The reviews and readers I get for this story are mind-blowing. Seriously, you guys are a bunch cool cats. I'm so, so happy you all are liking this, and all your encouragement means the world to me! Now, forget my rambling - on to the story! :)
Athens, Greece
The truth is, Puck doesn't know shit about anything.
He stares up at the Parthenon and frowns, his eyebrows crinkling slowly together. He wishes he could care about the history of it all – the legends that force people to travels miles and miles to see this one structure and marvel at its existence.
He doesn't understand why the world couldn't just do that to people instead.
Puck strums his fingers lightly against his leg, the summer heat breathing in and out of his skin, and he barely hears their tour guide (whose name is Phil, apparently) ramble on and on about some goddess named Athena. And owls, he thinks he hears.
"...construction on this building began in 447 BCE and continued until 438 BCE..."
He stares deeper at the Parthenon, as if confronting it face to face, and he wonders if Athena is looking down at him right now, smirking at the mess he made.
"So," he mutters under his breath. "Where's that wisdom of yours?"
He half-expects a lightening bolt to strike him, and he's actually kinda hoping for it. But nothing happens and he scowls, because that's just another person who decides to spite him.
….
He watches her from a far.
He thinks, if he gets to close, he might break her.
Puck suddenly feels like a little kid again. The one that stood by the front window all day and all night, waiting for his dad to come home while his mother cried a river in her bedroom. He was so fucking needy back then, so fucking bright-eyed that he couldn't see the truth when it slammed right him in the face. His father left, and the moment Puck realized he wasn't coming back, his mom picked him up, brushed him off, and took him and his sister out for grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream. She told them how much she loved them, and how they don't need anyone stop them from being happy.
That was the day Puck grew a pair and stopped waiting by the window. But the wall he began to build around himself was so heavily guarded, his mother had to constantly coax him out to retain some hint of his humanity. So he would, on occasion, but it was only for her. It was always for her.
But now his mom is gone, and the wall becomes his skin.
He's not a child anymore. He's completely capable of taking care of himself.
But his mom is dead.
It suddenly hits him like a brick wall. He can wait and wait and wait by that fucking window for her to come back, but she's gone. He feels like shattered glass on the floor, people stepping around him like the broken mess he is, and every time Puck tries putting himself together, there's blood on his hands.
He flicks a cigarette to his lips because the wall is now starting to cave in, and he can't stop looking over at Quinn Fabray.
….
He calls up Sarah. The phone dials twice, and he hears a static fuzz before his sister practically screams in his ear. "Hey, world traveler!" she screeches, and he hears distant chatter in the background. "Oh my God, where are you right now?" she squeaks. "Wait. Is this call going to cost me a lot of money?"
"Shut the fuck up, Sarah," he hisses.
"Jeez, Puck. Calm the fuck down." He hears someone call for her in the distance, in which she replies "in a minute!" There's a bit more silence on the phone, and Puck reaches inside his pocket for another cigarette. "You didn't answer my question. Where are you?"
"Greece," he replies indifferently.
"Cool," he hears the excitement return to her voice. "What's it like there?"
There's a short pause. "Old."
"Well, aren't you Mister Fucking Sunshine," she snorts. "Have you been taking pictures?"
He pats the disposable camera in his jacket. "Sort of."
"Puck, you said you would!"
"Don't worry about it," he shrugs it off. "I still got a week left."
There's another pause the fills between them, and he takes the moment to light the cigarette; there's a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. "What happened?" Sarah asks, her voice impatient and slightly amused.
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me, Puck," she scolds. "I only have a five minute break. I'm taking the night shift, so I don't have much time."
"You're at the diner?" he questions. "I thought you were taking night classes."
"Gotta pay rent somehow," Sarah mutters, her tone a bit sour. There's a small beat before she continues. "Seriously Puck, what happened there? Did you get arrested or something? Knock someone up? Did you see mom's ghost?" Her voice is mocking now, and he cusses lightly. "Come on. I'm going to find out eventually if I'm going to have to bail you out. Are you calling from jail?"
He hates how easily entertained she gets. After a long drag, he cusses a bit more, and Sarah laughs sourly. "I met someone," he says finally.
The other end is silent.
For a long time, neither of them saying anything. Gradually, Sarah starts to cuss a bit too, and Puck leans his forehead against the wall. "Fuck," she mutters. "You're so fucked." He doesn't respond, because what is there to say? He breathes into the phone and watches the smoke colide with the speaker. "Well," Sarah begins again. "What's she like? It is a she, right?"
Puck knits his eyebrows. "She's..." He struggles for the right words, but Sarah already knows this; he's never been the most eloquent speaker. "She's lonely," he finally finishes. "But she makes things better for me, I think."
He can practically feel his sister smiling through the phone. "She sounds good for you."
"No," Puck says quickly. "I think she deserves better."
