In Which Quinn Needs Mercedes (1)
“Mercedes, what are you doing an hour from now?”
Mercedes looked up from her math homework. “Probably finishing my math homework. Why?” she asked, suspicious.
Quinn shifted her weight from one foot to the other and leaned on the open door to Mercedes’ bedroom. “Can you do me a favor?”
“What kind of favor?” Mercedes hedged.
“Were you learning evasion tactics or something from Kurt at school today?”
“Yeah. Are they working?”
“A little. I need you to, um, go on a date with me—”
“Go on a date with you?” Mercedes interrupted.
“With Puck,” Quinn finished.
“With Puck?! You’re going on a date with the guy who used ‘trust me’ as a birth control option, knocked you up, dated Rachel, dated me, nearly fainted in the delivery room, and – oh yeah – was still sexting Santana during the whole Babygate drama?”
“Oh, okay. That makes perfect sense. Quinn, I’m tellin’ you, the boy’s probably using you. For what, I have no idea, since he already got you pregnant!”
“Mercy, do I have to beg?” Quinn had come to stand beside Mercedes’ desk.
“Fine. I’ll do it…if you agree to let Kurt and I take you shopping in Columbus for non-suburban summer clothes.”
“You do realize that your terms actually benefit me? A lot.”
“Okay. He’ll be here at 8.” Quinn started to head back to her room at the Jones’.
“Wait, wait. Where are we going?”
“Thanks…Mercy.” Quinn self-consciously blew a kiss at Mercedes.
“You so owe me, girl.”
Puck decided to ring the doorbell instead of honk his truck’s horn. It was a first for him. He actually liked Jones’ parents, and wouldn’t hate it if he saw them. His standing on Jones’ doorstep (and not sitting behind the steering wheel) had nothing to do with wanting a second chance with Quinn. Nothing at all.
Quinn and Mercedes rushed out of the house. “We’ll be back by 12, mom, okay?” Mercedes called over her shoulder.
Wait a minute… Mercedes?
“Quinn. What the fuck?”
“Just get in, I’ll explain on the way,” Quinn brushed Puck off.
“No, explain now, so she can still go back in her house!” Puck growled.
But Quinn had already climbed into the front, and Mercedes had climbed in after her onto the three-seater. Puck clenched his fist and got behind the wheel.
“Jones, I don’t mean to be rude…but what the fuck are you doing on our date?”
“I invited her, Puck. God knows I’ve learned way more about Super Mario whatever volume episode season whatever than I ever, ever, ever wanted to. I need company.”
Oh Christ, Puck thought. That’s it. I’m not making it to third base. Hell, I’m not making it to the frickin’ game.
“It’s Super Mario Brothers.”
“Whatever,” Mercedes said. “I call dibs on the radio. And you’d better get going, white boy, because the clock is ticking and I have things to do.”
Puck turned to look at Quinn. She nodded with a small smile.
He cursed. He started the engine. He drove toward a pretty good Olive Garden knockoff in the next town over.
He wanted to blow his brains out.
The waitress at the restaurant seemed a little confused at first, but – in the end – seemed to think the three were simply have a friendly, platonic dinner.
Mercedes controlled the car radio going and coming, which made Puck promise to play lots of Zeppelin and Nine Inch Nails to counteract the onslaught of rifting R&B singers and songs with unsubtle allusions to — what did Rachel call it? (He’d teased her mercilessly for a week for being so matter of fact about its definition) — cunnilingus.
(Actually, he appreciated hearing those songs. He never missed out on an opportunity to refine his already badass skills.)
All in all, the date wasn’t a total disaster. Still, though. How in hell was “Jon and Kate plus 8” a better conversation topic than Super Mario Brothers? (Although, he had to admit, Kate was kinda hot, even if she seemed to be too much of a bitch, even for him.)
In Which Finn is confused about the status of Puck’s date with Quinn
Glee rehearsal was starting in five minutes. Puck was slouched in the back, listening to his iPod, when Finn came in.
“Hey man. How was the date?”
“My date with Quinn?”
“Were you on a date with someone else?” Finn looked genuinely confused.
“It was okay.”
“What was okay?” Finn asked.
Puck rolled his eyes. “The date, you moron.”
“Yeah. Food, music, whatever.”
“Um, did you…?”
Puck noticed that most of the club members were trying hard to seem like they weren’t listening.
“You got over Quinn pretty quick, if you actually wanna know the answer to that question.”
Finn actually blushed. God, he was such a girl sometimes. “Yeah, well, Rachel’s so great that…”
“No,” Puck said.
“She is great, and I don’t know how you would know that she isn’t since—”
“No, I mean, no I didn’t…” Puck made some vulgar hand gestures, “with Q.”
“Cockblocking?! But who—?”
