Hey, everyone! Another fic! Hope you all like this one. As usual, take a look at the warnings and please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I'm just borrowing the boys for my evil male impregnating ways.

WARNINGS: Mpreg! Also, this is AU after Duets (2x04), but occasionally references other things that happen afterwards.

It Seems My Life Is Going To Change
One-shot

He still didn't really get what it was that made his mom freak out. She'd already taken the medical mystery hey-your-son-is-knocked-up thing fairly well. She hadn't even lost it when she realized that the kid growing somewhere inside his abdomen meant that he was less than straight.

So why she flipped out when she realized that, hey, he was getting fatter?

Puck didn't get it.

He really fucking didn't.

She'd left with Sarah an hour ago, kissed his forehead and said that they'd come see him every weekend even though he knew they wouldn't. He knew they wanted to. His mom actually gave a shit and Sarah was just plain fascinated that her big brother had a baby in him when her teachers said it was girls that had the babies. Why the teachers were explaining the birds and the bees to six-year-olds, Puck had no idea. He didn't like it.

But while he knew his mom and sister wanted to come every weekend, he knew that sending him here cost money and they'd barely been surviving on one income before he got knocked up. She was going to need every shift she could get before they cut the kid out (and fucking scarred him for life) and they had another mouth to feed, because this kid was his. The only papers he was signing were the birth certificate and the discharge papers to take it home.

He thought of Beth as he sat on his new bed, surrounded by packed suitcases. He thought of the baby girl he never wanted to give away. He thought about the call he'd made to Shelby, practically begging her to let him be in Beth's life. He thought about the agreed visitations on his birthday, her birthday, and throughout Hanukah.

He thought about the call when he explained why he couldn't be there.

And about Shelby saying she'd make the two hour drive to him from Akron.

And about how Quinn tried to pretend she'd never had a kid, but failed every time her hand drifted to her stomach.

"You're brooding again."

"Not," Puck said, glaring at Santana as she stood in his open doorway, clad in her Cheerios uniform. "Thinking. Did you do it?"

She nodded. "One juvie rumor spread. The reason you had me give was complete bull shit, though, and you know it. Even you're not that much of a moron."

"They bought it."

"No idea why." She rolled her eyes, sitting beside him. "Schue announced it at Glee today, so it definitely worked. Do the teachers even know?"

"Mom just told them to forward my homework to my e-mail. I'm sending everything in online for the next six months."

Santana nodded in understanding and turned onto her side. One hand reached for his stomach to touch the side of the growing bulge that his sweatshirts couldn't hide anymore. "You tell him yet?"

"Lopez."

"Just saying. I would want to know if I'd knocked up my fuck buddy."

"Lucky thing you can't get Brittany pregnant, then."

She poked him hard in the hip. "Shut up. We're not talking about that."

"Then what are we talking about? The fuck buddy that ended it when summer break ended."

"You mean the one that thought he was just your big gay experiment?" Santana pointed out. Puck sighed, a hand rubbing the four month bump, and she shook her head as she opened a suitcase. "Just saying. He'd care. And he'll figure it out when you come back with a screaming newborn. He knows you didn't fuck anyone else all summer."

Puck gave her a tired glare, watching as she started to unpack a bag. He flushed slightly as she uncovered the book he'd hidden.

"What To Expect When You're Expecting: The Male Pregnancy Edition," she read. "Nice."

"It's the only fucking book on this shit that's not for med students. You'd think they'd have more."

She shrugged. "It's still pretty rare. It's slowly showing up in more guys, but it's still rare."

"Human evolution," he snorted. "Isn't this something you'd hear about in one of those weird sci-fi shows? Like, the ones that take place thousands of years in the future."

"So your luck sucks."

"You're no help."

Which was a total fucking lie. Santana had been the one to figure it all out in the first place. She was the only one that knew that he and Kurt had been fucking around all summer. Granted, she'd only figured it out when he turned her down and she'd made some smart comment, but still. She knew about Kurt and she knew about the male pregnancy shit because of her dad. He was the only specialist in the States beside some Addison Montgomery chick out in California.

Dr. Lopez ran the home along with Santana's step-mom out of their home in Columbus. It was a big house, more than enough room for the people they took in. Really, they were there to help with the specialized care male pregnancies needed and some higher risk female pregnancies. Around here, though, it tended to just become a home for teens. They offered the people coming in a home for the duration of their pregnancy and then a month to adjust (or in his case, to adjust and heal from the c-section).

