Glee Fic: We Know By Now To Say Enough (13/?)
Title: We Know By Now To Say Enough (13/?)
Rating: T/PG-13
Disclaimer: The title/lyrics used are from the song “The Secret’s In The Telling” by Dashboard Confessional.
Summary: Missing moments between Puck and Quinn during season two.
A/N: One of these days I really want to write the entire party with more in depth scenes...
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden.
Puck thinks it's about fucking time that Glee Club really bonds and gets shwasted together. How this hasn't happened sooner, with Puck in the club, no less, is a mystery to him, but that's going to change this weekend.
From Noah Puckerman:
Party's a-go - plan on getting shit-faced.
From Quinn:
I'm not going.
From Noah Puckerman:
Excuse me? Yeah you are.
From Quinn:
I don't want to be near Sam and Santana.
From Noah Puckerman:
You won't be, because you're going to be too busy drinking and kicking ass at beer pong with me.
From Quinn:
I just don't want to go.
From Noah Puckerman:
Okay, you've left me no choice: please come.
From Quinn:
Oh wow, you REALLY must want me to go. I'm rolling my eyes right now, in case you can't tell.
From Noah Puckerman:
It's morale boosting for the club.
From Quinn:
Don't try that crap with me. You just want to hook up with Zizes and you think alcohol will help.
From Noah Puckerman:
Maybe. But come on - we make an AWESOME team and you know it. You're my other half on the table.
From Noah Puckerman:
…That somehow sounded REALLY dirty. But you know what I mean.
From Noah Puckerman:
COME.
From Noah Puckerman:
COME.
From Noah Puckerman:
COOOOOMMMMEEEEE.
From Noah Puckerman:
Heh, dirty.
From Noah Puckerman:
JUST COME TO THE PARTY.
From Quinn:
STOP IT!!! FINE. You owe me.
From Noah Puckerman:
YES! Three bags of Sour Patch Kids and two free CDs/mixes will suffice?
From Quinn:
Add one Favor and you've got yourself a deal.
From Noah Puckerman:
Oh come on - it does NOT warrant and a Favor.
From Quinn:
I believe you asked me for a Favor more than enough times for me to demand one from you.
From Noah Puckerman:
FINE. I'll text you the deets later.
~**~
"Hey girlfriend, having fun?"
This party sucks and it hasn't even started yet.
Quinn has chatted with Mercedes for a little bit, but quickly ran out of things to talk about. And then she had an even more awkward conversation with Lauren, who keeps eyeing her funnily. Oh, and Sam and Santana are playing tonsil hockey four feet away from her.
"Yeah…awesome party."
She either needs to get drunk, or she needs to get the hell out of here.
Thankfully, Puck saves the day by convincing Rachel to break into her dads' liquor cabinet.
"Let's party!" Rachel shrills.
Yes, thank you God, yes.
~**~
Brittany's iPod is plugged into Rachel's impressive stereo system and "Getting' Over You" starts blasting. Rachel complains for a second about the noise before Puck reminds her that this is the freaking basement; calm the hell down.
Puck's the bartender as he pours shots for everyone with the limited number of glasses they have (the rest using red cups). He doesn't ask her tequila or vodka since he knows her too well (it's always tequila).
She looks around the group; the only people not holding any sort of drink are Finn (who has a disgruntled look on his face - definitely the designated driver for tonight) and Kurt (she does vaguely remember hearing that he vomited on Miss Pillsbury's shoes once - was he drunk then?).
"Cheers!" they all exclaim.
Puck nods to Quinn before throwing back his shot.
Exhaling, she takes hers easily enough, enjoying the burn in the back of her throat.
~**~
"Glad you came?" Puck asks, yelling over this stupid song that keeps repeating "Barbra Streisand" over and over.
"Yeah, I guess," she responds lucidly, cradling a screwdriver, feeling decidedly more pleasant. "What the hell is with this song?" she demands, "It's stupid."
"It's kinda awesome!"
She rolls his eyes.
The song thankfully changes and it's a rap song, pleasing her immensely. She mouths the words for a few moments before she hears:
"You actually like this?"
Quinn stares at Lauren with unmasked contempt.
"We both do," Puck points out, "Although I haven't given you this one?" he directs to Quinn.
"I don'like it enough to have it on my iPod."
There's a loud cheer coming from the center of the room as Mike and Brittany start dancing to the chorus, impressing everyone in the room with their moves. Mercedes and Tina start giggling at them for some reason or another and Finn is probably lamenting to Kurt about how much he sucks at dancing, causing Kurt to pat Finn on the back in sympathy.
"I need to get drunker," Quinn states.
Lauren grins, removing her glasses and placing them onto her face. "These should help."
~**~
Quinn's balance is totally off kilter thanks to Lauren's glasses and on her way to the bathroom, she almost trips and half-lands on the chair covered with coats and scarves.
One scarf in particular is really soft.
She stumbles to her feet and inspects the very, very red scarf in awe. It's so nice and pretty and who owns this?
"Uh, Quinn? Why are you staring at Blaine's scarf like it's pure gold?"
Quinn whips her head to find Kurt staring at her with a raised brow, Blaine standing next to him as he bobs his head to "The Hangover song," as all the guys screamed when it came on.
