A/N: PQ = God. I have spoken.
The problem is that he's always there at the wrong time, hovering around or simply appearing out of the crowd like he's supposed to be there. He's there at the wrong time and so he always manages to catch her at a bad moment.
He caught her crying with her feet in the pool at Finn's house because she's always vulnerable at the worst times and, like said, he's always fucking there. So he sits next to her and takes his shoes off and wordlessly puts them in the pool with her, just listening to her cry and not making any move to help her. He whistles to himself, a happy, upbeat tune to drown out her sobs.
She punches him on the arm after a long moment. "You're a douchebag."
He grins at her, wide and real and cocky. "Ah, but you stopped crying, didn't you?"
The problem is that he's right. He's always fucking right when it comes to real-life situations, and she always seems to be wrong. That's really the problem; she can kick his ass when it comes to algebra, but give her a life-skill and she's totally useless.
"I hate you." That's really all she says when he's right, because an insult wouldn't pierce him and her hands always hurt after she punches him. "I hope you know that I really, really hate you." She kinda wishes she could continue sobbing again just to prove him wrong, but she simply can't; her body refuses to.
He gives her that smile with the raised eyebrows, sarcastic and skeptical and oh-my-God-I'm-sorry-for-using-your-name-in-vain-but-he-really-can-be-hot-sometimes. He whistles that tune again and taps his fingers idly on the concrete. "I love you, too, Fabray."
The problem is that he means it but she doesn't know.
The problem is that Finn is out of town, Santana and Brittany aren't talking to her, and she has no one else. The problem is that it's midnight and she's crying and she needs someone to be there for her, stat. The problem is that he's the only one left in her address book that would come if she asks him to.
Part of the problem is that he brought wine-coolers because he's Puck and the answer to everything is to drink. But that's not the biggest problem.
The problem is that she says to him, "I think I'm fat," and he gives her that raised-eyebrows-and-sarcastic-smirk look that she's come to expect from him all the time. He watches her sip daintily at the wine-cooler in her hand and actually laughs at her.
"You're not fucking fat, Fabray, you're curvy, and it's hot, so don't sweat it." He rolls his eyes at her and grins lazily, as if at some private joke in his head.
The problem is that she really needs to hear that at the moment. The problem is that she's a fucking lightweight and he's doing that look again, the one that makes her wish she's single and hasn't found God, and that's part of the problem, too.
But the biggest problem is that she can't stop kissing him and she thinks he must have gills like a fucking fish because he doesn't come up for air, not even once.
The problem is that she almost kisses him again.
She can't help it. She really can't. By now, he doesn't have to be doing that I-just-used-God's-name-in-vain face, or even really smiling. The problem is that she's beginning to wish she doesn't have Finn and she's beginning to wish that Puck is around more often.
She almost kisses him because he really wants to kiss her and she knows it. It's someone's birthday and they're at someone's house and they're in the pool and suddenly they're too close to each other and he looks at her like a predator looks at prey.
The problem is that Finn is there but she doesn't care, and she lifts her head up to allow their lips to meet. But she remembers herself just in time and dunks him underwater instead, laughing uneasily and loudly when he comes back up for air, gulping in shallow breaths.
The problem is that he knows and he doesn't stop smirking at her for the rest of the night.
She begins to realize that the problem wasn't that he brought wine-coolers, and the problem wasn't that she couldn't stop kissing him. She understands now that the problem wasn't the sex because if she's honest it was fucking fantastic (but she's never honest). It slowly dawns on her that none of that was the problem.
The problem is that he never pulled out like he said he would and she's left staring at a positive pregnancy test.
That's really the biggest problem.
The problem is that she knows he'd be a better father than Finn. That's probably her biggest problem right now. She knows he'd take care of the baby; she knows he'd do his best; she knows he'd pretend to love her even if he didn't.
The problem is that she has an ego the size of Texas and a sense of pride even bigger than that, and so she doesn't even act as if she's considered keeping the baby with him (she has many times).
The problem is that she wants to love him so much because he looks at her like he's found the sun and it's fantastic (it's refreshing).
But perhaps the biggest problem is that she doesn't know if he loves her at all.
His biggest fucking problem is that he loves Quinn Fabray and she doesn't love him back. That's his only problem, the only thing he has to worry about right now. The problem is that he could never say it out loud.
The problem is that he's loved her for far too long, since grade school or whatever, and the problem is that rather than asking her out like a gentleman, he instead fucked her and knocked her up, at that.
Great way of showing you care, Pucky boy.
Really fucking great.
The problem is...
There is no problem.
Not right now.
There's no baby and there's no glee club and there's no school. It's summer and it's just them, it's just Quinn and it's just Puck, and she begins to love that he's always there at the best of the worst times. The kissing isn't a problem but he does reveal that he doesn't have gills which is always a good thing, she could never date someone with gills.
There's no problem because to be honest, everything's fucking perfect.