Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block.

"Who wants to go in the hot tub with us?" Santana's voice rang from the top of the stairs.

Almost immediately, teenage boys ran towards the patio, ripping their jackets and shirts off their bodies, leaving their beers behind. You could practically smell the desperation in the air; these boys were willing to do anything (even risk their health) to be in a hot tub with Santana and Brittany that November night.

Everybody knew that nothing was hotter than Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce in a hot tub. Kissing. Touching.

Just the thought of it was enough to make them jizz in their pants.

Santana smirked at the reaction she got from the boys. Even if she wasn't head Cheerio any more, she still had it. She nodded at her blonde best friend and lifted her pinky. Brittany beamed back at her and locked her own finger with hers. They walked purposefully down the stairs, their long legs accentuated by their teeny, weeny bikini bottoms, Santana's boobs practically falling out of her top. She looked around the room, surveying the lame-ass boys that were left.

She rolled her eyes when she saw Finn and Rachel cuddling on the couch, oblivious to the rest of the partygoers. Finn swept Rachel's hair off her neck and leaned towards her, whispering into his girlfriend's ear. Santana watched as Rachel laughed, leaning her tiny body into Finn. Pathetic and predictable, she thought, shaking her head.

She continued scanning the room, not surprised to find Kurt and Mercedes standing by the snack table, their eyes darting around the house as though they feared that one of the cooler kids would jump them at any second. Santana knew that they had nothing to worry about; they were guests at her party and if either Azimio or Karofsky tried anything, she had her older brother, Officer Lopez, on speed dial. (She knew Jose wouldn't reprimand her for throwing a party... hell, he encouraged it! His baby sister could do no wrong in his eyes.) Still, neither Kurt nor Mercedes had to know that. Their fear was hilarious and Santana loved to laugh.

Her eyes landed on Quinn and she rolled her eyes again. The ice princess sat primly on one of the chairs beside to the snack table, worrying her bottom lip. The least "Momma Quinn" could do was pretend she was having fucking fun. Ugh. But no. Santana hadn't expected her to show, but when Sam (Mr Freaking Charming) approached Quinn with two cups in hand, Santana understood why she was there: Sam had probably coaxed Quinn into attending tonight's party. Quinn awarded Sam with a small smile and the boy's lips spread into a cheesy grin. Santana noticed his eyes timidly flit over to Kurt, who immediately looked down. Santana shrugged. Who cared if glee's Queen had a thing for Sam? Boy was not going to get anywhere with him.

Kay, so most of the lame glee club was at her party, but where the hell was Puckerman? She scowled. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Brittany noticed her frown and looked at her worriedly.

"What's wrong?" she said in that breathy voice of hers. "Are you mad because Tina and Mike are hooking up in the upstairs washroom?"

"They're not hooking up," Santana corrected. "Mike has a nose bleed because Artie threw a football at him. Speaking of Artie, where is he?"

Brittany lifted a finger and pointed to the kitchen where Artie was doing a keg stand.

"Great. Just fucking great!" Santana fumed. "If he gets plastered, he can't stay the night! My parents are coming home tomorrow morning." She unlocked her pinky from Brittany's and folded her thin arms. Where was Puckerman?

Puck scoped out the girls at the party; taking regular sips from his beer in between every ogle. He heard Santana and Brittany's mating call and rolled his eyes. Some things, like the Cheerios' sluttiness, never changed. He shook his head in derision as a slew of shirtless idiots ran out to the patio, scattering their clothes all over the Lopez's house.

He sat on the kitchen countertop, smirking as Artie did his first ever keg-stand. Boy was coming into his own, Puck mused.

Not only had Artie deftly thrown a pig-skin at Mike, earning him a clap on the back from Puck, but he was now chatting up a very hot Cheerio, in between chugging his body weight in beer. His boy had done good. Granted, Puck was no longer interested in any of the girls at the party. From the moment he'd seen Quinn walk through the door with Sam (Puck resisted the urge to gag), he'd holed himself up in the kitchen; sitting as close to the wall and away from sight as his muscular frame would allow. He didn't need to be reminded that Quinn had found Finn version 2.0. He also didn't need Hopez trying to get in his pants.

"Right, Puck?" Artie asked, effectively pulling Puck out of his thoughts.

"What's that?"

"You'll hook up with her friend, right?" Artie asked straightforwardly. He cocked his head towards the girl in the Cheerios uniform standing in the opposite corner, a sexy smirk on her face. Puck's eyes roamed over the girl's tight body and realized he'd never seen her before. Must be a freshman, he figured.

