Puck strolled down the halls of McKinley on his way to Gym. He hadn't dreamt about Berry in days, and God was he grateful for it. He was a little surprised that he felt so over Quinn and the fact that she wouldn't give him the time of day and latched onto Finn with a new vigor didn't bother him, but fuck it. He was ready to get some action, to stop thinking about anything but instant gratification and go back to being the supreme badass sex stud that he was.
He started appraising chicks as he passed them, sighing in contentment as he did so: hot redhead chick; leggy Asian chick; fugly brunette with a nice rack; average chick rocking the sexy librarian look; blonde Cheerio with a tight ass—
Puck stopped in his tracks, doing a double take at the Cheerio he'd just passed. He recognized the bouncing blonde ringlets (and more importantly the nice ass). It was Annie, or Allie, or Amy—whatever, it was the chick he'd dosed into a hook-up with Azimio. So why the hell was she walking down the hall, gazing adoringly at Chaz Stephens from the basketball team?
The Puckerone was nothing if not thorough in his need to quench his curiosity, so he casually sat by Chaz in the locker room after their workout, sliding back into the laughing and joking and all of the normal shit for the first time in weeks.
"So Chaz man," he subtly segued after discussing what chicks dug more, guns or abs (Puck's opinion—guns, no question). "I've seen your guns carrying around that Cheerio with that bitchin' ass- Amy or something?"
The sandy-haired boy grinned. "Abby, and hell yeah. Girl's got it going on in all the right places. Plus she's a Cheerio, so yeah—damn flexible."
Puck smiled and grinned and bumped fists with the guys. "But dude," he pressed, still keeping his voice casual. "Wasn't she with like Azimio or some shit?"
Chaz shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, for like three weeks. Then they broke up and she just couldn't resist this." He gestured to his naked chest, grinning and high-fiving the guys again.
Puck laughed with the rest of them, but inside his head was spinning. They broke up? After just three weeks? He shook his head as he walked out of the locker room: maybe the oaf had broken up with her and the chick was just using Stephens to try to make Azimio jealous?
He wandered to math class lost in thought (okay, a lot lost in thought if he was actually going to math class). Granted, he'd only used his CA maybe a dozen times, but he'd never heard of any of the girls moving on, much less moving on so quickly.
He shook his head. To be fair, with the exception of Quinn, he'd never actually checked up on any of the girls he'd dosed. He did a quick count in his head, trying to recall them and the guys he'd set them up with. The ones he could think of off the top of his head (average emo chick with a baseball junior his freshman year; athletic soccer chick with a football buddy his freshman year; double-d Cheerio with a water polo player at the beginning of his sophomore year; and Quinn of course) were still with the guys he hooked them up with. Maybe this blonde was immune or something.
By the time the lunch bell rang, Puck was about ready to write this chick off as a fluke. When he strode by the choir room, however, Puck did his second double take of the day—freezing, mouth agape as he watched Santana and Brittany in the sexiest make-out session he'd maybe ever seen in his life.
He didn't stop staring when they broke apart; really, he didn't stop staring until San was in his face. "Seriously Puck?" she scoffed. "I should make you pay if you're going to stare like that." She called behind her, "Save you a seat B," with a smile and started walking to the cafeteria.
He shook himself back to life and ran after her, catching up within a couple steps and grabbing her arm. "Lopez, wait up," he called. Dude, what the hell was going on?
"Puck, I'm not inviting you to a threesome, and I'm not going to let you watch," Santana told him, jerking her hand back and moving toward the cafeteria once more.
"But I thought you were with Rutherford," He argued, growing more confused (though he did leave a little room in his mind to be disappointed she wouldn't even consider the threesome- hey, he's a guy).
She looked at him incredulously. "Really Puck?" she asked. "Where were you when I was over Matt?" She shrugged indifferently. "Shit ended months ago. Not that he's not a nice enough guy, and decent in bed; but you know me Puck," she winked. "Never really one to settle." And with that, the Latina turned heel and finished her trek to the cafeteria.
Puck took a moment to appreciate her bouncing skirt, and then refocused his mind on the mystery at hand. With Santana definitely over Matt, he now had two girls that were over his stash and onto greener pastures.
