Unsure why he was even doing it, Puck made his way to the Beetle that was parked in the school lot and lifted the wiper enough to slip the note beneath it. Quinn wasn’t even on his list of favourite people, not after her dumbass rant about all the things she thought were wrong with him, but she was Finn’s girlfriend and Santana’s best friend. Besides, he kind of needed to get onto her good side if he was going to ask her to back off of hating Dani.
Smirking as he did it, Puck hooked over a bag onto the side mirror and trusted nobody would steal anything from the Head Cheerios car. Part of him wanted to pop the door and slip the present inside, but that was asking for the cops at his door and his mom had been complaining her heart hurt each time he got into trouble.
Instead he walked away, a bottle of that weird bitter she’d requested at the party, a box of condoms [labelled with a post-it that claimed For Finn too!] and a fake, plastic tiara.
Maybe it was to piss her off, but he was kind of proud of his gifts and as he left the scene he smirked.
Her peers poured out of the school, but she barely noticed them with every sassy tut to every step she took, thick thighs skirting between red pleats, she fell into character. The parking lot was still crowded as she wound her way through it, sneakered feet carrying her as she dodged other bodies and acknowledged those who were smart enough to stay out of her way. A sea of students parting like the red sea as Quinn made her way to her 16th birthday present parked proudly in the student lot, she could see it a mile away –
A parking ticket, tucked neatly under her windscreen wiper. Quinn sighed almost comically, hazel rolling at the thought of all the bad karma she’d been having lately; either the result of last week’s midnight McDonald’s run or the fact she’s been letting Finn hit a ‘homerun’ on an almost weekly basis. She picks up the pace a little, her feet are sluggish like Bambi on ice, until she comes to an abrupt halt right in front of her car, once she realises the pink slip is something different entirely.
‘Happy Birthday, Princess’ the card reads, still secured to her windscreen, because Quinn’s hands are already impatiently grasping at the gift bag hooked onto the side mirror, and she can’t help but smile like a giddy child. She grabs a box unknowingly, dropping it to the ground almost instinctively as she realises what that box contains, like it burned her to the touch, and kicking it under her car; out of sight and out of mind. Not-so-nimble fingers snatch the birthday card, her eyes narrowing with a slight twist of her mouth once she realises the culprit. ‘Catch you later, Puck.’ Puck would, she decides, and whatever other terrible presents he dared to gift her could wait until she was in the privacy of her own bedroom, at least. She’s supposed to be shoving in her key, and she tries twice and misses the hole both times. “For the love of – “ Quinn mutters. Third times a charm, apparently, and as soon as the doors unlocked, she’s throwing the gift bag into the backseat, recklessly and ungratefully.