The door swung open, and Quinn pulled herself quickly to her feet, hurriedly wiping at her tear-drenched cheeks, and arranging her skirt nervously, praying that the interruption came from someone she didn't know, or at least someone nice like Artie or Tina.
Puck froze in the open doorway. His guitar, its black case swinging jauntily at his side as he entered only moments ago, swayed to a stop next to his waist as he registered her familiar form.
"Sorry," he said as they faced off in the middle of the room, hands held awkwardly at their sides.
"What?" Quinn asked, straining to make her grief-fogged brain interpret his too-quiet words.
"I said, sorry," Puck said, louder. "I didn't realize someone was using the room."
"Oh," Quinn replied.
She saw something register on Puck's face, and he took a step closer, his eyes searching hers out. "What's wrong?"
Quinn sighed. He always had been a little slow. "Nothing's wrong, Noah. Just please, find somewhere else to practice."
"Hey, I might not be school-smart, but I'm not an idiot," Puck insisted. "Something's up. You were just crying when I came in here, weren't you?" He set his guitar down.
"Just leave me alone, Puck, it's none of your business."
"Like hell it's not," he said, striding forward. "Give me the name of the jerk who did this and I'll kick his ass!"
"No you won't." Quinn muttered, turning away before he could reach her. She shrank back down onto the bottom step of the levels at the back of the glee room.
"Please, Quinn," Puck pressed quietly, sitting down next to her, but leaving a foot of space between them. "Please, just tell me what's wrong."
Quinn glanced at the gap between their bodies. She didn't like it, this separation. She wanted to let him hold her, to hide her face in his chest and squeeze her eyes shut against the rest of the world. She wanted to let him take care of her, but he'd betrayed her once. She wasn't a perfect person either, she knew. What she'd done to Finn, for one thing, was something the worst kind of person would be ashamed of. But her baby, her little girl, she deserved better.
But she was weak, and when he gently lifted her chin and her gaze met his warm brown eyes, she said, "Finn dumped me."
Puck dropped his hand from her face at the sound of his friend's name, looking down and away as the reminder of his betrayal stung in his chest. "Why?"
"I told him… I told him she's yours."
"Why on earth would you do that?" Puck asked angrily.
Quinn looked up at him. "I am so confused right now. I thought this would make you happy."
Puck looked like he was going to say something, but instead he stood and paced a few feet away from her, running his hands over the sides of his Mohawk and drawing in a deep breath, before turning to face her. "First of all, something that made you cry, could never make me happy," he said angrily. "Ever, ok? Second of all, our baby needs a father! If not me, then it might as well be someone who I trust, and who I know will take care of you and the baby."
"Ok, first of all," Quinn repeated acidicly. "You don't get to refer to her as 'our baby.' You lost that right when you decided you couldn't possibly go for a few hours without sending dirty text messages, to my best friend!"
"What, so you can lie and tell my best friend that my kid is his, but I can't tell yours that I like her tits?"
"Please," Quinn replied, her tone deprecating. They'd been over this before. He couldn't win by playing the Finn card.
"Oh and also," he growled. "We weren't even together when I sent Santana those texts. In fact, we've never actually been together. You've been with Finn the whole time! What's the difference?"
"The difference is, that I wasn't Finn's girlfriend that night. That night we were a family, and what you did proved that that's just not something you're ready to be part of yet. And the worst part is," Quinn felt her eyes begin to tear up again, and she ducked her head down, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "The worst part is that I thought you were. I was ready to tell Finn, tell everybody, and I didn't care what they would say because I thought that we could be a… a family. Guess I should have trusted my instincts though, huh?" She asked bitterly, tossing her hair away from her face to look him in the eye. "Turns out I was right about you in the beginning. Just another lime-a-loser." Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and she hid her face in her hands as the tears began to flow.
Puck's arms ached to hold the weeping girl in front of him. Like physically, ached. "I…" he tried to speak. "It kills me to see you like this," he croaked out, and the hot tears gathering in his eyes caught in his throat, betraying his emotion. "Look, sexting Santana, I felt nothing. I mean, yeah, it turned me on a little bit, but emotionally, like you know, as a person? I don't feel anything towards her. It meant nothing."
