relationship with her, since he was a little kid, and she's only just now living it out. She tries to make him give her hints to what hasn't happened yet. It never works.
They eating dinner because he's made me his moms kugel, which he rarely ever makes so something's up. Quinn chews slowly, watching him across the table. She's trying to get him to fill in the gaps. "How old was I the first time you saw me?"
He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he takes a bite. "Older than you are now. So I'm not telling you." Quinn rolls her eyes and pouts. She watches him chew for a long time until he gives her a weird look. "What?" She shakes her head.
"Nothing, I just… It's so funny how you always look the same. And still different every time."
He quirks his head at her, swallowing his food. "What does that mean? Do you miss the 'hawk?" He runs a hand over his shaved head, smirking at her. Quinn pretends to be disgusted.
"Oh god, no. It's bad enough that it practically haunts me." Puck laughs, leaning his chair back on its two back legs which always makes Quinn nervous for some reason. He folds his hands on his stomach and when she looks up at him she can tell he wants to talk about what he really wanted to talk about in the first place. "Yes?"
"I want to have a kid, Q."
Quinn winces a little. They haven't talked about this subject in a while. They talk about Beth sometimes, but they rarely talk about kids in the present tense anymore. It hurts too much. It hurts Quinn. Apparently he doesn't feel the same. "Puck…"
He leans forward, grabbing her hand that's resting on the table, clutching it tightly. Quinn watches their folded hands as he talks. "Just hear me out, okay? I know you're scared that you're gonna hurt it or something's gonna happen but Q, you have to trust me. I need a baby. I need something that's always gonna be with me when you can't be." And when she looks up from their hands he has this look in his eyes that she's never seen before. She's never seen him act like he needs something. He tells her he needs her when they're pulling their clothes off and tossing them around their house or when they wake up in the morning right before he needs to go to work. But this… this is different. He's asking her for a way to stay. She's never thought it about it that way before this. It happens when she's reaching out to touch his face. It's quick this time and she doesn't have time to say goodbye.
"Oh." Quinn sees her husband's eyebrows knit together as he reaches out to grab her and she's not touching his face anymore but landing on her ass in the field like her chair has been yanked out from under her.
Puck isn't there yet so she has no idea when she is but there's a flannel button up and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting for her. There's also some pretty thick socks and she's grateful because, whenever she is, it's fall in Ohio and its cold. The blanket is there waiting, too, and she spreads it out, pulls the socks and the button-up on and settles down, waiting for him as she sips at her hot chocolate.
After a half an hour or so, Puck is trudging through the field to the grass. She can't tell, but he looks like a teenager, Mohawk in its prime. She smiles to herself a little as he sits down on the blanket.
"Hey, Puck."
He looks up at her, sighing loudly. "Hey, Q."
"Thank you for the hot chocolate and the shirt and the socks."
Puck nods, her mouth quirking into a smile. "No problem. It's cold as fuck."
"Don't curse. You know, it'd wouldn't hurt if you could maybe bring me some pants or some underwear every once in a while."
His smile turns into a dark smirk. It's expressions like these that remind her that he's always the same. Always. "Nah."
Quinn tilts her head at him, frowning a little. "How old are you right now?"
"Fourteen."
She nods. "You need to start bringing me pants, Puck."
He's still smirking at her. "No."
"Puck—"
"No, I'm not bringing you pants, Q. So you can stop asking." He stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands.
"Why not?"
Puck licks his lips, eyeing her in a way that makes her uncomfortable. She does not like where this is going. She remembers Puck at this age. Menacing. "Cause you're hot. Why the fuck would I give you more clothes? You're lucky I bring you clothes at all."
"Puck, I'm twice your age."
"So? Moms are hot. I'd fuck someone's mom. I'd fuck you."
"Puck." Quinn snaps and she can tell it makes him flinch but he doesn't want to be weak. He wants to be in charge of this conversation. He doesn't think of her as adult. This is the problem.
