Pressure Cooker
Title: Pressure Cooker
Author: domfangirl
Characters/Pairing: Puck POV, Puck/Quinn, Santana and mentions of other characters.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Post-episode fic for 1x11 "Hairography." I lift dialogue direct from the episode.
Summary: She's hot as hell, and carrying his baby, and she had those little boys eating out of the palm of her hand after she sang to them. Of course, she'd had him eating out of the palm of her hand, too.
Author's Notes: This is a blatant attempt to explain Puck's behavior so that I don't have to deal with the character assassination that occurred on Wednesday.
Wrapping his fingers firmly around the handle of his guitar case, he says to Quinn, "You were awesome tonight," and he means it. She's hot as hell, and carrying his baby, and she had those little boys eating out of the palm of her hand after she sang to them. Of course, she'd had him eating out of the palm of her hand, too. That song, the way she looked at him, everything about it made him positive he wasn't going to go over to Santana's tonight, even though he'd been invited. Her parents were out of town, which meant only one thing.
Quinn looks a little amazed as she explains, "I was surprised at how I kind of...enjoyed it. I was worried about you at first. You seemed distracted, all that texting to Mike."
"Distracted?" he asks with just the right amount of incredulity in his voice. "I was the opposite, babe. I was totally into it." That's a lie, because he wasn't that into it, not until she sang "Papa Don't Preach," and he realized just what this whole evening was about. "All I know is we proved something tonight. This parenting thing, we can do this." Quinn was giving him an audition, and he knew Rachel Berry would love that all the analogies that came to his mind were musically related, but he wasn't going to blow his chance. He'd helped her get those kids fed, washed, and tucked into bed, and he'd loved every minute of it.
He means it--they can do it, together. Sure, maybe he had been distracted at first, texting to Santana all the things he'd really like to say to Quinn, but his attention had arrowed in pretty fast once Quinn's intentions had become obvious. A quick text to Santana saying he'd try to come by later was not a commitment he worries about keeping, not when Quinn looks at him with mingled hopefulness and fear that makes him sure Mercedes had been right. By saying he was putting no pressure on her, he'd opened the door to her letting him influence her anyway.
The idea that he can get everything he's ever wanted in the next 15 minutes hums under his skin while an earwormed Madonna song spins in his brain. He says that he's going to marry me, and we can raise a little family...
They walk out to his truck, and Puck lets himself feel it. It's finally happening, she's coming around, and he wants to pump his fist in the air and scream out like he does on the football field when they actually score--which isn't often, so this sense of euphoria isn't something he feels a lot.
He's so close right now he can practically taste it.
As he opens the passenger door and helps her into the car, he has a vivid flashback to the last time she'd been in his truck. That had been when they made the baby, and he can feel the same excitement rushing through his veins now. It's a blurred version of a boner combined with the satisfaction that he only feels when Quinn smiles at him. He knew he'd had it bad for this girl, long before he'd actually gotten her, and the idea that he won't have to hide how much he feels for much longer makes him giddy.
Placing his guitar in the bed of the truck, he hops in and starts the car. "You wanna go get a hot chocolate or something?" he asks, turning the key in the ignition.
Quinn's smile widens as she slides her eyes over to him. "I'd love to," she replies.
*
An hour later, they're getting back into his truck. They've talked and flirted and smiled at each other over whipped cream and hot drinks in a Dunkin' Donuts in what Puck considers to be a ridiculously PG moment, but now that they're on the far side of the parking lot without any other cars around, he goes for the kiss, sliding his hand under her hair to grasp the back of her neck. She gasps, then sighs, and her lips soften under his and when he pushes his tongue lightly over hers, she makes a sound in the back of her throat that makes him ache. His dick throbs in his pants, but his chest feels strangely tight too, as though he's just run the length of the football field.
He feels her hand touch tentatively at the edge of his jaw, and then her fingers brush upward, rubbing over his cheekbone and across his ear. Then they bend, and her short nails dig into the soft skin at the back of his neck and he kisses her hard, his tongue moving in rapid thrusts, much the way another part of him would like to move inside her.
