( a/n hi y'all this is a multi-chapter fic i've been working on for a while now and it's nearly finished. i've had major writers block and i've only posted shit i had been working on for a while and then finally finished. this is just some cuties patoosies quick because i love them, obviously.

so this is as you might notice as you read it, going to be around 9 to 10 chapters, each following about a month in these two cutiepies' lives. keep in mind i am no doctor and although i've been taking bio for six years now i am no expert so sorry for any mistakes.

if you read any of my other multi-chapters (mainly baby, once i get it, i'm yours and hold on, make it last) i am working on them and hope to finish a new chapter within a months or so! school is just biting my ass right now and i know that's a lame excuse but i am a nerd.

song in title is i wanna have your babies by natasha bedingfield.

i do not own this song or glee or quinn and puck because if i did glee would move channels to hbo and into a time slot that doesn't require censoring. yes, i am that dedicated. and creepy. thank you for reading. bye. )

x

No.

No, she tells herself as she throws up for the fifth day in a row after finishing her morning cereal. No, no way, she tells herself as she checks her calendar twice a day to make sure that yes, she should've had her damn period already. And hell no, she tells herself as she cries watching an episode of Too Cute on Animal Planet.

No. This isn't happening.

Santana finally convinces her to go to the drugstore after she nearly tears her head off because she ate the last piece of chocolate cake in their apartment but she still repeatedly and firmly chants 'no' in her head as she squats over the stick in the bathroom and thinks of happy things. Ice cream, sunshine, babies. Damnit.

Fifteen minutes. What's fifteen minutes? It's hardly a run to Starbucks, it's not even reading the newspaper or painting your nails. Yet, the minutes have never dragged on more. It seems even longer than the first time she did this. She was a teenager then, sure, and she checked every two minutes that the house was in fact empty (nothing more awkward than your dad walking in on you doing a pregnancy test when you've barely gotten rid of your training bras and retainers) and she's pretty certain she was in denial for the first five months of the entire thing.

"I can't believe he got me in this position — twice!" She complains to an empty bathroom like some schizophrenic crazy person as she stares at the blue plus sign on the white stick. "He frickin' did it again," she whispers frustratedly at herself as she carefully wraps the stick in toilet paper and hides it in one of her drawers in her room. (There's something weirdly wrong about stashing it next to Santana's or Rachel's toothbrush. Or worse, her own.)

Calmly — because this is just one test, she's not going to freak out — she decides to make herself dinner and dials Noah's number about five times before she's even reached the pantry. Since he's not picking up, clearly, she figures she's just going to have to make an appointment at the doctor's first thing in the morning because there's no way she's buying another one of those pricey little liferuiners.

Of course, Santana and Rachel are both out so this just leaves her to her own thoughts for the entire night. She knows Puck is at band practice with Sam and Finn and he's never been particularly good at picking up his phone — but she really just needs him to pick up his damn phone.

She's not going to freak out she promises herself. She's twenty-five, she has a steady job, she's happy — she really is and it's not like she rolled into bed with Puck out of habit or something. She's been seeing him for over two years now, ever since he moved to New York with Finn and it's been good.

She never would've imagined her back with him because even though he said he had loved her back then, and she was pretty sure she had loved him too — it had all been a tangled mess of jealousy and feelings and emotions and puberty and a baby and she couldn't hold a heat of the moment thing against him for the rest of his life.

After college, she moved in with Santana and Rachel because Kurt had just moved in with Blaine and they were doing god knows whatever and Santana and Rachel needed the money, because despite popular beliefs, the Spotlight Dinner didn't earn them enough when it came to paying rent.

And she loved New York, always had, and she found a job as a counselor soon enough. There were plenty of crazy people in the city.

(Including, apparently, her, she thinks as she finds herself staring at herself in the mirror. She lifts her shirt but there's nothing there. No bump or anything else that might incline she's carrying something inside of her, just her flat tan stomach.)

She works as a kindergarten teacher now, having seen enough crazy in her own life to last her another three lifetimes, and she likes the little wide eyed messy chubby monsters she gets to work with everyday. They always seem to brighten up her day. Okay, she loves them.

Doesn't mean she needs nor wants one of her own.