“Don’t want to talk about it. Here.” He handed Finn a copy of the sheet music Mr. S had handed out. Seriously, whatever “On the Street Where You Live” was, Rachel was in love with it — even though it sounded like some stalker shit.
He glanced at Quinn. He needed to be on a real date with her. Without Mercedes.
In Which Quinn Needs Mercedes (2)
“Not again!” Puck slammed a hand on the steering wheel.
Quinn looked unperturbed. “Look, she’s coming or I’m not going with you.”
“Fine, whatever. Though I don’t know how the fuck you expect me to wine and fucking dine you with Jones tagging along.”
Mercedes momentarily paused in her task to find the perfect radio station. “Oh, ignore me,” she said, a little airily.
“It’s kind of hard to,” Puck growled, “when you’re in every fucking conversation!”
“Puck!” Quinn exclaimed.
Puck stopped at a red light and quickly glanced at Mercedes. “Look, Jones. I like you fine.”
Mercedes looked at Quinn with her patented what-the-hell-is-this-bullshitery look.
“But I’m dating Quinn,” Puck continued, “and I can’t do that if you’re the Aniston to our Brangelina.”
“First of all,” Mercedes started, “that’s old news. Like the-first-generation-iPod-ever old. Brad and Angie have six kids. J.Aniston is making weird romantic comedies. She’s not even in the picture anymore.”
Quinn nodded. “She really isn’t,” she agreed.
“Second,” Mercedes continued. She was on a roll. “Second, how the hell do you even know that? Third, you ‘like me fine?’ What am I, your frickin’ chiropractor or some shit? You dated me for a whole week you…you…you…”
“I can’t exactly avoid all the crap on MTV, okay. Get over it,” Puck cut her off and explained his celebrity analogy.
“Just for that,” Mercedes said, “the radio will punish you for me.”
“And now,” the radio announcer said, “a nine-hour Celine Dion vs Whitney Houston showdown. Who will win? Up first, ‘My Heart Will Go On,’ followed by ‘Queen of the Night.’”
“Jesus Christ, Jones!”
“I think He’s busy with more important things, Puck,” Mercedes said smugly.
“Do you guys mind if we go back to Olive Garden? I really want to try the other things on their menu. I think I’m having postpartum cravings for Italian food made by non-Italians.”
Puck groaned. “Post-par—what is that shit? Never heard of it.”
“To be honest, neither have I,” Mercedes chimed in. “Although I won’t stop you, girl. Go ‘head.”
Jolene was their waitress again, and seemed a little surprised to see them only two weeks after the first date. Puck threw an arm around Quinn for a few minutes while they checked out the menu. Jolene frowned.
Mercedes was sitting across from the pair, deciding between lasagna and a broccoli & cheddar pasta bowl. Quinn reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing tight. She was really glad Mercedes sacrificed her nightly conversations with Kurt (and her sanity) to help her like this.
Jolene looked between the three. She slammed their plates on the table.
The ride home was quiet until Mercedes received a phone call and didn’t even try to hide the gossiping.
“Hey diva…No, I’m heading home now. It’s taking a little longer because someone,” she glared at Puck, “didn’t realize he was driving on empty! I’m telling you…she did what?...no way…and he found them together…under the bleachers?...at Carmel!...she always was a…I know, right?...tell Papa H I said ‘hey’…see you tomorrow babe…night.”
“Oh thank God,” Puck said. He pulled up in front of the Jones house.
Quinn whispered something in his ear. He kissed her lips.
A quick deliberation found him kissing Mercedes cheek. Quinn smiled.
So getting to third base, Puck thought.
In Which Quinn Needs Mercedes (3)
Puck pulled off the sidewalk and drove in the direction of the Olive Garden knockoff. “So, Italian again?”
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re not complaining?” Quinn asked.
“About Mercedes coming.”
Quinn glanced at Mercedes, who shrugged. “Um, okay. Anyway, I think I’ve gotten over the Italian food cravings.”
“Okay,” Puck says, and turned up the radio.
They ended up at a mini golf place because Quinn had heard that it could be a very relaxing sport. Between her lack of any skill whatsoever, Mercedes’ quips about the other people playing, and Puck’s surprisingly good aim, they spent the night laughing and finding new and intricate ways to critique each other – and Puck was struck by the oddest realization: this felt right.
And then he shuddered because that was complete and utter bullshit.
After sinking a golf ball into a foot-deep “lake,” Quinn erupted into almost hysterical laughter. “I-I-I really can’t,” she gasped for breath, “golf!”
Puck went to retrieve the ball. He handed it out to Quinn, she pulled him close and kissed him. Then she impulsively kissed Mercedes’ lips. She looked surprised, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” Quinn said.
Puck and Mercedes looked at each other.
Puck decided to walk them to their door. He wasn’t really sure why. The girls were walking ahead; Quinn had an arm wrapped around Mercedes’ waist. God only knew what the hell they were giggling about.