He'd be facing everyone back home by May at the latest.

If he made it to term, that is. When Santana had caught him puking and thrown him in the car for the confirmation from her dad, Dr. Lopez had explained that the chances of him reaching full term were slim. At the time, he'd still been more in shock than anything and most of the science went right over his head, but he'd understood the basic gist of why. His body was acting against him. His freak organs weren't at full working order, something about the early stages of evolution and how they weren't prepared enough to handle a pregnancy as easily as a woman's would. And his body didn't want to gain the weight. He'd always had issues with gaining weight as it was, so the baby was smaller than it really should have been and even though he had the internal shit, his body wasn't shaped right to carry a kid.

They were monitoring him closely like they do with any guy that gets himself knocked up, but it was the restrictions that were annoying him, though, he knew they were within reason.

No working.

No sports.

No sex.

He knew he had to be careful. His body was "delicate" right now (and, Moses, did he hate that fucking word).

Though that didn't mean that he needed Santana to fold his fucking boxers.

"Can you stop that? Just toss them in the drawer!"

Santana ignored him.

There were only two other people in the house.

Matt was nineteen, pale, blond, and seven months pregnant with a boy. His boyfriend came up every weekend and Puck could always hear them talking excitedly about the baby. His boyfriend was still in college, but Matt would be taking some time off until the baby was old enough for daycare.

Samantha ("Don't call me Sam.") was fifteen. He'd been surprised when he first saw her, this little redhead that was barely five feet tall and as wide as she was tall. Six months pregnant with twins. Her parents and boyfriend had tossed her on her ass the second she told them. When she left here, she'd be moving in with an aunt, but if she'd be going with her babies was still up in the air.

They were both nice enough. Matt was always talking about the nursery his boyfriend had set up. He'd be annoying if he wasn't so...Puck didn't even know. Samantha cried a lot, but he'd watched her hold her stomach and heard the whispered conversations.

He spent a lot of time alone. He did the small chores required of him; setting the table, dishes, assisting with dinner, but he spent most of his time in his room. Since getting there, he'd read his book cover to cover three times and turned his math homework in for the first time in two years. Mrs. Larkin had asked who he had doing it.

Every Saturday, though, he played guitar after dinner. Santana came up every weekend and they'd sit down for dinner before moving into the study. He'd play. Santana would sing. Samantha loved when they sang Sweet Caroline, said something about memories of going to Red Sox games with her grandfather in Boston when she was a kid.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he wasn't sure what he'd do when Matt and Samantha were gone and he wouldn't have them to play for.

Matt made it to his eighth month before he had Lucas. Puck had been asleep when it happened, but he'd gone to the hospital to see them the next morning. Watching Matt hold Lucas and then getting a turn to hold him himself...Puck would punch anyone that said he cried.

Because he didn't.

(But he totally did.)

Samantha's water broke all over his shoes two weeks before her due date. He'd held her hand the whole ride to the hospital and throughout the hours of labor and delivery. She'd refused to let go and he didn't fight. Couldn't. Not after she looked at him in complete terror and called him Noah.

He was still holding her hand when she gave birth to a boy and then a girl.

Noah and Caroline.

He'd recorded himself singing Sweet Caroline for her, given it to her as a little present the day her aunt took her and her babies home.

The house was quiet after Matt and Samantha left and Puck entered his seventh month before he even realized it. His stomach had grown, a bulge that stretched even his biggest shirts. He kept making a mental note to bitch about the lack of stores that sold paternity clothes.

The baby kicked constantly now and every time he felt it, he had no idea how Quinn could ever find the strength to break that bond. It kept him awake at night and made him need to pee fifteen times an hour, but he could feel that connection down in his soul.

A connection he still hadn't shared with Kurt. He still didn't know what he was going to do. He knew that Kurt had rights as this baby's other father, that this baby was half his.

But Kurt was also seventeen, just like him, and while Puck was okay (but not thrilled) with being in Lima for the rest of his life, Kurt was meant for more.

Santana bitched at him every week about it. Said that if he didn't do it, she would, and kept giving him deadlines. Those deadlines came and went, though, and she never made good on her threat. He didn't think she ever would.

He didn't know how many times he'd typed up a text or e-mail. Fuck. He'd almost written it on Kurt's wall one day (I'm pregnant. It's yours.), but he always chickened out before he could send it.

