A/N: Welcome to Chapter 6! I know I waited a LONG time to update but I wanted to see a little bit how the show would deal with things after the hiatus. Here is my take on Valentine's day (a day late, sorry!) but I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Secret Valentine" by We The Kings.
He drops Lauren off at her house. There was no macking whatsoever and as soon as she got out of the car, the lovesick puppy look is gone from his face in an instant. He likes her. She's a nice girl, but she's also the perfect cover and the best way to throw off Santana, just like Finn had been the perfect cover for Quinn. Unfortunately, the Finn and Quinn part had backfired more than slightly when they both ended up with mono. Whoops, he thinks guiltily as he turns a corner.
Were they wrong for using Finn and Lauren the way they were? Yeah, probably, but things at school had been kind of weird since Finn and Rachel broke up. Quinn hadn't broken up with Sam yet and all of a sudden the star quarterback's attention fell on his ex-girlfriend. Needless to say, things were a convoluted mess. If he thought about the whole situation for too long, his head started to hurt. For the time being, they had decided to continue to lie low.
"Just for a little bit longer," she had promised him the night they had won the conference championship football game.
"Fine," he had agreed. He's waited that long so what was a few more weeks. She had come to him crying after she made out with Finn, repeating over and over again into his shirt how much she felt like a cheater. He calmly reassured her, with great effort on his part, that he knew where he heart was.
"Besides," he added. "What reason do I have to be jealous of Finn? He sure as hell isn't getting into anyone's pants anything soon."
In an almost cruel, no, definitely cruel, twist of fate, she had started to get sick the next day at school and as it turned out, he wasn't getting into anyone's pants anytime soon either.
Karma's a bitch, he thinks as he parks his car, grabs the bag and backpack out of the backseat and walks down the street. He pulls his phone from his coat pocket and shoots her a text message saying that he's almost there. From his spot on the sidewalk, he can see the warm glow from her window and his heartbeat speeds up slightly.
"We have a problem," he receives her message in reply. "My mom came in and closed my window. Said I was crazy to have it open when I'm sick."
P: Shit. Is it still unlocked?
Q: Yeah, I think so.
P: Don't worry about me.
This is going to be fun, he laughs to himself as he quietly climbs the familiar terrace. When he reaches the top he takes the bag in his teeth and digs into his pocket to fish out his keys. He finds the flattest one and jimmies it under the window, pushing up at same time. Slowly, the window slides up enough for him to wedge a few fingers of his left hand under, lifting it up the rest of the way. He shoves his keys back into his coat pocket and shimmies through the window and into the room. He sees her lying on the bed facing him with a faint smile on her lips. Her eyes look heavy and tired, her hair is a bit of a mess and she clears her throat.
"Sorry," she says in a strained voice.
"Hey," he replies with a grin as he slides off his sneakers and walks towards the bed. "It's all good."
"I feel terrible."
"I know, but I brought you something."
She lifts her head curiously and attempts to push herself up, but she's just so sore and exhausted. He notices right away and gently helps her scoot up on the bed. It's unusual for her to look so weak and he's not used to it, but he's glad that she accepts his help without protest. She waits patiently for him to take off his backpack and coat before he takes a seat on the bed next to her.
"What'd you bring me?"
"Soup from Breadstix," he replies, taking it from the bag. "I hope it's still warm."
"I'm not really hungry," she says truthfully. This stupid mono has completely killed any appetite she has. She immediately regrets her words when she watches his face fall. He had done something incredibly sweet and thoughtful for her and she just made him feel like crap. God, I'm such a bitch, she thinks before reaching over to take the container from his hand. "But I really should try and eat something. This was really sweet of you."
"My mom said soup would be good for you. You should try and build up your strength."
She manages to finish about half of the soup, which satisfies him. He didn't expect her to be able to finish it and he knows she only ate as much as she did to try and make him happy.
"Some Valentine's Day, huh?" she mutters sarcastically. "I feel and look like crap and I can't get out of bed."
"You don't look like crap," he replied obediently, but truthfully. He wonders if it's possible for her to ever look like shit. He's seen her in labor and even when she was hot, sweating, grimacing and cursing his name she still looked far from terrible. "And it's not an awful night. It's not exactly what I planned, though."
"What did you plan?"
"I dunno…just go somewhere out of town or something so we could be alone. I'd play this song I heard for you. It's pretty fitting, actually,"
"What's it called?"
"Secret Valentine," he says and smirks when she laughs a bit. "I told you it was fitting."
"I wish I could have listened to you play it. I love it when you sing."
"I know. I noticed during Fat Bottomed Girls. You weren't so subtle, babe."
