The final installment. One of my favorite chapters I've written for any story. I'm stalling you right now, so ignore me! Enjoy, enjoy! :)

Paris, France

They run away together.

It's erratic and beautiful.

He lets her pick the destination as she closes her eyes, spins around three times, and points her finger at the map. They part from their tour group and hop on the next train to Paris.

It's fate, in a way, as they sit together in their compartment, her head on his lap as she sleeps quietly throughout the ride. He glances down at her a few times and realizes that, in a very unnerving thought, she's his.

And he's hers.

He feels a part of his heart open, like a hidden door he never knew existed, and it's not as scary as he thought it would be.

….

They walk everywhere. Sometimes their hands are intertwined, sometimes they're not. But they drink sweet beverages and smoke cigarettes and watch the sun rise. Their shoes click against cobblestone paths as they point out pretty things to each other – exquisite buildings, silly street performers, and quaint cafes.

They follow the gentle curve of the Seine, ignoring the existence of distinguished art museums and international landmarks. Puck and Quinn simply move in and out of streets and live in their passion, and that's more than enough.

And sometimes, she'll grab his hand, and they run from one end to the other, and now they're starting to realize they don't need to understand everything.

….

The only thing available to stay in Paris at such short notice is a tiny studio flat right on the outskirts of town. They take it and don't look back.

"I like it," she claims immediately, folding her hands against her legs as she tiptoes around the space.

"I think we'd have more room in the box down the street," he teases lightly.

"Yeah," she smiles up at him. "But this is ours."

….

Her favorite thing to do is shop through the fresh markets in the city, picking out organic foods and vibrant ingredients. At first, he tags along reluctantly because grocery shopping is so boring in another language, but he soon realizes he likes watching her shop. She maneuvers between stalls, leans in to catch whiffs of certain fruits, and taps her bottom lip with her index finger.

Puck decides to make this a little more interesting.

He makes up a little game in his head. It's pretty simply actually: he'll nuzzle his face into her neck, plant butterfly kisses here and there, and then whisper some of the dirtiest shit he can possibly think of.

Her face is priceless every time.

….

"Sunny Side up or scrambled?" she asks him, raising a frying pan in the air.

He grins at her and doesn't answer.

"Puck - " Suddenly, he leans in, his lips capturing hers. It throws her off guard and the frying pan clatters onto the floor with a loud clang! But both of them ignore it as she wraps her arms around his neck, and he lifts her onto the counter. Quinn yanks his shirt off him while he greedily peels off her dress, sweat accumulating between their shoulder blades as they collide their bare skin back together.

He runs circles on her silky stomach before grabbing her ass and thrusting her closer to him, and she arches and throws her head back with a soft laugh and a moan. Quinn wraps her legs around him as he sinks into her, and his breath skims over her lips as he kisses her fully on the mouth.

She makes hungry little whimpers with every delicious thrust, and when they come, it's a series of gasps and groans as they call out their names loud enough for every person in their building to hear. And then Quinn giggles in his ear, and it drives him so nuts that they do it again.

They both stop wearing clothes to breakfast.

….

They have a picnics under the Eiffel Tower at night, gazing up at the thousands of illuminated lights shining over their heads like fireflies.

She sips her red wine and takes a bite of her baguette and rambles on about recipes involving bacon.

He lies down on the grass, one hand behind his head and another on his chest, as he listens to the gentle rise of her voice. And after awhile, she'll lean back and lie down next to him as well, and they'll ignore the lit Eiffel Tower and count the stars instead.

….

They sit outside the Notre Dame and stare at it like its their old friend. He feels her shift next to him, and when he looks over, she gives him a stifled smile.

"You want to go inside?" he motions his head towards the cathedral, but she shakes her head.

"No," Quinn says. "I don't need to."

Suddenly, she reaches for his hand and wraps it in hers. She gives it a quick kiss before placing it on her lap and putting another hand on top of it. "You didn't kill your mom," she whispers, and he tenses around her words. "As much as you think you did, Puck, I know you didn't. I know it makes it easier when you can blame it on someone, but some people are just fragile. It has nothing to do with you," she tilts her head, "and I think it's time for you to start being okay again."

She toys with his hand in hers, her face slightly flushed against the sunlight. "I think we lose ourselves sometimes. I just remember waking up every morning and hating every single thing about myself... but I didn't know what to do. I kept trying to be all these different versions of me, and then I just lost myself completely, and I think I forgot what it was like to feel safe. I wanted so badly to give up, but..."

She stares him straight in the eye, and suddenly, she starts to smile. "I didn't know there was anyone out there like you. You were my favorite surprise. And when I finally realized you were going to be the one to glue me back together, I was so afraid because I never needed someone so much before. But you're just as broken as me, Puck. That's why this works. We need to fix each other."

He presses his lips against her temple and sighs.

Finally, something breaks free inside him.

….

"Puck! Shit, where have you been?" Sarah yells into the other end of the phone. "I've been trying to reach you for ages!"

"I'm in Paris," he replies plainly, rubbing a hand against his forehead.

He hears her sister sigh. "Okay," she mumbles, "but you were supposed to be back home a week ago. Didn't you get any of my calls?"

"My cell has been dead for the past couple of days."

"Puck," she begins seriously. "What is going on?"

"Things are okay now, Sarah," he says simply.

