You And Me Will Never Get This Right
Title: You And Me Will Never Get This Right
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Santana, Mentions of basically every couple ever mentioned on the show.
Summary: Santana has always thought of Puck as hers.
Word Count: 10,520
Disclaimer: Don't own.
They have sex for the first time when they're 14. They're at a party at Matt's place, and they're in the basement with the door locked. There's a spare bedroom down there that Puck claimed as his own at the beginning of the summer. Now it's the middle of August and school starts soon, and this is the way they seem to end all their parties, the two of them alone together. Sometimes he's walking her home. Sometimes she's getting her older sister to drive them, leaving Puck on his doorstep because he's had too much to drink.
Sometimes it's this, kissing, tugging at one another's clothes, his hands dragging through her hair and her holding his arms tightly.
This time she's in just her panties and he's wearing only his boxers, and she knows this all feels really, really good, like she wants it to. His hand slips between her legs (it's not the first time he's touched her there, but it's different now for some reason).
"Wait," she says breathlessly, pushing at his chest a little. "Puck, I've never..."
"I know." He kisses her again, gently this time. "It's okay. You'll be awesome."
She smiles, almost laughs, but then his hand is in her panties and she forgets why she thought anything was funny at all.
She's sore afterward, kind of sweaty and a little sticky, and he's just laying there next to her, one hand on her hip and his eyelids drooping.
She feels different towards him now. It's like she's just realizing she'll always remember him, remember this. She tries to move, but her body really doesn't want her to.
"Okay?" he asks sleepily. She nods and he kisses her a little too roughly, but she likes it that way.
"This doesn't mean we're dating," she says as she pulls the sheet up over them a little more. His hand comes up to rest on her chest, squeezing lightly. She smiles. He's such a perv.
"Thank fuck," he says.
He pulls her closer when she laughs, and when she wakes up alone in the morning, she has a hard time telling herself not to be sad about it.
... ... ...
He texts her a couple days later, tells her his mom is out and his sister's at a friend's. She walks to his place with her bikini under her tank top and shorts, and she's torn between being pissed off and annoyed. Then she sees him in the driveway playing basketball and she finds herself smiling.
They go inside and he unties her bikini top at the back of her neck as she walks in front of him.
"Puck!" she cries, turning around to hit him as he laughs. "God. Is that why you invited me over?"
He looks at her like she's clueless. "Uh. Yeah."
She glares for what might be two seconds, then he raises his brow and sticks his bottom lip out enough to be totally hot, but not pathetic, and she grabs the front of his shirt.
"I like this," she says as he palms her breast and licks at her lips. "This not dating thing."
"Shut up, Santana," he mumbles against her mouth. "Not dating means I don't have to listen to you squawking." She pushes at his chest but he grabs her arm, pulling her onto the couch with him. "You're not so bad."
"You're just saying that because I had sex with you." She rolls her hips against him, and he drops his head. She grabs the hair at the back of his head and forces him to look at her. She smiles when he moans. She thinks he likes that.
"You're so hot," he says with a grin.
They're not dating. She's not his girlfriend. She doesn't think he's so bad, either, and when she tells him that, it's when he's inside her. That way he doesn't take her too seriously and run away or something.
... ... ...
"I need your help," Puck says just two days before school starts.
"What?" she asks. She's laying on her bed watching a rerun of The OC. She figures if he needs something she's not exactly too busy to do it. And they've been sleeping together for nearly two weeks, so she doesn't think she can really say no.
"Come over?"
"I'm not having sex with you," she states.
"Fuck. Gross. I know," he groans. There's a reason she won't have sex with him right now, and she thinks it's hilarious how disgusted boys get at the mention of girls having their periods. "Just come over? Leave all your PMS and shit at home, though."
"You're such a dick."
"I know. You coming or what?"
She sighs, switches off her television and grabs her purse. "Fine. I'll see you soon."
She shows up at his house and walks in to see his little sister curled up in a little pile of blankets on the floor, watching some shitty Disney movie. The girl says hi, and Santana waves and walks away when the kid starts talking about her 'nest' and how comfy it is or whatever.
"What do you wan...Oh, my god." She starts laughing. Her normally super hot friend looks absolutely ridiculous right now. "What the fuck?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles miserably.
"Puck, what the hell happened to your head?" She sits down on the bed, tries to bite her lip to keep from laughing so much, but it's not easy. There's a big bald patch on the side of his head right above his ear that definitely wasn't there when she saw him yesterday.
"Fucking guys on the team," he says angrily, standing up and touching the spot on his head. "I hit a grand slam and won us the game and this is their idea of thanks! Davis attacked me in the locker room with a fucking razor."
She manages to calm herself down enough to at least make it seem like this whole situation isn't the funniest shit she's seen all summer.
"Okay. So what do you need me to do?" she asks.
He literally glares at her. "Uh, fix it!"
She rolls her eyes and grabs his hand, taking him across the hall to the bathroom. She sees that there's a set of clippers on the counter, and she wonders why he didn't just do it himself. She closes the toilet seat sits down on it, spreading her legs so he can sit between them on the floor. She runs her hands through his hair a couple times and tries to ignore the way his hand slips around her foot, massaging gently. He normally doesn't do stuff like that and she kind of likes it, so she doesn't want him to stop. She knows he will if she mentions it.
"Trust me?" she asks as she grabs the electric clippers.
"Fuck no."
She knows he's lying, since he called her in the first place.
She starts on the fucked up side first, adjusting the clippers so the hair will all be trimmed evenly and no one will ever know he got 'tagged', or whatever stupid thing the guys would call it. She shaves the whole side of his head, almost to the top, then, just for fun, she starts on the other side, leaving him with a wide stripe of hair down the middle of his head. She's laughing when she brushes his shoulders off.
"The fuck d'you do?" he asks, running a hand over his head. She watches him stand and look in the mirror, and the smile she sees worries her. "This is awesome!"
"Puck," she laughs. "I'm not done."
"Yeah, you are." He pulls the cord from the electrical outlet to punctuate his point. "This is the fucking coolest hairstyle ever. My mom's gonna be pissed."
She shakes her head and sets the clippers down on the counter. "Do you have to try to piss everyone off all the time?" she asks.
He grabs her hips as she looks at his head. It's actually kind of...hot. He looks older, somehow, and a little mean, but in a really good way. And his hands are warm on her body. She really likes the way he touches her.
"I don't piss you off," he says, and she can tell when he's trying to seduce her. She doesn't know why he's even bothering.
"Pretty much always," she insists.
His hand slides down onto her ass and he pulls her closer so she's pressed against him. He kisses her, rubs his hips against hers a little bit so she can feel him getting hard. She loves that she can do this to him, to any boy, really, but especially him. She knows he had sex with Abigail Meyers at the beginning of the summer, but Santana thinks it means something that he keeps coming back to her.
"Wanna give me head before you go?" he asks, hand slipping under her shirt as his mouth travels along her jaw. She tries to push away from him, but he holds her there.
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. You know you love it." He pulls away to look at her and she sees the shit eating grin on his lips. She doesn't hate it, really. Love is kind of a strong word. "C'mon, you know I'll get you back next time."
She runs her hand over the front of his shorts and his head drops onto her shoulder. "Promise?" she asks, speaking right next to his ear.
He nods and she reaches over to lock the door, then sinks to her knees. His hands slip into her hair, and she really doesn't mind doing this. She loves the way he says her name.
And she probably likes it a little too much any time he references a next time. She may not want to date him, but she doesn't want to lose him either.
... ... ...
Everyone thinks his hair is so 'badass' that the next time they get a minute alone, he's fucking her behind her mom's gardening shed while their friends play drinking games inside. When they're done and he's zipping his jeans again, she's pushing her skirt back down over her thighs. His hand disappears beneath it and she groans as she shifts her hips.
"I owe you," he reminds her. She combs her fingers through his mohawk as he sinks down between her thighs.
She doesn't stop him, and she doesn't care that they smell like sex when they go back inside. Everyone probably knew what they were doing anyway.
... ... ...
Santana spends the first week of school glaring at the new girl. She's pretty and blonde and skinny and wears these like, completely virginal dresses and she just pisses Santana off.
Even more so because all the boys in school are staring at this chick, and Santana doesn't like the shift in attention from her to this new girl.
She and Puck are standing at his locker when she notices his eyes linger on the blonde girl's legs a little bit as she walks. Santana punches him on the arm.
"Ow! What?" he asks, rubbing his shoulder. She knows how to hit. He taught her.
"Don't look at her," Santana barks.
"Why not? She's hot." He turns his attention from the new girl to Santana. "Jealous?"
"Shut up."
"You totally are," he says, and she hates the way he's practically laughing. She never should have let on it bothers her. Now he'll just do it more because he knows it'll piss her off. "I heard she cheers."
"Shut up, Puck," she grumbles, gripping her locker door tightly.
"Probably join the Cheerios." He slips his hand beneath her uniform top, searching for sin, but she slams her locker and pulls away. She starts down the hall towards Blondie, but he grabs her elbow. "What are you doing?"
She wrenches her arm from his hold and gives him her bitchiest smile. "Keep your enemies closer, right?"
... ... ...
She sleeps with James Dawson after their first football game and pretends it doesn't hurt, the way Puck looks at her to show how pissed he is at her.
... ... ...
It takes a while for her to admit she wants him again. She's seen him fucking around at parties, getting drunk and hitting on just about any girl in a skirt, Cheerio issue or otherwise. She sees him at school, terrorizing anyone lower on the totem pole than he is, which is nearly everyone. The first time he tosses a drink in that mousy girl's face, Santana can't help but laugh, and he juts his chin at her in the hall. It's the most contact they've had in a while. After she slept with James and he fucked that Sarah girl that makes Santana want to punch things, everything got really awkward. No, not even awkward. She's just pissed at him for being such a dick, basically.
But she kind of misses him. They spent almost their whole summer together, joking and making out and having sex, and she thinks it's stupid that he's gotta get all possessive and stuff about her. And why is it okay for him to be with someone else? She tries to figure out if he would have fucked any other girl if she hadn't slept with James first, but she can't come to a conclusion one way or another.
But whatever. He's the same as she is. They used to make fun of people behind their backs. Or to their faces, which sometimes resulted in tears or whatever. Those were some good times. Actually, the time they convinced a high Finn that his pinky finger was going to fall off, she laughed so hard she cried, and Puck smirked at her and licked the teardrops from her cheeks. That was kind of gross, actually, and she made it widely known. He just leaned over and whispered something completely filthy in her ear about his tongue. Yeah, that was a good night. And she's pretty sure Finn is still refusing to smoke with either she or Puck ever again.
She's been watching him all night. He's drinking from a bottle of Coke she knows isn't all Coke. JD is his drink of choice. She remembers how he tastes when he drinks it, and she wants that right now. He's talking to one of the stupid, thinks-she's-cute-but-she's-not Cheerios. Santana debates breaking that shit up, or letting him find out for himself that Katrina doesn't put out and the silver ring on her finger is her abstinence ring or whatever the fuck she calls it. It would be pretty hilarious if he was left with a brutal case of blue balls. But it'd be more fun to see the look on that bitch Katrina's face when Santana steals the guy away.