"It's so nice," she gushes, grinning broadly.
"Thank you! It is, right? It was love at first touch," Blaine sighs, now paying attention to the conversation. "Hey! We haven’t met - I’m Blaine Anderson!” he continues with a big smile on his face, his free hand held out for her. He’s on his way to getting tipsy like she is and he’s probably been the nicest out of everyone here, so she shakes his hand with a smile.
“Quinn,” she answers. “I liked you singing ‘Hey, Soul Sister.’ I hate that song, but you made it okay.”
He beams. He has straight teeth and they take up a lot of his face. “Thank you so much. And you were awesome with Dirty Dancing.”
“Thanks!"
His overly happy demeanor
"Do y'wanna to wear my scarf? It's so, so worth it," he stage whispers, as if the suggestion is so taboo.
"Yes."
"Oh boy," Kurt sighs, but is ignored as Blaine and Quinn try to wrap the scarf around her head, laughing and giggling.
When they're done, they clank their cups together and finish their drinks in celebration on a job well done.
~**~
"Puckerman - be honest: you and Quinn still…?"
Puck almost chokes on his drink before staring at Lauren's sober, curious expression. How is this girl not even tipsy yet? He's pretty sure they've been drinking at the same rate…
He searches the party unconsciously and spots Quinn in the middle of a flip coin game, obviously unable to hear this discussion.
"No," he answers, clearing his throat, "We're just friends." Can they not have such a serious conversation at a party? Where he's pretty sure he's drunk?
"Friends that don't even speak at school."
"It's complicated, 'kay? You're my favorite," he says dismissively, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but she grabs his arm and brings it back to his side.
"Oh no, you're not gettin' any of this tonight, Boozy," she tells him.
"Damn it," he moans.
"Like a G6" comes on and Rachel turns the stereo volume up even more, causing the bass to thump in his core. Then the lights dim and the disco ball lights up and what the hell? But he doesn't care because it's better this way, sort of.
"Hey!" Quinn greets him and Lauren, looking off balance. She half-crashes into Puck and just laughs.
"I want these," Puck announces, slipping Lauren's glasses off Quinn's face to wear them. "Damn, girl, you're blind," he tells Lauren.
Lauren shrugs, sipping her drink through her straw.
"I'm gonna chug it!" they hear Rachel scream from the stage.
Puck, Lauren, Quinn, and a few others join around, chanting "chug, chug, chug!" over and over until Rachel almost finish the wine cooler.
"It tastes like pink! It tastes like pink!"
"Yeah, Jews, represent!" Puck yells over the cheering.
Quinn discards Blaine's scarf onto the floor as she allows the beats to dictate her moves, Puck moving between Lauren and Quinn as a strange and maybe necessary sort of buffer.
She's so glad she came to this shitfest of a party.
~**~
"Kurt! Dude! We miss ya so, so much," Puck bemoans, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "And whoa, like, your shoulders…they're manly."
"Well, I am a guy," Kurt points out, way too sober for Puck, "But thanks?"
"Yeah you are!" Blaine cheers, his helmet hair now a fluffy mass of curls; no wonder the guy tries to tame them. Oh no, now he's going to have that obnoxious song stuck in his head…
A new song starts and Puck digs it, but Blaine and Kurt grin knowingly at each other.
"What is this song?" Puck asks, moving his shoulders to the beat.
"It's a remix of an Italian swing song. The original song is famous for being in The Talented Mr. Ripley," Kurt explains, moving his arms and hands in flowing motions.
"Jude Law!" Blaine adds unnecessarily with great enthusiasm.
"Motherfuckin' Jude Law," Puck says back, nodding in understanding.
Then Blaine shocks Puck and Kurt when he opens his mouth and starts singing, "Comme te po' capì chi te vò bene, si tu le parle 'mmiezzo americano?" in a flawless accent.
If Puck weren't straight, the thinks he'd find this kind of hot. He glances at Kurt to see him staring at Blaine with such shock and longing that he kind of feels bad for the guy; he's so in love with him.
But then once Blaine finishes with, "pa, pa l'americano," he breaks into an awful dance move that causes him to lose any sort of sexual appeal. Puck laughs hysterically and Kurt tisks, a smile tugging on his mouth with fondness.
"How do you know?" Puck asks Blaine.
"Wha?"
"The words. You're like…I dunno, but it was so cool."
"Blaine takes Italian, but the song is Neapolitan so I don't know how he knows the words, let alone knows them drunk," Kurt explains, but Puck kind of tunes him out because he's too wordy.
He wants to find Quinn. And maybe Lauren. Drunk people are good.
"Bye dudes," Puck says, waving an arm in farewell.
"Ciao!" Blaine says, still dancing.
He's a weird kid, but he somehow fits in pretty damn well.
~**~
"I can't believe what you did to my body - I used to have abs!"
Okay, Quinn is really drunk if she's angry for no apparent reason.
"Hey, back off!" he retorts.
"Who told you that hairstyle was cool, Geronimo?" Lauren yells at Quinn, also angry for no apparent reason. Of course he goes for girls who are the same when drunk.
"Chill out!" he tells Lauren, handing her back her glasses, "I'll back. Be back."