"Really?" asked Quinn. "Because it obviously meant something to her. So what kind of a person does that make you? That you were sexting a girl you don't care about?"
"The kind that's a teenaged guy!" Puck growled.
"My point exactly," Quinn replied. "The kind that's not ready to be a father."
Puck remained unconvinced that she wasn't really just mad that he'd been phone-cheating, and tried again, "I mean, you were there, I was hardly even paying attention to the texts. What really turned me on was watching you sing and dance for those kids and thinking what a good mom you'd be."
"Just shut up," Quinn forced through her tears.
"No!" Puck crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on her arms.
"Don't touch me," Quinn growled with as much anger as she could muster when really she didn't want him to ever stop.
"Hey," Puck raised his hands, stepping back. "Look I gave you my reasons for what I did the day you confronted me."
"Oh please," Quinn replied. "You weren't going to stop being yourself? That's the lamest excuse ever."
"It wasn't an excuse!" Puck said. "It's the truth. You want to me to be untrue to who I am? That's not very much in the spirit of family."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "What's lame is the part where you pretend being a man-slut is who you are."
"Look, Quinn, everyone has something that defines them, right? Rachel is talented and creepy, Finn's got the whole likable, star-quality thing going on, you're perfect, obviously, and me? I do this."
"You really think that's your defining quality?" Quinn asked, looking up. "Being good with women, in bed? Screwing people's moms and sexting the cheerleading squad is who you are?"
"Well, yeah" said Puck, sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders self-consciously. "What else would it be?"
Quinn laughed. "What else? Well you're an incredible athlete, for one thing. And you've got a good voice, and good musicianship. And you're sweet and creative and romantic. And you're…" she trailed off, laughing harshly at the irony. "You're great with kids."
Puck frowned. "If you really feel that way, then why don't you want to be with me?"
"It's not that simple, Noah," Quinn sighed. "If I'm with you, we have to keep the baby. It would kill us both if we didn't."
"I know that!" Puck interrupted. "I want to keep her!"
"But I need to know I'm with someone who can be part of a family. She needs parents who are together, and I can't be together with you, Puck! Not if you're off exchanging dirty texts with Santana or Brittany!"
"Oh I stopped texting her. There was kinda no point. That girl really needs to learn how to spell!"
"Ok, smart one, so not my point. My point is, I want her to have a good father and a steady family. So I'm giving her to Mrs. Schuster."
"Mrs. Schuster? Wait, what?"
"You know what, forget I said anything," Quinn said, standing to leave. The tears that pricked her eyes surprised her, if only because she couldn't believe there were any left in her body.
"Wait!" Puck grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face him.
"Wait for what?" Quinn asked angrily. "What else can you possibly have to say to me?"
"I don't know," Puck muttered, sliding his hand down her arm to lace his fingers through hers. "Just give me a minute, I'll think of something."
Quinn's eyes slid shut at the sensation of his soft fingers on her palm, but she tugged herself away. "Please, leave me alone."
Puck stepped back. "Is that what you really want?" he asked.
Quinn squeezed her hands into fists and forced out, "Yes."
"Alright," Puck replied. He picked up his guitar, and left, the door swinging shut with a resounding crack behind him, the sound hanging in the empty air.
Quinn collapsed onto the piano bench, her head falling forward to rest on the keyboard with a jarring, dissonant jumble of notes. She slowly lifted her face, running a hand over the alabaster keys, glimmering slightly in the dark of the empty practice room. Her fingers felt out the familiar keys without looking, and she sunk into the chords, eyes closed, letting the notes surround her completely as she began to sing.
"If I didn't care,
More than words can say.
If I didn't care…
Would I feel this way?...
If I didn't care, would it be the same?
Would my every prayer, begin and end, with just your name?"
Her voice carried out past the door of the practice room, reaching Puck where he sat slumped in the hallway, head in his hands, elbow resting on his guitar case, his back against the cold metal of the locker behind him, just outside her door.
~*~*~*~
Yeah I know, the singing works better if you're watching it…
So… if you want another chapter, review!!
Quinn and Puck deserve a happy ending…
Song: If I Didn't Care. It's an oldie, so idk who its originally bu, but I always think of Amy Adams and Lee Pace siging it in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day *sighs