People call her a bitch, too, but she doesn't really give a shit. So when she walks over and wedges herself between Puck and Katrina, she's the only one who's not surprised. She presses her thigh against the front of Puck's pants, and his hand comes up to grip her hip as he stares at her.
"Just getting a Sprite," she says, reaching for the can off the counter. The fridge is full of drinks. It's not a secret what she's really doing. She tries to pull away, but he's still holding her and he moves his leg so she's trapped. She's very aware of the other girl behind her. "You gonna let me go?"
"No," he answers gruffly. She twists her hips subtly, feels him harden against her, and his fingers dig into her skin.
"Puck!" Katrina whines.
Santana doesn't take her eyes off Puck as she speaks. "Sorry, K. You'll have to tease someone else's c..."
"You're so disgusting," Katrina whispers harshly. Santana isn't sure (doesn't care) if Katrina's talking about her or Puck.
He sets his drink on the counter so he can take her in both hands, pulls her against him and presses his hips against hers.
"You better not be fucking joking," he says seriously.
Her hand finds his belt so she can tug him closer. He groans. She smiles. "Have I ever joked with you before?" He doesn't answer, because it's kind of unnecessary. "Let's go."
"Where?"
She pulls away from him, tosses a glance over her shoulder. "Does it matter?"
It must not, because he follows her outside. They kind of break into the garage and lock the door behind them. He's got her pinned against the wall when she undoes his pants, and when she tells him she wants to lay down, he actually searches through boxes in the garage and finds a blanket so she doesn't have to lay on the concrete.
She kisses him a little softer than she means to.
He doesn't notice.
... ... ...
When basketball season comes around, he joins the team because Finn does. She knows this, calls him on it, and he tells her to fuck herself if she's not going to support him.
"What am I, your girlfriend?" she laughs. "I don't have to be supportive."
They're in his room with his sister downstairs watching after school specials or some shit. His mom's at work, so he invited Santana to skip last period and fuck around. They haven't gotten around to that part yet, and she doesn't know if they will. Sometimes they just hang out like this. She sips Diet Coke and reads his Maxims while he plays video games, and they talk and whatever.
He's just thrown his new basketball uniform into a pile on the floor, so they got to talking about the team and whatever.
"You're my friend, bitch. Be good to me," he says. He's smirking, and she reaches over and pushes at his cheek with her fingertips. He laughs before jerking his head back so he can see the television.
"Our teams are fucking terrible," she reminds him, turning the page of the magazine she's reading. She's on her stomach next to him in her uniform, her legs swinging in the air and her back to the television. He's already made at least five remarks about how close her mouth is to his junk. "I don't know why you'd want to be on any of them."
"The fuck else am I gonna do?" he asks. He's got a point there. "Anyway, I just like to be there when you get thrown up to the top of the pyramid."
"Because you can see my spanks," she laughs.
"No," he says. She looks up at him. "'Cause it'd be kind of gory and awesome if you fell."
She flips the magazine closed and throws it at his stupid face as she gets up. She pulls her hair back up into its ponytail as she yells at him. "You're such an asshole, you know that? You're just jealous that the Cheerios are, like, the one club at school that's actually good at anything."
"Calm your ass."
"Fuck you, Puck." She realizes he's paused his game. He never does. Maybe he meant that to be his apology.
He sits up a little more and grabs onto her hand, holds it so tight it almost hurts when she tries to pull it away. "C'mon. You know I don't wanna see you fall." She doesn't say anything. She's actually just getting over her fear of being thrown in the air like that. (Not that she's going to admit that to anyone.) That's probably what sparked the whole rant she just unleashed on him. "I love seeing your spanks."
"You're a moron," she says. His free hand slides over her thigh to the inside, and he dips his finger below the elastic at the crease of her thigh. "Puck, come on. Your sister is downstairs."
"I got a lock on my door," he says, tugging her closer. "I'm sorry, alright?"
He's never actually said the words. Not that one time he forgot a condom and didn't tell her until after. Yeah, she could totally tell anyway, but it was way easier to be pissed at him than it was to admit that he'd just made her so crazy that she didn't give a shit what he did to her, as long as he made her come. He didn't apologize when he accidentally hit her in the side at a party, either. It was totally innocent, that time. He'd just been moving, and so had she, and his fist connected with her ribs. He kissed her there and fashioned an ice pack out of duct tape and a bag of frozen peas, but he didn't actually say the words.
"Are you just saying that because you want me naked?" she asks, and she thinks the answer to this is really important.
He rolls his eyes. (That's not a good start.) "Sucks when you're mad, baby," he tells her, pushing up her polyester cheer top so he can kiss along the skin above the waistband of her skirt. "Even if you look hot as hell when you're yelling."
Her hands are in his hair as she laughs. "Shut up."
"'S'true," he says, and he pushes his tongue out against the sensitive flesh in the little valley at her hip. She whispers out an 'okay', because she's getting distracted, especially when he unzips her shirt at the side, under her arm. "Wanna do something for me?"
She pushes his head back to find the stupid grin on his face. "You piss me off and I have to do something for you?" He shrugs. She laughs. "What?"
"Wear my jersey," he commands.
She laughs again and pulls her top over her head. "You're such a cliché, seriously."
But then she's the one pulling on his jersey, number 20 emblazoned on her stomach, so she starts to think she's a total cliché, too. She doesn't know what to think of that, so she focuses instead on the way he presses her back into his mattress.
... ... ...
"I think Finn and Quinn are totally gonna hook up," she says once, just once, when the two of them are alone.
"Don't care," he says.
He makes it sound convincing. It pisses her off that he thinks she can't see through his lies. Maybe she's the only one, but he should know that she can read him like a book.
She doesn't call him on it. (Somehow him admitting to this thing he has for Quinn would make it all that much worse, even if she knows it's true anyway.)
... ... ...
Her mom gets into a car accident at the beginning of the summer. It's nothing big, really, but there's an overnight hospital stay and her dad is out of town, and she's always really hated hospitals, ever since her grandpa had cancer and she had to come and see him all the time.
She calls Puck in the middle of the night and does her best to make it sound like she hasn't been crying when she tells him what happened.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks.
For a second she thinks he's being a complete asshole, and she hates herself for being surprised. Then she realizes he's offering.
"Can you come take me home?" It comes out all quiet and stupid, and she's so much stronger than this. Her mom's just staying for observation and there's nothing actually wrong with her. But still.
She hears the sound of keys clanking together on the other end of the line. "Yeah."
She yells at him all the way to her house for driving like an idiot (like he always does, but she's a little sensitive right now). She gets out and slams the door when they're in her driveway, and she doesn't realize he's behind her until she's at the door and she can't see her keys in the dark to unlock the door. She's fumbling and cursing, and he takes her key ring from her, slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open for her.
"Want me to stay?" he asks before she steps inside.
She thinks he means it. It freaks her out. He's not supposed to be nice to her.
"No."
(Yes.)
... ... ...
Finn and Quinn start dating officially. Santana goes to Puck's place before he can come to her. She tells herself it's easier to show up and offer a little rough sex than it would be for him to show up and ask for it.
... ... ...
She has sex with some random guy (she knows who it is, but she's not admitting it to anyone) and realizes that even if Puck always said he was helping her practice and get better (yes, he's that much of a dick) she was helping him do the same. Because honestly, he-who-shall-remain-nameless couldn't fuck his way out of a wet paper bag, and not only was there zero foreplay (with Puck, sometimes that's the best part) but he had no staying power whatsoever. Can it even be considered sex if it only lasts two minutes? And he was small. Really small. She tries not to compare guys to Puck, since really, he's...it's very good. But yeah, this was just about the least satisfying thing she can imagine.
She's laying on her bed. Quinn is next to her in the dark, because they went to the party together and had Finn drop them off at Santana's place after. Quinn's parents would shit a brick if they knew their little girl had gone to a party where there was alcohol. Quinn doesn't even drink, but whatever. The Fabray's are fucking crazy.
Quinn's sleeping, curled up in a little ball, and Santana lays there on her back with her hands over her stomach. She hates Puck for making her think about him so much. And it's not even just the sex. Yeah, she misses that, too (it's been nearly a month), but it's completely stupid, how much she actually misses, like, hanging out with him and stuff. At least when school was on, they'd talk between classes or at lunch or whatever. Now they really only spend time together when one of them is horny. Clearly that hasn't been working out so well recently, either, since she's laying here completely unsatisfied and trying to count how many days it's been since she had him.
"You think I should date Puck?" she asks over breakfast.
Quinn actually puts her nose in the air and makes a face. "I don't think anyone should date Puck."
Santana rolls her eyes and tries not to be annoyed (pissed off) when Quinn starts naming all the reasons Puck would make a terrible boyfriend. She knows he sleeps around. She knows his pool cleaning business is practically a one-man prostitution ring. She knows he wastes his money on stupid shit, like beer, chewing tobacco, and weed. But he makes her laugh, and he's never done anything to hurt her (not on purpose). The sex is incredible, and it's totally messed up, but he's basically the only person she trusts no matter what. She knows he trusts her, too, even if he'd never come out and actually tell her that.
She calls him after Quinn leaves. She knows his hangover is as bad as hers is. She's been faking like she was fine all morning because she really wasn't in the mood for one of Quinn's self-righteous 'Jesus cries when you drink the Satan juice' talks.
He comes over and lays down on her bed without being invited to. She doesn't care. "'S'nice in here," he mumbles. She knows his house doesn't have AC, and hers does. That's why they spent almost all last summer at her place and not his. Well, that and her parents both work every day and she doesn't have any siblings around. "What'd you want?"
"I was thinking," she says, and she realizes she's nervous, which is stupid, considering all the shit they've done together. He arches his brow at her, but she kicks him in the side before he can make some stupid comment. "We should, like, be exclusive."
He laughs and rolls off the bed, starting for the door. (It hurts more than it should.)
"We haven't even had sex in..."
"I know," she says. She sits up on her knees on her bed, and he stops trying to leave. He runs his hand over his head and looks at her doubtfully. "But I want to." He grins, looks down at his shorts. "Not that. Well, yes, that, too." He laughs. She hates herself for not being able to explain this well. "Look, you're like, the only guy I can even tolerate for longer than an hour. And we're fucking hot together, Puck. You know that."
"So why you gotta tie me down?" he asks. He walks over to her, though, and maybe it's because she's wearing a tank top and shorts with absolutely nothing underneath, but he reaches out for her, puts his hands on her hips. "You know I don't really do the dating thing."
"You should," she says seriously. "With me."
"Are you gonna boss me around and shit?" he asks. She thinks he's being serious. She's going to use her best weapon to make him agree to what she wants. She reaches down and sets her palm over the front of his shorts and he presses himself into her hand.
