Author's Note: For the purposes of the story, Puck's sister is his twin. In Glee, her name hasn't been revealed yet. I've chosen to name her Melissa. Additionally, Quinn's pregnancy scandal didn't happen, although she and Finn did date. (They're now broken up.) School is ridiculously busy right now (two tests, two quizzes, an essay, a lab report, and an AP US History midterm all before Christmas!) and then I'm going on vacation, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this or my other fics. Regular posting will resume in January, I promise!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I really, really wish I did.
Girls tell me they're pregnant all the time. They make it out to be a big deal – crying, yelling, telling me to go fuck myself or asking me to support their decision no matter what – major drama, right? It's pretty annoying after the fourth or fifth time it happens. The best way to deal with girls like that is rationally. Just ask them straight out. First question: "Is it mine?" If not, just walk away, dude. It's not worth getting involved. If the answer is yes, make sure they're really knocked up solid. Second question: "Did you take a pregnancy test?" They usually start fidgeting, twirling their hair, saying, "Um... well... no. I mean, not yet." Nine times out of ten, they'll take the test and squeal about how they're not pregnant and they won't be all huge and gross for prom. (One time out of ten, they actually will be all huge and gross for prom, which is when you have to vehemently deny it's yours. Otherwise, you're stuck, man.) After hearing so many girls – and older chicks, too – tell me they're pregnant, I've started to tune it out. I'm like, "Yeah, you're 'pregnant'? You and every other girl I've fucked this week. Either take a test or stop bothering me."
This time was different. This time, I wasn't hearing it from some social climbing cheerleader or a sexually-deprived cougar with a pool. Those two little words - "I'm pregnant" - didn't come from the same lips that wrapped so beautifully around my dick. Instead, they came from the last person on the planet I would expect to hear them from – my sister.
And yet there she was, wringing her hands and biting her lip and acting so goddamn fidgety like she couldn't sit still for a second. I closed my eyes, trying to block out all images of my sister having sex. It was way beyond my mental capacity to handle that sort of thing. When I opened my eyes, she was still there, still knocked up. It took me a minute, but eventually I remembered that she's probably just like all the other girls – scared, jumping to conclusions.
"Did you take a test?" I asked smugly, thinking I had her cornered.
"Three," she admitted. "All positive."
I slumped, slack-jawed, against the wall. God, she looked so small and delicate, wrapped up in Finn's sweatshirt. She was pregnant. Pregnant, knocked up, expecting, with child – no matter how I said it, I couldn't connect my beautiful, innocent sister with the concept of an actual pregnancy.
"You're sure?" I asked. I hoped she would laugh and bring out the Punk'd cameras.
Melissa's face crumpled, erupting in tears. She buried her face into my shoulder, her tiny frame shaking with sobs. "I'm sure," she whispered, voice wavering.
A new thought dawned on me. Girls don't get pregnant all by themselves. It usually involves a dude and his dick. I looked down in horror at Melissa, still sobbing into my shoulder, wearing Finn's sweatshirt. Melissa and Finn had started dating a few months ago. Finn was always going on and on about her, like he's over the fucking moon. I had never expressly asked whether he was fucking Melissa or not – I mean, she's my sister, it's not like I want to know. Sure, Finn had been annoyingly happy these past few weeks in a way that he had never been when he dated Quinn. But that didn't necessarily mean he had sealed the deal with Melissa, right? He wouldn't cross that line – would he?
"It's not Finn's baby, right?" I don't know which would be worse – if Finn had knocked her up or if she had cheated on him.
"Who's baby would it be? I'm not Mary; this isn't the Immaculate Conception," she wailed, sniffling.
"It's Finn's baby," I said slowly.
Melissa nodded. My stomach felt like cement. I definitely knew which one was worse.
"You and Finn... had sex?" I asked, either not willing or not able to fully comprehend this.
She nodded again, more wide-eyed and terrified by the second.
"I need to go," I said numbly. I slid her off my shoulder and grabbed my jacket, thundering out of the room, ignoring Melissa pleas not to tell Finn. This was way beyond anything I could handle, so I pretended not to hear her. My truck rumbled to life and I shot out of the driveway, driving sixty miles an hour towards Finn's house. He had shit coming.
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