"Noah Puckerman!" she gasps. "Is that... optimism coming from your mouth? Holy shit. Who fucked you over?"

"I don't know how long I'm going to stay here," he ignores her question, "but it may be awhile."

There's a beat before Sarah responds. "She must be really great, huh?"

"Yeah," he breathes after a second.

"I want to meet her someday," she beams into the phone. "See how she managed the impossible and made the tin man grow a heart." Puck hangs up to the sound of his sister's happy laughing voice.

….

When he wakes up first, he stays in bed and watches her sleep.

He felt creepy doing this at first, but now he can't help it.

He traces the line where her body meets the pillow, her pale skin slightly sinking together with the covers. Her lips always form this perfect little pink pout, slightly open as her chest rises and falls at a very peaceful rhythm.

Sometimes he follows it, breathing at the same pace just so he can feel a little more closer to her.

Her hair falls over the her bare shoulders like spilt honey when he rolls on top of her, and she stirs a bit and moans softly. He leans in and dresses kisses all along her neck, like he's trying to memorize the taste of her. And she smiles and holds him close, breathing in each other's scent as she puts a hand over his heart and feels it beat.

….

When she wakes up first, she usually leaves little notes all around the room.

He'll wake up to a post-it on the headboard that says "Getting us croissants. I'll be back!"

Or maybe a post-it on her pillow. "You make cute noises when you sleep. I'm getting the laundry, I'll be back."

Once, she stuck an index card to his forehead. How she managed to do that without waking him up, he'll never know. "It looked really pretty outside, so I went for a walk. I'll be back."

Truthfully, it doesn't matter where she goes.

She ends every note with "I'll be back."

And she always does.

And he'll always wait for her.

….

They sit in the bath tub, the bubbles rising just above their chests. She leans back against him, right in between his legs, as he massages her scalp carefully with the suds. Quinn moans lightly as she relaxes against his chest, letting her head fall back on his wet shoulder as she grabs the edge of the tub with both hands.

He pushes her hair aside and places a single kiss right under her ear, and then he kisses a trail down the nape of her neck, past her spine, and between her shoulder blades. His hand plunges into the water as he continues to burn kisses into her spine, and when he lets one finger slip inside her, he feels her shiver against his chest. He eases in another, and she starts muttering "oh, oh, oh" as he kisses his way back up her shoulder blade.

Quinn takes her time when she washes him. She's much more careful, more thorough as she concentrates on every part of him, running her fingers along his skin and kissing the spots she's cleaned extra well. She always bites her bottom lip, straddling him as she lifts herself up a little higher every time. When she raises some bubbles to clean the back of his neck, he leans forward and kisses the patch of skin between her breasts.

And his favorite part is when he suddenly eases inside her and she gasps surprisingly and clings onto his chest. He'll hold her hips and let the suds dance around them as she sinks into him repeatedly, her soft whimpers like a sweet song he's grown to love so much.

….

They take a trip down to Bordeaux and ride their rental bicycles through the vineyards.

Quinn stops suddenly by a small pond, letting go of her bike with a loud clunk as she maneuvers towards a small cluster of ducks. Puck bikes around in a few circles before eventually following after, and as he settles down next to her, he watches a small smile form on her lips. They both sit silently for a moment, pondering the fate of the aimless ducks, and they wonder if they've got it right this whole time. You have to be lost before you can find someplace beautiful.

He feels her eyes fall onto him. "Let's say the world was going to end right now," Quinn gazes softly. "What do you do?"

After a beat, Puck takes her left hand in his and pulls her up from the ground. He places one hand on her hip and locks the other one with her fingers, and they sway under the setting sun and watch the group of ducks fly away into the sky.

...

Sometimes, they just in the outdoor cafes and watch the people walk by. Quinn's given up smoking ("I thought it was me. Didn't it look like someone I could be?"), so she just sips on some sweet cafe au lait and talks to him about anything she can possibly think of, her words vibrant and full of life.

And then she'll lean in, give him a light kiss, and flutter her eyelashes against his cheek.

It's little moments like that that remind him he's so alive.

….

They rush into their flat, the sting of pouring rain still present on their skin as they both shiver slightly from the chill. The studio is just as cold, and as Puck moves over to the window to let some fresh air in, he smells the rain from outside seep in.

He peels off his jacket to dry himself, and when he reaches for his undershirt, he feels two arms wrap tightly around his waist. He looks over his shoulder to see Quinn clutching onto him, her face buried into his shoulder blade. Slowly, he drops his jacket and puts a hand over her arm.

She hugs him tighter, as if trying to absorb all his pain and make it her own.

"We will take care of each other now," she whispers into him, "won't we?"

And somewhere along the road, he doesn't see it happen. She puts all of his pieces back together and he does the same for her, and now, for the first time, they can be whole.

He doesn't know if this is love, because he's never felt that before. Maybe it's because they're in Paris, and everyone is in love in Paris. Maybe it's because Paris is the city of love.

But maybe, if you look hard enough, you'll find the world is full of cities of love.

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed reading "Cities of Love" as much as I did writing it! Is it weird that this story even made me tear up a bit?

I want to thank every single person who took the time to read and review this story. Your support means the world to me, and it's you guys that made me write this fic in the first place! I hope you all enjoyed reading it, and once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Please review, and have a marvelous day.