Doodles
Title: Doodles
Character(s)/Pairing: Quinn, Puck, Puck/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,200
Status: Complete
Notes/Warnings: Inspired by the doodles behind Quinn on her month in the 2013 Glee calendar. No warnings unless you think me posting two non-angst Quick fics in a row is a reason to be worried. Because it might be.
Summary: Quinn Fabray was a good student. That didn't mean that she didn't doodle in the margins like a lovesick schoolgirl when class got boring. Give her a break. Puck's mohawk was probably the only thing she could draw well.
One thing about Quinn was that she had always been a good student. Perfect notes written in the elegant script she’d developed over the years. Different pen colors thanks to the 90’s-inspired multi-colored pens she refused to give up. Highlighting. She had her notes down to a science so that, come test time, she was ready. It was how she’d done so well through high school and into Yale.
Regardless, she was still human and her mind would wander. She’d get bored and even good students could and would end up doodling in the margins. Those drawings were the only blemish to her otherwise perfect notes.
It wasn’t that she was a good artist. Honestly, she could barely manage the dressed-up stick figures she scrawled. There was a reason she had never taken an art class. Or loaned her notes out. The doodles were personal. They were for her eyes only.
She looked up as her professor asked a question and looked down to scan through her notes for the answer. Had she missed that part?
Someone else got to it first and she returned to watching the projector, jotting the information down as fast as she could before he changed slides again. God, he moved too fast sometimes. She’d just barely gotten it down before he moved into answering someone’s question and she took the time to look at her phone.
Have you left yet?
She clicked send and picked up her pen again, returning to her little doodle at the top of the page so she could finish coloring in the heart. It was silly, like some giggling little schoolgirl, but she didn’t care. Hearts and arrows and two badly drawn people. She drew in her own rendition of the braids she’d worn today and as she moved over to scribble in Puck’s mohawk, she smiled.
All these years and her depictions of them hadn’t gotten any better. A triangle dress with some messy design for her. Puck’s lack of a neck between his t-shirt and head. Their hands didn’t even have fingers, replaced instead by some circle where their hands were supposed to be clasped and halted lines on the other arms.
She didn’t get to finish the balloon Puck was holding before her teacher ended the class and told them to have a good weekend. She’d finish it Monday, she thought as she gathered her books. Or maybe she’d start a new one.
Leving my hose now.
She frowned as she read it, knowing that Puck’s texting wasn’t usually this bad. In the past, it had been so much worse, but he’d stopped once she told him she wouldn’t text a second grader. She called him instead of typing out another response and slipped out of the building.
“Hey.”
“You weren’t driving when you sent that, were you?” she asked, still a little paranoid after her own accident and maybe it was something she’d never fully let go of. Puck had been good about it since she got hurt, but he’d still jot out the short message on occasion. He knew she hated it. Promised he’d try and stop. He just forgot sometimes, he’d tell her. Habit.
“Nah. Left hand. My other one was full,” Puck replied. “My ma’s dropping me off at the airport. Couldn’t get my bike to start this morning.”
“You need to get rid of that thing.”
“It got me to and from LA.”
“And how many times did you break down?”
“How were your classes?”
Quinn rolled her eyes and waved to a friend as she rushed for the bus. “Nice subject change, Puckerman. And I only have one class Fridays, remember?”
“Right. New semester.”
“You’re learning.” She mouthed a thank you when someone moved their bag to let her sit, keeping her voice low as a courtesy to everyone else. “I’m heading back to my apartment now. What time are you getting in? I’ll pick you up.”
“Probably not until ten,” Puck sighed, annoyed. “They fucked up my ticket. There was supposed to be a flight leaving Lima right off, but they booked me wrong. I gotta do a flight to Detroit and catch another one to you, but I’ve still got a layover in Philly. Sorry.”
Quinn frowned for a moment, almost bordering on a pout. Ten? It was barely noon. Rory was going to be leaving for the weekend to visit her boyfriend and Puck’s flight was supposed to have him in by five so they could go to dinner. “It’s not your fault.” The suggestion that he stay was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back for the thousandth time, just like she had been for a while. No. They were barely even dating again. She wasn’t rushing it and defining herself with another guy. Her and Puck… They were going to do things right this time. Take it slow. Let them both find themselves and see how that worked together. Mature.