She gasps again, but pushes him back, and their panting breaths quickly start to fog up the windows of his truck. He smiles as he tips her chin up so he can rub his thumb over her bottom lip. He'd always thought Quinn's mouth probably made all the guys think dirty thoughts, but up close at this moment, he has a flash of her pressing her lips to the downy soft hair on the top of their daughter's newborn head.
God, he wants it all, so bad. He wants Quinn, right now, and forever, but really, right now. They can do it here in his truck, like before, and why not? It's not like she can get pregnant again, and she obviously wants him too, so they should just do it. "I want to be with you," he finds himself whispering. It sort of feels like too many words, but then her eyes deepen, the green reduced to a thin ring around the outer edge, her pupils dark and big, and he knows, deep in his bones, that it's exactly what she wanted to hear, and he intends to show her just how much he's wanted her all along. He cups her whole face in both hands and pulls her closer, rubbing his lips over hers in open-mouthed fly-bys that are only the tip of the iceberg. Drawing his tongue over her lips, he darts it inside, rimming her teeth, and then he slides his hands down the front of her shirt, cupping her breasts as he fastens his mouth deeply over hers. Her boobs are bigger than they were the last time he touched them, and he feels his dick get harder--impossibly--at the thought of seeing them, and seeing what his baby has done to make her different.
But then she's pushing him back again, and even though he can feel her hardened nipples under his fingers, through both her shirt and her bra, she says, "Puck, no," and it's the tone of the no that he recognizes instantly. Some girls say no just so you'll talk them into it, but that no doesn't sound firm, the way Quinn's does, and it's never followed by, "You need to take me back to Finn's."
He feels anger surge through him, quickly followed by guilt for hating Finn when logically he knows none of this is his best friend's fault. He thinks of arguing with her, but Mercedes' words flash through his head, and he realizes he's done it again, moved too fast, wanted too much, given away too much.
Quinn is ruthless--so much like him--when she knows the weaknesses of the people around her. That's something about her he's always liked, that she could be just as sweet as she was hellacious. The minute he'd backed off, he'd gotten her to run to him. But like a neglected dog, the second she gave him the attention he wanted, he was all over her, demanding more than she was ready to give.
He wraps his hands around the steering wheel, tightening his fingers until the ridges press painfully into his palms. He breathes deeply, trying to control himself, and her voice is soft when she says, "His mom is expecting me."
"Yeah, I got it," he snaps. Wrenching the key in the starter, the truck rumbles to life. He slams the gear shift into reverse, and nearly backs out without even turning to look out the window. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes another deep breath and forces himself to be sensible. What's he going to do, wreck his truck and hurt his baby mama and the baby? He cranes his neck around and makes sure it's safe to back up the truck, but the windows are a little fogged over, so he turns back and flips the defroster on.
"Puck..." Quinn says, and her hand reaches out to hover over his arm as it's stretched out to feel the force of heat coming up through the dash vents.
"It's fine," he says, looking at her. "It's all good."
"I don't want to upset Finn's mother," she says, her voice softer, almost apologetic.
"No problem," he says, choking on the urge to say she could come live with him. He's sure if he said that, she'd get out of the truck lickety-split.
Her fingers finally settle on his arm and slide back and forth briskly between his wrist and elbow. "You're the best, Puck," she says, and then she smiles, and he feels an unsettling irritation.
He's never going to get what he wants from her. So maybe he should just settle for what he can have. Maybe he should just be the baby daddy, and stop trying to be the boyfriend too. It was only going to mess with his head, and make him act like a pussy to try to get her.
He had to be smarter about the whole thing, or he was going to end up looking like Rachel did every time she looked across the choral room at Finn.
And fuck him if he was going to end up looking like that; he wasn't going to let Quinn make a fool of him.