"You were practically grinding on me," she points out.
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."
"Fine."
"I could play it on my iPod for you."
He finds his iPod in the bottom of his backpack and sets it up to play the song. She takes one of the ear buds from him and places it in her ear as he does the same. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulls her closer to him and the music starts to play.
Soft kiss and wine We'll write a song Lay down, be still We'll write a song When guilt fills your head We'll write a song that turns out the lights
What a pretty friend of mine
We're finally intertwined
Nervous and shy for the moment we will come alive
Tonight
Secret valentine
That turns out the lights
When both boy and girl start suddenly shaking inside
Don't waste your time
Speed up your breathing
Just close your eyes
We'll hope it's for nothing at all
Don't worry talk they will
I'll be loving you until
Morning's first light
Breaks tomorrow
I'll take care of you tonight
That turns out the lights
When both boy and girl start suddenly shaking inside
Don't waste your time
Speed up your breathing
Just close your eyes
We'll hope it's for nothing at all
Nothing at all
Brush off rise up from the dead
This is the moment that we will come alive
Brace yourself for love
Sweet love, secret love
When both boy and girl start suddenly shaking inside
Don't waste your time
Speed up your breathing
Just close your eyes
We'll hope it's for nothing at all
(We'll write a song)
That turns out the lights
When both boy and girl start suddenly shaking inside
Don't waste your time
Speed up your breathing
Just close your eyes
We'll hope it's for nothing at all
Nothing at all
"Wow," she says when the song ends. "That was pretty perfect for us. I loved it."
"Told you," he replied and puts the iPod back in his bag. "I've got one more thing to give you for Valentine's Day."
"You didn't have to get me anything."
"Well, I've seen all these key pendant necklaces in the store, but they're all pretty expensive so I went looking for something I could afford and I found this."
He holds a small box out to her and she opens it, revealing an older, vintage-looking key on a chain.
"Oh Puck," she breathes, fingering the tarnished metal.
"If you don't like it, I can take it back. It's just from some antique store my mom made to go with her to."
"I love it."
"You do?"
"Yeah," she confirms. "I mean, just think about it. This has a history to it. It has a story."
"Kinda like us, huh?" he says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Yeah," she replies and covers his hand with her own. "I might have something for you, too."
"Oh really?"
"It's in the little black baggy on my nightstand. Can you reach it?"
He leans over and finds the baggy right away, curiously opening it and dumping the contents into his hand. A cool, small piece of metal falls out and he lifts it up to get a closer look at what is engraved in the middle. It's a stainless steel guitar pick with the simple letters P+Q in the very center of it.
"This is so cool. I'm almost afraid to play with it because I don't want to lose it or something, but I'll always have it in my pocket with me."
Setting their gifts back on her nightstand, he bends down to kiss her briefly before she places a hand on his chest and gently pushes his away.
"Wait, I don't want you to get sick, too."
"Babe, please, I'm Puckasaurus. If Santana is immune to it, don't you think that I am, too? Who do you think gave it to her all of those times before?"
"I'd still feel awful if you got it," she says sincerely.
"Fine, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving. It's Valentine's Day and I want to be with you even if I can't be with you like that."
"I think that's one of the sweetest things you've ever said."
"Yeah? Well don't let that get out. I have a reputation to uphold."
"I think we're doing a pretty good job at keeping some things a secret."
"I gotta admit, as much as I want everyone to know we're together, there's something cool about it being a secret. Something….I dunno, special."
"Yeah, it's like it's just all about us and not about anyone else."
"Happy V-day, Quinn," he says, kissing her slightly warm forehead.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Puck," she replied, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He changes his clothes quickly, thankful that her mom has never found the secret stash of sweat pants and t-shirts that she keeps in her bottom desk drawer. She makes a little more room for him on the bed while she waits, moving her sore body as much as she can. She realizes that he's the only guy she's ever been with on Valentine's Day. Her parents never let her officially date anyone until high school and she and Finn hadn't gotten together until the end of freshman year. The previous year she had been with Puck in their pseudo-sort of- relationship. She smiles at the memory or opening a Styrofoam take home container that held a bacon cheeseburger that he had tried so hard to cut into the shape of a heart. She knows that contrary to popular belief, he does make an effort when things are important to him. When he comes out of the bathroom he flicks off her lamp and climbs into his side of her bed. Instinctively, they settle into one another, pulling blankets, intertwining limbs, until they both get comfortable. It's the same routine each and every night and he knows she's ready to sleep when she releases a light sigh and he can feel her breath fall into an even pattern across his arm.
"I love you," he says because it never gets old and he's never meant it more.
"I love you, too," she replies with equal emotion and a full heart.