He'd tried to call the day after Matt left. Got as far as Kurt's voicemail before he hung up. He never tried again.

Puck shook his head, forcing the thoughts away as Santana poked his arm. "Sorry."

"You're brooding again."

"Thinking, San."

"Brooding, Puck."

"I can still take away your aunt status."

Santana smacked his arm, hard. "Try and I'll hurt you the second this kid is out. Don't forget who's going to be in that OR with you."

"I could still get your stepmom to-"

Santana snorted. "Right. The woman you told me scares you."

"She freaked out at me!"

"Because she found out your previous employment was you being a hooker."

Puck cringed slightly at the memory of the angry woman screaming at him and then at Santana for a good hour. In Spanish. He still wondered if she knew he hadn't understood anything beyond 'stupid'.

"You have a job ready?"

Puck nodded. "Your dad called a friend of his back in Lima. Guy's a pediatrician with his own practice. Got me in as a receptionist. It's not a badass job. I won't get to cut anyone open, but he offered free checkups while I worked there and good cash. I couldn't say no."

Santana hummed in agreement, lying beside Puck on the bed. Her hand went over his stomach and she smiled when Puck moved it so she could feel the baby kick. "Hi," she whispered. "Shut up. I've caught you doing it more than once."

"My kid."

"My niece."

Puck smiled and shook his head, both hands on his stomach as he thought of the little girl inside of him. Santana had been with him when he found out the sex a month ago. She'd been with him while they trolled baby name sites.

"Did you pick out a name yet?"

She hadn't been with him for that.

"Yeah," he said softly, eyes leaving his stomach to meet her curious gaze. "Evelyn."

She smiled. "I found that one, didn't I? It means 'life', right?"

He nodded. "Evelyn Santana. I haven't figured out what I'm doing for a last name yet."

Santana's eyes widened, eyebrows rising. "Santana?" she whispered, shocked. When he just smiled at her, she bit her lip, face disappearing into his bump.

"I can feel my shirt getting wet."

"Bite me."

He woke up to pain a week later. A sharp, shooting pain that raced through his body. He couldn't curl up, but it hurt to lie flat. A soft whimper escaped him as another pain shot across his stomach and he reached for the buzzer Dr. Lopez left beside all the beds.

The next time he woke up, it was in the hospital with Santana's stepmom by his head and Dr. Lopez reading a readout that had to be his.

"What..." he started, but stopped as another shot went through him.

"Noah, I need you to listen to me," Dr. Lopez said seriously. "I already called your mom. She's on her way, but the baby is in distress. We need to get her out."

"Too soon..."

Then he was gone again.

Santana was sure she'd woken the entire Hummel/Hudson household as she banged on the door at three in the morning, but she didn't care. Puck's mom had called her and said that Puck was in the hospital, that they were delivering Evie and she was fucking missing it. She'd promised Puck she'd be there when it happened and there was no way for her to make it. They were already taking him into an emergency c-section and she wasn't there. The least she could do, though, was make sure Kurt was there to meet his kid.

Letting Puck wait to tell him wasn't an option anymore. She'd called her stepmom and she'd heard the tone. Nothing good ever came from that tone.

It was Burt Hummel that opened the door, angry, glaring, and looking every bit like an angry bear. He looked ready to snap at her for waking them up, but she pushed by him and went straight for Kurt the second she saw him come into the room.

"Santana, what-"

"You're coming with me," she said, pulling his arm with her.

"Where?"

"Columbus."

"What's in Columbus?" Finn asked, tired and confused, and Santana stopped at the door and took a breath.

"Puck," she finally said. "He's pregnant. Seven months. And there's something wrong." She looked at Kurt, locking onto terrified eyes. "My dad is delivering your daughter right now."

"H-how-"

"Science. My dad can explain later, but...Kurt..." she trailed off this time, the gravity of the situation finally hitting home. Her vision blurred and something wet ran down her left cheek. "He needs you."

He pulled his arm from her grip after a second and her heart stopped.

Then he walked straight out the door.

She followed him, listening as Mrs. Hudson...Hummel...whatever told her husband (did she ever tell Puck he'd missed the wedding? She was sure she'd told him) and son to get their shoes (and Kurt's. Santana wondered if he realized he was barefoot) and to get in the car.

Not a word was said the entire ride to Columbus. Santana broke speeding laws and ran more red lights than she should have, but it was three in the fucking morning, no one was out, and her best friend needed her and she was going to be there, even if it was in cuffs (and not the fun, kinky kind).