Puck decided that the rest of the school day wasn't really worth his time and headed out to his truck. His dad had never mentioned Cupid's Arrow having an expiration date on it, but if it did it would explain all the recent doses as duds—but then why the hell would he be having it so bad for Berry? Maybe it was psycho-semitic or whatever: all in his head. He knew he had one more stop to check before fully freaking out.
He sat in his truck outside a blue house with yellow trim. He saw the white Prius in the driveway, and was now trying to figure out the best way to go about this. After about a minute's hesitation, he decided straightforward Puckzilla was his best bet.
He strode to the door and rang the bell. A raven-haired cougar in a barely-there bikini opened the door and smiled at him.
"Hey," he said, keeping his voice low and rough. "Just passing through; haven't seen you in a while, so I thought I'd stop by, see if there was any…work you needed taken care of." He gave a classic Puckerman smirk and arched an eyebrow suggestively.
Cheryl smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Aw Puck," she replied, stepping forward to cup his chin. "So sweet of you to care."
Puck almost groaned in frustration: just one more chick that was over her guy. He was considering committing himself to a nuthouse when he heard her continue, "But Henry probably wouldn't appreciate it."
Puck perked up. Henry; that was her husband. "He home?" he purred, laying it on thick to fully test her.
The Grecian beauty smiled and groaned sympathetically. "No baby, but ever since a few months ago? It's been…well, you probably wouldn't understand." She smiled dreamily. "It's like he's the Henry I first met; that spark, that pop—it just reappeared."
Cheryl looked back at him. "Anyways, for now I think I should keep paying my nephew to clean the pool—at least until I can convince him that maybe the three of us should…spend some time together."
She smiled at the teen suggestively, who had to use all of his energy to not look disgusted as he said his goodbyes and slid back into his truck. Sure, chick was hot, but no way in hell did he do three-ways with another guy. Shit was not his style.
So now Puck sat in his room, confused. He'd set up Annie (or whoever she was) with Azimio, and that was over. He'd set up Santana and Rutherford, and that shit was done. But he'd set up that cougar babe with her hubby, and apparently the two of them were going strong. Not to mention Quinn, who despite getting her physical needs satisfied elsewhere, really seemed to adore Finn in every other way.
So what did that mean? Apparently the drug worked, but not as permanently as he thought. So how could he figure out how fast it went through the system?
Puck hated to admit it, but he was willing to bet Berry'd have a guess about something like this—she was good with brainy stuff, and he was basically just a kid with a gun. Not that he could ask her, but maybe if he thought like a chick or something…
He started with the blonde. He really'd just picked Azimio randomly, just to get rid of her. Maybe the shit only worked if you had some sort of history or something? That would explain the cougar and her husband, but not Santana and Rutherford, or Quinn and Finn. Maybe they had to have a major connection in the sack. But again—that would go against Quinn and Finn, and they'd been together for, like, ever.
Puck was missing something.
By now it was close to one in the morning. Worse still, all of this thinking led him to think about Berry—and not in the good, physical, naked way. He wondered what she would think about all of this. Well, he knew part one of what she would think: she'd be pissed that he'd go around messing with people's lives the way he had, whether the consequences were temporary or not. She'd lecture him on personal responsibility and ethics and a bunch of big words he wouldn't be able to (or really want to) understand. He felt like a pussy to say it, but he missed that part, the lecture and "you're better than that" spiel of her speech. Sometimes he felt like, besides his ma, she was the only one that thought he could possibly be better than that.
And of course, there was the bit after all of that: the part where she'd sit and actually try to figure out the answer. He'd seen her like that so many times, not just when it was the two of them in the dark, but when it was the twelve of them in Glee, or the however many of them in class (he'd had a class with her freshman year, though it surprised him he remembered it). It was one of the things he couldn't help but admire about her—no matter how pissed or disgusted she was by the whole situation, she'd still work to figure things out. It didn't matter if it was Tina or Karofsky or Finn or Quinn; she was just a good person that wanted to help.
And now, as he sat there in bed, about ready for someone to come and collect his balls while his new vagina grew in for fantasizing about how awesome Rachel Berry was when she had clothes on, not to mention her personality in general, he realized he really wasn't over her. She was always going to be in the back of his head, that voice warring against the one that told him he was just another insignificant nothing in this world.
Aw shit once again rang through his head as he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Because no matter how he looked at it, drug or no drug, whether he deserved her or (more likely) not, he realized he was totally head-over-goddamn-heels in love with Rachel fucking Berry.