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Rome, Italy

The both of them stand right on the outskirts, staring up at the Roman Coliseum with wide, bright eyes. She extracts the disposable from his pocket and snaps a picture, and he tinkers with the unlit cigarette in his lips. They watch as a good majority of the group decides to fall in line to enter the arena, but they fall back instead and let the building tower over them.

"It makes you feel so small, doesn't it?" she whispers, and he lights the cigarette and lets out a drag. "You just forget how small you really are until something bigger than you comes along."

Puck wonders if that's true. He wonders, for only a brief moment, what it would be like to physically fight for your life in the middle of an arena as a whole crowd of people stare down at you, hoping you'll stumble and fail.

He thinks it would feel a bit familiar.

His mom wouldn't be proud of him, he knows that much. Puck thinks about his promise to her, how he swore to her when she died he was going to go be somebody. He thinks about why it's so hard for him to do something right.

And all he can do is stand outside the Coliseum, and it's so fucked up that something like fear starts to wrap his entire body.

Quinn glances over at him, and the look in her eyes makes him clench slightly. She's staring at him – right fucking through him – like he can't hide anything. Their gaze doesn't break when she moves to face him, and god damn, he just feels so exposed.

Suddenly, she curls her arms around his neck and pulls him into a gentle embrace. "It's okay," she tells him in his ear. "A lot of us forget to breathe sometimes, too." He wants to push her off him, but instead, Puck pulls her in tighter and doesn't let go until he finds his lungs again.

….

"I mean, I get there's history behind it and whatever but it's like looking at a construction site - "

She presses her lips very softly again his, and he's momentarily stunned that he sucks his words back in. The kiss is brief - chaste even. It's like being stuck in a traffic jam, stop, go, stop, go, little bites and pecks that aren't long enough to let him grab her by the back of her head and pry her tongue into his mouth. But she pulls back soon after and walks away to join the rest of the group.

And Puck can't help it - he follows.

...

He places a dollop of gelato right on her nipple and leans in to suck it clean. She arches her back and smiles deliciously, his concentration making her giggle.

Puck tilts her hips closer to him as kneels at the edge of the table, placing his head between her legs. He drops a scoop right at the top of her slit, letting it trail down as he run his tongue to lick it off. He does this again and again as she clutches the edge of the table until her knuckles turn white.

He darts his tongue inside her and sucks on her clit until she comes so hard, he feels her thighs tremor against him.

Suddenly, Quinn pushes him off of her, a steady hand on his chest as she forces him to fall against the bed. She's got a coy smile, and he lays down willingly as she places herself right on top of him. She drips the gelato all over his chest and spells out something – his name. She bends over and licks off each letter, slowly and thoroughly with her tongue, and he loses it when she slips her hand down his boxers.

Her fingers are warm and he arches into her palm as she gingerly pulls him out. She slips a hand under the head of his cock and gives it a few strokes before taking him in her mouth and swallowing him.

They collapse on the bed and lie there for a bit, both sticky and sweaty as the afternoon sun still beams through their curtains. Then she whispers something, and he's not sure if he was supposed to hear it, but he does anyways.

"This isn't supposed to happen."

….

Quinn pulls her sunglasses over her face and laughs that same fairy laugh at him. She closes her eyes tight and presses her palms together, slightly bouncing in her shoes and mumbling something to herself.

When she finally opens them, she takes the penny out of her hand with two fingers and tosses it eagerly into the Trevi Fountain. She leans over and watches it sink to the bottom, and Puck pulls out the camera and snaps a picture of her.

She whips her head towards him and smiles wider, a soft glow outlining her frame.

"What'd you wish for?" he calls to her and grins sparsely.

Puck pretends he doesn't understand her when she says, "A way out."

But the thing is, he knows exactly what she's talking about.

….

They sit across from each other; he slumps in his seat, and she crosses her legs daintily.

"I used to have a mohawk," he replies.

She turns pink and giggles loudly. "No, you did not!"

He nods and can't stifle his smile. "I made that shit look good."

She thinks for a second and takes a bite of her penne pasta. "I was the captain of the cheerleading team."

He rubs his chin somewhat and smirks. "I was the running back during high school."

"I was president of the Celibacy Club."

"No shit," he says, an eyebrow shooting in the air. There's a flash of a amusement that passes between them. "How did that work out for you?"

Her face suddenly scrunches, and there's a hint of seriousness in her eyes. "I didn't like who I was."

"Do any of us?"