He weaves his way through Santana and Sam hooking up again and around everyone dancing and collapsing on top of each other, laughing for some reason.
He finds Quinn sitting on a bench, looking down at her half-empty drink. She doesn't look up when he collapses next to her. "I never said sorry about that," he says, taking her drink because he's done with his.
"Whatever," she spits, taking the drink back and finishing it.
"Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?" Rachel screams.
He takes her hand and pulls her up. "Let's do this shit."
"Get me another drink, first."
~**~
Quinn is sitting somewhat apart from the circle, but she doesn't really care because she's feeling a bit dizzy. Now she's rather glad that Puck forced her to sit down and refused to get her another drink.
How he can have rare more of sobriety is just weird.
The make outs are rather generic: Tina and Mike, Artie and Mercedes (which really ended up being a peck before they hastened to wash their mouths out with vodka), and what would've been Puck and Lauren, except Lauren slapped a hand on Puck's mouth before he could get near her.
Of course she has to see Sam make out with yet another girl tonight because the universe is conspiring against her.
Thankfully, it all ends when Rachel drags Blaine onto the stage and sings that awful 80s song.
Everyone's paired up and it really, really hurts (fuck alcohol easing pain - it amplifies it), but Kurt's sitting alone, so she'll join him.
"Hey, Kurt," she drawls, standing by him.
"Hi Quinn," he answers tersely, staring at the stage where Blaine and Rachel have started on another song.
She follows his gaze and pats his shoulder. "She latches on to everyone's boyfriends," she sighs sadly.
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Yet, anyway."
Kurt's about to counter her remark, but then Rachel pushes Blaine off the stage and Artie seems to have stopped hooking up with Brittany long enough to yell, "Let's get this shit on!"
Somehow knowing what he meant, Mercedes turns Brittany's iPod back on, the loud music a welcome shock to her system.
"You're so drunk," Kurt mutters under his breath.
"And you need to lighten up," she retorts, pushing a finger into his arm.
Everyone just needs to lighten up.
~**~
At some point while Mike and Tina are making out for the fiftieth time, Mercedes and Quinn are sharing the couch, passing a Coke and rum between them.
"Why don't we talk anymore?" Quinn bemoans, taking a sip. She would normally never touch this, but since she's sufficiently drunk enough, she'll drink anything at this point.
"'Cuz you became a bitch again," Mercedes slurs, grabbing the cup from Quinn.
"I'm sorry. I jus…I dunno," Quinn mutters while looking down at her lap.
Mercedes suddenly brings an arm to wrap around Quinn, pulling her closer. "S'okay, Q. We're good."
At that moment, a Jay-Z song comes on. They look at each, grin brightly, stand up, and being rapping along with it. Puck points to them and does some awful move involving imaginary smacking, but it somehow just makes Mercedes and Quinn crack up.
Quinn's mood considerably lightens - she really needs to hang out with Mercedes more because she likes being happy.
It's sad that she's not happy all that much anymore.
~**~
After one tournament of beer pong that didn't last very long (Puck and Quinn were winning, though), and a few songs that involved Quinn singing rap verses with Mercedes and rocking out to "What the Hell" with Tina (they're both secretly Avril Lavigne fans, as they discovered last year during the final month of Quinn's pregnancy), Finn begins ushering people into Burt's truck.
"Dude, mind driving people home?"
"And risk getting vomit in my Navigator? No thanks," Kurt sniffs, his arm wound tightly around Blaine's waist to keep him steady.
"Well what about him!" Finn nods at Blaine, pushing Mike and Tina up the stairs.
"I brought him here and exposed him to copious amounts of alcohol. It's my job to take care of him."
Finn mutters something under his breath and Quinn's fascinated by how high those stairs are.
Soon enough, Finn is sold strength for her as he guides her up the stairs and to his car. She gets the front seat, which she finds really, really sweet.
Jesus Christ, she's drunk.
Puck is the last one in the truck and he's demanding Finn turn on the radio, for one reason or another. But Quinn actually thanks Puck once they start driving because the music is distracting her from the motion sickness of driving.
~**~
When Quinn is dropped off in front of her house, she suddenly feels really, really lonely and lightheaded. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, heading toward the garage door, depressed as hell. There's this painful feeling of longing in her chest that seems to have taken permanent residence (or maybe it's just more pronounced now).
"Quinn!"
She whips her head around, surprised to see Puck jogging toward her.
"Wha -?"
"Issaid I'd walk," he slurs, waving an arm dismissively.
"Oh."
And then his mouth is on hers, the taste of tequila and other disgusting drinks on his tongue, but she doesn't care because he's warm, solid, and there.
(Dare she admit that she's kind of missed this?)
~**~
Every time she drinks, every fucking time, she always wakes up the next morning with a hangover.
What never happens is waking up with Noah Puckerman spooning her.
She gasps, scrambling out of his arms and off the bed in severe panic. Damn it, her ass is going to hurt tomorrow.
"Wuh? Wusshappenin'?" Puck slurs, shifting in the bed before groaning.
"What happened last -" she stops herself short, suddenly remembering.
Oh, right. Making out, grinding, wandering hands and - ugh.
She closes her eyes and exhales in relief. Her underwear is stiff, but they're on her person and Puck isn't wearing a shirt, but he still has his pants on.
