based on: plot in source
the longer he sat there and waited for her to arrive, the longer he began to feel like this whole thing was ridiculous. he was puckzilla, since when did he need help getting a date? since never, that was when. he’d been pulling baddies since he was still in pampers. but... santana’s friends were like, notoriously hot, and, well... just because it was easy for him to get someone into bed, that didn’t mean his skills transferred over when it came to looking for something a little more serious. and lately, though he was pretty sure it went against some sort of puckerman code, he’d been finding himself wanting more. he was a man now, with a successful pool-cleaning business, a relatively nice home - for ohio, anyway - and a sweet foosball table. the only thing missing was someone special to share it with.
unfortunately, lucky-in-love had never been a phrase that was applicable to him. it was karma, probably, considering all the relationships he’d destroyed in the past. but, really, how was he the bad guy there? all he’d been doing was providing a service, if anything, bringing some entertainment to the lives of hot, bored housewives, giving them the attention that they’d been lacking from their husbands. or, at least... that was how he’d always tried to justify it. but now? he wanted more than that. more than some little game, more than just a way to pass the time. he wanted connection. he wanted love, like the kind he’d felt only once before - only this time, he wanted it reciprocated.
it didn’t seem likely that a blind date would end up with him finding that happy ever after he’d been searching for - especially when he wasn’t sure whether or not the whole thing was just some big prank, considering who’d organized it - but he had to at least put himself out there, and give it a shot. if nothing else, well... a guy’s gotta eat, right? there were worse ways to spend an evening than fooling around with one of santana’s hot friends.
the last thing he was expecting, however, was for quinn fucking fabray of all people to walk through the door. for a second, puck wondered if there was a chance the special brownie he’d consumed two nights prior was stronger than he’d thought, and she was nothing more than a hallucination. but the closer she got to his table, the more clear it became; she was here, right in front of him, beautiful as ever. what a weird coincidence. he hadn’t even known she was in town - though he supposed that wasn’t too unusual. it’s not like they really kept in touch, beyond a happy birthday text or the occasional like on instagram. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t say hi, though, right? they’d had a kid together, they should at least be able to share a few words of small talk. so... why was he hiding his face behind a menu? good question. one that, well, honestly, he didn’t have an answer for - and sadly, this wasn’t the kind of pop quiz that could be solved by cheating off the person next to him.
