A/N: Welcome! I came up with this one shot today because some of us over at the Glee Forum decided that Puck has probably been sneaking into Quinn's window every night and we just haven't been shown that. So I'm dedicating this to all of the Bakers over there in the Bakery who just really want to see Quinn and Puck together. Reviews are always welcomed! Xoxo-Katie
Disclaimer: I don't own glee.
She waits. Impatiently, she checks the clock on her phone for what must be the tenth time that night and paces the floor of her bedroom. She thinks he should be there by now and begins to wonder if he decided not to come after all. He's been gone for almost a month, so maybe he doesn't need to anymore, or maybe he just doesn't want to. She could text him but she doesn't want to seem desperate, even though she is, and she is too afraid of what his response would be.
She pulls her soft fleece blanket tighter to shield herself from the November chill and glances out her window, down to the backyard. What little ivy is left covering the trellis that runs up the side of her house is turning brown and she thinks that's a good thing because then her mother will stop questioning, at least for awhile, why there seems to be a bare spot in the foliage leading up to her window. She knows her mother probably suspects but isn't surprised by her silence. No matter what they've both been through in the past year, they're still very good at hiding their true feelings.
She tries not to think about her feelings very much. They complicate things, they always have. Sometimes, she thinks it would just be easier to not feel anything at all, to just be numb. She wouldn't have to feel bad, or guilty, or regretful, she could just be. She guesses that's why being with Sam is so easy. It doesn't hurt, it's not hard, it's not scary, but there's something missing, a void that the nice boy with a kind heart and a big smile just can't fill. There's no danger, it's not reckless, there's no passion and she thinks, no, she knows that the only times she has felt that way has been when she's with him, with his telling smirk, dark eyes and strong arms that she wishes she could be held in forever.
She thinks he's not coming and crouches down by the side of her bed, the same way she has done more times than she would like to count in the past month, lifting up the dust ruffle to reach underneath and pulls out a box. She sits back and crosses her legs before slowly removing the lid and digging through its contents of ticket stubs, amusement park wrist bands, a glow stick, postcards, and various pictures until she finds what she was looking for at the very bottom. It's a photo, they only one she had of just the two of them, but there is a third person in the picture as well. She really hadn't remembered taking it, but then again, she didn't remember much from that day, or didn't want to. They were both smiling, real smiles, although she knows hers hid traces of sadness behind it.
"Did you love me?"
"Yes, especially now."
She's pulled from her memories when she hears a soft thud fall on the floor behind her and looks over her shoulder to see his form coming through the open window. She's off the carpet and in his arms before he even has both feet in the room and he chuckles softly against her hair.
"Missed you, too, babe," he says quietly.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
"Sorry, it was hard to get away tonight. Fuckers took my license."
"How'd you get here?" she asks, looking up at him.
"Don't worry about it," he replies, but of course, she does. He sees the concern etched across her face and leans down to kiss her. It's his favorite way of changing the subject when he's with her and it's always effective.
"You look tired."
"I haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month."
"Neither have I," she confides and reaches up to kiss his chin. Without another word, he quickly changes into the sweat pants she keeps hidden in her bottom desk drawer and joins her on the bed. He doesn't ask her about Sam and she doesn't ask him about juvie or Santana and they're both grateful for that. It's not that they don't know, they just don't find it to be relevant at the moment. They've never been very great at the whole talking thing so why should they start now? They're together again and that's really all they care about. He gathers her to himself and reaches over to shut off the lamp on her nightstand.
"Night Quinn," he says, kissing the top of her head.
"Night Puck," she replies, slipping her arms around him.
She doesn't think about their past. She doesn't think about their future. He's here and, for now, she thinks that's enough. She'll always leave her window open because, no matter what, just like tonight, he'll always come back.