He glanced back at Artie and immediately understood; he was Artie's wingman and was, therefore, expected to fulfill his wingman duties.

Sam came into the kitchen just then, raising his hands defensively at the sight of Puck. Puck gave him a curt nod in response and Sam entered the kitchen. At least the kid knew who was in charge, Puck smirked. Sam saw Artie and the two girls, nodded once at them and grabbed two cups. He pursed his oversized lips, shoving a hand in his jeans back-pocket, and approached the keg timidly.

"You guys havin' fun?" he asked, awkwardly shifting his weight.

"Sam, I gotta ask you, man," Artie slurred, waving Sam over.

Sam crouched down to Artie's level, a serious look on his pleasant face.

"Is Tina with Mike?"

Puck rolled his eyes. Bringing his near-empty cup to his lips, he chugged. When was Artie going to understand that Tina didn't want him? Just like Quinn doesn't want me, he though bitterly.

"Uh... I dunno." Sam returned. His eyes locked with Puck's and he immediately looked down. He didn't like the accusations he found swimming in Puck's eyes.

Puck crushed the cup in his fist and jumped off the counter. He sauntered over to the keg, grabbing another cup from the counter-top.

"Waste, much?"

Puck looked up and met the eyes of the girl in the corner. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and pouted sexily. For a freshman, Puck was impressed.

He shrugged and filled his new cup, blocking Sam from the beer.

"I don't care about much," he said turning to look back at his intended hook-up. "Least of all the environment." He winked and made his way back to his corner on the counter, sliding his body back up. He watched Sam as he blew out a shaky breath and filled a cup. When he put the other cup beneath the spout, reaching for the tab, Puck spoke up.

"Don't," he said. "Quinn doesn't like beer."

Sam looked up and nodded. "Well, what does she like?"

"Fruity drinks." Puck shrugged.

"Like?"

"Wine coolers, Brittany's spiked punch, you know. Shit like that. Just... don't get her a beer." He took a drink from his cup. "Beer gives her bad breath or something."

Sam smiled, nodding his appreciation. He exited the kitchen and Puck leaned forward to watch Sam make his way to the drinks table, pouring Quinn a glass of Diet Coke. Good choice, Puck thought. His eyes followed Sam, as he walked over to Quinn, his arm extended and offering her a cup. He leaned back, hiding from sight again, looking away when he saw the smile on Quinn's face.

He downed the rest of his drink and jumped off the counter. It was time to move the fuck on.

"Mike, I don't think it's going to stop bleeding." Tina said, blotting her boyfriend's nose with a kleenex.

"Get me a tampon."

"Wha-wha-what?" Tina asked, clearly surprised at his request.

"Come on, Tina." He pled. "I just wanna go downstairs and drink! I've heard that tampons help absorb the blood and... well. I'm desperate. I haven't been to a party in months and... I just wanna dance!"

"Mike, drinking is probably the reason why your nose won't stop bleeding." Tina explained. When she saw his confused expression, she rolled her eyes. "Alcohol thins blood, so it won't coagulate... you know? Clot?"

"Oh." He leaned against the counter, defeated. "So... no more jelly shots?"

Tina smiled, shaking her head. He wasn't exactly the most articulate boyfriend, but he was a cutie. If only he hadn't groped her on Santana's makeshift dancefloor. When Artie saw that, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him from spiralling that football at Mike. Though Tina was convinced that Puck had been the one to give Artie that ball. He had seemed awfully proud of himself when Mike had clutched his nose.

She shook her head angrily. Artie had no right to do what he did... still, she couldn't help but feel a little... relieved that he still liked her.

She bit her lip and got a fresh kleenex for Mike's nose. Pressing it against his nose, she took his hand and placed it over the kleenex.

"Press the bridge of your nose like this," she instructed, taking Mike's index and forefinger between her fingers and demonstrating. She smiled when he did as he was told.

"Listen, I'm going to call your mom," she said as she clutched the doorknob. "I don't think we should stay here much longer."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Mike answered. He reached for her, grabbing her hand. "Thanks," he smiled.

Tina withdrew her hand from his, a bit unnerved all of a sudden. Forcing a smile, she nodded and exited the Lopez's bathroom.

"How 'bout you and I head upstairs?" Puck said, stroking the Cheerio's arm with a finger.