"Oh, fuck."
She glares at him. "Get out of my bed!" she hisses, scrambling to her feet. She instantly regrets the sudden movement because her stomach is rolling and her head is swimming. Taking a moment to let her equilibrium to return, she attempts to think of way to sneak him out of the house without her mother noticing.
"Quinn - I can't move."
She whimpers pathetically; this can't be happening right now. "Why not," she grits.
He stares at her pointedly. "Because I…you know…in my pants. Last night."
She's pretty sure the only reason why she's not vomiting all over herself at the moment is because her duvet cost a pretty penny and it matches the décor of her room so perfectly.
"Why me…why me…" she moans to herself as she slowly makes her way to the bathroom to soak a washcloth that she'll have to throw away (and possibly burn).
This is a nightmare; it has to be.
Blame it on the alcohol.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I know I'm not big on talking about shit, but we really should.
~**~
Puck and Quinn stare at each other with vacant but slightly pained expressions on their faces when he, Brittany and Artie roll through the parking lot, passing by Quinn.
This is so, so awkward.
"I've never, in my life, had a worse hangover than this," Quinn states, adjusting her sunglasses so absolutely no sunlight can shine in her eyes.
"I vomited twice this morning. It's been two days," Puck admits in a mutter.
"I'm gettin' drunk again," Artie slurs, shaking a thermos in slow motion.
Oh, what the hell. It's better than looking at Puck and remembering in unbearably sharp clarity what happened over the weekend. She takes a cup from Puck and downs the Bloody Mary in one go.
~**~
"Lauren…I have something I gotta tell you," Puck says to Lauren in the middle of study hall, which he's been going to ever since he realized they share the period together.
She looks up from her homework with a raised eyebrow. "What is it, Puckerman? I'm busy." She looks down at her notes again.
"Something happened last weekend. After Rachel's party."
She pauses and raises her head up to properly look at him. "Uh huh. Go on."
Puck inhales and exhales slowly, trying to calm his nerves.
Nope, totally doesn't help.
"Quinn and I hooked up," he whispers quickly. "I mean, we didn't have sex or anything, but we were so wasted and…I don't know. I just…had to tell you. And I'm sorry." He winces, expecting her to slam his head onto the table or something.
After a few moments of silence, he risks a glance at her, who has a thoughtful expression on her face. "Huh."
He waits for her to say something else, but nothing happens.
"That's it?" he asks, feeling the need to kick himself for almost wanting a clearer response from her - what the hell?
She sighs, removing her glasses from her face. "Look, we're not actually a couple, so I'm not seeing it as your cheating on me. But you get some points for seeing it that way," she explains, taking the hem of her shirt and cleaning the lenses. Once she's done, she slips them back on. "That being said, you should talk with Fabray."
"Wait…what?"
Lauren scoffs, shutting her textbook. "In case you haven't noticed, which I'm sure you have, given your weird 'friendship,' she's kind of a mess. I doubt drunkenly hooking up with her baby daddy isn't helping."
He wants to snap at her for referencing Beth in such a dismissive way, but everyone else already does it so there's no point.
"I tried, but she's been ignoring me."
"Try harder," she merely suggests before gathering her belongings and leaving Puck alone to think.
~**~
Quinn throws open her front door, ready to kill Puck.
"What?" she demands, gripping the doorknob tightly. He's been incessantly knocking for the past five minutes and it's been driving her crazy.
"We have to talk about what happened."
"No we don't. We were drunk, I was…and you were there, and that's that. Nothing more."
He sighs, running a hand over his mohawk. "I'm sorry," he says to her. "That was really, really stupid. I mean…we could've almost…again. But." He grits his teeth in frustration. "Basically, you…and I deserve better than that," he concludes, not knowing how else to vocalize his mixed feelings on the issue because even though alcohol is supposed to make you feel things that you normally don't when sober, it can also magnify dormant emotions you try to hide away.
She loosens her hold on the door for a moment before pulling it shut behind her, resting her weight against it. "It was really, really stupid," she agrees with him. "And I want us to never mention it again. I'm calling in a Favor."
Puck bites the inside of his cheek. "But -"
"I know it's been a while, Puckerman, but I think you can remember what we agreed upon what happens when one asks for a Favor."
"I know, but - just so you know, I told Lauren. And she won't tell anyone."
She closes her eyes, wanting to claw his eyes out. "Why would you tell her."
"Because I actually want to be with her."
Oh god, why does that actually hurt a little?
Before she can really process, he has his arms wrapped around her in a hug. "I'm still here for you. Always."
She holds him tightly. "That's so cheesy."
"I know, sorry." He pulls away with a somewhat sheepish smile. "Okay. Done. No more."
She nods, relief filling her system.
"Now can we please text again? Do you know how badly I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Schue's ridiculous drunk voicemail?"
"Oh my god, that was horrific."
"Hey there, sexy lady," he slurs, earning a slap on the chest.
"I can't look him directly in the eye anymore," she complains, but she's smiling because this past week or so has sucked without talking to Puck.
Wow, she's never thought she'd say something like that last year. Oh, how they've grown, despite the fallbacks to immaturity that had and will inevitably happen.