She loved Puck, so much, really — but babies and them had never been a good combination. Look what happened the first time, they basically ignored each other for a year after she gave up Beth like they hadn't seen each other naked and shared baby names ideas and had a frickin' baby.

It had taken her a long time to even let herself love him again, even though he kept trying and she kept shooting him down until Rachel 'accidentally' locked her out of her own apartment to 'be with Finn' (like they had ever paid attention to her whenever she was in the room next to them and they were obviously doing some heavy petting) while she had nowhere to go but Finn's and Puck's apartment since Rachel had conveniently told everyone else she knew in the city to not open their doors or answer their phones under any circumstances. It was either that or spend the night under a bridge or in a cardboard box and Puck wasn't that bad. (She had no idea Rachel was that desperate to get them together, but that was another story.)

And now they had been together for two long/short years — taking it slow at first and after that going so fast that sometimes she had to literally stop for a weekend to collect herself — and she might or might not, be possibly, maybe carrying his child. Now. Again.

She pats her stomach, and like a lunatic expects some kind of reaction, but when she realizes that even if there's something inside of her it's not going to respond since it's probably bean shaped right now. With a sigh, she lets her shirt fall back down and she falls back on the couch.

Her phone beeps and she struggles to get it out of her jeans pocket before seeing Puck has finally decided to check in. Well, she better cross him off her list on who to call when being chased by a serial killer. He would've cut her into ten separate pieces by now. (She makes lists now, it's kind of her thing.)

NOAH: sup babe?:)

What's up is that you seriously need to consider a new brand of condoms because honestly, this is getting insane.

Letting out a frustrated sigh she drops her phone on the floor and as she stares at the ceiling she finds herself with her hands on her stomach. She can't believe he frickin' did it again!

.

She almost tells him that night when he comes over and brushes against her breasts as he leans over to get his drink of the coffee table and she winces because that hurts a lot before she decides to keep the conversation to herself until in the morning. He's obviously tired from practice and she doesn't want to spring it on him like it obviously had on her (denial was probably one of her strongest suits) and she's not entirely sure she can even tell someone else beside herself.

She had actually hoped Santana or Rachel would be off from work early but they probably have better things to do then listen to her ramble. She envies Santana, really. Never needing to worry about any of this shit. And she's also pretty sure Rachel and Finn would hope for twins if she were pregnant.

It's not like her and Puck aren't serious, because they are. He's talked about saving money to buy them an apartment — because he was 'so sick and tired of seeing Rachel and Finn in their underwear and we're basically together every night anyway' but she saw the nervous smile on his face as he told her — and even mentioned joint bank accounts, which honestly kind of made her sweat and frankly, freaked her out.

It is serious, sure but it's still scary. She's twenty-five and she's scared of commitment to a boy she's been pretty much in and out of love with since she was sixteen. Dandy.

Still, babies? A baby is something entirely different than an apartment or a joint bank account, even a marriage. It's a frickin' baby. You can't back out of that. You sign a lease for eighteen years and there's no getting out of that (not that she could handle any alternative to raising it ever again).

And he's a guy, in his twenties, and in his free time he's in a band for goodness sake! He probably would be even more freaked out than her and she stared at herself in the mirror for ten minutes and contemplated about a bean.

(And she feels like a selfish self-obsessed bitch when she thinks that if she had a choice, if she had to chose, she would probably chose Puck over it — this baby.)

So they watch a dumb documentary on Discovery about lumberjacking (nothing with animals, dear God, nothing with animals) and he drinks a beer and she politely declines which does earn her a weird look — but he might've picked on her and Santana fighting about her 'being a mood for days now' this morning so he leaves it be.

She knows it's not consciously that night when he turns in his sleep and his hand lands on her stomach but she panics. She hasn't been able to sleep all night and she's so tired and her boobs frickin' hurt and she just wants to cry and sleep and tell him. She needs to tell him.

She nudges him a few times until he finally groans at a particularly hard elbow in the ribs.

"Remember last year," she asks, not bothering to turn around or even keep her voice down (if there's anything she's not worried about right now it's her roommates' beauty sleeps) as she clenches his hand in hers, pressing it to her stomach tightly. "When my sister had Jason and then she had to quit her job because he was such a handful and then her husband left her when the baby was three months old?"

