Hey, everyone! This is the sequel to my other one-shot "We've Created Life", so I would suggest reading that one first. As always, look at the warnings and please review!
Warnings: Mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
We've Created Life (It's Kind Of Badass)
One-shot
It was three in the morning when Puck woke up to pain slicing through his stomach.
He curled up, arms around his rounded stomach as a whimper escaped him. Something was wrong. It shouldn't hurt like this. The pamphlets and the doctors had told him he probably wouldn't make it to term, but he was barely seven months. It was too soon. The baby was too small. She wasn't strong enough yet.
Oh, God.
Another whimper. Blood on his tongue as he bit through his lip. He reached behind himself to smack at Finn.
"Five more minutes, Mom," Finn murmured, turning over.
"Finn," he gasped as another wave washed through him. His body felt hot. Burning. His heart was hammering in his chest. Couldn't breathe. "Finn..."
His body shifted as Finn jolted awake and he rolled slightly onto his stomach.
Pain.
Too hot.
Too much.
Blackness.
His body felt heavy.
He wanted to sleep, to sink back into the calm nothingness until the beeping around him went away. Finn would shut off the alarm. Wasn't like he was going to school anymore. Been on bed rest since he started to show in his third month.
"-ck?"
Huh?
"...up."
What?
"Wake up."
No. He wanted to sleep. He'd barely slept in the last couple weeks because of how much the baby was moving. Maybe chicks found it cute, but it was uncomfortable. He wasn't even supposed to be able to carry a baby. It felt weird and the kid kept kicking him.
The baby.
It was like ice cold water being dropped over him. His heart jumped and his eyes flew open too fast. The light hurt. He winced. Gasped when he felt something in his stomach pull.
Hands eased him back down, one cupping his cheek as a thumb rubbed circles on the small patch he missed shaving.
No.
The baby.
The memories flew back into his mind in a second. The pain. Trying to wake Finn.
He must have passed out.
Where was he? Was the baby okay? It was too early.
Oh, God.
His stomach. She wasn't moving. What if she...
Puck opened his eyes, slower this time. The first thing that came into focus was Finn, red-eyed, tired, and pale. It was his hand on Puck's face.
"Hey," Finn whispered. It sounded like a weight had been taken off the quarterback's shoulders.
"Molly..."
Finn swallowed. "The doctors delivered her. I don't know. Something tore and they had to get her out."
"...too small..."
Fuck. It shouldn't be this hard to talk. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.
"She's so small," Finn said, choked. "The doctors took her away so fast. She's in NICU. They don't know if she's gonna..." The sentence cut off with a strangled sob. "And you...I thought you were both gonna..."
Another sob and Finn was bent over the bed, arms around Puck, and his face buried in his neck.
Tears flooded his own vision a second later.
The entire pregnancy had been insane.
Burt and Carole were the first people they told. They hadn't had much choice after Puck had a bout of morning sickness all over the kitchen floor and Finn started spazzing like he'd forgotten that puking is something that happens with having a person growing inside you.
Burt had sunk into a chair. Puck hadn't doubted for a second that images were flashing across the older man's mind of Kurt in Puck's position.
Carole had looked shaken. Remembered what happened with Quinn. Didn't know how to react to the idea that her son was having a baby with someone she'd considered a second son.
Telling your mom her son knocked up another guy? Not the most gentle way of telling her you're not exactly straight.
They'd been disappointed and rightfully so, but they'd welcomed Puck in. Even with the semi-rocky relationship Burt and Carole had had since The Redecorating Debacle, they'd welcomed him in with the promise that he'd have a place if he needed one.
He did. Puck knew his mom well enough to know that his and Quinn's situations were completely different. His mom had hated Quinn, yeah. For being sixteen and pregnant. For not being Jewish. For wanting bacon.
But his mom wasn't his biggest fan either. Their relationship was rocky at best and he knew her feelings about gays. They may have suffered alongside the Jews in the Holocaust, but that didn't mean she liked them. She was like most of the people in this damn town. Ignorant.
Puck didn't doubt for a second that if he'd been alone when he told her that this baby wouldn't have survived. His mom was never shy about slapping him and if she didn't want her abomination of a son to put yet another abomination on this earth?
He was just grateful Finn had gone with him.
The Glee Club had been shocked and with good reason. Quinn had stared at them for all of a minute before she'd walked out of the choir room. Can't say that didn't hurt, but she'd made up for it when she showed up at the house two nights later and handed Finn back his baby blanket.
Brittany came over weekly after he was put on bed rest. Curled up next to him and read frigging Dr. Seuss to his stomach. He'd said to Finn more than once that if this kid came out rhyming about anything, he was going to murder Brittany.
They'd gotten everyone together when they found out it was a girl. Gathered them up and then Finn copied him and sang him a song. Sang "Molly Smiles" and their little girl had her name.