"Only if you want me to," she says seductively. He groans, hardens against her palm.
"Sex whenever I want?"
"Within reason," she laughs. She pulls her hand away, and he pushes her onto her back so he can lay on top of her, forces her legs apart so he can fall between them. He rocks his hips, and she bites the inside of her lip. "Do you want to?"
She makes sure she's looking him in the eye when he answers. She'll know if he's lying.
"Yeah." He nods, smiles a little bit right before he kisses her.
She's hungover and tired, but she's not going to stop him, because she wants this so badly, him, whatever he'll give her. And he's surprisingly gentle. It's like he's treating her how, in his head, he thinks a guy should treat his girlfriend. It's too gentle for her, and when she tells him to stop being a pussy and fuck her, he actually laughs, kisses her hard and sinks into her with no condom, just to catch her off guard. It sucks (for both of them) when he has to pull out to 'glove up' (as he says) but then he says some seriously filthy things about how she feels without latex to make sure she's still turned on when he's ready again.
After, she tells him this means he can't sleep with anyone else, and he says he understands.
"Yeah, I know you understand," she says, turning her head to look at him. (Both of them hate all that cuddling and shit people are 'supposed' to do after. Not since that first time - her first time - has he held her after. She doesn't care.) "Are you capable of doing it?"
"As long as you're not a bitch and don't cut me off for stupid shit, we're good," he says. She thinks he means it. They both know she loves sex as much as he does; cutting off would hurt her, too.
They lay there quietly for a while. She rolls onto her side and contemplates going to sleep, since she knows her parents won't be home until way later and there's no risk of Puck being caught naked in her bed. When he presses himself against her, she can feel him hard against her back as he kisses her shoulder and neck. When she tries to roll over, he puts his hand on her hip to stop her, and he ends up taking her like that, no condom, and pulling out to come on the small of her back.
They watch telenovelas as she waits for her sheets to be done spinning in the washing machine. He doesn't hold her hand or anything, but he has his arm around her on the sofa while he annoys her with questions about the show and drinks his Coke. She thinks this is going to be really, really good.
... ... ...
They last a week before they break up. He comes over and she's totally PMS-ing, and his suggestion that she should 'get on your back before I'm deprived for a week' doesn't exactly go over well. She tells him to get out, and he tells her she's fucking crazy. She tells him he's the shittiest boyfriend ever, and he tells her he doesn't even want to be a boyfriend at all.
So apparently they've broken up.
She doesn't cry. She, Quinn and Brittany are all synched up, so they're all craving, and they go to McDonalds and get Happy Meals and McFlurries and bitch about whatever they can. Mostly guys. (Finn tends to just steer clear of Q all together when she's like this, and Mike is super-sensitive and not a jackass like Puck. Brittany just wanted the toy from her meal.)
Puck shows up at her door a couple days later with a half-melted chocolate bar and a copy of Jaws. She asks him what the fuck he wants, even as she grabs the chocolate from him and pulls him into her house. He says, "I was a dick." She takes it as an apology.
"Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are my favourite," she says, licking the chocolate from her fingers as they watch the movie. "Just so you know."
"Don't care," he says. "And shut up. This dude's about to get eaten."
"Don't tell me to shut up."
He throws his arm around her and pulls her closer, kisses her and keeps one eye on the television.
... ... ...
His idea of a good birthday gift is a Dora the Explorer pinata, a bottle of tequila, and Enrique Iglesias' new CD.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asks, looking at the crap he just dumped on her bed. "Seriously, Puck?"
"What? You're Mexican, right?"
"I'm Dominican!" she cries, shoving hard at his chest.
"Fuck. I knew I shoulda stopped at Taco Bell," he mumbles. She kicks the back of his knee so he falls. He doesn't appreciate that, but seriously, what the fuck is his problem.
"You're the worst boyfriend ever," she pouts, sitting down on her bed with her arms crossed as she looks at him. He gets up onto his knees and moves towards her. "Don't even think about it." He kisses the outside of her knee and slips his hand between her legs. "Puck. Don't fucking touch me."
"Baby, I wanted you to have a good birthday," he says. She looks at him like he's a complete fucking moron. Which he is, really. "Dora's fulla peanut butter cups." She rolls her eyes. She doubts it. She might throw it at him later to see if it'll crack open. Maybe she'll find out then. "Tequila makes me fuck like a stallion."
She parts her legs a little. She knows that last one is true. "Fucking Enrique?" she asks.
She laughs when he starts singing Hero. He smiles and pushes her back onto her bed, keeps singing until she's laying back against her pillows. She accidentally (honestly) kicks the pinata onto the floor, and it splits open. Little individual packets of Reece's Pieces fall out. Okay, so that's not entirely terrible. He grabs the tequila and tells her to sit up a little, then pours some into her mouth. She doesn't know why she lets him do this shit. He shouldn't be able to get away with it and still be sexy as fuck. He's a moron. He legitimately is the stupidest guy she knows. But when he pours more tequila down her throat and sings another Enrique song (how the fuck does he know so many Enrique songs?) she's actually laughing and kind of getting buzzed, and she thinks maybe this isn't a terrible gift.
"C'mon. I'm takin' you for dinner," he tells her, getting up off the bed.
"If you take me to Taco Bell, Puck, I swear..."
"Baby, don't even lie. You love tacos as much as the next Mexican." She glares at him. He grins. "Dominican."
She'd tell him Mexican food and Dominican food aren't even close to the same thing, but she knows it'll never really register in his stupid fucking pea brain anyway.
They sit in one side of the booth and he feeds her nachos and laughs when she tells him they should have brought that tequila. She's serious. She's only buzzed right now. It's not enough. He stops at the vending machine on the way out and drops in a quarter. He pops open the plastic egg and pulls out a stupid little tin ring with a red plastic 'stone' in the middle. He pushes it onto her pinky on her right hand.
"There. Quit your bitchin'. Got you jewelry."
"You're so stupid."
She spins the ring on her finger the whole way back to her house. They get drunk and have sex, and he tells her he wants her to have to count on two hands the number of times he makes her come. He lives up to that, even if things start getting a little blurry towards the end. He licks tequila from her belly button and they collapse together on her dirty sheets and eat almost all the Reece's Pieces before they fall asleep. She feels disgusting in the morning, on her actual birthday. When she tries to get comfortable to go back to sleep, his arm goes around her waist to haul her on top of him.
"Happy birthday, Mami," he says, blurry eyes looking up at her, hand on her ass. She kisses him and he spanks her. "Wanna go?"
"Yeah, but...slow, okay?" she asks. She's hungover and sore as hell from last night.
"Got you good," he mumbles against her skin as he rolls her beneath him. "I'll be gentle," he jokes.
She laughs. "Shut up."
But he is gentle. She likes it a little too much.
... ... ...
She puts that stupid, cheap, fake little ring on sometimes when she's in her room alone.
He comes over unannounced one time and she's wearing it. She knows he notices. He doesn't say anything. She likes the smile he gives her when he's got her hand pinned over her head and he feels it, though.
... ... ...
She catches him looking at Quinn one day when they're all at the beach, and she pushes at his shoulder.
"What the hell?" she asks.
"She's hot."
"I'm your girlfriend," she reminds him. "You know how stupid you are for telling me that?"
"You talk about other dudes all the time," he says, looking at her.
"Whatever. Keep dreaming, Puck. She'd never do what I do."
It's true. She hates that it's the only thing she has.
... ... ...
After one of their breakups he comes to her completely drunk on whiskey. (Yeah, the effect tequila has on him? Whiskey's the exact opposite.) She's tired of fighting with him, and tired of breaking up with him. They either need to just be good together, or stop fucking around and trying to date. They obviously don't work as a couple.
But he stands there on her porch and tells her helll be better, he'll be so good for her, and it's hard not to ask what the hell he's doing. She's never asked him to be better. She knows he's not good for her. But then his hands are on her waist and he's kissing her neck, and he tells her he just wants to sleep next to her tonight. She leads him up to her room and he clumsily strips down to his boxers. As soon as she's in bed, he's got his chest pressed to her back and he's murmuring stuff in her ear she can't even understand.
"We make sense."
It's about the only thing she catches, and she's not about to fucking cry or anything, but it's really scary that he thinks the same things about them as she does, and they still can't ever get on the same page.
He's gone in the morning when she wakes up, and she calls Brittany over to hang out, because fuck him. And she's not going to spend all day trying to figure out what the hell got into him last night that made him all sentimental. She doesn't think she'd like the answer.
... ... ...
He keeps fucking up. Apparently he doesn't remember those words that night at her house, because he basically treats her like shit. She hears a rumour that he fucked Tara Mills, but she knows it's not true, because he hates that bitch as much as she does. But it's getting harder and harder to trust him since they're spending less time together, and when they do spend time together, it's pretty much just for the sex.
She finds the worst ever reason to break up with him, because she's a bitch and it's easier that way. And she doesn't want to break up with him at all, which is totally fucked up and she doesn't even want to go there.
Maybe, really, she breaks up with him so he can't break up with her first.
... ... ...
He won't say anything to confirm it, but Santana's pretty sure, as soon as she learns Quinn's pregnant, that Puck had everything to do with it.
And he won't look her in the eye anymore.
... ... ...
She fools around with Brittany the first time because it's easy, and they love each other (fuck; whatever) and Brittany's all excited and eager and pretty fucking adorable.
Santana lays awake after and wonders when she became so starved for affection that she'd do those kinds of things with her best friend.
The truth? She's been watching Puck walk around with Rachel Berry on his arm for almost a week, and if it didn't make her sick to her stomach because it's Rachel Berry, it'd probably make her sick to her stomach because Puck's not supposed to move on.
(Not if she can't.)
... ... ...
She knows he's babysitting with Quinn. That's why she texts him to start with. Honestly, it doesn't take much to get his attention. It never did. All she has to do is say the word 'panties' and he's practically glued to his phone.
She doesn't give a shit who's carrying his kid. He was Santana's first, and he'll always be hers because of it.
... ... ...
The truth comes out and she doesn't say a thing. When he shows up at her place that night looking fucking pathetic and also a little pissed off, she pulls the door open and sneaks a bottle of gin from her parents' liquor cabinet. They fool around a bit when they're buzzed, but before her bra comes off or something stupid, he groans in frustration and rolls off her, flopping onto his back.
She doesn't know if he wants to talk about it, but she doesn't.
"You really fucking Britt?" he asks after a few minutes. His brow is furrowed like he might be bothered by that or something, but she doesn't think the guy who's expecting a baby with someone else has any place to judge.
"Regularly."
He puts his hand under her skirt and sets it there between her legs, not moving, not touching her nearly enough.
"I don't get a fucking invitation to that shit? C'mon, San, I thought we were friends."
