A/N: i just need to say, that as a 100% PQ shipper, this episode meant so much to me. we really are the easiest fanbase to please. that look that quinn gave during need you now? i don't care about finn/quinn or sam/quinn. the way she looks at puck, that's love. that's why i ship them. and i don't care how long it takes, i will get my endgame eventually. stay strong, quickers.


"What are you thinking about?"

Her hands drift to his hips and pluck at the fabric of his shirt as he lowers her onto the bed, dipping his tongue to her neck. She lets out a sigh and lets her hands fall to the sheets. "Nothing," she lies.

She's always thinking about something. Something that's lost, in that place where nothing can be found.

"Liar." He brushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes and she watches him until she's sure she knows everything about that face.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Why do you always think I'm lying?"

He doesn't answer her, but there's something sad in his eyes, something she can't quite reach. It's gone in an instant and his lips slide to her cheek, pressing there again and again until she's laughing.

When it's just them —

It feels like love.

She twirls the ring in her fingers and watches it gleam in the half-light. She imagines growing old with Sam. She imagines having little blonde children in the future and a suburban home somewhere safe and pretty.

A wave of nausea overcomes her and she lets it drop onto the carpet.

It doesn't feel the same when she puts it on again. Like it weighs too heavy, drowning her in her own selfishness.

She ignores Rachel and the rest of the glee club and instead focuses on Puck — she remembers everything quite so easily. The last time he held that guitar, his eyes followed her around the room until she was glowing in his eyes, and his voice filled her ears.

She's terrified of that feeling — of feeling like she needs him, feeling like she needs anyone.

But she can't help it.

Puck's eyes are closed and his fingers are strumming the strings so naturally, she feels like he must do it in his sleep. She hums along and watches and waits for something to happen.

It's like meeting him for the first time again.

Finn is easy.

Finn is everything she wants. She can control Finn. She doesn't feel like she needs him and she isn't drowning around him. She has a clear head. Everything makes sense.

It doesn't feel the same.

Maybe that's what she needs.

Control.

"This is gross." Her zombie makeup leaves stains on his skin.

He bites her shoulder. "Nah. You love it."

She hooks a leg around his waist and for that split moment, everything is simple again. The shower is hot and cold all at once, and nothing matters but that feeling, the easiness of it all.

Then he looks at her. She's falling again.

So she says what first comes to mind.

"Finn."

He pulls back a little. "What?"

"I'm getting back with Finn."

And just like that. She gets control again.

"He loves Rachel, you know."

She slams her locker. "Go away."

He follows her down the hall. "He doesn't love you. You know, I doubt he ever did. And don't you think —"

"Puck, don't —"

"— that you ruined it when you lied to him about our daughter?"

She turns on one heel. "You can't bring her up. You're not allowed to bring her up."

His eyes meet hers and she has to dig her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from slapping that look off his face. She won't let him blame her for it. He's not allowed to bring her up.

He watches her. She wonders if he's waiting for her to break.

Finally, he shakes his head and presses a kiss to her cheek, just beneath her temple. His breath is warm on her cheek. "It won't work," he whispers into her ear. "You'll be back in my bed in a week, tops."

His eyes meet hers again.

She's already drowning.

"I hate you."

"Try again."