After Puck leaves, she calls Finn; she's not sure if this is mature or immature, but once she hears his voice, she stops thinking about it.
previous / masterlist / next
Rating: T/PG-13
Disclaimer: The title/lyrics used are from the song “The Secret’s In The Telling” by Dashboard Confessional.
Summary: Missing moments between Puck and Quinn during season two.
A/N: One of these days I really want to write the entire party with more in depth scenes...
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden.
Puck thinks it's about fucking time that Glee Club really bonds and gets shwasted together. How this hasn't happened sooner, with Puck in the club, no less, is a mystery to him, but that's going to change this weekend.
From Noah Puckerman:
Party's a-go - plan on getting shit-faced.
From Quinn:
I'm not going.
From Noah Puckerman:
Excuse me? Yeah you are.
From Quinn:
I don't want to be near Sam and Santana.
From Noah Puckerman:
You won't be, because you're going to be too busy drinking and kicking ass at beer pong with me.
From Quinn:
I just don't want to go.
From Noah Puckerman:
Okay, you've left me no choice: please come.
From Quinn:
Oh wow, you REALLY must want me to go. I'm rolling my eyes right now, in case you can't tell.
From Noah Puckerman:
It's morale boosting for the club.
From Quinn:
Don't try that crap with me. You just want to hook up with Zizes and you think alcohol will help.
From Noah Puckerman:
Maybe. But come on - we make an AWESOME team and you know it. You're my other half on the table.
From Noah Puckerman:
…That somehow sounded REALLY dirty. But you know what I mean.
From Noah Puckerman:
COME.
From Noah Puckerman:
COME.
From Noah Puckerman:
COOOOOMMMMEEEEE.
From Noah Puckerman:
Heh, dirty.
From Noah Puckerman:
JUST COME TO THE PARTY.
From Quinn:
STOP IT!!! FINE. You owe me.
From Noah Puckerman:
YES! Three bags of Sour Patch Kids and two free CDs/mixes will suffice?
From Quinn:
Add one Favor and you've got yourself a deal.
From Noah Puckerman:
Oh come on - it does NOT warrant and a Favor.
From Quinn:
I believe you asked me for a Favor more than enough times for me to demand one from you.
From Noah Puckerman:
FINE. I'll text you the deets later.
~**~
"Hey girlfriend, having fun?"
This party sucks and it hasn't even started yet.
Quinn has chatted with Mercedes for a little bit, but quickly ran out of things to talk about. And then she had an even more awkward conversation with Lauren, who keeps eyeing her funnily. Oh, and Sam and Santana are playing tonsil hockey four feet away from her.
"Yeah…awesome party."
She either needs to get drunk, or she needs to get the hell out of here.
Thankfully, Puck saves the day by convincing Rachel to break into her dads' liquor cabinet.
"Let's party!" Rachel shrills.
Yes, thank you God, yes.
~**~
Brittany's iPod is plugged into Rachel's impressive stereo system and "Getting' Over You" starts blasting. Rachel complains for a second about the noise before Puck reminds her that this is the freaking basement; calm the hell down.
Puck's the bartender as he pours shots for everyone with the limited number of glasses they have (the rest using red cups). He doesn't ask her tequila or vodka since he knows her too well (it's always tequila).
She looks around the group; the only people not holding any sort of drink are Finn (who has a disgruntled look on his face - definitely the designated driver for tonight) and Kurt (she does vaguely remember hearing that he vomited on Miss Pillsbury's shoes once - was he drunk then?).
"Cheers!" they all exclaim.
Puck nods to Quinn before throwing back his shot.
Exhaling, she takes hers easily enough, enjoying the burn in the back of her throat.
~**~
"Glad you came?" Puck asks, yelling over this stupid song that keeps repeating "Barbra Streisand" over and over.
"Yeah, I guess," she responds lucidly, cradling a screwdriver, feeling decidedly more pleasant. "What the hell is with this song?" she demands, "It's stupid."
"It's kinda awesome!"
She rolls his eyes.
The song thankfully changes and it's a rap song, pleasing her immensely. She mouths the words for a few moments before she hears:
"You actually like this?"
Quinn stares at Lauren with unmasked contempt.
"We both do," Puck points out, "Although I haven't given you this one?" he directs to Quinn.
"I don'like it enough to have it on my iPod."
There's a loud cheer coming from the center of the room as Mike and Brittany start dancing to the chorus, impressing everyone in the room with their moves. Mercedes and Tina start giggling at them for some reason or another and Finn is probably lamenting to Kurt about how much he sucks at dancing, causing Kurt to pat Finn on the back in sympathy.
"I need to get drunker," Quinn states.
Lauren grins, removing her glasses and placing them onto her face. "These should help."
~**~
Quinn's balance is totally off kilter thanks to Lauren's glasses and on her way to the bathroom, she almost trips and half-lands on the chair covered with coats and scarves.
One scarf in particular is really soft.
She stumbles to her feet and inspects the very, very red scarf in awe. It's so nice and pretty and who owns this?
"Uh, Quinn? Why are you staring at Blaine's scarf like it's pure gold?"
Quinn whips her head to find Kurt staring at her with a raised brow, Blaine standing next to him as he bobs his head to "The Hangover song," as all the guys screamed when it came on.
"It's so nice," she gushes, grinning broadly.