She hates him for bringing it up, because the thought of having him and Britt at the same time makes her horny as hell. He smirks when she shifts against his hand. He gets her off but doesn't let her return the favour, even though she reminds him he's not attached to anyone else. He just shoots her a look, and she knows it's meant to remind her that yes, he kind of is.
... ... ...
She and Brittany get closer, which freaks her out a little, but it's cool, because Brittany is, like, her very best friend.
She sleeps with Finn because he's the guy Quinn never really got, and because Rachel never got him either. No one's had him, not like this, and she wants someone to remember her for something.
Then he says it didn't mean anything, and even though she knows it's the truth, she still hates him a little bit for saying it out loud.
... ... ...
She invites Puck over one night when she knows Quinn's driving him up the fucking wall.
She fucks him on the couch in the living room because she's enough of a bitch to want to get revenge on her former friend. (You sleep with my boyfriend, I'll sleep with yours.)
That and she hasn't had real sex in way too long, and she's kind of been dying for it.
"Fuck," he says after, breathing heavily and still inside her. "I needed that."
"Me, or sex?" she asks. She hates herself for it immediately, because she shouldn't need to know. She wouldn't have said anything, except she's still kind of full of him, and she's still coming down.
"Both," he mumbles, pulling out.
"Liar."
He doesn't argue her, but he kisses his way down her body and she lets him, runs her hands over his head even though Brittany's better at this than he is. This time, he sucks a spot on the inside of her thigh, like he's marking her as his (he probably doesn't think of it that way, so she tries not to) and makes her come so hard she has to bite her fist to keep from screaming.
She's pulling her pajama bottoms back on and he smacks her bare ass before she's covered. When she looks over her shoulder, he's just smiling at her.
"You're awesome, you know?"
"I know," she says. She leans over and kisses him, but pulls away when he reaches out for her. "Get the fuck out before my parents come home."
... ... ...
Okay, so glee club is super lame, and she hates that it makes her do shit like this. She's literally singing her emotions. Fucking glee club. And yeah, it's way more awesome than, like, Rachel singing The Climb or whatever (really? Miley Cyrus?) but the fact remains that instead of pulling a ponytail and threatening to blow a whole fuckload of secrets wide open, she's kind of strutting around the choir room and singing this song and having a bit of a smackdown with Mercedes.
Mercedes.
There is no way Puck is serious about dating this chick. There's no way. And she hears the low moan he lets out when she's running her hands down his chest as she sings. God, she'd take him right here if there weren't a bunch of pathetic virgins in the room.
He comes over that night. God, she can't get used to his head like that. She loved his mohawk, and not just because she did it in the first place. (But maybe that's why it sucked so much to see it gone.) But she liked something to grab onto and run her hands through. He knew it, too. When he's in her bedroom, he's got her pinned against the door as soon as it's closed.
"Think I'm yours, huh?" he asks as he kisses her. She whimpers into his mouth when she feels how hard he is. For her. She doesn't say anything, though, because even if she wants him to be hers, he'll never admit he is. "I shouldn't be here."
She laughs and he pulls away. "You're more committed to Weezie than you were to Q?" He shrugs his shoulder.
He's not committed to anyone.
"Fuck it," he says.
"Hey, I guess the whole 'once you go black, you never go back' thing doesn't apply to women, huh," she states. He presses her harder against the door, so her back is flat against it. It almost hurts. "Just say you want me, Puck. Just admit it."
He lets her go so abruptly that she stumbles a little, and she watches as he steps away from her and runs a hand over his head. She can tell he hates that he's missing the 'hawk.
"Why do you have to do that?" he asks angrily. "Fuck. I just wanna..."
"You just wanna fuck me with no strings."
"That's what we do. I'm a douchebag and you're a slut, and that's how it works," he says. He definitely expects her to punch him, which she does. It's just to his chest, but still. He glares at her as she does it, but he doesn't stop her.
"I am not a slut," she says seriously.
"I know," he groans. "Fuck. I know. I shouldn't have said that. Fuck."
"You know how much it pisses me off that you can't ever just tell me you actually want me?" she asks. It sounds fucking pathetic, but she goes with it.
"You broke up with me."
"Good thing," she says, pushing at his chest again. "How much stupider would I have looked if we were still together and all that shit about the baby came out?"
"I fuckin' don't wanna talk about that right now," he says seriously. She pushes him back again, and his knees hit the bed, which sends him falling back onto it.
"You know why you came here," she says, lifting her legs up so she's straddling him. She pushes him so he's laying down, and grinds her hips against his. She's a little surprised that he's still hard, but he always did say she looked hot when she was yelling; perv probably actually liked getting punched. "You can call me a slut, but you know I'm the only one who makes you feel the way you want to right now."
She angles her hips to prove her point. She grins when he sucks in a breath.
"Just fucking get undressed, San," he says darkly. "And I don't think you're a slut."
"You better not."
She sits back and pulls off her shirt, throws it on the floor and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. She pulls it off, too, and drops it on his stomach. He quickly pushes it off him and onto the bed. When she stands, he sits up and tugs his shirt over his head, and she takes it from him, adds it to the pile. She shimmies out of her skirt and drops her panties. And she waits. He stands and drops his pants around his ankles, then grabs her and pulls her onto him again.
"Your girlfriend probably hasn't even seen one before," she says, laughing as she strokes him a few times.
"Fuck off."
"Are you defending her?" She laughs harder and he grabs her hips, slides her onto him. He's probably just trying to shut her up, and fuck it, it's working.
"No," he says after a few seconds. "Trying to focus on you, baby."
He does. Three times. When Mercedes calls him in the middle, Santana grabs his phone and hits ignore.
She seriously entertained the thought of answering just so the girl could hear the sounds Santana can pull from Puck, but she decided against it. Or he thrust into her so hard she lost her train of thought. Either way.
... ... ...
She's really glad she's at the hospital when Quinn has the baby. Not because of Quinn, or because she wants to see this little pink person, but because Puck has no fucking clue what he's doing at the best of times, and when you throw in some emotional crap he pretty much just shuts down.
No one else, other than Finn, knows this.
She finds him after. After he's gotten hugs from a bunch of people who don't know that he hates being hugged when he's feeling like this. He's sitting in a random hallway and she was looking for a vending machine that had Coke because she hates Pepsi. She hates this stupid dress she's wearing, too, even if it does make her boobs look great. She tries to ignore the way it swishes when she walks, and when she sits down next to him, the fucking dress takes up more of the chair than she does.
She doesn't say anything to him, because she really doesn't know what to say and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing and have him walk away. She knows he'll try to do this all alone, get through all this, but she knows he doesn't really want to.
After a few minutes, he pushes up her dress a little and sets his hand on her thigh under the fabric. It's not meant to be sexy, and she doesn't take it that way. He just wants to touch her. She wants to let him.
... ... ...
He punches her shoulder after they sing to Mr. Schue. She's crying and she looks like a mess and he punches her.
Then she thinks about it and she doesn't really know what else she'd want him to do.
... ... ...
The first week of summer, he comes over with a six pack of beer when she tells him her parents are out of town. They sit on her back deck and start talking about the year, how completely fucked up everything was, from Finn and Quinn, to themselves, to Puck and Rachel, to...well, every couple that happened. He makes a few comments about she and Brittany, and yeah, that's still kind of happening, but it's never really been anything serious.
"I slept with Finn," she says conversationally. He glares at her and she shrugs her shoulder.
"Slut."
She laughs. (They both know he doesn't mean it.) "Says the teen dad."
He smirks just a little bit and tips his bottle back to take a sip of his beer. "Was it good?"
She laughs, looks at him doubtfully. "It was Finn. What do you think?" He laughs and shakes his head. "Was it with Quinn?"
She sees him tense. She knows that whole thing is kind of a sore spot, and he's still kind of pissy over having to give up his kid. She gets it. That had to suck. But she's asking a serious question. She wants to know if it was worth it, cheating on her, getting Quinn pregnant, fucking up his friendship and just about everything. She wants an honest answer.
But he's Puck, and Puck's a jerk, and she knows this, so she's not really surprised when he says what he says.
"Got my dick wet. What do you think?"
"Was she better than me?" she asks. She already knows the answer to this question, but she wants to hear him say it.
"Nobody's better than you, baby," he says, leaning over to kiss her just below her ear.
"Shut up. I'm serious."
"So am I," he insists. He moves so he's leaning against her, and she gets the hint and turns her body, then he's laying on top of her right there on the back deck at her parents' house.
He's kissing her, and his fingers are teasing at the apex of her thighs even though she's wearing jeans, and it feels like all year, like last summer, like her first time all over again. It's fucked up and she hates herself for thinking it, but it's true. Even though it's completely dysfunctional and not at all healthy, this is the longest, most important relationship she's ever had, with this boy who smells like sweat and Old Spice deodorant and beer.
"You're mine, you know that, right?" she asks when he pulls away to look at her. (She said something before he could say something, because what he says is always really stupid anyway.)
"Yeah," he laughs. "I'm two BJs away from getting your name tattooed on my cock."
She barks out a laugh and he kisses the side of her mouth as she grabs the front of his shirt. "That would be really gross," she says, and he nods against her, kissing down her chest above top of her shirt.
"You could get my jersey number or something," he says, and she knows he's buzzed or he wouldn't be saying this shit. "Tramp stamp."
"That'd make me yours, too," she says quietly. He pulls away and brings his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast.
"Getting all serious on me, Lopez?"
She takes his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs just the way he likes. "Problem?"
"Only that we're talking, not fucking," he says.
She laughs against his lips and pushes him off her so they can go inside. The fact that he just changed the subject and didn't leave completely is probably a bigger deal than she's making it out to be. She's learned not to expect too much from him. That can't be good for her, but whatever. She wants what she can take from him.
That night when they're in her bed with the door locked and her parents downstairs (who don't know he's in the house) he sleepily reaches over and puts his hand flat on her back while she's laying on her stomach. She knows he's awake, so she doesn't feel bad breaking the silence.
"Hey," she says, and he opens one eye to look at her. "Are you gonna stop fucking around?"
His other eye opens and raises his brow. "Are you?"
"Probably not," she admits, despite thinking this could be their chance at something.
At what? She doesn't know. She's not going to give up Britt for him, and he's not going to give up whatever for her. She likes him and she likes sex, but she's not in love with him and she's not going to make a fool of herself again, committing to him when he's sneaking around behind her back. She learned her lesson and it hurt enough the first time. She knows she'll probably still be pissed anytime he dates anyone else, and seducing him into cheating might not work every time. Maybe eventually she'll want to stop doing that, too.
"Cool," he says, as if it's a relief to not have to even try to be faithful.
She doesn't know what to call this, whatever they are. They're friends, really close friends, who happen to know each others' bodies really, really well. She won't give that up. The way he's running his hand low over her stomach reminds her of why, and the way he groans when she wraps her hand around him is probably proving the same thing to him.
They won't last, not like this, probably not ever. They'll fuck it up and piss one another off and make stupid mistakes. But whatever. That's basically what they've been doing all along.