"Huh?" He retorts, voice groggy, undoubtedly still half asleep.

"Quinn, are you okay?" He frowns, sitting up as he puts his free hand on her shoulder. She turns onto her back and stares up at him for a moment. She blinks a few times so she can make out his form in the dark. He looks tired as he rubs his eyes before throwing her a worried look.

"What's up?" He adds when she doesn't look like she's about to answer any of his previous question. She shakes her head, mainly to herself, before pulling on his shoulder. "Nothing, just — go back to sleep." He looks at her one more time before he lies down, pulling her close to his chest. It's quiet for a moment or two and she knows he'll be asleep any moment. Puck could literally sleep through world war 3.

"I always thought he was a jackass," he mumbles just before he drifts off to sleep again.

A small smile breaks out onto her face despite her crazy thoughts as she rests her head against his chest, biting down on her bottom lip as she stares down at the tiny space in between their flat stomachs. For just a moment, long enough to drift into a peaceful slumber, she forgets about her worries.

.

"I might be pregnant," she blurts out to him as she serves him some freshly baked waffles, not even bothering to bring it more subtly (she figured there was nothing subtle about that damn white stick either so why should he get a carefully wrapped 'i might be carrying your baby' sandwich with compliments and outs and 'are you sure you can deal''s).

He has to start football practice at school in half an hour, she knows that, and it makes it just that much easier. If he decides that this isn't something he can deal with then he's already dressed and ready to go. She can drop his stuff off while he's at school and she'll never have to face him again.

His head snaps up and he looks at her like he's trying to determine if she's really serious or kidding around but then his face lights up a little, as if he just now realizes she's really frickin' serious and then he shrugs, taking a bite out of his waffle.

"When is your first doctor's appointment?"

.

The doctor points at the screen and she squeezing her eyes really tight together, so tight she's sure she's going to have a brain aneurysm if she doesn't stop but she doesn't see anything. She looks over at Puck, though, and he seems to have looked God himself in the face.

His grip on her hand tightens and his eyes light up as the doctor talks about the blob — they probably can't even see their actual baby yet but Puck surely doesn't seem to care — on the screen and how it's too small to have a heartbeat but how in their following appointments she can surely show them and shit, there's really something inside of her and she's not going to cry.

She's not. She refuses.

"Now, I know the ultrasound didn't really prove anything since we were only able to locate the gestational sac but as you know we've done some testing," the doctor smiles nervously at Quinn's obviously cold expression (she knows about the testing, she has a hole the size of texas in her left arm to prove it, thank you very much) before she continues, "And it seems like you're about four weeks along. In two weeks we'll even be able to locate the actual fetus and possibly pick up on a heartbeat."

The doctor looks over at Puck, who unlike her, is responsive to the news and smiles back at her, thanking her before leading Quinn out of her office and into his car. She took a sick day at work because she felt too nervous to even be taking care of a bunch of four year olds but she knows he needs to get back to work soon. Selfishly she makes him drive her over to McDonalds anyway, where she orders three different kinds of ice cream.

He doesn't ask her anything, just smiles and glances over to her stomach every twenty seconds as they sit in the parking lot and she pretends not to notice.

She leans over and kisses him on the lips hard, because honestly, if anyone is going to screw this up it's clearly not going to be him.

.

"Quinn, how are you feeling?" He asks her before she even has time to say hello, when she comes over to his apartment after he's done with work. They're meeting up with their friends at her apartment later but she needed to talk him beforehand. In private. "About this?" He adds as an afterthought like she might not know what he's talking about — as if she hadn't been stuffing herself with chocolate and watching gossip girl all day and contemplating her existence since he brought her home.

He hasn't really said anything about all of it, but something's telling her he isn't too worried about it and he's actually a little excited. And she doesn't want to take that away from him, it's just so much to take in.

"Fine, fine, just a little… overwhelmed," she lets out a deep breath she didn't know she was even holding and looks up at him. "You really want this, huh?" She asks, biting down on her lip.

"You don't?" He retorts and it's not an accusation, it was more filled with bewilderment like this had been in his plans along — having babies and raising them with her.