"Thank you! It is, right? It was love at first touch," Blaine sighs, now paying attention to the conversation. "Hey! We haven’t met - I’m Blaine Anderson!” he continues with a big smile on his face, his free hand held out for her. He’s on his way to getting tipsy like she is and he’s probably been the nicest out of everyone here, so she shakes his hand with a smile.
“Quinn,” she answers. “I liked you singing ‘Hey, Soul Sister.’ I hate that song, but you made it okay.”
He beams. He has straight teeth and they take up a lot of his face. “Thank you so much. And you were awesome with Dirty Dancing.”
“Thanks!"
His overly happy demeanor
"Do y'wanna to wear my scarf? It's so, so worth it," he stage whispers, as if the suggestion is so taboo.
"Yes."
"Oh boy," Kurt sighs, but is ignored as Blaine and Quinn try to wrap the scarf around her head, laughing and giggling.
When they're done, they clank their cups together and finish their drinks in celebration on a job well done.
~**~
"Puckerman - be honest: you and Quinn still…?"
Puck almost chokes on his drink before staring at Lauren's sober, curious expression. How is this girl not even tipsy yet? He's pretty sure they've been drinking at the same rate…
He searches the party unconsciously and spots Quinn in the middle of a flip coin game, obviously unable to hear this discussion.
"No," he answers, clearing his throat, "We're just friends." Can they not have such a serious conversation at a party? Where he's pretty sure he's drunk?
"Friends that don't even speak at school."
"It's complicated, 'kay? You're my favorite," he says dismissively, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but she grabs his arm and brings it back to his side.
"Oh no, you're not gettin' any of this tonight, Boozy," she tells him.
"Damn it," he moans.
"Like a G6" comes on and Rachel turns the stereo volume up even more, causing the bass to thump in his core. Then the lights dim and the disco ball lights up and what the hell? But he doesn't care because it's better this way, sort of.
"Hey!" Quinn greets him and Lauren, looking off balance. She half-crashes into Puck and just laughs.
"I want these," Puck announces, slipping Lauren's glasses off Quinn's face to wear them. "Damn, girl, you're blind," he tells Lauren.
Lauren shrugs, sipping her drink through her straw.
"I'm gonna chug it!" they hear Rachel scream from the stage.
Puck, Lauren, Quinn, and a few others join around, chanting "chug, chug, chug!" over and over until Rachel almost finish the wine cooler.
"It tastes like pink! It tastes like pink!"
"Yeah, Jews, represent!" Puck yells over the cheering.
Quinn discards Blaine's scarf onto the floor as she allows the beats to dictate her moves, Puck moving between Lauren and Quinn as a strange and maybe necessary sort of buffer.
She's so glad she came to this shitfest of a party.
~**~
"Kurt! Dude! We miss ya so, so much," Puck bemoans, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "And whoa, like, your shoulders…they're manly."
"Well, I am a guy," Kurt points out, way too sober for Puck, "But thanks?"
"Yeah you are!" Blaine cheers, his helmet hair now a fluffy mass of curls; no wonder the guy tries to tame them. Oh no, now he's going to have that obnoxious song stuck in his head…
A new song starts and Puck digs it, but Blaine and Kurt grin knowingly at each other.
"What is this song?" Puck asks, moving his shoulders to the beat.
"It's a remix of an Italian swing song. The original song is famous for being in The Talented Mr. Ripley," Kurt explains, moving his arms and hands in flowing motions.
"Jude Law!" Blaine adds unnecessarily with great enthusiasm.
"Motherfuckin' Jude Law," Puck says back, nodding in understanding.
Then Blaine shocks Puck and Kurt when he opens his mouth and starts singing, "Comme te po' capì chi te vò bene, si tu le parle 'mmiezzo americano?" in a flawless accent.
If Puck weren't straight, the thinks he'd find this kind of hot. He glances at Kurt to see him staring at Blaine with such shock and longing that he kind of feels bad for the guy; he's so in love with him.
But then once Blaine finishes with, "pa, pa l'americano," he breaks into an awful dance move that causes him to lose any sort of sexual appeal. Puck laughs hysterically and Kurt tisks, a smile tugging on his mouth with fondness.
"How do you know?" Puck asks Blaine.
"Wha?"
"The words. You're like…I dunno, but it was so cool."
"Blaine takes Italian, but the song is Neapolitan so I don't know how he knows the words, let alone knows them drunk," Kurt explains, but Puck kind of tunes him out because he's too wordy.
He wants to find Quinn. And maybe Lauren. Drunk people are good.
"Bye dudes," Puck says, waving an arm in farewell.
"Ciao!" Blaine says, still dancing.
He's a weird kid, but he somehow fits in pretty damn well.
~**~
"I can't believe what you did to my body - I used to have abs!"
Okay, Quinn is really drunk if she's angry for no apparent reason.
"Hey, back off!" he retorts.
"Who told you that hairstyle was cool, Geronimo?" Lauren yells at Quinn, also angry for no apparent reason. Of course he goes for girls who are the same when drunk.
"Chill out!" he tells Lauren, handing her back her glasses, "I'll back. Be back."
He weaves his way through Santana and Sam hooking up again and around everyone dancing and collapsing on top of each other, laughing for some reason.