*
He sees her first thing Monday morning, just as she and Finn are coming in the double doors at the end of the hallway, not far from his locker. Finn nods a greeting to him and Quinn smiles a secret little smile, one that makes his pants a little uncomfortable, and gives him this bubble of ridiculous hope that she's not going to be walking down the halls with Finn forever.
He must be standing there with a pretty moronic look on his face when Santana taps him on the shoulder. He turns towards her, flashing her a grin that fades slightly when she seems so pissed. "What's up?" he asks.
"I thought you were coming over the other night," she says, and she literally taps her foot on the floor next to his.
"I said I'd try," he reminds her.
"So babysitting with Quinn was more fun than coming over to my house? I wonder if Finn knows that his girlfriend--"
"Hey, shut the fuck up. I went with Quinn as a favor, because Finn couldn't make it. It was three six-year-olds, and she wasn't sure if she could handle it on her own." Santana's eyes had narrowed when he snapped at her, so Puck quickly turns on the charm. "Come on, Santana, you know, I'da been there, if I could have. It just went later than I planned, and you know, sometimes my mom is all over my ass about helping out with my little sister. So I had to get home so my mom could leave for work. She's working night shift this week." This was all true, though if he'd really wanted to be with Santana, he'd have found a way around it. The truth was, after dropping Quinn off at the Hudson's, he'd just wanted to go home. If he'd gone to Santana's, he'd have had to romance her into it, because it would have been their first time together. Santana was a lot of talk (or texts) and not a lot of action, and he'd already not gotten what he wanted enough for one day.
All the same, he didn't want Santana mad at him. He could still hit that at some point, so there was no reason to burn the bridge. He knows he's got her convinced when she leans against the locker and looks up at him with promise in her eyes. "You know, I was really disappointed, but my parents are coming home today."
"No worries," he says leaning towards her. "We'll get another chance."
It's not until Quinn comes marching up to his locker in between 6th and 7th period that the look of determination on Santana's face really registers with him. "Hey, babe," he says. Then she snatches up his cell phone and starts scrolling through his text messages, he says, "Um, you really don't want to do that."
He feels bad at the same time he wants to choke Santana at the same time he discovers this is the easiest opportunity in the world to take advantage of.
Quinn's angry eyes fly up to his face from the cell phone screen. "You lied to me," she accuses.
He reaches out and takes the phone from her hand. "I'm sorry. I tried to resist Santana. I did. But I'm young, and girls have this...power over me." It's better if she thinks all girls are equal. Quinn's just like anyone else. Maybe if he convinces her of that, he'll start to believe it too. "But hey," he adds, "it's all good." She'd gone home to Finn, and she could think whatever she wanted to about what he did after he dropped her off.
"It's definitely not all good," she says impatiently. "I thought you wanted to be with me."
"I do!" he answers, too quickly. "Like a lot," he says, another desperate dog move. Be cool, Puck, keep the tone just right. "But you haven't given it up to me since the night I knocked you up." That's a true fact. "Baby, I'm a dude. I have needs." And anybody can fill those needs. He doesn't need Quinn.
Well, he needs her, but he isn't ever going to get her if he lets her know just how much he needs her.
"You expect to raise a baby with me and text dirty messages to every other girl at this school, if I don't give it up to you every day?"
He's surprised at the tears that are suddenly in her eyes, but he plows forward with his no-pressure script. "No!" he states emphatically. "Just the hot girls." The tears in her eyes disappear almost so quickly he's not quite sure if he imagined them or not, and the expression of annoyance he's most familiar with takes over her face. "Look, I'm gonna be a good dad," he says, campaigning for what seems least scary. "But I'm not gonna stop being me to do it."
Without a retort, Quinn just turns and walks away. Puck can't help but wonder if all of this isn't just going to come back and somehow bite him in the ass, and when he sees her with Finn, walking down the hall like they're the perfect beautiful couple after school, he feels sick to his stomach.
Two days later, Mercedes reports to him that Quinn has definitely decided to give the baby up, and he punches a hole in the wall of the choral room.
