Part of what I am now calling Delilah-Verse

Written because Delilah won't leave me alone, and for the 10 fics comm on LJ

I own nothing of Glee, evidenced by the fact that Puck and Rachel aren't a) together and b) having sex on the regular on HBO or Skinemax. My thanks to Jess (stealingmachines on tumblr) for her assistance with this.


"Are you sure about this, Noah? I mean, I know this can't be easy for you after what happened with Quinn, and I'd hate for you to resent me if you decide to see this through with me, because there's no way, no way, Noah, that I'm not going through with this. This baby may only be the size of a bug, and having it will be hard work and will no doubt force me to change my plans for my future, but I already love it, Noah, and I'm not sure how that's even possible, but I do, so there's no way I'll even consider abortion or adoption, and people will inevitably gossip, about both of us - regardless of whether we're in this together or not - which means being with me, with us, is probably going to damage your reputation beyond repair."

"Bring it," he says and you smile at him, that same smile you gave him the first time he uttered those words. "I'm serious, Rachel. I'm serious about you, how I feel about you, and that's not gonna change any time soon. And that little bug in your belly? That's my baby. Our baby, so of course I'm in this with you."

You can't help the tears that roll down your cheeks, but you're smiling and he's brushing them away tenderly with his thumbs as he grins at you.

"You're a total MILF now. You realise that, don't you?" You laugh because he looks proud and completely serious.

"And you're a DILF," you reply, frowning and making that face you know you've seen him make when you try to feed him tofu.

"Yeah, how about you never say anything like that again, Baby," he mocks and you wholeheartedly agree, nodding even as he dips his head to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, tasting the tears from earlier.

"Noah," you sigh. He lays down half on his pillows and pulls you down with him so you're lying between his legs, head on his chest resting over his heart, and he plays with the ends of your hair with one hand and plays with your fingers with the other. It's peaceful, comfortable and it's as if nothing else exists.

It's at that moment you start to panic. What if you can't do this? What if you can't be a mom since you never actually had one? What if you drop the baby? What if you can't birth it? Where are you going to live? How are you going to tell your dads?

You don't realise you've been quite so vocal about your concerns (epically lost your shit, Noah calls it) until he tells you – altogether too loudly – to "shut up" and that "everything will be fucking awesome because we're a couple of good looking Jews."

You're not sure that makes any sense but you're kissing him hard, forcing your tongue passed his lips, because even though you're still not totally convinced this whole situation will be as awesome as he claims, you know he'll be with you every step of the way.

If you happen to tug your shirt off over your head and unhook your bra the second he pulls away to breathe, it's because of the pregnancy hormones and not because this boy makes you crazy. Crazy to the point where you can't concentrate on anything other than the feelings he evokes in your heart and between your legs whenever he's within the same zip code. Which is pretty much all the time since you live in the same town and Lima's not huge.

You're unbuckling his belt before he even realises you're half naked, like some kind of role reversal – you're normally half naked before you realise – when he stills your hands with his own.

"Lemme take care of you, Baby," he says, his voice low, seductive and sincere, and then he's kissing you slowly but passionately, all lips and tongue and the occasional nip to your bottom lip. You give as good as you get though, biting and soothing him with your tongue because he told you before how hard that makes him, and right now is no exception.

He still manages to convince you – a soft kiss, an unspoken promise, to your abdomen being all it takes – to give in to his need to show you rather than tell you what you carrying his baby means to him, showing you with three orgasms before he enters you (not even he expected the third one , mind you).

After, when you're both laying entwined with each other, all blissed out and quiet, you realise that you can do this. As long as you have Noah, and although you're still terrified, you got this.