He finds Quinn sitting on a bench, looking down at her half-empty drink. She doesn't look up when he collapses next to her. "I never said sorry about that," he says, taking her drink because he's done with his.
"Whatever," she spits, taking the drink back and finishing it.
"Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?" Rachel screams.
He takes her hand and pulls her up. "Let's do this shit."
"Get me another drink, first."
~**~
Quinn is sitting somewhat apart from the circle, but she doesn't really care because she's feeling a bit dizzy. Now she's rather glad that Puck forced her to sit down and refused to get her another drink.
How he can have rare more of sobriety is just weird.
The make outs are rather generic: Tina and Mike, Artie and Mercedes (which really ended up being a peck before they hastened to wash their mouths out with vodka), and what would've been Puck and Lauren, except Lauren slapped a hand on Puck's mouth before he could get near her.
Of course she has to see Sam make out with yet another girl tonight because the universe is conspiring against her.
Thankfully, it all ends when Rachel drags Blaine onto the stage and sings that awful 80s song.
Everyone's paired up and it really, really hurts (fuck alcohol easing pain - it amplifies it), but Kurt's sitting alone, so she'll join him.
"Hey, Kurt," she drawls, standing by him.
"Hi Quinn," he answers tersely, staring at the stage where Blaine and Rachel have started on another song.
She follows his gaze and pats his shoulder. "She latches on to everyone's boyfriends," she sighs sadly.
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Yet, anyway."
Kurt's about to counter her remark, but then Rachel pushes Blaine off the stage and Artie seems to have stopped hooking up with Brittany long enough to yell, "Let's get this shit on!"
Somehow knowing what he meant, Mercedes turns Brittany's iPod back on, the loud music a welcome shock to her system.
"You're so drunk," Kurt mutters under his breath.
"And you need to lighten up," she retorts, pushing a finger into his arm.
Everyone just needs to lighten up.
~**~
At some point while Mike and Tina are making out for the fiftieth time, Mercedes and Quinn are sharing the couch, passing a Coke and rum between them.
"Why don't we talk anymore?" Quinn bemoans, taking a sip. She would normally never touch this, but since she's sufficiently drunk enough, she'll drink anything at this point.
"'Cuz you became a bitch again," Mercedes slurs, grabbing the cup from Quinn.
"I'm sorry. I jus…I dunno," Quinn mutters while looking down at her lap.
Mercedes suddenly brings an arm to wrap around Quinn, pulling her closer. "S'okay, Q. We're good."
At that moment, a Jay-Z song comes on. They look at each, grin brightly, stand up, and being rapping along with it. Puck points to them and does some awful move involving imaginary smacking, but it somehow just makes Mercedes and Quinn crack up.
Quinn's mood considerably lightens - she really needs to hang out with Mercedes more because she likes being happy.
It's sad that she's not happy all that much anymore.
~**~
After one tournament of beer pong that didn't last very long (Puck and Quinn were winning, though), and a few songs that involved Quinn singing rap verses with Mercedes and rocking out to "What the Hell" with Tina (they're both secretly Avril Lavigne fans, as they discovered last year during the final month of Quinn's pregnancy), Finn begins ushering people into Burt's truck.
"Dude, mind driving people home?"
"And risk getting vomit in my Navigator? No thanks," Kurt sniffs, his arm wound tightly around Blaine's waist to keep him steady.
"Well what about him!" Finn nods at Blaine, pushing Mike and Tina up the stairs.
"I brought him here and exposed him to copious amounts of alcohol. It's my job to take care of him."
Finn mutters something under his breath and Quinn's fascinated by how high those stairs are.
Soon enough, Finn is sold strength for her as he guides her up the stairs and to his car. She gets the front seat, which she finds really, really sweet.
Jesus Christ, she's drunk.
Puck is the last one in the truck and he's demanding Finn turn on the radio, for one reason or another. But Quinn actually thanks Puck once they start driving because the music is distracting her from the motion sickness of driving.
~**~
When Quinn is dropped off in front of her house, she suddenly feels really, really lonely and lightheaded. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, heading toward the garage door, depressed as hell. There's this painful feeling of longing in her chest that seems to have taken permanent residence (or maybe it's just more pronounced now).
"Quinn!"
She whips her head around, surprised to see Puck jogging toward her.
"Wha -?"
"Issaid I'd walk," he slurs, waving an arm dismissively.
"Oh."
And then his mouth is on hers, the taste of tequila and other disgusting drinks on his tongue, but she doesn't care because he's warm, solid, and there.
(Dare she admit that she's kind of missed this?)
~**~
Every time she drinks, every fucking time, she always wakes up the next morning with a hangover.
What never happens is waking up with Noah Puckerman spooning her.
She gasps, scrambling out of his arms and off the bed in severe panic. Damn it, her ass is going to hurt tomorrow.
"Wuh? Wusshappenin'?" Puck slurs, shifting in the bed before groaning.
"What happened last -" she stops herself short, suddenly remembering.
Oh, right. Making out, grinding, wandering hands and - ugh.
She closes her eyes and exhales in relief. Her underwear is stiff, but they're on her person and Puck isn't wearing a shirt, but he still has his pants on.
"Oh, fuck."
