A/N: Just something quick I wrote up-trying to get back to writing stuff again. Fingers crossed! But, yeah, it's just really short and unedited and I haven't watched all of season 2, so... well, hopefully it's okay. I started it off wanting to write crack but then I found out that I couldn't and the mood changed.

I don't own anything!

Reunions

Quinn glanced around Puck's room, at a loss for what to say.

"Is that Harry Potter?" She asked, finally breaking the silence. Puck paused in his search for sneakers to glance at the aforementioned books, the only thing in his toxic waste dump of a room that seemed to be organized.

"Ah." Puck nodded. "Yeah." He turned away, frowning. He thought maybe he should look for his shoes under the bed, but that was where he kept his porn and he didn't think Quinn would appreciate seeing that.

"Huh." The blonde looked mildly surprised. "I didn't think you knew how to read."

Puck rolled his eyes at her, and decided he needed them to get out of his room more than he needed to spare Quinn's virgin eyes. Or non-virgin. Whatever. Only, he wasn't sure if he was ready to lie down and look under the bed. He didn't want to get his face near the carpet.

"It's not that I actually like it," Puck defended, "but chicks totally dig those books. I'm serious – smart girls, dumb ones, they all go gaga over them. All I have to do is mentioned I've read some, and they fall over me even more. All girls are hot for Harry Potter."

"Uh huh," Quinn looked amused, "and that's why you have a plastic wand on your cabinet. And a wizard hat sticking out of your closet."

Well, damn. He was beginning to see the merits of cleaning his room.

"You have a collection of Harry Potter themed snow globes?" Quinn asked, sounding both parts intrigued and disgusted. Puck took a deep breath, held it, and then dived for the floor, groping around under the bed.

They needed to leave, now.

"I can't believe we wasted all that time when your shoes were in the hallway closet all along," Quinn complained, following Puck to his car.

"How was I supposed to know Ma moved them?" Puck grumbled sullenly as he wrenched the door open. The hinges squeaked in protest.

Quinn walked to the other side and clambered into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed, and glanced at the clock as Puck revved up the engine. "We're late."

"We have plenty of time," Puck said, scowling. He stepped on the gas a little harder than necessary, and they sped jerkily off the driveway.

"You almost ran over that kid's dog," Quinn mentioned offhandedly.

"Whoops," Puck said, not really caring. The car got quiet, and Puck noticed it was a really nice day. All sunny and stuff. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, annoyed when he realized his palms were sweaty.

"She knows we're coming, right?" Puck asked Quinn, keeping his eyes on the road. He saw her nod in the corner of his eye.

"Yes," the blonde said airily, voice light and nonchalant, "she knows."

"Oh," Puck said. He stalled, grasping for words. "…I…okay. Cool."

Smooth, Puckasaurus. Real smooth.

"Just checking," he said, trying to cover up for his stuttering, "I wouldn't want to walk in on her having sex or something. I hear single moms do it a lot, because of stress, you know, and it'd be kinda awkward."

Quinn choked.

Puck decided to stop talking.

They ended up in a really nice part of Lima. Rows and rows of identical looking white houses, with picket fences and grass so green it seemed artificial. It looked so neat and perfect that Puck felt like the neighborhood had to have bodies or something buried underneath the sidewalk, just to even things out.

Quinn kept periodically glancing from the directions to the houses, until she finally told him to stop. It was at a house that was exactly the same as all the others.

It was funny, then, how it was this one alone that made him feel so damn nervous.

They both climbed out of the car and stepped careful up to the door, past the tidy fences and the green-green grass, walking like if their feet hit the ground too hard they'd accidently trigger some hidden bomb that'd blow the whole place up. Or like they were soldiers, him and Quinn, travelling blind in enemy territory where at any moment someone would leap out of the bushes guns ablaze, and they'd be swiss cheese and ketchup dirtying up the lawn.

And when they survived that part and reached the door, it was the doorbell taunting them with death or worse.

Puck swallowed and discreetly glanced down at Quinn. Her face was impassive, mouth set in a small, determined line. She noticed him looking.

"Ready?" she asked him casually, one eyebrow arched. Her hands were at her sides, clenched and trembling. Puck had a sudden urge to grab one, and he did.

"….." Quinn's eyebrows tried to climb even higher up her forehead, but only managed two more centimeters. She looked at their hands, then back up at his face.

"Will your girlfriend be okay with this?" she asked, her tone challenging. Puck shrugged.

"She may be my girlfriend, but you're my baby momma," he said, running his free hand over his hair. Or, rather, his mohawk. "I don't think she'd mind too much. Unless…" Puck shrugged, "…you have someone who'd mind?"

Hell if he knew exactly what was going on with Quinn's love life.

She averted her eyes and didn't say anything, but Puck was gratified to feel her hand unclench in his, their fingers twining. It felt a little bit like she trusted him. It made him feel good. Hell, it made him feel brave enough to reach up and ring the doorbell.

Puck could hear the echoes made as the doorbell chimed through the house, tapering off into a silence broken by the pattering of feet, and suddenly, too suddenly, the door was opening and Shelby Corcoran was standing in front of them, and in her arms—

"Hey," she said, slightly breathless, smiling anxiously, "glad you could make it. We've been waiting for you."

"…yeah," Puck said, voice choked and weak and not manly at all. He wasn't even looking at her, but at the utterly perfect, beautiful, almost-one-year-old girl clutched tightly to her chest. It felt like he couldn't breathe.

Shelby took a deep, calming breath, and when she next spoke her voice was soft and almost affectionate.

"Well? Come in."

The two teenagers standing dazedly on the Corcoran doorstep didn't seem to have retained any of their motor functions, but when Shelby cleared her throat politely they snapped out of it enough to step inside the house to the baby both of them had given up. Eyes shone with emotions too heavy and complicated to really, truly express.

It felt, Puck thought, kind of like a family reunion.