The girl giggled and took his hand in hers. "I'll lead the way," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Puck clapped Artie's back and followed the ridiculously hot Cheerio. It was time to forget all about jail, Quinn, Be—and everything that happened last year. Tonight was going to be life-changing.

"Be safe!" He heard Artie call out from the kitchen.

They walked past the nauseatingly cute Finn and Rachel and made their way upstairs. They were just passing in front of the bathroom, when Puck literally walked into Tina.

"Sorry," she mumbled, without looking. When her eyes locked on his, she scoffed. "I was wondering when you'd come upstairs for a random hookup," she said icily.

She walked off shaking her head.

"What's her problem?" the Cheerio asked.

"Uh... beats the hell out of me." He laughed. Licking his lips, he grabbed the girl's arms in his hands and pulled them over her body. "Now let's find that room, shall we?"

Mercedes had just gotten the courage to pour herself a cup of Brittany's special punch, when Tina approached the snack table. She cast a meaningful look at Quinn and motioned for Mercedes and Kurt to follow her.

"What up, Tee?" Mercedes asked when they were out of Quinn's earshot. She glanced back at Quinn and Sam and noticed that Quinn was staring at their group intently. She gave Quinn a small wave and reassuring smile. She pointed at Tina and shrugged. Quinn nodded back, but arched her eyebrow suspiciously.

"Okay, you know how you told me last week that when Quinn was living with you, all she talked about was Puck and how much she wished he would grow up and that one time we had a sleepover, Quinn confided in us that the thing she hated most about Puck was his inability to keep it in his pants?" Tina asked in one breath.

Mercedes and Kurt looked at one another and nodded slowly.

"Well," Tina looked at her two friends uneasily. "He's hooking up with someone upstairs."

"Who with?" Kurt exclaimed.

"Shh," Tina looked around Mercedes and noticed that Quinn was still looking at them suspiciously. "I don't want Quinn to hear."

Mercedes looked behind her again and saw that Sam had diverted Quinn's attention. Relieved, she turned back to her two friends. "Who's he with?" Mercedes pressed.

Tina shook her head sadly. "Some... Cheerio." She pursed her lips to the side and frowned. "I don't know why he does it. I mean, last week he was all about proving to all of us that his time in juvie had changed him. He took Artie under his wing," she rolled her eyes at that. "And, sure, I think he may have coaxed him into throwing the ball at Mike, but really... He's been good." She shrugged. "I've heard he's been avoiding Santana, which is driving her crazy, but it shows that he's ready to stop banging anything with boobs. At least, that's what Brit told Kurt, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"Right."

"Well, as long as Quinn doesn't find out, this should be a relatively stress-free night," Mercedes said.

"Tell me what?"

The three of them turned to look at Quinn. She stood with her hands on her hips, a delicate eyebrow arched.

"Quinn!" Kurt gasped.

"I-I-we-uh..." Tina stammered.

Mercedes sighed heavily and met her friend's eyes.

"Listen, Quinn, we were worried you'd find out that... well, Puck's upstairs with some Cheerio." She said uneasily. It pained her to deliver this news to her friend. A friend she had grown to love like a sister. Sure, Mercedes and Quinn were as different as night and day, glee club and football, black and white... but they had bonded over their shared love of soul music (Quinn was a huge fan of the Supremes, much to the Jones family's amusement), their mutual understanding that they were more alike than they could ever understand and their compassionate nature. Mercedes was surprised to find that underneath that hostile glare, Quinn was an empathetic soul who was willing to provide comfort. As glee club's brassy diva realized, she and Quinn's differences were nothing compared to their similarities.

Mercedes watched as Quinn's arched eyebrow slowly fell.

"Oh."

Quinn nodded slowly, absorbing the information. She blinked once and finally smiled.

"He's finally back then, isn't he?" She bit her lip and walked back to sit with Sam. Sam looked up at them and scratched his head in confusion. He draped an arm over Quinn's shoulder, but she brushed him off, giving him a small smile.

"It's better that she knows now, ladies." Kurt said rationally as he watched Quinn and Sam.

"True, but I just wish she could turn her heart off, you know?" Mercedes said, her voice heavy with sympathy. "I know that girl is not over that mohawked perv. And poor Sam is none the wiser."

Kurt's eyeroll went unnoticed by his friends. As if Kurt Elizabeth Hummel has the right to fall in love with another straight boy, he thought dramatically.

