@Santana.

Puck double checked himself in the mirror with a glare. His usual signature smirk was replaced with a blank expression, his lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, a sign that he should start sleeping more. And his his perfectly shaved head, minus the mohawk down the middle, had started to grow a stubble again. It’d been a while since he last trimmed it. The usual glint in his eye had died out, despite how turned on he was at that moment. It’d been a while since his last rump in the sack with Santana. He was trying to clear his head. It was swarmed with thoughts of Quinn, mostly. His Quinn, he liked to think of it. Seeing Santana and doing the nasty usually took his mind off anything depressing related. The dry spell he’d been going through for the last week would soon be cured, and hopefully, he would return to the normal Puckster.

Shrugging off the blank expression and the way his eyes shone with sadness, he picked up his car keys off the bedside table and jogged down the stairs. He knew he didn’t have to dress up or try to swoon Santana over with his looks, so hopefully she’d ignore how shit he looked at the moment. Gray hoodie, jeans, white wife beater, something he’d been sporting for a good couple of days. Not the same outfit obviously, but he simply couldn’t be bothered to dress to impress. His car roared to life once he was in and buckled, clicking it into reverse before backing out his driveway. Nobody was home anyway, his mom was at work, his sister was at a friends, and now he too was going to a friends. The more important details weren’t needed.

The traffic wasn’t that bad on the freeway that day, and Puck was forever thankful for it. Thoughts of whipped cream, sex, and Santana naked replaced the confusing and depressing thoughts he was having. All stress out the window. The clock on his dashboard told him he was running a little behind on time, and he really didn’t want her to start without him. It took all the fun out of it, in his opinion. Eventually, his car pulled up into the familiar driveway of the Lopez residence. He stepped out of his car and strutted his way to the front door, knocking four times so she knew it was him.