Sarah sighs. "When are you going to start to realize you're better than you think you are?"
"You don't get it."
"You're alive, Puck," she suddenly says very seriously. "And that's more than anyone can ask of you. Don't sell yourself short because this girl scares you. Maybe you scare her, too."
He exhales loudly and lets the tobacco burn his throat.
….
He's walking down the crowded streets of Athens alone, the cool air seeping into his skin. Greek flags hang from each market roof aligning the streets, and marmalade-light illuminates even the darkest of alleyways. He hears lively Greek music coming from just down another street, and as Puck approaches it, he sees a group of older men and women dancing around in a circle and holding hands.
He's read somewhere that Athens is one of the safest capitals in the world.
He couldn't feel more in danger.
Puck walks by a stall selling fish and silver jewelry when he decides to call it a night. He wanders down the block back to the hotel, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he kicks a few rocks under his feet.
It's when he makes it to the steps he sees Quinn staring directly at him.
She has her arms folded across her chest, hugging her sweater tightly around her body. The moonlight fills the space between them as he slowly moves in towards her, and he wonders what the Greek gods would think of them now. He wonders if they could fit in their tragedies.
He watches her blink up at him, her lips slightly parted and face crinkled. They stare at each other for a moment, and when Puck looks down at her, he realizes Sarah was right – maybe he deserves her.
"I think," Quinn begins very quietly. "I think I need you."
Maybe they deserve each other.
….
"Come here," he murmurs to her, and Quinn obeys almost instantly. She guides his hand down her abdomen and arches slightly as he presses against the damp heat between her thighs. He leans down and places two soft kisses on each side of her thigh, and when he slips his tongue in, a gasp is torn from her lips as she spreads her legs a little wider.
There's a new feeling between them.
Everything suddenly feels new.
Puck doesn't do gentle, but he has the sudden need to be extremely delicate. Like this is something so fragile that one wrong move can cause both of them to stumble.
So he takes it slow, stroking her gently before dragging his tongue up and down her slit. She's moaning softly, the sheets balled with her fists as he presses his tongue against her clit and feels it wither wildly. The noise she starts making makes his cock throb against her leg, and he circles his tongue more urgently. He slips a finger inside her and feels how aroused and swollen she is, and he drops his head on her inner thigh as he reaches down once more to taste her. She quakes under him as he rapidly flicks his tongue against her, and she's about to buck underneath him when he slides back on top of her.
Quinn curls her fingers on his shoulders, her face red and sweaty as she starts moaning his name repeatedly into his ear. "Fuck, Quinn..." he mutters and presses his lips onto hers. He rubs himself against her leg, and she reaches down to stroke him gently. Puck groans into her mouth as she circles the tip of him with her thumb, and he throws his head into the crook of her neck. "Fuck."
She's biting her lip, and after everything they've been through, he'll swear to his grave that she's some kind of angel.
And maybe the girl who is worth it requires all this effort.
"Make me feel good," she sort of pants, and when he positions himself, he enters slowly inch by inch. "Oh," Quinn breathes, her tone almost pleading. "Oh, my god." He continues to move in slowly, keeping a rhythm as she hooks one of her leg around him. He secures a hand on her hip and draws her in closer, stroking her thigh as she leans forward to capture a kiss.
Soon enough, she begins thrusting herself up to meet him, and he becomes so engulfed with such a state of possession, he frantically kisses her as much as she can. She moans into his mouth as he pumps a bit more urgently, and her breath becomes shorter as he starts whispering things he never thought he would say out loud. "You're beautiful," he admits. "You're fucking beautiful."
"Oh, god, Puck," Quinn suddenly gasps and throws her head back as she comes, and he follows soon after and lets the pleasure consume him as he collapses on top of her. She quickly wraps her arms around him when he rolls off, and he drags her into a soft, sweaty embrace.
Puck makes a promise to himself that he's not going to let go of her easily this time.
….
He wakes up the next morning and slips outside to get some breakfast.
When Puck returns back to the hotel room with two gyros in hand, he hears the shower turn on. He smirks slightly to himself and places their food on a table before sneaking himself into the bathroom.
When he opens the door of the shower, he finds Quinn fully clothed, balled in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees. She's shaking, sobbing uncontrollably, and Puck jumps in after her, the hot water pounding against his skin like bullets. He crouches towards her and wraps his arms around her figure, and he feels her shiver miserably against his chest.
"Shh..." he coos uncomfortably, and he hears her cry louder. "Quinn, it's okay. Shhh, stop, I'm here."
"Oh, God," she croaks, trembling erratically.
"Quinn," Puck whispers gently. "It's okay."
"Don't leave me, okay?" her voice shakes into him. "Please don't leave me."
He furrows his brows and pulls her in tighter, because now he knows he probably never will.
Please review. Next chapter will be the last chapter of this story. :(