They made the almost two hour drive in one.

They'd probably get towed for where they parked, but they'd worry about that later.

Right now, their only thoughts were Puck and Evie.

He heard beeping first.

Puck squinted, eyes opening slowly and flinching away from too-bright light until they could adjust.

The first thing he saw was Santana, head pillowed in her arms as she slept. Her hair was down. Messy.

Then he felt it.

Emptiness.

Panic seized him, eyes shooting to his stomach and hands following sluggishly as they touched a too-flat stomach. He cried out as pain went through him again. A different pain from earlier, but still a splitting pain.

"Don't do that. You'll pull your stitches."

A hand touched his in a way that was all too familiar and his eyes followed the arm right up to Kurt's face.

Oh, God.

"What-Where-How-"

"There was a problem. I don't know. I couldn't follow half of what he said, but...they delivered her. She's small and she's early, but they think she's going to be okay," Kurt said, one of his hands holding one of Puck's that still laid on his empty stomach.

Evie wasn't kicking anymore.

She wasn't there to kick.

"Where is she? I need to..." he stopped, emotions running rampant through him. Tears came and fell before he could even think to stop them.

"I can get a nurse. I-" Puck's grip tightened and Kurt sat in the chair he must have stood from when he started to panic. "Or I can just page her."

He did and it woke Santana in the process, but he didn't care. He'd care later, when the worry was gone and he was holding his daughter, but right now, he needed to see her.

He'd deny later that a sob escaped him when they wheeled in the incubator. Before the nurse even laid her on his chest, he knew she was too small. The IV hooked into her arm was bigger than her hand and he couldn't ignore the oxygen canella at her nose.

But she was there, tiny hand soft and warm against his skin as she moved and touched his neck. Kurt's lips touched the Mohawk he'd let grow back and he heard Santana's soft hi there, baby girl.

Fuck being a badass. He was crying.

Santana slipped from the room when Puck's tears came and Kurt held onto his new family. She breezed past everyone in the waiting room and ran once she was clear of that hall. Left, right, left, left, down five flights of stairs, through two sets of double doors, and she was outside.

Breaths turned into sobs and her knees hit the concrete. She felt skin tear and something wet and sticky run down her leg. She'd realize later that it was blood, but right now, she called Brittany.

She told her everything.

She told her she missed her.

She told her she loved her.

The talk was a long time coming, but it didn't make it any easier, so when the nurse took Evie back to the NICU (and they swore it was just until she got a bit stronger), he raised his bed as much as he could without shouting in pain and clenched his jaw.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Puck had expected yelling, but the whispered question with so much hurt behind it felt like a weight on his chest. "I...I don't know. I found out and I panicked. Then I was here and...I didn't know how to tell you."

"I should have known earlier."

"I know, but...you're New York bound, Princess."

Kurt gave him a glare for the nickname, something he'd tried to make Puck forget during the summer they'd been together. "New York isn't as important as-"

"It's your shot. You transferred for a reason. You aren't safe here."

"And you were just pregnant and had a baby! Do you think you're going to be any safer than me when the kids at school find out?"

"I'll be fine."

"And so will I."

"Fuck no," Puck said, eyes wide. "You're not leaving that new school just to come back and-"

"Be with my daughter?"

"Get yourself killed!"

They glared at each other for a long moment before Kurt sighed and he pressed his forehead to Puck's.

"New York can wait. I don't have to go right after graduation. I don't even know what I want yet. Broadway, fashion, I don't know, Puck. What I do know is that I want to be here with you and our daughter."

"I'm never leaving Lima," he whispered. "Beth..."

"We'll figure it out. We have time."

Time was all they ever had anymore. Time to figure this out. Time to watch Evie grow. Time to just...be.

His mom always used to say that you couldn't plan life, that when you tried, something was going to throw a rock in your path and send you flying.

He hadn't planned anything and Kurt had planned everything.

Maybe the rock was the night where he got curious and they had too much fun to notice the broken condom.

Maybe the rock was the random encounter that started their summer fling.

Maybe there was no rock and life just happened.

All Puck did know was that he was walking out of this hospital with his baby, Kurt, and maybe Santana if she didn't run straight back to Brittany like he'd been telling her to.

He'd think about the kiss Kurt pressed to his lips later.

Because he was totally blaming the fireworks he saw on the pain meds.

The End

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