“I had a great time tonight,” Quinn said to Puck. “Maybe we should go mini golfing as a club. You know, Glee.”
“Do you want to go mini golfing with Rachel? And Santana?”
“Hmm…good point. It would be fun, though.”
Puck pulled Quinn into a kiss.
He turned to Mercedes, who was faintly blushing. He kissed her, too. “See you at school.”
“Yeah,” Mercedes said. She was gripping her cell phone.
“Okay,” Quinn said.
Neither mentioned the kisses.
In Which Puck and Mercedes Text Each Other
(9:31) yo whats up with quinns fone
(9:33) battery died. Shes at store rite now
(9:35) ok. Tell her to call me
(9:46) where do u want 2 go nxt
(9:54) u r datin me now?
(10:00) u datin me?
(10:04) i think so
(10:06) yea im datin you. and q
(10:09) so u like me
(10:11) i was w/ u 4 a minute remember?
(10:13) u were using me
(10:17) im not now
(10:21) so u like me. and quinn
(10:24) c u thurs
In Which Quinn and Mercedes Wash the Dishes
Quinn and Mercedes were assigned clean-up duty after dinner. Mercedes took a break from drying the dishes to show Quinn the text message conversation she’d had with Puck.
“We should just play it by ear,” Quinn said. “I think Puck’s serious.”
Mercedes resumed drying, but not before giving Quinn a Look.
“Give him a chance.”
“I already gave him a chance. He went back to tossing kids into dumpsters!”
“Give him another chance. For me. Because I like you both. And how cool would it be if we all liked each other?”
Mercedes put the last dish into the cupboard. “Um, I did not sign up for this,” she lowered her voice, “threesome shit.”
“But you want it, don’t you?” Quinn asked.
Mercedes gave Quinn a look of disbelief. “I’m going to go…do something…upstairs.”
In Which They Coincidentally Meet in a Hallway at School
“See you tonight?” Puck asked, voice low.
“Yeah,” Quinn affirmed.
“7,” Mercedes said.
“Okay,” Puck said.
Quinn grabbed his hand, pulled him close, and kissed him. His hand wandered down to her butt. Mercedes looked away, face hot. He kissed her next. When they pulled away, she was staring right into his eyes.
Puck felt a little uncomfortable. It was like she was searching him. “Going to class,” he said. He walked away.
“You’re not going to class,” Mercedes called after him. He kept walking. She couldn’t see him smile.
In Which Finn is Confused. Again.
Finn and Puck were in the locker room. Even though football season had been over for months, they still tried to keep in shape. (Didn’t make a damn difference though. Their team still mostly sucked.)
“I’m confused,” Finn said. “Who are you dating?”
“Quinn. And Mercedes.”
Finn looked a little skeptical. “And they’re both okay with it.”
Puck stuffed his towel into his gym bag. “Dude, I’ll finally get my threesome.”
“You know that Mercedes will kill you if you’re using her for sex. To be honest, she scares me a little. And Quinn will kill you because you’re screwing with Mercedes.”
“Shut the fuck up, what do you know?”
“I know you,” Finn said.
“I am a fucking badass. I’m dating them both. I’m not using them, Jesus Christ, Finn. Grow a pair.”
“You’re not using them?”
“No, goddamn it!”
“So you actually like Mercedes?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “Yo, I dated her for like a week. Of course I like her. I don’t date girls I hate.”
“But you were using her then, right?”
“Relax grandma, Jesus. It’s the best of both worlds. Quinn and Mercedes are all BF Fucking Fs now, and they’re both hot. Can’t go wrong.”
Finn shouldered his bag as they left the locker room. “Just…be nice. As nice as you can be, anyway.
“Believe in me!” Puck mock cries.
In Which They are Driving Home from the Olive Garden Knockoff
“I thought what’s-her-name—”
“Jolene,” Quinn interrupted Puck.
“Yeah. I thought she was gonna flip her shit.”
“She thinks you’re a pig, and she thinks Quinn and I are both sluts. Thanks, you guys. I can never go back to that restaurant again.”
Puck and Quinn shrugged.
“So…we’re together?” Mercedes asked.
“Yeah,” Puck said.
“Like threesome together?” Mercedes clarified.
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Like three’s-company,-not-a-crowd together.”
Puck pulls up to Mercedes’ house. He kisses Mercedes first, Quinn next. They clamber out of the truck.
“God, I am such a badass,” Puck says.
Mercedes had come back to the truck for her purse, and Quinn had tagged along. “Oh, shut up, Noah,” Mercedes said.
“See ya, mama,” he replied. “Night, Q.”
Quinn blushed. Mercedes pulled her toward the house before she could throw herself on him. Seriously, no one needed another Babygate.