She tilts her head towards one of the white statues looming over them and closes her eyes. "Yeah," she agrees with him. "I think life, no matter what, will always be painful. But I think... whenever we laugh in the face of it, whenever we smile, that's when we win. And then you collect all your litte victories and build yourself over again until you're finally someone you want to be."

….

There's a small music shop near the piazza, and he picks up one of the guitars and strums it lightly.

They take it outside for a bit and sit on the curb, and he tinkers and tunes it as Quinn watches on curiously. She's gazing so intently at the careful work of his fingers that he has to smile, and when they lock eyes, she beams at him like a rising sun.

The rest of the world begins to fade away as he starts playing "All My Loving", and she sings along.

That's when he realizes she's so much more fucking fragile than he thought.

….

Quinn presses herself closer next to him, her mouth lightly nuzzling his neck. She peels his hand away from his side and places it between her legs, and he arches an eyebrow at her lack of panties. They're sitting on the bench of their balcony, looking down at the people weaving in and out of the city lights. She runs a finger up his thigh, sends butterfly kisses down his jaw line, and straddles her legs on either side of him.

He reacts automatically and lets her hand pull down his zipper. There's laughter, honking, and mindless chatter dozens of feet below them, but he fists a hand into her hair as he hauls her tighter onto his lap. Puck presses in closer, just a bit, letting her feel how hard he is as she smiles against his cheek.

And something about the way she's bruising kisses onto his neck that he just has to ask it: "What happened to you, Quinn?"

He feels her flinch against his skin before capturing his lips and stroking her tongue over his. A curtain of butter waves fall over her face, and his spine stiffens as he disregards the question and bunches her skirt over her hips. She pushes his jeans down far enough, and he takes her right then and there – the sweat on their skin mixing with the cool air of the night.

Quinn sinks down into him and throws her head back, her fingers curled around his neck as she repeats her actions quickly and deliberately. He hangs onto her by her hips, his nails digging into to her skin as she arches further back. Her eyes squeeze shut as she lowers herself faster, biting her lip as her face turns pink. He kisses her shoulder and lets his head hang there for a second, and when she orgasms, she tries to bite it back to not call attention to all of Rome that they just fucked right in front of them.

She rolls off a second later and sits next to him, still panting heavily as he zips his jeans back up.

Suddenly, she stands up, her rose dress swaying right above her knees.

Puck wants to reach out for her, to pull her back down next to him, but when the fuck did he become that guy?

And when she finally looks down at him, he watches as something snaps inside of her. He watches as something falls apart.

He sees tears border her eyes, and he imagines the sting she feels from the bitter air. Quinn takes a deep breath and glances out into the city, as if she just saw it all for the first time. She moves forward, just a bit, and presses a sweaty hand against the dirty railing.

"Do you think I can fly?"

He stands up from the bench and grabs her wrist, pulling her into him as he slams his lips against hers. Puck stifles her moans as she tries to wrangle away, and it's when she gives in that he disengages and looms over her ear. "Don't be fucked up," he tells her. It's when he presses his lips onto hers again that he tastes the salt from her tears.

….

He finds her sitting on the Spanish Steps the next morning, a cigarette in her mouth as she tries to light it.

When he goes over to sit next to her, Quinn doesn't acknowledge him. She lets the flame struggle against the wind before killing it, and she leans forward and takes a long drag.

The smell of her – jasmine and citrus – tangles with the smoke, and it's an aroma so familiar he feels himself cringe.

They watch as a small group of gypsy children scatter by, and Puck swears he sees one pickpocket the young couple right next to them. Soon after, an elderly man, a bit drunk and disorientated, stumbles in front of them, mumbles something, and gives them a Sign of the Cross. Quinn exhales another puff of smoke as the man trips over to the other person across from them and does the same thing.

"What's the one thing that scares you the most?" Quinn says, her eyes still fixated in front of them.

He leans back and extends his arms over the step above them. "Dying without dignity," he admits freely.

She shakes her head like she doesn't like the answer. "You don't die with dignity. You live with dignity."

"And what scares you?"

"Life." He doesn't glance at her. "That's how you know you're alive, though. When you're afraid of something so much, you're terrified out of your mind you might lose it."

Puck throws her a wry look, his eyebrows knotting together. "What happened to you, Quinn?" he repeats, slower this time. She glances overs her shoulder and stares at him, and after a long moment, she takes a drag and blows the smoke in his face.

In an instant, she is up on her feet, and Quinn gives him one final look before frowning. "You're not good enough for me," she says, and he watches her walk down the stairs with blank eyes.

She takes him to the edge and leaves him dangling there.

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