Puck's hand moved mechanically up the girl's shirt, stroking the underside of her left breast, while the other hand wove itself into her blonde locks. His eyes stayed closed, but he knew, by the moans escaping the girl's mouth, that she was getting into their heavy petting session. But... he wasn't. Lying beside the Cheerio on Santana's little brother's bed, he tried to jump-start Little Puck by remembering the last time he'd been in that room—Santana had a thing for doing it in every room in her house. They'd done it in her room, her parent's, her little brother's and even in both the bathrooms. Still, the memory of their sexy romps didn't excite him.

He started wishing that the girl (What was her name again?) would say something... anything... to elicit some response from his nether regions. His prayers were answered when her throaty voice broke the silence.

"I'd heard about you," the girl said in between wet kisses.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmmhmm..." a sexy purr came from her throat. "The Cheerios do nothing but talk about the hot boys at McKinley."

Puck diverted his attention to her neck. Maybe it was her kissing.

"You're on..." she gasped when Puck flicked his tongue over her pulse point. "Most of their lists."

His hand moved of its own accord to cup her left breast and the girl arched into it. He was doing all of the right things and was getting the right responses, but no matter what the girl did, nothing woke Little Puck up. And Little Puck was always up for sex. Hell, sex was part of the reason he'd even started his pool cleaning business. What the hell was wrong with him?

Prying his mouth off of her neck, Puck hoisted himself up, propping himself up on his hands. The girl looked affronted and shifted herself up, leaning against her elbows.

"Uh... yeah." He clicked his tongue and ran a shaky hand through his mohawk. "I can't do this."

"What do you mean 'you can't do this'?" The girl was practically shouting.

"Listen, you're hot," Puck reassured her, looking at her body like it was dessert. "But I can't do..." he wracked his mind, trying to come up with a better excuse than 'You're not turning me on, baby'—even Puck knew that wasn't nice. "I can't do... a... a freshman!" He nodded emphatically, trying to convince the girl and himself, that that was why Pucky-Puck couldn't and wouldn't have sex with this hot as hell freshman. He wanted to facepalm for all eternity, fearing that his junk might be broken. He shook his head quickly, trying to rid his mind of that scary as fuck thought.

Noticing his head shake, the girl's bottom lip began to tremble.

"It's because I'm fat, isn't it?" Her voice shook. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

"No!" Puck waved his hands in front of him, trying to assuage the girl's fears. "Trust me... you're hot."

"Then why the hell won't you do me? Listen, I've heard the stories. I've heard about the countless Cheerios you've slept with and I know that you have nothing against sleeping with underclassmen. So why the hell won't you do me?" The girl was hysterical. And not in the funny way.

Fearing that nothing would calm the chick down, Puck went for another approach.

"Listen, baby," he crooned, stroking her arm with his finger. "It's not you, it's me." He gave her his best panty-melting smile, but was shocked when the Cheerio laughed.

"Oh. My. GOD!" She choked out in between laughs. "Your junk isn't working, is it?" She covered her mouth with her hands, rolling over, snorting uncontrollably. "I can't believe it! The Sex Shark of McKinley can't get it up!"

Puck pulled himself off the bed and started pacing.

"No! That's not it!" He argued. How could it be when the sight of Quinn last week in glee had made him half-hard? He hadn't seen her in over two months, but just seeing her... her blonde hair under a sexy black bandana and wearing that bad-ass outfit, made him want to corner her in the janitor's closet like they'd done back in their freshman year? "I just don't think you're... old enough to experience sex with someone as experienced as me. I mean, have sex with me, and I'll ruin men for you. True story." He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips drawn into a frown.

The girl crawled over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Listen, I don't care about your excuses, but aren't you a little young to have problems getting it up?" She looked pointedly at his crotch.

Crying out in exasperation, Puck left the room without another glance at the cheerleader.

Rachel walked out onto the porch and breathed in the cold crisp November air. It was her first party and it was their—Finn and Rachel's—first party together... as a couple. She smiled to herself, mentally patting herself on the back, happy that the night had been an overall success. Sure, Azimio had shoved Finn against the wall when Rachel had left to go the bathroom, but Santana had witnessed the affront and warned the football player to lay off. She had to remember to thank Santana... maybe she'd bake her some cookies to show her appreciation.

The door slammed shut and Noah Puckerman stumbled out of Santana's house, taking deep breaths and leaning against the porch's rail for support. Concerned, Rachel stepped forward.

"Noah?"