Santana called them saps.
But he saw the way her eyes were shining. She didn't fool him for a second.
The last couple months had been hard. The stress of the pregnancy had been putting a strain on his heart that worried the doctors. Carole started working from home and checked in on him every half hour. It got hard to even get up to use the bathroom. He'd go, get back to bed, and have to nap until his heart would slow down. Then the kid would kick his bladder and he'd have to do it all over again.
Doctor's visits were even less fun. Finn would end up having to half-carry him back to the car because he was just that exhausted, but too stubborn to use a wheelchair.
But he'd barely been seven months when Molly was born. She was already small as it was.
The idea that she wouldn't be with him when he left the hospital...
Puck didn't think he'd cried that much since he lost Beth.
The doctors didn't let him out of bed for a week.
It was a week that he'd had to settle for bad quality cell phone pictures of his daughter, taken through the plastic of the incubator.
So small. The IV was bigger than her hand, looked like the patch job Sarah used to put on her dolls when she was a little kid.
It looked even worse when the doctors finally said he was good enough to go into a wheelchair and take a trip down to the NICU. Finn pushed him while Puck wringed his hands. He tried to tell himself it would be okay. Molly had survived a week and she was doing better than she had been, but when he got a good look at his little girl...
He cried.
Held onto Finn's hand like it was a lifeline and just about fell apart when the nurse opened up one side so they could touch her.
And for the first time since Mr. H had his heart attack, Puck prayed.
Molly Hope Puckerman (because hyphenating just sounded stupid, too long, and he was the one that lost his abs for her, so Hudson was fucking out) went home almost eight weeks after the day she was born.
Leaving the hospital without her had hurt even more than he thought it would. Even with the reassurance that she was doing better, there was that nagging fear in the back of his mind that he'd never see her again. But the doctors had made him leave. He had no medical reason to stay.
He curled up in bed with Finn that night and was up the next day and at the hospital an hour before visiting hours started.
The time in the hospital had given everyone else time to finish up the nursery. Burt had finally finished the remodel on the ground floor. Before, he and Finn had been living in what used to be a home office. Too cramped for two people, let alone two people and a baby.
They'd agreed they wouldn't move in until Molly was with them.
Walking in that day with Molly in his arms and Finn's hand on his back...
Fuck him if he started crying again.
He wasn't.
(Yes, he was.)
He knew the second he saw the wall Molly's crib was on that Rachel had been the one to paint it. His daughter's name painted in green, a gold star hanging off the end of the "Y".
He'd thank her later. Thank her again for not hating both him and Finn when they came clean about the pregnancy. Her and Finn were over. Long over. There'd been less tears than he'd expected. They were still friends and singing lead on nearly every fucking song, but they weren't making out off to the side anymore.
Puck counted that part as a win.
Especially since he might...okay, was definitely stupid in love with his best friend.
If it wouldn't get him smacked, he'd count it as an even bigger win that instead of Finn, Rachel was making out with Quinn now.
He was still waiting for the whole story on how that happened.
He wanted details.
Every. One.
Molly looked perfect as he laid her in the crib, all brown curls (he'd have to apologize to her for those) and brown eyes. She'd gotten Finn's pale complexion, but she'd gotten his nose and attitude. She was the shit and she knew it. Knew she had both her dads wrapped around her finger from the word go.
Thank fucking God she didn't get his whore lips.
He looked around the nursery and its pink and green color scheme. The walls were a soft green except for the pink wall the crib was on. White furniture and a restored rocking chair Puck was almost positive sat in Kurt's own nursery when he was a baby.
There were pictures on the dresser. One of Glee Club, taken just before he'd started to show. A shot of him and Finn sitting on the back porch. He didn't even remember the one of him, eyes and hands on his stomach only days before Molly had been born.
And one of Beth.
The frame said "Sisters".
Shit.
There was dust in his eyes.
That was it.
"You like it?" Finn asked nervously.
Puck nodded, his forehead pressed to Finn's chest for a minute as he worked to compose himself. When he did, he looked up, stared at his best friend. The father of his child. Glanced down at his lips and wondered.
They'd never revisited that night. Barely even spoke about it if they could help it, but here they were. Seventeen and standing in their daughter's nursery after months of wondering if they'd actually get to raise her. The pregnancy itself had been so unsure, but both he and Molly had made it out alive. They'd beat the odds.
Fuck. They were two guys that had made a baby. He and Molly had made it out alive.
You don't get more fucking badass than that.
He wondered for a moment if he should clean up his language now that he had a kid.
Then Finn swept down and kissed him and...
Fuck. If every kiss felt like this one, he'd be lucky if Molly didn't get a sibling soon. Swearing be damned.
Molly would just be the only kid in kindergarten that cussed like a sailor.
Like father, like daughter.
Badass.
The End
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