Author: domfangirl
Characters/Pairing: Puck POV, Puck/Quinn, Santana and mentions of other characters.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Post-episode fic for 1x11 "Hairography." I lift dialogue direct from the episode.
Summary: She's hot as hell, and carrying his baby, and she had those little boys eating out of the palm of her hand after she sang to them. Of course, she'd had him eating out of the palm of her hand, too.
Author's Notes: This is a blatant attempt to explain Puck's behavior so that I don't have to deal with the character assassination that occurred on Wednesday.
Wrapping his fingers firmly around the handle of his guitar case, he says to Quinn, "You were awesome tonight," and he means it. She's hot as hell, and carrying his baby, and she had those little boys eating out of the palm of her hand after she sang to them. Of course, she'd had him eating out of the palm of her hand, too. That song, the way she looked at him, everything about it made him positive he wasn't going to go over to Santana's tonight, even though he'd been invited. Her parents were out of town, which meant only one thing.
Quinn looks a little amazed as she explains, "I was surprised at how I kind of...enjoyed it. I was worried about you at first. You seemed distracted, all that texting to Mike."
"Distracted?" he asks with just the right amount of incredulity in his voice. "I was the opposite, babe. I was totally into it." That's a lie, because he wasn't that into it, not until she sang "Papa Don't Preach," and he realized just what this whole evening was about. "All I know is we proved something tonight. This parenting thing, we can do this." Quinn was giving him an audition, and he knew Rachel Berry would love that all the analogies that came to his mind were musically related, but he wasn't going to blow his chance. He'd helped her get those kids fed, washed, and tucked into bed, and he'd loved every minute of it.
He means it--they can do it, together. Sure, maybe he had been distracted at first, texting to Santana all the things he'd really like to say to Quinn, but his attention had arrowed in pretty fast once Quinn's intentions had become obvious. A quick text to Santana saying he'd try to come by later was not a commitment he worries about keeping, not when Quinn looks at him with mingled hopefulness and fear that makes him sure Mercedes had been right. By saying he was putting no pressure on her, he'd opened the door to her letting him influence her anyway.
The idea that he can get everything he's ever wanted in the next 15 minutes hums under his skin while an earwormed Madonna song spins in his brain. He says that he's going to marry me, and we can raise a little family...
They walk out to his truck, and Puck lets himself feel it. It's finally happening, she's coming around, and he wants to pump his fist in the air and scream out like he does on the football field when they actually score--which isn't often, so this sense of euphoria isn't something he feels a lot.
He's so close right now he can practically taste it.
As he opens the passenger door and helps her into the car, he has a vivid flashback to the last time she'd been in his truck. That had been when they made the baby, and he can feel the same excitement rushing through his veins now. It's a blurred version of a boner combined with the satisfaction that he only feels when Quinn smiles at him. He knew he'd had it bad for this girl, long before he'd actually gotten her, and the idea that he won't have to hide how much he feels for much longer makes him giddy.
Placing his guitar in the bed of the truck, he hops in and starts the car. "You wanna go get a hot chocolate or something?" he asks, turning the key in the ignition.
Quinn's smile widens as she slides her eyes over to him. "I'd love to," she replies.
*
An hour later, they're getting back into his truck. They've talked and flirted and smiled at each other over whipped cream and hot drinks in a Dunkin' Donuts in what Puck considers to be a ridiculously PG moment, but now that they're on the far side of the parking lot without any other cars around, he goes for the kiss, sliding his hand under her hair to grasp the back of her neck. She gasps, then sighs, and her lips soften under his and when he pushes his tongue lightly over hers, she makes a sound in the back of her throat that makes him ache. His dick throbs in his pants, but his chest feels strangely tight too, as though he's just run the length of the football field.
He feels her hand touch tentatively at the edge of his jaw, and then her fingers brush upward, rubbing over his cheekbone and across his ear. Then they bend, and her short nails dig into the soft skin at the back of his neck and he kisses her hard, his tongue moving in rapid thrusts, much the way another part of him would like to move inside her.