“You still wanna go to that carnival tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. It’s only here until Sunday and the rain finally stopped.”
“There too? It’s been pouring here.”
They fell into an easy conversation after that, joking and planning out the weekend as she rode back towards her apartment. And Puck only tried to start phone sex once. She was pretty sure he was kidding. Hoped he was kidding. He was in the car with his mother.
She waved to Rory as she got inside and wished her a fun time out in Venice Beach. “Tell Jess I said hi,” she said before she turned back to her phone. “How long do you have to wait?”
“Less than an hour. I’ve gotta wait longer for the flight to you. Remind me why I sold my truck?”
“Because you thought a bike is cooler?”
“Right.”
“Bad idea?”
“It’s gonna take me just as long to fly there as driving would have taken, so yeah.”
Quinn shook her head and dropped down onto her bed, her pillow shoved under her chest. “Gonna listen to me next time?”
“Do I ever?”
“It’s fifty/fifty.”
“So maybe,” Puck said, chuckling. “Alright, my ma’s giving me the stink eye. I think she wants to actually talk before I leave. I’ll call you when I get to Detroit.”
“Hi, Mrs. Puckerman,” Quinn called.
“She says hi and can you keep me there? She- Ma, you’re not turning my damn room into a workout room. You don’t even work out!”
“Bye, Puck.”
“Later, babe.” Puck sighed. “No, Ma, I’m not gonna live with Jake-”
The phone disconnected with a click and Quinn shook her head at the affectionately amusing dysfunction of the Puckerman family. With her and Puck’s call over, though, she was left with nothing to do. She’d gone food shopping yesterday. The apartment was clean. She’d shower in a bit. But what about the time in between?
She looked around, chewing on the inside of her cheek until her eyes fell on her iPod dock and her closet. Music and picking out an outfit. And lunch, she thought as her stomach grumbled with a reminder that she’d forgotten to eat breakfast that morning. She needed lunch.
The End
Character(s)/Pairing: Quinn, Puck, Puck/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,200
Status: Complete
Notes/Warnings: Inspired by the doodles behind Quinn on her month in the 2013 Glee calendar. No warnings unless you think me posting two non-angst Quick fics in a row is a reason to be worried. Because it might be.
Summary: Quinn Fabray was a good student. That didn't mean that she didn't doodle in the margins like a lovesick schoolgirl when class got boring. Give her a break. Puck's mohawk was probably the only thing she could draw well.
One thing about Quinn was that she had always been a good student. Perfect notes written in the elegant script she’d developed over the years. Different pen colors thanks to the 90’s-inspired multi-colored pens she refused to give up. Highlighting. She had her notes down to a science so that, come test time, she was ready. It was how she’d done so well through high school and into Yale.
Regardless, she was still human and her mind would wander. She’d get bored and even good students could and would end up doodling in the margins. Those drawings were the only blemish to her otherwise perfect notes.
It wasn’t that she was a good artist. Honestly, she could barely manage the dressed-up stick figures she scrawled. There was a reason she had never taken an art class. Or loaned her notes out. The doodles were personal. They were for her eyes only.
She looked up as her professor asked a question and looked down to scan through her notes for the answer. Had she missed that part?
Someone else got to it first and she returned to watching the projector, jotting the information down as fast as she could before he changed slides again. God, he moved too fast sometimes. She’d just barely gotten it down before he moved into answering someone’s question and she took the time to look at her phone.
Have you left yet?
She clicked send and picked up her pen again, returning to her little doodle at the top of the page so she could finish coloring in the heart. It was silly, like some giggling little schoolgirl, but she didn’t care. Hearts and arrows and two badly drawn people. She drew in her own rendition of the braids she’d worn today and as she moved over to scribble in Puck’s mohawk, she smiled.
All these years and her depictions of them hadn’t gotten any better. A triangle dress with some messy design for her. Puck’s lack of a neck between his t-shirt and head. Their hands didn’t even have fingers, replaced instead by some circle where their hands were supposed to be clasped and halted lines on the other arms.