And really, if they were going to hate one another, they'd be doing it by now.
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Santana, Mentions of basically every couple ever mentioned on the show.
Summary: Santana has always thought of Puck as hers.
Word Count: 10,520
Disclaimer: Don't own.
They have sex for the first time when they're 14. They're at a party at Matt's place, and they're in the basement with the door locked. There's a spare bedroom down there that Puck claimed as his own at the beginning of the summer. Now it's the middle of August and school starts soon, and this is the way they seem to end all their parties, the two of them alone together. Sometimes he's walking her home. Sometimes she's getting her older sister to drive them, leaving Puck on his doorstep because he's had too much to drink.
Sometimes it's this, kissing, tugging at one another's clothes, his hands dragging through her hair and her holding his arms tightly.
This time she's in just her panties and he's wearing only his boxers, and she knows this all feels really, really good, like she wants it to. His hand slips between her legs (it's not the first time he's touched her there, but it's different now for some reason).
"Wait," she says breathlessly, pushing at his chest a little. "Puck, I've never..."
"I know." He kisses her again, gently this time. "It's okay. You'll be awesome."
She smiles, almost laughs, but then his hand is in her panties and she forgets why she thought anything was funny at all.
She's sore afterward, kind of sweaty and a little sticky, and he's just laying there next to her, one hand on her hip and his eyelids drooping.
She feels different towards him now. It's like she's just realizing she'll always remember him, remember this. She tries to move, but her body really doesn't want her to.
"Okay?" he asks sleepily. She nods and he kisses her a little too roughly, but she likes it that way.
"This doesn't mean we're dating," she says as she pulls the sheet up over them a little more. His hand comes up to rest on her chest, squeezing lightly. She smiles. He's such a perv.
"Thank fuck," he says.
He pulls her closer when she laughs, and when she wakes up alone in the morning, she has a hard time telling herself not to be sad about it.
... ... ...
He texts her a couple days later, tells her his mom is out and his sister's at a friend's. She walks to his place with her bikini under her tank top and shorts, and she's torn between being pissed off and annoyed. Then she sees him in the driveway playing basketball and she finds herself smiling.
They go inside and he unties her bikini top at the back of her neck as she walks in front of him.
"Puck!" she cries, turning around to hit him as he laughs. "God. Is that why you invited me over?"
He looks at her like she's clueless. "Uh. Yeah."
She glares for what might be two seconds, then he raises his brow and sticks his bottom lip out enough to be totally hot, but not pathetic, and she grabs the front of his shirt.
"I like this," she says as he palms her breast and licks at her lips. "This not dating thing."
"Shut up, Santana," he mumbles against her mouth. "Not dating means I don't have to listen to you squawking." She pushes at his chest but he grabs her arm, pulling her onto the couch with him. "You're not so bad."
"You're just saying that because I had sex with you." She rolls her hips against him, and he drops his head. She grabs the hair at the back of his head and forces him to look at her. She smiles when he moans. She thinks he likes that.
"You're so hot," he says with a grin.
They're not dating. She's not his girlfriend. She doesn't think he's so bad, either, and when she tells him that, it's when he's inside her. That way he doesn't take her too seriously and run away or something.
... ... ...
"I need your help," Puck says just two days before school starts.
"What?" she asks. She's laying on her bed watching a rerun of The OC. She figures if he needs something she's not exactly too busy to do it. And they've been sleeping together for nearly two weeks, so she doesn't think she can really say no.
"Come over?"
"I'm not having sex with you," she states.
"Fuck. Gross. I know," he groans. There's a reason she won't have sex with him right now, and she thinks it's hilarious how disgusted boys get at the mention of girls having their periods. "Just come over? Leave all your PMS and shit at home, though."
"You're such a dick."
"I know. You coming or what?"
She sighs, switches off her television and grabs her purse. "Fine. I'll see you soon."
She shows up at his house and walks in to see his little sister curled up in a little pile of blankets on the floor, watching some shitty Disney movie. The girl says hi, and Santana waves and walks away when the kid starts talking about her 'nest' and how comfy it is or whatever.
"What do you wan...Oh, my god." She starts laughing. Her normally super hot friend looks absolutely ridiculous right now. "What the fuck?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles miserably.
"Puck, what the hell happened to your head?" She sits down on the bed, tries to bite her lip to keep from laughing so much, but it's not easy. There's a big bald patch on the side of his head right above his ear that definitely wasn't there when she saw him yesterday.
"Fucking guys on the team," he says angrily, standing up and touching the spot on his head. "I hit a grand slam and won us the game and this is their idea of thanks! Davis attacked me in the locker room with a fucking razor."
She manages to calm herself down enough to at least make it seem like this whole situation isn't the funniest shit she's seen all summer.
"Okay. So what do you need me to do?" she asks.
He literally glares at her. "Uh, fix it!"
She rolls her eyes and grabs his hand, taking him across the hall to the bathroom. She sees that there's a set of clippers on the counter, and she wonders why he didn't just do it himself. She closes the toilet seat sits down on it, spreading her legs so he can sit between them on the floor. She runs her hands through his hair a couple times and tries to ignore the way his hand slips around her foot, massaging gently. He normally doesn't do stuff like that and she kind of likes it, so she doesn't want him to stop. She knows he will if she mentions it.
"Trust me?" she asks as she grabs the electric clippers.
"Fuck no."
She knows he's lying, since he called her in the first place.
She starts on the fucked up side first, adjusting the clippers so the hair will all be trimmed evenly and no one will ever know he got 'tagged', or whatever stupid thing the guys would call it. She shaves the whole side of his head, almost to the top, then, just for fun, she starts on the other side, leaving him with a wide stripe of hair down the middle of his head. She's laughing when she brushes his shoulders off.
"The fuck d'you do?" he asks, running a hand over his head. She watches him stand and look in the mirror, and the smile she sees worries her. "This is awesome!"
"Puck," she laughs. "I'm not done."
"Yeah, you are." He pulls the cord from the electrical outlet to punctuate his point. "This is the fucking coolest hairstyle ever. My mom's gonna be pissed."
She shakes her head and sets the clippers down on the counter. "Do you have to try to piss everyone off all the time?" she asks.
He grabs her hips as she looks at his head. It's actually kind of...hot. He looks older, somehow, and a little mean, but in a really good way. And his hands are warm on her body. She really likes the way he touches her.
"I don't piss you off," he says, and she can tell when he's trying to seduce her. She doesn't know why he's even bothering.
"Pretty much always," she insists.
His hand slides down onto her ass and he pulls her closer so she's pressed against him. He kisses her, rubs his hips against hers a little bit so she can feel him getting hard. She loves that she can do this to him, to any boy, really, but especially him. She knows he had sex with Abigail Meyers at the beginning of the summer, but Santana thinks it means something that he keeps coming back to her.
"Wanna give me head before you go?" he asks, hand slipping under her shirt as his mouth travels along her jaw. She tries to push away from him, but he holds her there.
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. You know you love it." He pulls away to look at her and she sees the shit eating grin on his lips. She doesn't hate it, really. Love is kind of a strong word. "C'mon, you know I'll get you back next time."
She runs her hand over the front of his shorts and his head drops onto her shoulder. "Promise?" she asks, speaking right next to his ear.
He nods and she reaches over to lock the door, then sinks to her knees. His hands slip into her hair, and she really doesn't mind doing this. She loves the way he says her name.
And she probably likes it a little too much any time he references a next time. She may not want to date him, but she doesn't want to lose him either.
... ... ...
Everyone thinks his hair is so 'badass' that the next time they get a minute alone, he's fucking her behind her mom's gardening shed while their friends play drinking games inside. When they're done and he's zipping his jeans again, she's pushing her skirt back down over her thighs. His hand disappears beneath it and she groans as she shifts her hips.
"I owe you," he reminds her. She combs her fingers through his mohawk as he sinks down between her thighs.
She doesn't stop him, and she doesn't care that they smell like sex when they go back inside. Everyone probably knew what they were doing anyway.
... ... ...
Santana spends the first week of school glaring at the new girl. She's pretty and blonde and skinny and wears these like, completely virginal dresses and she just pisses Santana off.
Even more so because all the boys in school are staring at this chick, and Santana doesn't like the shift in attention from her to this new girl.
She and Puck are standing at his locker when she notices his eyes linger on the blonde girl's legs a little bit as she walks. Santana punches him on the arm.
"Ow! What?" he asks, rubbing his shoulder. She knows how to hit. He taught her.
"Don't look at her," Santana barks.
"Why not? She's hot." He turns his attention from the new girl to Santana. "Jealous?"
"Shut up."
"You totally are," he says, and she hates the way he's practically laughing. She never should have let on it bothers her. Now he'll just do it more because he knows it'll piss her off. "I heard she cheers."
"Shut up, Puck," she grumbles, gripping her locker door tightly.
"Probably join the Cheerios." He slips his hand beneath her uniform top, searching for sin, but she slams her locker and pulls away. She starts down the hall towards Blondie, but he grabs her elbow. "What are you doing?"
She wrenches her arm from his hold and gives him her bitchiest smile. "Keep your enemies closer, right?"
... ... ...
She sleeps with James Dawson after their first football game and pretends it doesn't hurt, the way Puck looks at her to show how pissed he is at her.
... ... ...
It takes a while for her to admit she wants him again. She's seen him fucking around at parties, getting drunk and hitting on just about any girl in a skirt, Cheerio issue or otherwise. She sees him at school, terrorizing anyone lower on the totem pole than he is, which is nearly everyone. The first time he tosses a drink in that mousy girl's face, Santana can't help but laugh, and he juts his chin at her in the hall. It's the most contact they've had in a while. After she slept with James and he fucked that Sarah girl that makes Santana want to punch things, everything got really awkward. No, not even awkward. She's just pissed at him for being such a dick, basically.
But she kind of misses him. They spent almost their whole summer together, joking and making out and having sex, and she thinks it's stupid that he's gotta get all possessive and stuff about her. And why is it okay for him to be with someone else? She tries to figure out if he would have fucked any other girl if she hadn't slept with James first, but she can't come to a conclusion one way or another.
But whatever. He's the same as she is. They used to make fun of people behind their backs. Or to their faces, which sometimes resulted in tears or whatever. Those were some good times. Actually, the time they convinced a high Finn that his pinky finger was going to fall off, she laughed so hard she cried, and Puck smirked at her and licked the teardrops from her cheeks. That was kind of gross, actually, and she made it widely known. He just leaned over and whispered something completely filthy in her ear about his tongue. Yeah, that was a good night. And she's pretty sure Finn is still refusing to smoke with either she or Puck ever again.
She's been watching him all night. He's drinking from a bottle of Coke she knows isn't all Coke. JD is his drink of choice. She remembers how he tastes when he drinks it, and she wants that right now. He's talking to one of the stupid, thinks-she's-cute-but-she's-not Cheerios. Santana debates breaking that shit up, or letting him find out for himself that Katrina doesn't put out and the silver ring on her finger is her abstinence ring or whatever the fuck she calls it. It would be pretty hilarious if he was left with a brutal case of blue balls. But it'd be more fun to see the look on that bitch Katrina's face when Santana steals the guy away.