She gasps again, but pushes him back, and their panting breaths quickly start to fog up the windows of his truck. He smiles as he tips her chin up so he can rub his thumb over her bottom lip. He'd always thought Quinn's mouth probably made all the guys think dirty thoughts, but up close at this moment, he has a flash of her pressing her lips to the downy soft hair on the top of their daughter's newborn head.
God, he wants it all, so bad. He wants Quinn, right now, and forever, but really, right now. They can do it here in his truck, like before, and why not? It's not like she can get pregnant again, and she obviously wants him too, so they should just do it. "I want to be with you," he finds himself whispering. It sort of feels like too many words, but then her eyes deepen, the green reduced to a thin ring around the outer edge, her pupils dark and big, and he knows, deep in his bones, that it's exactly what she wanted to hear, and he intends to show her just how much he's wanted her all along. He cups her whole face in both hands and pulls her closer, rubbing his lips over hers in open-mouthed fly-bys that are only the tip of the iceberg. Drawing his tongue over her lips, he darts it inside, rimming her teeth, and then he slides his hands down the front of her shirt, cupping her breasts as he fastens his mouth deeply over hers. Her boobs are bigger than they were the last time he touched them, and he feels his dick get harder--impossibly--at the thought of seeing them, and seeing what his baby has done to make her different.
But then she's pushing him back again, and even though he can feel her hardened nipples under his fingers, through both her shirt and her bra, she says, "Puck, no," and it's the tone of the no that he recognizes instantly. Some girls say no just so you'll talk them into it, but that no doesn't sound firm, the way Quinn's does, and it's never followed by, "You need to take me back to Finn's."
He feels anger surge through him, quickly followed by guilt for hating Finn when logically he knows none of this is his best friend's fault. He thinks of arguing with her, but Mercedes' words flash through his head, and he realizes he's done it again, moved too fast, wanted too much, given away too much.
Quinn is ruthless--so much like him--when she knows the weaknesses of the people around her. That's something about her he's always liked, that she could be just as sweet as she was hellacious. The minute he'd backed off, he'd gotten her to run to him. But like a neglected dog, the second she gave him the attention he wanted, he was all over her, demanding more than she was ready to give.
He wraps his hands around the steering wheel, tightening his fingers until the ridges press painfully into his palms. He breathes deeply, trying to control himself, and her voice is soft when she says, "His mom is expecting me."
"Yeah, I got it," he snaps. Wrenching the key in the starter, the truck rumbles to life. He slams the gear shift into reverse, and nearly backs out without even turning to look out the window. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes another deep breath and forces himself to be sensible. What's he going to do, wreck his truck and hurt his baby mama and the baby? He cranes his neck around and makes sure it's safe to back up the truck, but the windows are a little fogged over, so he turns back and flips the defroster on.
"Puck..." Quinn says, and her hand reaches out to hover over his arm as it's stretched out to feel the force of heat coming up through the dash vents.
"It's fine," he says, looking at her. "It's all good."
"I don't want to upset Finn's mother," she says, her voice softer, almost apologetic.
"No problem," he says, choking on the urge to say she could come live with him. He's sure if he said that, she'd get out of the truck lickety-split.
Her fingers finally settle on his arm and slide back and forth briskly between his wrist and elbow. "You're the best, Puck," she says, and then she smiles, and he feels an unsettling irritation.
He's never going to get what he wants from her. So maybe he should just settle for what he can have. Maybe he should just be the baby daddy, and stop trying to be the boyfriend too. It was only going to mess with his head, and make him act like a pussy to try to get her.
He had to be smarter about the whole thing, or he was going to end up looking like Rachel did every time she looked across the choral room at Finn.
And fuck him if he was going to end up looking like that; he wasn't going to let Quinn make a fool of him.