"Damn, Q. It's a fucking compliment. It's not like you would let me fuck you anyways." He looks away as he speaks and his voice almost sounds hurt. Slowly, Quinn starts to smirk. He doesn't see it though, picking at the lint on the blanket as he keeps talking. "I wanna fuck Santana Lopez."
Quinn almost scoffs. In her present, Santana is her friend through e-mails and phone correspondence and they keep in touch and Quinn knows the names of all her kids for Christmas card purposes. But in high school… Santana and Quinn are competitors. One of their competitions is sitting right in front of her. "You do?"
Puck nods, looking back up at her. "Yeah. We talk about it a lot and I think I'm ready to fuck someone."
Quinn sighs. She already knows the end of this story but they have to have this talk, apparently. "You're fourteen, Puck."
He shrugs. "So? Aren't you supposed to do it when you're ready? I'm ready. Santana's ready. She's already sucked my dick and I've fingered her so I don't see what the big deal is."
Hearing him talk like this at this age is difficult. Even as a kid, Puck at least had some hint of innocence, he could get by with her brushing his words away like he doesn't know what he's saying. Teenaged Puck, though, she can't use this excuse on him. She's not quite sure but somewhere down the path, Puck lost any trace of that. Sex is just that last piece of the puzzle. He knows it too.
Quinn chooses her words carefully. She can't tell him anything because she didn't. So she must've said the right thing. "Just… wait, Puck." He looks up at her, confused.
"Huh? Didn't you hear anything I just said?"
Quinn laughs a little, looking down at her lap as she bites her lip. "It'll happen. You just have to wait for it, okay?" When she looks back up he's still staring at her.
"You're not making any fucking sense…" His voice drifts off for a second before he grins at her. "You're jealous."
"What?"
He lets out a laugh, leaning forward over his legs toward her, his finger tilting her chin up towards his face in the most condescending way possible. Quinn jerks away from him. He laughs again. "So fucking jealous! You're jealous that I'm going to fuck Santana!"
Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm not." And she isn't. She knows how this ends. But he sticks his tongue out at her.
"Jealous."
"Puck—"
"I could fuck you right now and you wouldn't have to be jealous anymore."
She looks over at him and his eyebrows are raised playfully but she knows he's serious. Ever since he figured out what sex was, he's wanted it to be her. Santana is just a proxy. Because he can't have her. Or how she is right now at least. "You can't fuck me."
He grabs her ankles and she jumps a little. His eyes are dark. "I want to. I would. Just let me." His hands are sliding up her legs and she pushes them off.
"I told you. Wait."
He huffs, angry now as he stands, walking away from the blanket. "Fuck you, Q."
Quinn stands too, starting after him as she feels the socks start to slip off her feet. "Puck, wait—"
But she's falling into their bathtub in the pitch black bathroom, probably bruising her ass. "Ow. Fuck." And the light flips on as the door opens, Puck stumbling in as he blinks in the light. She woke him up.
"Quinn…?" She laughs a little, her legs falling out of their huge claw-foot tub, splayed out. He's in his boxers and she's naked. He focuses down at her, trying to make himself wake up. He stares at her for a long moment before he starts to laugh to, settling on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn't move as he reaches out and pushes her hair out of her face. "When…" He's too sleepy to finish his question, blinking lazily as he lets his eyes wander over her in a much nicer way than he had done at fourteen just moments ago.
"You were fourteen and telling me you were going to fuck Santana Lopez." She reaches up to put a hand on his cheek like she had tried to do earlier. This time she doesn't go anywhere. He leans into her touch, chuckling softly.
"I did fuck her."
Quinn's eyes narrow. "Yeah. But she wasn't first." He chuckles again, taking her hand from his face and kisses her knuckles before she climbs into the tub. He lies down beside her and she shifts up against him. There's barely enough room for the both of them but the tub is fairly big and they can hold each other tight enough to fit. He holds her naked against his bare chest and doesn't bring up kids. His chin rests on top of her head and she closes her eyes, her face pressing into his neck.
"That's right. She wasn't first."
