Buffy/Glee
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#10 Buffy/Puck – He's always had a thing for hot, blonde cheerleaders – 685 words
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Beth's first birthday falls on a Thursday and the whole week leading up to it, everyone mopes and if Puck has to look at Finn's and Quinn's blotchy fucking faces for one more second, he'll scream. So he drives his ass to the airport and gets on the first plane out of there. He'll be back on Monday. He's not running away. He just needs to… whatever.
He lands in LA and more or less simply starts walking. He's got a couple hundred bucks left from raiding his account and there's no-one here to remind him of the kid he only got to hold once or the girl who gave birth to her.
Somehow, he lands in a mall. It's kinda funny. He crosses the whole country to get away and then goes to the one place that's the same, no matter where you go. He could've had that way cheaper. But, whatthefuckever.
Food court. Double of everything and he's slurping his milkshake when a gaggle of cheerleaders invades the place, all in uniform, all long legs and tight little butts in tiny skirts. Plastic smiles and shiny hair. He tells himself to go and hit that, but he can't quite work up the energy, remembering full well what happened the last time he got groiny with a cheerio. Which doesn't mean that he's reformed or anything it's just that… this is a bad time of year, okay? He's still the stud, the Puckerone, the goddamn cock of the walk, as Berry says, only without the swearing. But hitting up on cheerleaders is… boring. That's it. Boring. He's been there before and believe you him, he's done it, too. Them. Anyway.
He watches them from across the court, amusing himself with assigning positions in a surprisingly nonsexual way. That one's the alpha bitch, but not for long. Throne's still shaky. That one's the rival. And there's the omega chick-y, kind of shy and probably actually nice. He feels like one of those guys on Discovery Channel, all cool and suave (thanks Berry), when a latecomer shows up.
She's tiny. Like, as small as Berry, and blonde. There's a nasty bruise hidden under her make-up and he notices the others stare at it. Her smile's bright as she waves hello and abruptly, the others fall silent. The shy girl smiles at her, the alpha bitch almost growls. The blonde snaps at her, the girl snaps back and then the collective bitch-pride gets up and walks away, leaving the blonde standing alone at the table, looking half angry, half sad. She touches her bruised cheek and looks after her teammates, tears standing in her eyes.
Fallen Queen. He's seen it before, how the most adored girl went to leper in less than a week. He felt bad then, because it was his fault, kinda, or at least his spawn growing in her belly. He had reason to feel bad. This time he has no reason at all to feel for the tiny blonde chick with the bruise.
But you see, almost two years ago he joined this club of losers and they taught him that most people are actually, you know, people, under all the bullshit and this chick looks like Quinn did, back in the day. Hurting and trying to hide it.
And suddenly he feels like hitting on a cheerleader after all. But not any cheerleader. This one. Because it's like, they kinda seem to be in the same place here, yeah?
And, he thinks as he gets up and puts on the swagger, they can help each other out. He can be the untouchable jock and she can be the adored cheerleader. Just for a roll in the hay, maybe two.
And then they can go home and… ah, screw this. No thinking. He came here to LA so he doesn't have to think. He's gonna go over there now and he's gonna tap that for no other reason than that she's blonde and a cheerleader and he's never been able to resist that combination.
That's it. So shut the fuck up about it.
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