People call her a bitch, too, but she doesn't really give a shit. So when she walks over and wedges herself between Puck and Katrina, she's the only one who's not surprised. She presses her thigh against the front of Puck's pants, and his hand comes up to grip her hip as he stares at her.
"Just getting a Sprite," she says, reaching for the can off the counter. The fridge is full of drinks. It's not a secret what she's really doing. She tries to pull away, but he's still holding her and he moves his leg so she's trapped. She's very aware of the other girl behind her. "You gonna let me go?"
"No," he answers gruffly. She twists her hips subtly, feels him harden against her, and his fingers dig into her skin.
"Puck!" Katrina whines.
Santana doesn't take her eyes off Puck as she speaks. "Sorry, K. You'll have to tease someone else's c..."
"You're so disgusting," Katrina whispers harshly. Santana isn't sure (doesn't care) if Katrina's talking about her or Puck.
He sets his drink on the counter so he can take her in both hands, pulls her against him and presses his hips against hers.
"You better not be fucking joking," he says seriously.
Her hand finds his belt so she can tug him closer. He groans. She smiles. "Have I ever joked with you before?" He doesn't answer, because it's kind of unnecessary. "Let's go."
"Where?"
She pulls away from him, tosses a glance over her shoulder. "Does it matter?"
It must not, because he follows her outside. They kind of break into the garage and lock the door behind them. He's got her pinned against the wall when she undoes his pants, and when she tells him she wants to lay down, he actually searches through boxes in the garage and finds a blanket so she doesn't have to lay on the concrete.
She kisses him a little softer than she means to.
He doesn't notice.
... ... ...
When basketball season comes around, he joins the team because Finn does. She knows this, calls him on it, and he tells her to fuck herself if she's not going to support him.
"What am I, your girlfriend?" she laughs. "I don't have to be supportive."
They're in his room with his sister downstairs watching after school specials or some shit. His mom's at work, so he invited Santana to skip last period and fuck around. They haven't gotten around to that part yet, and she doesn't know if they will. Sometimes they just hang out like this. She sips Diet Coke and reads his Maxims while he plays video games, and they talk and whatever.
He's just thrown his new basketball uniform into a pile on the floor, so they got to talking about the team and whatever.
"You're my friend, bitch. Be good to me," he says. He's smirking, and she reaches over and pushes at his cheek with her fingertips. He laughs before jerking his head back so he can see the television.
"Our teams are fucking terrible," she reminds him, turning the page of the magazine she's reading. She's on her stomach next to him in her uniform, her legs swinging in the air and her back to the television. He's already made at least five remarks about how close her mouth is to his junk. "I don't know why you'd want to be on any of them."
"The fuck else am I gonna do?" he asks. He's got a point there. "Anyway, I just like to be there when you get thrown up to the top of the pyramid."
"Because you can see my spanks," she laughs.
"No," he says. She looks up at him. "'Cause it'd be kind of gory and awesome if you fell."
She flips the magazine closed and throws it at his stupid face as she gets up. She pulls her hair back up into its ponytail as she yells at him. "You're such an asshole, you know that? You're just jealous that the Cheerios are, like, the one club at school that's actually good at anything."
"Calm your ass."
"Fuck you, Puck." She realizes he's paused his game. He never does. Maybe he meant that to be his apology.
He sits up a little more and grabs onto her hand, holds it so tight it almost hurts when she tries to pull it away. "C'mon. You know I don't wanna see you fall." She doesn't say anything. She's actually just getting over her fear of being thrown in the air like that. (Not that she's going to admit that to anyone.) That's probably what sparked the whole rant she just unleashed on him. "I love seeing your spanks."
"You're a moron," she says. His free hand slides over her thigh to the inside, and he dips his finger below the elastic at the crease of her thigh. "Puck, come on. Your sister is downstairs."
"I got a lock on my door," he says, tugging her closer. "I'm sorry, alright?"
He's never actually said the words. Not that one time he forgot a condom and didn't tell her until after. Yeah, she could totally tell anyway, but it was way easier to be pissed at him than it was to admit that he'd just made her so crazy that she didn't give a shit what he did to her, as long as he made her come. He didn't apologize when he accidentally hit her in the side at a party, either. It was totally innocent, that time. He'd just been moving, and so had she, and his fist connected with her ribs. He kissed her there and fashioned an ice pack out of duct tape and a bag of frozen peas, but he didn't actually say the words.
"Are you just saying that because you want me naked?" she asks, and she thinks the answer to this is really important.
He rolls his eyes. (That's not a good start.) "Sucks when you're mad, baby," he tells her, pushing up her polyester cheer top so he can kiss along the skin above the waistband of her skirt. "Even if you look hot as hell when you're yelling."
Her hands are in his hair as she laughs. "Shut up."
"'S'true," he says, and he pushes his tongue out against the sensitive flesh in the little valley at her hip. She whispers out an 'okay', because she's getting distracted, especially when he unzips her shirt at the side, under her arm. "Wanna do something for me?"
She pushes his head back to find the stupid grin on his face. "You piss me off and I have to do something for you?" He shrugs. She laughs. "What?"
"Wear my jersey," he commands.
She laughs again and pulls her top over her head. "You're such a cliché, seriously."
But then she's the one pulling on his jersey, number 20 emblazoned on her stomach, so she starts to think she's a total cliché, too. She doesn't know what to think of that, so she focuses instead on the way he presses her back into his mattress.
... ... ...
"I think Finn and Quinn are totally gonna hook up," she says once, just once, when the two of them are alone.
"Don't care," he says.
He makes it sound convincing. It pisses her off that he thinks she can't see through his lies. Maybe she's the only one, but he should know that she can read him like a book.
She doesn't call him on it. (Somehow him admitting to this thing he has for Quinn would make it all that much worse, even if she knows it's true anyway.)
... ... ...
Her mom gets into a car accident at the beginning of the summer. It's nothing big, really, but there's an overnight hospital stay and her dad is out of town, and she's always really hated hospitals, ever since her grandpa had cancer and she had to come and see him all the time.
She calls Puck in the middle of the night and does her best to make it sound like she hasn't been crying when she tells him what happened.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks.
For a second she thinks he's being a complete asshole, and she hates herself for being surprised. Then she realizes he's offering.
"Can you come take me home?" It comes out all quiet and stupid, and she's so much stronger than this. Her mom's just staying for observation and there's nothing actually wrong with her. But still.
She hears the sound of keys clanking together on the other end of the line. "Yeah."
She yells at him all the way to her house for driving like an idiot (like he always does, but she's a little sensitive right now). She gets out and slams the door when they're in her driveway, and she doesn't realize he's behind her until she's at the door and she can't see her keys in the dark to unlock the door. She's fumbling and cursing, and he takes her key ring from her, slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open for her.
"Want me to stay?" he asks before she steps inside.
She thinks he means it. It freaks her out. He's not supposed to be nice to her.
"No."
(Yes.)
... ... ...
Finn and Quinn start dating officially. Santana goes to Puck's place before he can come to her. She tells herself it's easier to show up and offer a little rough sex than it would be for him to show up and ask for it.
... ... ...
She has sex with some random guy (she knows who it is, but she's not admitting it to anyone) and realizes that even if Puck always said he was helping her practice and get better (yes, he's that much of a dick) she was helping him do the same. Because honestly, he-who-shall-remain-nameless couldn't fuck his way out of a wet paper bag, and not only was there zero foreplay (with Puck, sometimes that's the best part) but he had no staying power whatsoever. Can it even be considered sex if it only lasts two minutes? And he was small. Really small. She tries not to compare guys to Puck, since really, he's...it's very good. But yeah, this was just about the least satisfying thing she can imagine.
She's laying on her bed. Quinn is next to her in the dark, because they went to the party together and had Finn drop them off at Santana's place after. Quinn's parents would shit a brick if they knew their little girl had gone to a party where there was alcohol. Quinn doesn't even drink, but whatever. The Fabray's are fucking crazy.
Quinn's sleeping, curled up in a little ball, and Santana lays there on her back with her hands over her stomach. She hates Puck for making her think about him so much. And it's not even just the sex. Yeah, she misses that, too (it's been nearly a month), but it's completely stupid, how much she actually misses, like, hanging out with him and stuff. At least when school was on, they'd talk between classes or at lunch or whatever. Now they really only spend time together when one of them is horny. Clearly that hasn't been working out so well recently, either, since she's laying here completely unsatisfied and trying to count how many days it's been since she had him.
"You think I should date Puck?" she asks over breakfast.
Quinn actually puts her nose in the air and makes a face. "I don't think anyone should date Puck."
Santana rolls her eyes and tries not to be annoyed (pissed off) when Quinn starts naming all the reasons Puck would make a terrible boyfriend. She knows he sleeps around. She knows his pool cleaning business is practically a one-man prostitution ring. She knows he wastes his money on stupid shit, like beer, chewing tobacco, and weed. But he makes her laugh, and he's never done anything to hurt her (not on purpose). The sex is incredible, and it's totally messed up, but he's basically the only person she trusts no matter what. She knows he trusts her, too, even if he'd never come out and actually tell her that.
She calls him after Quinn leaves. She knows his hangover is as bad as hers is. She's been faking like she was fine all morning because she really wasn't in the mood for one of Quinn's self-righteous 'Jesus cries when you drink the Satan juice' talks.
He comes over and lays down on her bed without being invited to. She doesn't care. "'S'nice in here," he mumbles. She knows his house doesn't have AC, and hers does. That's why they spent almost all last summer at her place and not his. Well, that and her parents both work every day and she doesn't have any siblings around. "What'd you want?"
"I was thinking," she says, and she realizes she's nervous, which is stupid, considering all the shit they've done together. He arches his brow at her, but she kicks him in the side before he can make some stupid comment. "We should, like, be exclusive."
He laughs and rolls off the bed, starting for the door. (It hurts more than it should.)
"We haven't even had sex in..."
"I know," she says. She sits up on her knees on her bed, and he stops trying to leave. He runs his hand over his head and looks at her doubtfully. "But I want to." He grins, looks down at his shorts. "Not that. Well, yes, that, too." He laughs. She hates herself for not being able to explain this well. "Look, you're like, the only guy I can even tolerate for longer than an hour. And we're fucking hot together, Puck. You know that."
"So why you gotta tie me down?" he asks. He walks over to her, though, and maybe it's because she's wearing a tank top and shorts with absolutely nothing underneath, but he reaches out for her, puts his hands on her hips. "You know I don't really do the dating thing."
"You should," she says seriously. "With me."
"Are you gonna boss me around and shit?" he asks. She thinks he's being serious. She's going to use her best weapon to make him agree to what she wants. She reaches down and sets her palm over the front of his shorts and he presses himself into her hand.