She breaks out in a smile, because even if she's worried about how her life will change, she knows it's something she ultimately always wanted. Things just never go as planned when it comes to her and Puck.

.

"Hello, my dear, dear friends," Puck announces happily as he enters the apartment, throwing his coat over a kitchen chair before walking over to Rachel ("Rachel, you look particularly cute today!") who lets out a surprised squeak as he kisses her on the cheek, giving her a big hug before moving onto a struggling Santana ("San, love the nasty look on your face. Bet it gets the ladies going. So mysterious.") and doing the same to her.

"Puckerman, what the fuck?" Santana spits with a frown as she wipes her cheek with her hand and follows his frame with an incredulous look.

He ignores her and continues to hug Sam ("Saaaaam!"), who bursts out in laughter as he pats him on the back, Blaine ("Nice bowtie, Blainey days"), who just shakes his head, and Kurt, who cautiously warns him to not ruin — or god forbid, wrinkle — his new Chanel jacket, even squeezing the latter's face together in his hands.

Quinn can't help but laugh at his antics. (She's having war flashbacks about a little something called vitamin d as she admires the scene in front of her.) She had tried to convince him to wait until she was at least three months along but there's no talking him out of anything. At least he's really happy about it. There's no denying that.

He walks over to the couch and falls down next to Finn, grabbing his head in his hand and placing a firm kiss on the side of the music teacher's face.

"What the hell have you been smoking, dude?" Finn says as he pushes him off and gives him a weird look.

"Noah, I told you about the genital warts you supposedly get from marijuana, right?" Rachel remarks with a stern, worried look as she settles down on the other side of Finn.

A smile stretches across his entire face as he gets up and moves to stand beside Quinn. "Guys, me and Quinn have an announcement."

"For fuck's sake, I did not get dressed into this hot, hot lady trap for this," Santana sighs as she leans against the chair Sam's currently sitting on.

Rachel gushes excitedly as she hops up and down the couch. "You have to show us the ring, Quinn!"

"Oh, I love weddings!" Kurt claps his hands together and Quinn grimaces a little as she realizes they're doing this in the wrong order, again. Oops.

"Fuck that, dude," Puck says, his smile never faltering, as he grabs onto her hand, "Me and Quinn — we are having a baby."

"Damn, that's very highschool of you," Finn snorts and Quinn shoots him a glare, flipping him the bird. God knows he's the only one who gets to joke about that without losing an actual limb. He feigns pain as he puts a hand over his heart before he sends her a smile and she knows he means well.

Rachel is over in a second to touch her stomach with Kurt right behind her who immediately starts talking colors for the nursery.

Sam high fives Puck, as he gushes unbelievingly, "I can't believe you're going to be a dad!"

"Again," Blaine adds, equally excited as he shakes his hands in the air with the big lipped blonde adding as he nods his head, "I am going to be such a frickin' cool uncle. Unbelievable."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, you did it again, Puckerman. Knocked up the holy innocent Quinn Fabray. Can't wait. Can we leave now? I want to get there before that hot bartender's shift ends," the black haired Latina buts in as she slaps Puck on the shoulder. "Guess this means no alcohol for you, Fabray?"

"Not unless she wants a four headed, three legged green baby," Finn tilts his head, raising his eyebrows, undoubtedly imagining this four headed, three legged green creature.

Sam's face lights up, possibly picturing her child as the new Mozart. "That would be really cool, though, if it had like, ten fingers on one hand."

"I recently read a study that said alcohol can do so much as raise the risk of heart failure to 80 percent plus it can actually shrink the brain—" Rachel babbles on not even noticing the green color Quinn is sporting at the moment. She hadn't even considered the fact that the baby might not be healthy or the fact she could screw up it's health by doing one little thing wrong. She doesn't remember stressing this much the first time and she'd been a teenager then.

Santana frowns, rolling her eyes as she shoves Rachel a little, "Argh, shut the fuck up, Berry."

"Santana!"

"Our baby is going to be fucking perfect," Puck whispers against the side of her head proudly as he places a kiss to the side of her head while everyone talks on and on and on about the bundle of cells in her stomach. It's all so much.

Quinn swallows hard. This is going to be a long nine months.

.

a review would be super rad of you! ! !