Puck startled, turning to face her. The moonlight hit his face and Rachel saw the dejected expression he wore. She involuntarily stepped closer to him, wanting to provide some comfort to ease his pain.

"Don't, Berry." Puck hissed. He backed off and shook his head. Leaning against the railing once more, she saw him clench his jaw.

She stepped back, giving him the space and privacy he desired. They stood there, both effectively ignoring one another, listening to the calmness in the winter air. Rachel wondered why Finn was taking so long. She felt as though she'd been waiting for him for hours. She was just about to step back inside, when Puck broke the silence.

"I didn't think she'd show."

Immediately, Rachel felt Puck's pain wash over her in waves. She recalled that day on the bleachers when he had guessed that her heart belonged to Finn and she confessed to having noticed his eyes on Quinn. She'd always known that Puck had cared for Quinn. From the moment he'd joined glee, Puck did nothing but stare at the pregnant cheerleader. She empathized with him, knowing that they had more in common than their shared faith.

Puck, like Rachel, was ambitious and dreamed of leaving Lima for bigger, better things.

Puck, like Rachel, was abrasive, often speaking without thinking.

Puck's confidence, much like Rachel's, depended on his happiness. And Puck's confidence... it depended on Quinn.

She stepped forward once more, placing a timid hand on his shoulder, quietly urging him to keep talking. He needed to rid himself of the poison coursing through his veins.

"After she was born, we were okay," his voice was gruff, but Rachel detected the sincerity in his tone. "Hell, she got her mom to hire me a few times to clean out their pool. We hung out. We talked. We even went to Shelby's house. You know...? To see what her home-life was like? To say our goodbyes." His words hung in the air.

"She didn't want... anything to do with me. She told me we needed to get over her," he scoffed. "She... I don't know. And now..." he breathed in deep. "Now she's here with that... that fucking tool?" He shook his head angrily and moved to sit on the porch stairs. He let his head hit the side of the house, stretching his legs out.

Rachel bit her lip, fidgeting with her hands.

"Noah, maybe this is what she needs." Rachel's voice was soft. "Maybe this is for the best." She swallowed hard, knowing that her words did nothing to give him comfort. But she knew what she was saying was true. And most times, the truth hurts.

She shifted her weight and startled when the door opened and Finn stepped out. He grinned when he saw her, but noticing her troubled expression, he followed her eyes to Puck.

He leaned down, putting a hand on Puck's shoulder.

"You need a ride, man? I know you were hitting the keg pretty hard..."

Puck nodded, walking towards Finn's car. Finn stretched out his hand towards Rachel and Rachel wrapped both of her hands around his. She looked up at him worriedly and he gave her a half-smile. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered "He'll be okay," into her hair, smiling when he felt her nod.

Puck sat in Finn's backseat, leaning his head against the cold glass. The Rent soundtrack filled the small car and he wished so hard he hadn't been desperate for a ride. Wished he hadn't been so desperate to hide his face. He hadn't felt this worthless since JewFro and McKinley's nerds threw him in the trash. Now it was worse than that. At least then he could beat those losers to a pulp if they stepped out of line. At least then he had a plan. Now? A Cheerio knew his secret. A Cheerio who could tell the rest of the school about his little problem and ultimately cost him his "stud" status. He punched the door angrily.

"Hey!" Finn called from the front, narrowing his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Cut it out, man!"

Rachel grabbed Finn's hand and squeezed. She turned in her seat to look at Puck and smiled.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?" Her voice was soft, but she couldn't bring her eyes to meet Puck's.

Puck continued to stare out the window, ignoring Rachel.

"Listen, Puck... Why don't you talk to her? She left the party early. I'm sure you could call her and I dunno... talk...?"

Again she was met with silence. Breathing out, she turned in her seat again and faced the front. When her back was turned, Puck gave her the finger, ultimately making him feel better.

Finn reached an intersection; he could head right onto McAllister Avenue or veer left onto Dudley Road. Puck sat up, staring from left to right; right to left.

"Hey, uh," he put his hand on the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, Hudson. I have someone to talk to." He patted Rachel's shoulder, smiling softly when she turned to look at him. She was right, he should talk to Quinn; it sucked to admit it.

Ducking out of the car, Puck made his way up Dudley Road.

They were outside the Fabray's house. Sitting in the dark. Ordinarily, this was the part of the date when the gentleman gets his kiss. But a kiss was the furthest thing from Quinn's mind.