"Only if you want me to," she says seductively. He groans, hardens against her palm.
"Sex whenever I want?"
"Within reason," she laughs. She pulls her hand away, and he pushes her onto her back so he can lay on top of her, forces her legs apart so he can fall between them. He rocks his hips, and she bites the inside of her lip. "Do you want to?"
She makes sure she's looking him in the eye when he answers. She'll know if he's lying.
"Yeah." He nods, smiles a little bit right before he kisses her.
She's hungover and tired, but she's not going to stop him, because she wants this so badly, him, whatever he'll give her. And he's surprisingly gentle. It's like he's treating her how, in his head, he thinks a guy should treat his girlfriend. It's too gentle for her, and when she tells him to stop being a pussy and fuck her, he actually laughs, kisses her hard and sinks into her with no condom, just to catch her off guard. It sucks (for both of them) when he has to pull out to 'glove up' (as he says) but then he says some seriously filthy things about how she feels without latex to make sure she's still turned on when he's ready again.
After, she tells him this means he can't sleep with anyone else, and he says he understands.
"Yeah, I know you understand," she says, turning her head to look at him. (Both of them hate all that cuddling and shit people are 'supposed' to do after. Not since that first time - her first time - has he held her after. She doesn't care.) "Are you capable of doing it?"
"As long as you're not a bitch and don't cut me off for stupid shit, we're good," he says. She thinks he means it. They both know she loves sex as much as he does; cutting off would hurt her, too.
They lay there quietly for a while. She rolls onto her side and contemplates going to sleep, since she knows her parents won't be home until way later and there's no risk of Puck being caught naked in her bed. When he presses himself against her, she can feel him hard against her back as he kisses her shoulder and neck. When she tries to roll over, he puts his hand on her hip to stop her, and he ends up taking her like that, no condom, and pulling out to come on the small of her back.
They watch telenovelas as she waits for her sheets to be done spinning in the washing machine. He doesn't hold her hand or anything, but he has his arm around her on the sofa while he annoys her with questions about the show and drinks his Coke. She thinks this is going to be really, really good.
... ... ...
They last a week before they break up. He comes over and she's totally PMS-ing, and his suggestion that she should 'get on your back before I'm deprived for a week' doesn't exactly go over well. She tells him to get out, and he tells her she's fucking crazy. She tells him he's the shittiest boyfriend ever, and he tells her he doesn't even want to be a boyfriend at all.
So apparently they've broken up.
She doesn't cry. She, Quinn and Brittany are all synched up, so they're all craving, and they go to McDonalds and get Happy Meals and McFlurries and bitch about whatever they can. Mostly guys. (Finn tends to just steer clear of Q all together when she's like this, and Mike is super-sensitive and not a jackass like Puck. Brittany just wanted the toy from her meal.)
Puck shows up at her door a couple days later with a half-melted chocolate bar and a copy of Jaws. She asks him what the fuck he wants, even as she grabs the chocolate from him and pulls him into her house. He says, "I was a dick." She takes it as an apology.
"Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are my favourite," she says, licking the chocolate from her fingers as they watch the movie. "Just so you know."
"Don't care," he says. "And shut up. This dude's about to get eaten."
"Don't tell me to shut up."
He throws his arm around her and pulls her closer, kisses her and keeps one eye on the television.
... ... ...
His idea of a good birthday gift is a Dora the Explorer pinata, a bottle of tequila, and Enrique Iglesias' new CD.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asks, looking at the crap he just dumped on her bed. "Seriously, Puck?"
"What? You're Mexican, right?"
"I'm Dominican!" she cries, shoving hard at his chest.
"Fuck. I knew I shoulda stopped at Taco Bell," he mumbles. She kicks the back of his knee so he falls. He doesn't appreciate that, but seriously, what the fuck is his problem.
"You're the worst boyfriend ever," she pouts, sitting down on her bed with her arms crossed as she looks at him. He gets up onto his knees and moves towards her. "Don't even think about it." He kisses the outside of her knee and slips his hand between her legs. "Puck. Don't fucking touch me."
"Baby, I wanted you to have a good birthday," he says. She looks at him like he's a complete fucking moron. Which he is, really. "Dora's fulla peanut butter cups." She rolls her eyes. She doubts it. She might throw it at him later to see if it'll crack open. Maybe she'll find out then. "Tequila makes me fuck like a stallion."
She parts her legs a little. She knows that last one is true. "Fucking Enrique?" she asks.
She laughs when he starts singing Hero. He smiles and pushes her back onto her bed, keeps singing until she's laying back against her pillows. She accidentally (honestly) kicks the pinata onto the floor, and it splits open. Little individual packets of Reece's Pieces fall out. Okay, so that's not entirely terrible. He grabs the tequila and tells her to sit up a little, then pours some into her mouth. She doesn't know why she lets him do this shit. He shouldn't be able to get away with it and still be sexy as fuck. He's a moron. He legitimately is the stupidest guy she knows. But when he pours more tequila down her throat and sings another Enrique song (how the fuck does he know so many Enrique songs?) she's actually laughing and kind of getting buzzed, and she thinks maybe this isn't a terrible gift.
"C'mon. I'm takin' you for dinner," he tells her, getting up off the bed.
"If you take me to Taco Bell, Puck, I swear..."
"Baby, don't even lie. You love tacos as much as the next Mexican." She glares at him. He grins. "Dominican."
She'd tell him Mexican food and Dominican food aren't even close to the same thing, but she knows it'll never really register in his stupid fucking pea brain anyway.
They sit in one side of the booth and he feeds her nachos and laughs when she tells him they should have brought that tequila. She's serious. She's only buzzed right now. It's not enough. He stops at the vending machine on the way out and drops in a quarter. He pops open the plastic egg and pulls out a stupid little tin ring with a red plastic 'stone' in the middle. He pushes it onto her pinky on her right hand.
"There. Quit your bitchin'. Got you jewelry."
"You're so stupid."
She spins the ring on her finger the whole way back to her house. They get drunk and have sex, and he tells her he wants her to have to count on two hands the number of times he makes her come. He lives up to that, even if things start getting a little blurry towards the end. He licks tequila from her belly button and they collapse together on her dirty sheets and eat almost all the Reece's Pieces before they fall asleep. She feels disgusting in the morning, on her actual birthday. When she tries to get comfortable to go back to sleep, his arm goes around her waist to haul her on top of him.
"Happy birthday, Mami," he says, blurry eyes looking up at her, hand on her ass. She kisses him and he spanks her. "Wanna go?"
"Yeah, but...slow, okay?" she asks. She's hungover and sore as hell from last night.
"Got you good," he mumbles against her skin as he rolls her beneath him. "I'll be gentle," he jokes.
She laughs. "Shut up."
But he is gentle. She likes it a little too much.
... ... ...
She puts that stupid, cheap, fake little ring on sometimes when she's in her room alone.
He comes over unannounced one time and she's wearing it. She knows he notices. He doesn't say anything. She likes the smile he gives her when he's got her hand pinned over her head and he feels it, though.
... ... ...
She catches him looking at Quinn one day when they're all at the beach, and she pushes at his shoulder.
"What the hell?" she asks.
"She's hot."
"I'm your girlfriend," she reminds him. "You know how stupid you are for telling me that?"
"You talk about other dudes all the time," he says, looking at her.
"Whatever. Keep dreaming, Puck. She'd never do what I do."
It's true. She hates that it's the only thing she has.
... ... ...
After one of their breakups he comes to her completely drunk on whiskey. (Yeah, the effect tequila has on him? Whiskey's the exact opposite.) She's tired of fighting with him, and tired of breaking up with him. They either need to just be good together, or stop fucking around and trying to date. They obviously don't work as a couple.
But he stands there on her porch and tells her helll be better, he'll be so good for her, and it's hard not to ask what the hell he's doing. She's never asked him to be better. She knows he's not good for her. But then his hands are on her waist and he's kissing her neck, and he tells her he just wants to sleep next to her tonight. She leads him up to her room and he clumsily strips down to his boxers. As soon as she's in bed, he's got his chest pressed to her back and he's murmuring stuff in her ear she can't even understand.
"We make sense."
It's about the only thing she catches, and she's not about to fucking cry or anything, but it's really scary that he thinks the same things about them as she does, and they still can't ever get on the same page.
He's gone in the morning when she wakes up, and she calls Brittany over to hang out, because fuck him. And she's not going to spend all day trying to figure out what the hell got into him last night that made him all sentimental. She doesn't think she'd like the answer.
... ... ...
He keeps fucking up. Apparently he doesn't remember those words that night at her house, because he basically treats her like shit. She hears a rumour that he fucked Tara Mills, but she knows it's not true, because he hates that bitch as much as she does. But it's getting harder and harder to trust him since they're spending less time together, and when they do spend time together, it's pretty much just for the sex.
She finds the worst ever reason to break up with him, because she's a bitch and it's easier that way. And she doesn't want to break up with him at all, which is totally fucked up and she doesn't even want to go there.
Maybe, really, she breaks up with him so he can't break up with her first.
... ... ...
He won't say anything to confirm it, but Santana's pretty sure, as soon as she learns Quinn's pregnant, that Puck had everything to do with it.
And he won't look her in the eye anymore.
... ... ...
She fools around with Brittany the first time because it's easy, and they love each other (fuck; whatever) and Brittany's all excited and eager and pretty fucking adorable.
Santana lays awake after and wonders when she became so starved for affection that she'd do those kinds of things with her best friend.
The truth? She's been watching Puck walk around with Rachel Berry on his arm for almost a week, and if it didn't make her sick to her stomach because it's Rachel Berry, it'd probably make her sick to her stomach because Puck's not supposed to move on.
(Not if she can't.)
... ... ...
She knows he's babysitting with Quinn. That's why she texts him to start with. Honestly, it doesn't take much to get his attention. It never did. All she has to do is say the word 'panties' and he's practically glued to his phone.
She doesn't give a shit who's carrying his kid. He was Santana's first, and he'll always be hers because of it.
... ... ...
The truth comes out and she doesn't say a thing. When he shows up at her place that night looking fucking pathetic and also a little pissed off, she pulls the door open and sneaks a bottle of gin from her parents' liquor cabinet. They fool around a bit when they're buzzed, but before her bra comes off or something stupid, he groans in frustration and rolls off her, flopping onto his back.
She doesn't know if he wants to talk about it, but she doesn't.
"You really fucking Britt?" he asks after a few minutes. His brow is furrowed like he might be bothered by that or something, but she doesn't think the guy who's expecting a baby with someone else has any place to judge.
"Regularly."
He puts his hand under her skirt and sets it there between her legs, not moving, not touching her nearly enough.
"I don't get a fucking invitation to that shit? C'mon, San, I thought we were friends."
She hates him for bringing it up, because the thought of having him and Britt at the same time makes her horny as hell. He smirks when she shifts against his hand. He gets her off but doesn't let her return the favour, even though she reminds him he's not attached to anyone else. He just shoots her a look, and she knows it's meant to remind her that yes, he kind of is.