She glares at him. "Get out of my bed!" she hisses, scrambling to her feet. She instantly regrets the sudden movement because her stomach is rolling and her head is swimming. Taking a moment to let her equilibrium to return, she attempts to think of way to sneak him out of the house without her mother noticing.
"Quinn - I can't move."
She whimpers pathetically; this can't be happening right now. "Why not," she grits.
He stares at her pointedly. "Because I…you know…in my pants. Last night."
She's pretty sure the only reason why she's not vomiting all over herself at the moment is because her duvet cost a pretty penny and it matches the décor of her room so perfectly.
"Why me…why me…" she moans to herself as she slowly makes her way to the bathroom to soak a washcloth that she'll have to throw away (and possibly burn).
This is a nightmare; it has to be.
Blame it on the alcohol.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I know I'm not big on talking about shit, but we really should.
~**~
Puck and Quinn stare at each other with vacant but slightly pained expressions on their faces when he, Brittany and Artie roll through the parking lot, passing by Quinn.
This is so, so awkward.
"I've never, in my life, had a worse hangover than this," Quinn states, adjusting her sunglasses so absolutely no sunlight can shine in her eyes.
"I vomited twice this morning. It's been two days," Puck admits in a mutter.
"I'm gettin' drunk again," Artie slurs, shaking a thermos in slow motion.
Oh, what the hell. It's better than looking at Puck and remembering in unbearably sharp clarity what happened over the weekend. She takes a cup from Puck and downs the Bloody Mary in one go.
~**~
"Lauren…I have something I gotta tell you," Puck says to Lauren in the middle of study hall, which he's been going to ever since he realized they share the period together.
She looks up from her homework with a raised eyebrow. "What is it, Puckerman? I'm busy." She looks down at her notes again.
"Something happened last weekend. After Rachel's party."
She pauses and raises her head up to properly look at him. "Uh huh. Go on."
Puck inhales and exhales slowly, trying to calm his nerves.
Nope, totally doesn't help.
"Quinn and I hooked up," he whispers quickly. "I mean, we didn't have sex or anything, but we were so wasted and…I don't know. I just…had to tell you. And I'm sorry." He winces, expecting her to slam his head onto the table or something.
After a few moments of silence, he risks a glance at her, who has a thoughtful expression on her face. "Huh."
He waits for her to say something else, but nothing happens.
"That's it?" he asks, feeling the need to kick himself for almost wanting a clearer response from her - what the hell?
She sighs, removing her glasses from her face. "Look, we're not actually a couple, so I'm not seeing it as your cheating on me. But you get some points for seeing it that way," she explains, taking the hem of her shirt and cleaning the lenses. Once she's done, she slips them back on. "That being said, you should talk with Fabray."
"Wait…what?"
Lauren scoffs, shutting her textbook. "In case you haven't noticed, which I'm sure you have, given your weird 'friendship,' she's kind of a mess. I doubt drunkenly hooking up with her baby daddy isn't helping."
He wants to snap at her for referencing Beth in such a dismissive way, but everyone else already does it so there's no point.
"I tried, but she's been ignoring me."
"Try harder," she merely suggests before gathering her belongings and leaving Puck alone to think.
~**~
Quinn throws open her front door, ready to kill Puck.
"What?" she demands, gripping the doorknob tightly. He's been incessantly knocking for the past five minutes and it's been driving her crazy.
"We have to talk about what happened."
"No we don't. We were drunk, I was…and you were there, and that's that. Nothing more."
He sighs, running a hand over his mohawk. "I'm sorry," he says to her. "That was really, really stupid. I mean…we could've almost…again. But." He grits his teeth in frustration. "Basically, you…and I deserve better than that," he concludes, not knowing how else to vocalize his mixed feelings on the issue because even though alcohol is supposed to make you feel things that you normally don't when sober, it can also magnify dormant emotions you try to hide away.
She loosens her hold on the door for a moment before pulling it shut behind her, resting her weight against it. "It was really, really stupid," she agrees with him. "And I want us to never mention it again. I'm calling in a Favor."
Puck bites the inside of his cheek. "But -"
"I know it's been a while, Puckerman, but I think you can remember what we agreed upon what happens when one asks for a Favor."
"I know, but - just so you know, I told Lauren. And she won't tell anyone."
She closes her eyes, wanting to claw his eyes out. "Why would you tell her."
"Because I actually want to be with her."
Oh god, why does that actually hurt a little?
Before she can really process, he has his arms wrapped around her in a hug. "I'm still here for you. Always."
She holds him tightly. "That's so cheesy."
"I know, sorry." He pulls away with a somewhat sheepish smile. "Okay. Done. No more."
She nods, relief filling her system.
"Now can we please text again? Do you know how badly I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Schue's ridiculous drunk voicemail?"
"Oh my god, that was horrific."
"Hey there, sexy lady," he slurs, earning a slap on the chest.
"I can't look him directly in the eye anymore," she complains, but she's smiling because this past week or so has sucked without talking to Puck.
Wow, she's never thought she'd say something like that last year. Oh, how they've grown, despite the fallbacks to immaturity that had and will inevitably happen.
After Puck leaves, she calls Finn; she's not sure if this is mature or immature, but once she hears his voice, she stops thinking about it.
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