A/N: I know I've had a lot of fluffy, shippy stuff recently. I guess I'm more of a fluff writer than an angsty one :) But I will try to write some more angsty, or at least less rainbows-and-glitter chapters. But for now… another fluffy one.
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Characters: Quinn
Twelfth grade.
I believe in memories
They look so, so pretty when I sleep
But there is not enough time
There is no, no song I could sing
And there is no combination of words I could say
But I will still tell you one thing
We're better together.
"Puck, what could you possibly have to show me? I wanna get out of this hellhole, don't you? Too many bad memories." Quinn whined as Puck tugged her down the hallway after the last bell had rung. Not just the last bell of the day, or the year, but of their high school careers.
"There's gotta be some good memories, right?" Puck said, smirking.
"Maybe. I regret most of my horrid decisions. Like having sex with you. But not going out with you."
Puck's smile grew. "We're here."
"The Home Ec room? Seriously, Puck? I thought you wouldn't be caught dead here—"
"Unless I was helping my girlfriend make cupcakes."
"I don't care if that baby comes out with a Mohawk, I will go to my grave swearing that it's Finn's."
"Oh. I remember that."
"Yeah," Puck replied, gesturing to the baking supplies and yellow rose laid out on the table.
Quinn casually picked up an egg. "You are such an egghead," she said, remembering the time she said it two years before.
Crack. The gooey yellow yolk ran down Puck's forehead.
Puck flung a handful of brown sugar at her, and the fight began. Egg and flour lay in clumps in her hair, but Quinn didn't care. She just wanted to be there, giggling, his arm around her waist.
"But you're my favorite egghead," she whispered.