fic: i luv u too
Title: i luv u too
Pairing: Brittana, but focuses on Santana/Puck friendship
Rating: PG-13 (because Puck's POV can't be rated any less)
Summary: She'll leave without saying goodbye, and he'll get a text from her half an hour later: "u need to get ur ass out of bed & do ur hw", and he'll smile when he gets the text, and tell himself that she really means "I love you."
Spoilers: one vague reference to 1x13 "Sectionals"
Notes: I think this is the closest thing to angst I've ever written (i.e. angsty!Puck is angsty).
Puck is lying on his back, with his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling while Santana gets dressed. He has the routine memorized.
She’ll take about five minutes, and then she’ll leave without saying goodbye, and he’ll get a text from her half an hour later: “u need to get ur ass out of bed & do ur hw”. He’ll smile when he gets the text, tell himself that she really means “I love you”, and then he'll get up and dressed and start (and maybe finish) whatever homework is due for the next morning.
He’ll go to school the next day, late for first period as always, and he’ll see Santana with Brittany, and he’ll pretend that he isn’t jealous. He’ll see the way Brittany looks at her, and the way she looks at Brittany, and he’ll know that Brittany has already won. (But if he brings it up with Santana, she’ll tell him it’s not a competition, and Puck will forget that he knows.)
He’ll be alone after coming home from school (because Santana never comes over two days in a row) and he’ll stay up half the night thinking about Santana, and Rachel. And Quinn. He’ll think about all the MILFs that he used (and used him), and he’ll think about Finn (but not in a gay way, he’s not a homo, he just misses the guy).
He’ll think about all of them, and he’ll feel lonely. But he’ll pretend that he doesn't (because he’s not some emo pussy).
…
“Hey.” Puck is startled by the sound of her voice. He sits up, and she’s standing by his bedroom door. “I need to tell you something.”
Puck looks at her for a moment, and then lays back down, because he can’t look at her. Because she looks completely naked standing fully-clothed on the other side of the room, and it’s weird, and he’s the one lying butt-naked on his bed for fuck’s sake.
“I think I want B and I to…” she starts, and sighs. “I think I’m…” she hesitates again. “Puck, we…”
“Whatever, it’s fine,” Puck says because he hates hearing her sound that pathetic (because she's the most badass chick he's ever met, and he loves her for that). “I figured it out a while ago,” he adds, although he’s not sure exactly what she was planning to tell him, so he isn’t sure which it he is referring to.
“I’m okay with it,” he says, and he finds himself kind of meaning it. Because at least he feels a sense of like… closure, or whatever, now that she’s (kind of) admitted it to him, and it least that feels kind of good.
But then he hears her breath a sigh of relief and surge of anger flashes through him. Because what the fuck had she been nervous about? He loves her. He’ll always love her, and she shouldn’t have been nervous.
There’s a pause (and his anger goes away as quickly as it came), and then Puck sees Santana looking down at him from beside the bed, and a moment later there’s cloth dropped on his face. His boxers. What the hell?, he thinks, but she’s smirking and he’s smirking back at her when he takes them off his face, rolls his eyes, and puts them on.
Santana climbs over him to lie down beside him on the other side of his bed. She mirrors his position, with her hands under her head, staring up at the ceiling (although his legs are straight, and hers are crossed at the ankle).
“Matt told me you got a D on that Econ test we took last Friday, retard.”
Puck turns to Santana, glares, then resumes staring at the ceiling. “Whatever, nerd, like it matters," he shoots back. "And I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy with you using that word.”
“It does matter, and she’s not here.” Santana hesitates, then adds, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”
Puck rolls his eyes for his own sake. “Yet.”
Santana sighs. “She might not want me," she says softly. "I’m kind of a fuck up in relationships, after all.”
Puck swallows the words yeah, you are because he isn’t some catty, overly-emotional teenage girl (and because, if anyone's a bigger fuck up than she is, it's him). So, “Please, you’re fucking, smoking hot,” is what he says instead.
Santana rolls onto her side and lays her arm around his middle. He wraps his own arms around her instinctually. “And you’re a fucking tool,” she mutters into his chest. “Relationships are based on more than just fucking you know. People have these things called feelings.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any.”
Santana snorts, but has the courtesy not to argue.
…
The two of them lie in Puck’s bed for a while after that, talking and like… cuddling, or whatever. Puck thinks it feels really nice, maybe even as good as sex (though he would never admit it to anyone).
About an hour passes by before Santana gets up. She tells him that Brittany has plans with Kurt the next day after glee, so she’s coming over to help him study for Econ whether he likes it or not because she doesn’t stay friends with losers.
She says goodbye before leaving his room, and when she texts him half an hour later: “u better b doing ur hw retard”, he knows that she really means “I love you”.
So, Puck texts her back: “i luv u too babe. good luck w/ b”, before he gets started on the homework he has due in the morning.