*
He sees her first thing Monday morning, just as she and Finn are coming in the double doors at the end of the hallway, not far from his locker. Finn nods a greeting to him and Quinn smiles a secret little smile, one that makes his pants a little uncomfortable, and gives him this bubble of ridiculous hope that she's not going to be walking down the halls with Finn forever.
He must be standing there with a pretty moronic look on his face when Santana taps him on the shoulder. He turns towards her, flashing her a grin that fades slightly when she seems so pissed. "What's up?" he asks.
"I thought you were coming over the other night," she says, and she literally taps her foot on the floor next to his.
"I said I'd try," he reminds her.
"So babysitting with Quinn was more fun than coming over to my house? I wonder if Finn knows that his girlfriend--"
"Hey, shut the fuck up. I went with Quinn as a favor, because Finn couldn't make it. It was three six-year-olds, and she wasn't sure if she could handle it on her own." Santana's eyes had narrowed when he snapped at her, so Puck quickly turns on the charm. "Come on, Santana, you know, I'da been there, if I could have. It just went later than I planned, and you know, sometimes my mom is all over my ass about helping out with my little sister. So I had to get home so my mom could leave for work. She's working night shift this week." This was all true, though if he'd really wanted to be with Santana, he'd have found a way around it. The truth was, after dropping Quinn off at the Hudson's, he'd just wanted to go home. If he'd gone to Santana's, he'd have had to romance her into it, because it would have been their first time together. Santana was a lot of talk (or texts) and not a lot of action, and he'd already not gotten what he wanted enough for one day.
All the same, he didn't want Santana mad at him. He could still hit that at some point, so there was no reason to burn the bridge. He knows he's got her convinced when she leans against the locker and looks up at him with promise in her eyes. "You know, I was really disappointed, but my parents are coming home today."
"No worries," he says leaning towards her. "We'll get another chance."
It's not until Quinn comes marching up to his locker in between 6th and 7th period that the look of determination on Santana's face really registers with him. "Hey, babe," he says. Then she snatches up his cell phone and starts scrolling through his text messages, he says, "Um, you really don't want to do that."
He feels bad at the same time he wants to choke Santana at the same time he discovers this is the easiest opportunity in the world to take advantage of.
Quinn's angry eyes fly up to his face from the cell phone screen. "You lied to me," she accuses.
He reaches out and takes the phone from her hand. "I'm sorry. I tried to resist Santana. I did. But I'm young, and girls have this...power over me." It's better if she thinks all girls are equal. Quinn's just like anyone else. Maybe if he convinces her of that, he'll start to believe it too. "But hey," he adds, "it's all good." She'd gone home to Finn, and she could think whatever she wanted to about what he did after he dropped her off.
"It's definitely not all good," she says impatiently. "I thought you wanted to be with me."
"I do!" he answers, too quickly. "Like a lot," he says, another desperate dog move. Be cool, Puck, keep the tone just right. "But you haven't given it up to me since the night I knocked you up." That's a true fact. "Baby, I'm a dude. I have needs." And anybody can fill those needs. He doesn't need Quinn.
Well, he needs her, but he isn't ever going to get her if he lets her know just how much he needs her.
"You expect to raise a baby with me and text dirty messages to every other girl at this school, if I don't give it up to you every day?"
He's surprised at the tears that are suddenly in her eyes, but he plows forward with his no-pressure script. "No!" he states emphatically. "Just the hot girls." The tears in her eyes disappear almost so quickly he's not quite sure if he imagined them or not, and the expression of annoyance he's most familiar with takes over her face. "Look, I'm gonna be a good dad," he says, campaigning for what seems least scary. "But I'm not gonna stop being me to do it."
Without a retort, Quinn just turns and walks away. Puck can't help but wonder if all of this isn't just going to come back and somehow bite him in the ass, and when he sees her with Finn, walking down the hall like they're the perfect beautiful couple after school, he feels sick to his stomach.
Two days later, Mercedes reports to him that Quinn has definitely decided to give the baby up, and he punches a hole in the wall of the choral room.