Apparently, it was the furthest thing from Sam's mind, too.

"You know I always wondered why Clark Kent never told more people his secret. Like, I mean, I get he was Superman, but wouldn't it be good for him if more people knew what he was capable of?"

She knew nothing about comics, science-fiction or pop culture and Sam knew little about soul music, cheerleading and the women's lib. They literally had nothing in common and, quite frankly, Quinn liked it that way. Somehow it was comforting to know that they never had anything to say to one another.

She fiddled with her hands in her lap. It was a nervous habit of hers—playing with her hands—and she found she did it a lot when she was with Sam.

He reached over the console and took one of her hands in his. Quinn immediately wanted to recoil, but she knew that would be rude. Sam had been nothing but lovely all evening; the perfect gentleman. Isn't that what she wanted? But the more she thought about how perfect Sam was, the more she remembered Finn and his awkward sweetness, his timid manner and his inability to make her go weak in the knees. Finn had been the perfect gentleman, but he was never what she needed. Never what she wanted.

"Hey," Sam's voice interrupted her dizzying thoughts. She looked up, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed hard. Afraid that if she didn't choose her words wisely Sam would think she was looking for date number four. Or worse, Sam would know that she wasn't interested. Quinn was stuck between a rock and a hard place: not wanting Sam, but not wanting to let go of him, either. Instead, she opted to smile sweetly at the boy next to her.

"Nothing," she said softly. She rolled her head to the side and giggled in that cute way of hers. "I'm just tired. I was never one for partying."

Sam smiled at that. It seems her answer satisfied him. She pulled on her seatbelt and gathered her things. Almost immediately, Sam opened his door and walked over to her side. He pulled the door open—he played the part of the perfect gentleman flawlessly—and helped Quinn to her feet.

He walked her to her door—he knew the role better than most boys—and waited patiently for Quinn to bid him goodnight.

Quinn took her house key out, fiddling with it nervously. She didn't want him to kiss her, but she knew that he was expecting one.

Sam reached to pull a strand of her blond hair off her face and Quinn slowly met his gaze. He raised his eyebrows and a faint smile grew on his lips. Slowly, carefully, his face inched closer and Quinn was unable to stop him. She watched as he closed his eyes... She swallowed once. Twice. Trying to rid the taste of betrayal from her mouth.

She could feel his warm breath on her mouth and—

"What the hell are you doing?" a familiar voice boomed.

Before she even knew what was happening, Quinn was startled to find Sam on the floor, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, of bone hitting concrete, frightening her. She realized what was happening: Puck was attacking Sam!

Waking from her daze, she ran over to Puck's shaking form and pulled him off of Sam, yelling at him to stop hurting him. Sam stayed on the floor, his shallow breathing scaring Quinn. She crouched beside his shaking form and ran her hand on his face. Already, she could see the beginnings of a bruise on his left eye and her stomach turned. She caused this.

No, Puck did.

She turned to look at Puck, her eyes narrowed. She rose to her full height and walked towards Puck purposefully; her palm facing up, ready to strike him. She gave him a cold hard look and shook her blonde head.

"You have no right." She was embarrassed when her voice shook, causing Puck to involuntarily step forward. She waved him off, shaking her head again. She walked back to Sam and helped him to his feet, letting him lean into her body. They walked to her house, taking their time as they climbed the three steps to her porch. Puck used her key to open the door and the three of them stepped in. He rushed to the kitchen, while Quinn helped Sam ease his way into one of the couches. Puck entered the living room with an ice pack in hand and Quinn yanked it from his eager hands. She didn't even glance at him, but leaned down to Sam again, pressing the ice pack against Sam's cheek tenderly.

Puck looked away, not wanting to see Quinn handle Sam with such care.

He walked to Quinn's kitchen, pulling out a stool and sinking into it. He knew that whatever happened next would define this. This game of cat and mouse. This game of lying, admitting and hiding. This avoidance.

He was ready to be a man and admit defeat if that's what Quinn wanted. Because he wanted her to be happy—no matter what.

A/N: I wrote this because it was an idea that kept nagging at me. I literally couldn't stop thinking about Puck and Quinn and Sam and what the club thought of whatever it is they have. It was written in a few hours, so please excuse the typos, the inconsistencies, etc, since this is one of the rare times that I'm actually not going to worry too much about editing (says the editor :P). This was merely written for my amusement, but I really hope that you all enjoy it!

Thanks for reading!