Pairing: Brittana, but focuses on Santana/Puck friendship
Rating: PG-13 (because Puck's POV can't be rated any less)
Summary: She'll leave without saying goodbye, and he'll get a text from her half an hour later: "u need to get ur ass out of bed & do ur hw", and he'll smile when he gets the text, and tell himself that she really means "I love you."
Spoilers: one vague reference to 1x13 "Sectionals"
Notes: I think this is the closest thing to angst I've ever written (i.e. angsty!Puck is angsty).
Puck is lying on his back, with his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling while Santana gets dressed. He has the routine memorized.
She’ll take about five minutes, and then she’ll leave without saying goodbye, and he’ll get a text from her half an hour later: “u need to get ur ass out of bed & do ur hw”. He’ll smile when he gets the text, tell himself that she really means “I love you”, and then he'll get up and dressed and start (and maybe finish) whatever homework is due for the next morning.
He’ll go to school the next day, late for first period as always, and he’ll see Santana with Brittany, and he’ll pretend that he isn’t jealous. He’ll see the way Brittany looks at her, and the way she looks at Brittany, and he’ll know that Brittany has already won. (But if he brings it up with Santana, she’ll tell him it’s not a competition, and Puck will forget that he knows.)
He’ll be alone after coming home from school (because Santana never comes over two days in a row) and he’ll stay up half the night thinking about Santana, and Rachel. And Quinn. He’ll think about all the MILFs that he used (and used him), and he’ll think about Finn (but not in a gay way, he’s not a homo, he just misses the guy).
He’ll think about all of them, and he’ll feel lonely. But he’ll pretend that he doesn't (because he’s not some emo pussy).
…
“Hey.” Puck is startled by the sound of her voice. He sits up, and she’s standing by his bedroom door. “I need to tell you something.”
Puck looks at her for a moment, and then lays back down, because he can’t look at her. Because she looks completely naked standing fully-clothed on the other side of the room, and it’s weird, and he’s the one lying butt-naked on his bed for fuck’s sake.
“I think I want B and I to…” she starts, and sighs. “I think I’m…” she hesitates again. “Puck, we…”
“Whatever, it’s fine,” Puck says because he hates hearing her sound that pathetic (because she's the most badass chick he's ever met, and he loves her for that). “I figured it out a while ago,” he adds, although he’s not sure exactly what she was planning to tell him, so he isn’t sure which it he is referring to.
“I’m okay with it,” he says, and he finds himself kind of meaning it. Because at least he feels a sense of like… closure, or whatever, now that she’s (kind of) admitted it to him, and it least that feels kind of good.
But then he hears her breath a sigh of relief and surge of anger flashes through him. Because what the fuck had she been nervous about? He loves her. He’ll always love her, and she shouldn’t have been nervous.
There’s a pause (and his anger goes away as quickly as it came), and then Puck sees Santana looking down at him from beside the bed, and a moment later there’s cloth dropped on his face. His boxers. What the hell?, he thinks, but she’s smirking and he’s smirking back at her when he takes them off his face, rolls his eyes, and puts them on.
Santana climbs over him to lie down beside him on the other side of his bed. She mirrors his position, with her hands under her head, staring up at the ceiling (although his legs are straight, and hers are crossed at the ankle).
“Matt told me you got a D on that Econ test we took last Friday, retard.”
Puck turns to Santana, glares, then resumes staring at the ceiling. “Whatever, nerd, like it matters," he shoots back. "And I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy with you using that word.”
“It does matter, and she’s not here.” Santana hesitates, then adds, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”
Puck rolls his eyes for his own sake. “Yet.”
Santana sighs. “She might not want me," she says softly. "I’m kind of a fuck up in relationships, after all.”
Puck swallows the words yeah, you are because he isn’t some catty, overly-emotional teenage girl (and because, if anyone's a bigger fuck up than she is, it's him). So, “Please, you’re fucking, smoking hot,” is what he says instead.
Santana rolls onto her side and lays her arm around his middle. He wraps his own arms around her instinctually. “And you’re a fucking tool,” she mutters into his chest. “Relationships are based on more than just fucking you know. People have these things called feelings.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any.”
Santana snorts, but has the courtesy not to argue.
…
The two of them lie in Puck’s bed for a while after that, talking and like… cuddling, or whatever. Puck thinks it feels really nice, maybe even as good as sex (though he would never admit it to anyone).
About an hour passes by before Santana gets up. She tells him that Brittany has plans with Kurt the next day after glee, so she’s coming over to help him study for Econ whether he likes it or not because she doesn’t stay friends with losers.
She says goodbye before leaving his room, and when she texts him half an hour later: “u better b doing ur hw retard”, he knows that she really means “I love you”.
So, Puck texts her back: “i luv u too babe. good luck w/ b”, before he gets started on the homework he has due in the morning.