... ... ...
She and Brittany get closer, which freaks her out a little, but it's cool, because Brittany is, like, her very best friend.
She sleeps with Finn because he's the guy Quinn never really got, and because Rachel never got him either. No one's had him, not like this, and she wants someone to remember her for something.
Then he says it didn't mean anything, and even though she knows it's the truth, she still hates him a little bit for saying it out loud.
... ... ...
She invites Puck over one night when she knows Quinn's driving him up the fucking wall.
She fucks him on the couch in the living room because she's enough of a bitch to want to get revenge on her former friend. (You sleep with my boyfriend, I'll sleep with yours.)
That and she hasn't had real sex in way too long, and she's kind of been dying for it.
"Fuck," he says after, breathing heavily and still inside her. "I needed that."
"Me, or sex?" she asks. She hates herself for it immediately, because she shouldn't need to know. She wouldn't have said anything, except she's still kind of full of him, and she's still coming down.
"Both," he mumbles, pulling out.
"Liar."
He doesn't argue her, but he kisses his way down her body and she lets him, runs her hands over his head even though Brittany's better at this than he is. This time, he sucks a spot on the inside of her thigh, like he's marking her as his (he probably doesn't think of it that way, so she tries not to) and makes her come so hard she has to bite her fist to keep from screaming.
She's pulling her pajama bottoms back on and he smacks her bare ass before she's covered. When she looks over her shoulder, he's just smiling at her.
"You're awesome, you know?"
"I know," she says. She leans over and kisses him, but pulls away when he reaches out for her. "Get the fuck out before my parents come home."
... ... ...
Okay, so glee club is super lame, and she hates that it makes her do shit like this. She's literally singing her emotions. Fucking glee club. And yeah, it's way more awesome than, like, Rachel singing The Climb or whatever (really? Miley Cyrus?) but the fact remains that instead of pulling a ponytail and threatening to blow a whole fuckload of secrets wide open, she's kind of strutting around the choir room and singing this song and having a bit of a smackdown with Mercedes.
Mercedes.
There is no way Puck is serious about dating this chick. There's no way. And she hears the low moan he lets out when she's running her hands down his chest as she sings. God, she'd take him right here if there weren't a bunch of pathetic virgins in the room.
He comes over that night. God, she can't get used to his head like that. She loved his mohawk, and not just because she did it in the first place. (But maybe that's why it sucked so much to see it gone.) But she liked something to grab onto and run her hands through. He knew it, too. When he's in her bedroom, he's got her pinned against the door as soon as it's closed.
"Think I'm yours, huh?" he asks as he kisses her. She whimpers into his mouth when she feels how hard he is. For her. She doesn't say anything, though, because even if she wants him to be hers, he'll never admit he is. "I shouldn't be here."
She laughs and he pulls away. "You're more committed to Weezie than you were to Q?" He shrugs his shoulder.
He's not committed to anyone.
"Fuck it," he says.
"Hey, I guess the whole 'once you go black, you never go back' thing doesn't apply to women, huh," she states. He presses her harder against the door, so her back is flat against it. It almost hurts. "Just say you want me, Puck. Just admit it."
He lets her go so abruptly that she stumbles a little, and she watches as he steps away from her and runs a hand over his head. She can tell he hates that he's missing the 'hawk.
"Why do you have to do that?" he asks angrily. "Fuck. I just wanna..."
"You just wanna fuck me with no strings."
"That's what we do. I'm a douchebag and you're a slut, and that's how it works," he says. He definitely expects her to punch him, which she does. It's just to his chest, but still. He glares at her as she does it, but he doesn't stop her.
"I am not a slut," she says seriously.
"I know," he groans. "Fuck. I know. I shouldn't have said that. Fuck."
"You know how much it pisses me off that you can't ever just tell me you actually want me?" she asks. It sounds fucking pathetic, but she goes with it.
"You broke up with me."
"Good thing," she says, pushing at his chest again. "How much stupider would I have looked if we were still together and all that shit about the baby came out?"
"I fuckin' don't wanna talk about that right now," he says seriously. She pushes him back again, and his knees hit the bed, which sends him falling back onto it.
"You know why you came here," she says, lifting her legs up so she's straddling him. She pushes him so he's laying down, and grinds her hips against his. She's a little surprised that he's still hard, but he always did say she looked hot when she was yelling; perv probably actually liked getting punched. "You can call me a slut, but you know I'm the only one who makes you feel the way you want to right now."
She angles her hips to prove her point. She grins when he sucks in a breath.
"Just fucking get undressed, San," he says darkly. "And I don't think you're a slut."
"You better not."
She sits back and pulls off her shirt, throws it on the floor and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. She pulls it off, too, and drops it on his stomach. He quickly pushes it off him and onto the bed. When she stands, he sits up and tugs his shirt over his head, and she takes it from him, adds it to the pile. She shimmies out of her skirt and drops her panties. And she waits. He stands and drops his pants around his ankles, then grabs her and pulls her onto him again.
"Your girlfriend probably hasn't even seen one before," she says, laughing as she strokes him a few times.
"Fuck off."
"Are you defending her?" She laughs harder and he grabs her hips, slides her onto him. He's probably just trying to shut her up, and fuck it, it's working.
"No," he says after a few seconds. "Trying to focus on you, baby."
He does. Three times. When Mercedes calls him in the middle, Santana grabs his phone and hits ignore.
She seriously entertained the thought of answering just so the girl could hear the sounds Santana can pull from Puck, but she decided against it. Or he thrust into her so hard she lost her train of thought. Either way.
... ... ...
She's really glad she's at the hospital when Quinn has the baby. Not because of Quinn, or because she wants to see this little pink person, but because Puck has no fucking clue what he's doing at the best of times, and when you throw in some emotional crap he pretty much just shuts down.
No one else, other than Finn, knows this.
She finds him after. After he's gotten hugs from a bunch of people who don't know that he hates being hugged when he's feeling like this. He's sitting in a random hallway and she was looking for a vending machine that had Coke because she hates Pepsi. She hates this stupid dress she's wearing, too, even if it does make her boobs look great. She tries to ignore the way it swishes when she walks, and when she sits down next to him, the fucking dress takes up more of the chair than she does.
She doesn't say anything to him, because she really doesn't know what to say and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing and have him walk away. She knows he'll try to do this all alone, get through all this, but she knows he doesn't really want to.
After a few minutes, he pushes up her dress a little and sets his hand on her thigh under the fabric. It's not meant to be sexy, and she doesn't take it that way. He just wants to touch her. She wants to let him.
... ... ...
He punches her shoulder after they sing to Mr. Schue. She's crying and she looks like a mess and he punches her.
Then she thinks about it and she doesn't really know what else she'd want him to do.
... ... ...
The first week of summer, he comes over with a six pack of beer when she tells him her parents are out of town. They sit on her back deck and start talking about the year, how completely fucked up everything was, from Finn and Quinn, to themselves, to Puck and Rachel, to...well, every couple that happened. He makes a few comments about she and Brittany, and yeah, that's still kind of happening, but it's never really been anything serious.
"I slept with Finn," she says conversationally. He glares at her and she shrugs her shoulder.
"Slut."
She laughs. (They both know he doesn't mean it.) "Says the teen dad."
He smirks just a little bit and tips his bottle back to take a sip of his beer. "Was it good?"
She laughs, looks at him doubtfully. "It was Finn. What do you think?" He laughs and shakes his head. "Was it with Quinn?"
She sees him tense. She knows that whole thing is kind of a sore spot, and he's still kind of pissy over having to give up his kid. She gets it. That had to suck. But she's asking a serious question. She wants to know if it was worth it, cheating on her, getting Quinn pregnant, fucking up his friendship and just about everything. She wants an honest answer.
But he's Puck, and Puck's a jerk, and she knows this, so she's not really surprised when he says what he says.
"Got my dick wet. What do you think?"
"Was she better than me?" she asks. She already knows the answer to this question, but she wants to hear him say it.
"Nobody's better than you, baby," he says, leaning over to kiss her just below her ear.
"Shut up. I'm serious."
"So am I," he insists. He moves so he's leaning against her, and she gets the hint and turns her body, then he's laying on top of her right there on the back deck at her parents' house.
He's kissing her, and his fingers are teasing at the apex of her thighs even though she's wearing jeans, and it feels like all year, like last summer, like her first time all over again. It's fucked up and she hates herself for thinking it, but it's true. Even though it's completely dysfunctional and not at all healthy, this is the longest, most important relationship she's ever had, with this boy who smells like sweat and Old Spice deodorant and beer.
"You're mine, you know that, right?" she asks when he pulls away to look at her. (She said something before he could say something, because what he says is always really stupid anyway.)
"Yeah," he laughs. "I'm two BJs away from getting your name tattooed on my cock."
She barks out a laugh and he kisses the side of her mouth as she grabs the front of his shirt. "That would be really gross," she says, and he nods against her, kissing down her chest above top of her shirt.
"You could get my jersey number or something," he says, and she knows he's buzzed or he wouldn't be saying this shit. "Tramp stamp."
"That'd make me yours, too," she says quietly. He pulls away and brings his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast.
"Getting all serious on me, Lopez?"
She takes his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs just the way he likes. "Problem?"
"Only that we're talking, not fucking," he says.
She laughs against his lips and pushes him off her so they can go inside. The fact that he just changed the subject and didn't leave completely is probably a bigger deal than she's making it out to be. She's learned not to expect too much from him. That can't be good for her, but whatever. She wants what she can take from him.
That night when they're in her bed with the door locked and her parents downstairs (who don't know he's in the house) he sleepily reaches over and puts his hand flat on her back while she's laying on her stomach. She knows he's awake, so she doesn't feel bad breaking the silence.
"Hey," she says, and he opens one eye to look at her. "Are you gonna stop fucking around?"
His other eye opens and raises his brow. "Are you?"
"Probably not," she admits, despite thinking this could be their chance at something.
At what? She doesn't know. She's not going to give up Britt for him, and he's not going to give up whatever for her. She likes him and she likes sex, but she's not in love with him and she's not going to make a fool of herself again, committing to him when he's sneaking around behind her back. She learned her lesson and it hurt enough the first time. She knows she'll probably still be pissed anytime he dates anyone else, and seducing him into cheating might not work every time. Maybe eventually she'll want to stop doing that, too.
"Cool," he says, as if it's a relief to not have to even try to be faithful.
She doesn't know what to call this, whatever they are. They're friends, really close friends, who happen to know each others' bodies really, really well. She won't give that up. The way he's running his hand low over her stomach reminds her of why, and the way he groans when she wraps her hand around him is probably proving the same thing to him.
They won't last, not like this, probably not ever. They'll fuck it up and piss one another off and make stupid mistakes. But whatever. That's basically what they've been doing all along.
And really, if they were going to hate one another, they'd be doing it by now.