She didn’t get to finish the balloon Puck was holding before her teacher ended the class and told them to have a good weekend. She’d finish it Monday, she thought as she gathered her books. Or maybe she’d start a new one.
Leving my hose now.
She frowned as she read it, knowing that Puck’s texting wasn’t usually this bad. In the past, it had been so much worse, but he’d stopped once she told him she wouldn’t text a second grader. She called him instead of typing out another response and slipped out of the building.
“Hey.”
“You weren’t driving when you sent that, were you?” she asked, still a little paranoid after her own accident and maybe it was something she’d never fully let go of. Puck had been good about it since she got hurt, but he’d still jot out the short message on occasion. He knew she hated it. Promised he’d try and stop. He just forgot sometimes, he’d tell her. Habit.
“Nah. Left hand. My other one was full,” Puck replied. “My ma’s dropping me off at the airport. Couldn’t get my bike to start this morning.”
“You need to get rid of that thing.”
“It got me to and from LA.”
“And how many times did you break down?”
“How were your classes?”
Quinn rolled her eyes and waved to a friend as she rushed for the bus. “Nice subject change, Puckerman. And I only have one class Fridays, remember?”
“Right. New semester.”
“You’re learning.” She mouthed a thank you when someone moved their bag to let her sit, keeping her voice low as a courtesy to everyone else. “I’m heading back to my apartment now. What time are you getting in? I’ll pick you up.”
“Probably not until ten,” Puck sighed, annoyed. “They fucked up my ticket. There was supposed to be a flight leaving Lima right off, but they booked me wrong. I gotta do a flight to Detroit and catch another one to you, but I’ve still got a layover in Philly. Sorry.”
Quinn frowned for a moment, almost bordering on a pout. Ten? It was barely noon. Rory was going to be leaving for the weekend to visit her boyfriend and Puck’s flight was supposed to have him in by five so they could go to dinner. “It’s not your fault.” The suggestion that he stay was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back for the thousandth time, just like she had been for a while. No. They were barely even dating again. She wasn’t rushing it and defining herself with another guy. Her and Puck… They were going to do things right this time. Take it slow. Let them both find themselves and see how that worked together. Mature.
“You still wanna go to that carnival tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. It’s only here until Sunday and the rain finally stopped.”
“There too? It’s been pouring here.”
They fell into an easy conversation after that, joking and planning out the weekend as she rode back towards her apartment. And Puck only tried to start phone sex once. She was pretty sure he was kidding. Hoped he was kidding. He was in the car with his mother.
She waved to Rory as she got inside and wished her a fun time out in Venice Beach. “Tell Jess I said hi,” she said before she turned back to her phone. “How long do you have to wait?”
“Less than an hour. I’ve gotta wait longer for the flight to you. Remind me why I sold my truck?”
“Because you thought a bike is cooler?”
“Right.”
“Bad idea?”
“It’s gonna take me just as long to fly there as driving would have taken, so yeah.”
Quinn shook her head and dropped down onto her bed, her pillow shoved under her chest. “Gonna listen to me next time?”
“Do I ever?”
“It’s fifty/fifty.”
“So maybe,” Puck said, chuckling. “Alright, my ma’s giving me the stink eye. I think she wants to actually talk before I leave. I’ll call you when I get to Detroit.”
“Hi, Mrs. Puckerman,” Quinn called.
“She says hi and can you keep me there? She- Ma, you’re not turning my damn room into a workout room. You don’t even work out!”
“Bye, Puck.”
“Later, babe.” Puck sighed. “No, Ma, I’m not gonna live with Jake-”
The phone disconnected with a click and Quinn shook her head at the affectionately amusing dysfunction of the Puckerman family. With her and Puck’s call over, though, she was left with nothing to do. She’d gone food shopping yesterday. The apartment was clean. She’d shower in a bit. But what about the time in between?
She looked around, chewing on the inside of her cheek until her eyes fell on her iPod dock and her closet. Music and picking out an outfit. And lunch, she thought as her stomach grumbled with a reminder that she’d forgotten to eat breakfast that morning. She needed lunch.
The End