This is the product of 'Theatricality' (which if you haven't seen/heard about it then this will make almost no sense to you) because after all the epicness, a oneshot needed to be written about these two. Then the idea of Quinn helping Puck take off his make up entered my head and I've been trying to write this since Tuesday night (I was finished at one point yesterday but it was too angsty for my liking [did I really just say that? Too angsty for me? This must be a sign of the apocolypse]). Enjoy!


She looks absolutely ridiculous. She's sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the scratched up coffee table, a glass of milk balancing on her rounded stomach. She's still in her Gaga attire from the neck up, her large pink and metal dress replaced with a tank top and his basketball shorts. "You look ridiculous," she tells him, taking her eyes off the TV while she dunks a chocolate chip cookie in the milk on her belly. "I can't believe you drove home while you were still all dressed up."

"Says the girl who still has sequins in her hair." She rolls her eyes as he throws his backpack down next to the door. "Mom home yet?"

She shakes her head, pink strands poking out through her blonde hair. "Jenna's upstairs doing homework. Said your mom said she'd be home late. She picked up another shift or something?" Quinn shrugged, grimacing at the TV. He looks at the screen and sighs heavily.

"You've got to stop watching TLC."

"I will the minute you learn to keep it in your pants," she says with a sweet smile, eating the rest of her cookie. He grabs the last cookie off the plate next to her before heading upstairs, laughing to himself as she yells at him the whole way up.

She travels upstairs once the special she's watching ends, glancing into the bathroom just across the hall from their room. He stands in front of the mirror, still in his larger than life costume, scrubbing his face violently with a washcloth. She steps into the small room that can barely hold her pregnant self, let alone the both of them, her belly brushing up against his side. "You've ruined this washcloth and you're about to scrub your face off," she says, touching his shoulder and locking eyes with him in the mirror. He shrugs and she rolls her eyes before pushing him towards the toilet. "Sit."

She pulls off the long feathered eyelashes and places them on the side of the sink, next to the white face make up he caked on his face that morning. She takes the washcloth from his hands, throwing it into the tub before grabbing an old hand towel out of the cabinet below the sink. It's softer and already stained, and she runs it under the hot water before bringing it to his face. She starts with his forehead, rubbing away the thick make up in small circular motions. "You know, you really shouldn't wash your face with washcloths. It's too harsh on the skin."

He leans into her hand as she moves to his temples, the towel blurring half his vision. "Is that why your's is so pretty?"

She snorts. "Seriously?" He looks up at her with that smirk and she rolls her eyes, moving the towel over his eye that's covered in a black Star of David (one that matches the silver sticker she has on the left side of her chest), pushing a little harder than she should. It's silent between them for a while, Quinn rubbing away all the white make up to reveal tan skin underneath. She can feel the baby move beneath her stomach, foot (or, more than likely, hand based on the position the baby was in during her last ultrasound) pushing against the skin just below her belly button that's recently been pushed out.

"Thank you," he says quietly and she uses her fingers to lift his chin, staining the tips of her fingers white. She smiles and readjusts the towel in her hand, finding a clean section on the fabric to wipe away the white on his chin.

"So, 'Beth' was pretty awesome of you…" They hadn't talked about it after it happened, just like everything else in their lives (didn't talk about sex after they had it, didn't talk about the baking incident after it happened, didn't talk about anything because it was easier that way). He reaches up and pulls off his wig (the same one he used during the Crazy in Love/Hair mash up), shrugging as he tosses it into the sink next to them.

"I try." She smiles again, except this time it's a little sadder. She turns the towel over and wets it again, feeling his hands come to rest on her stomach. He pushes against the tight skin right below her belly button because he knows that's where she's been most active, smiling when he feels the movement underneath his hand. She wants to tell him to stop. To stop making their baby move, to stop touching her belly, to stop finding all these moments of awesome within him because it's exhausting her. She's dead set on giving the baby away when he's a douche; when he's off doing God knows what with Santana (or any other random Cheerio) or when he's off dating Mercedes, she knows that giving the baby to a couple that's older and who can raise her properly is a good idea, the best option for all of them. But it's when he's like this, when he's humming into her belly and she's being nice and helping him with stuff like taking off ridiculous show make up that she thinks just for a second, the world wouldn't end if they kept her. That they could do it, they could do this (she moves her hands away from his face and rest them on top of his) and it will all be okay.

"You know, some days I really hate you," she mumbles, running her nails over the back of his hand before pushing his face back so she can see his face. She wipes away the remaining white along his jaw. "Especially when you do stuff like that." He scrunches up his eyes brows and she moves the towel to wipe away the little bit of black she missed.

"That made you hate me?" He sounds so confused and she nods, grabbing his chin so that she can wipe away the red on his lips. "Why?"

"Because it makes me want to keep her." She stays focused on his lips so that she can't see him process what she's just admitted. She feels his face move underneath her fingers before she finally looks up at his eyes.

"So then, let's keep her." It's that sad smile she wears again as she shakes her head.

"It's not that simple… I only want to keep her when you're Noah, not when you're Puck. And let's face it, you're Puck more often than not." He's irritated, she can tell by the way his jaw tenses in her hand. It's the truth though and it's time for them to stop lying. She tells him to close his whore lips and with one final brush across his lips, his face is clean. "There. All done," she says, running her thumb over his bottom lip before throwing the towel into the tub with the other one.

He wraps his arms around her, bringing her against him so that his head can rest against their daughter. She lets out a breath before leaning down and kissing the top of his head, arms tangled behind his head. They stay like that even though her back's starting to hurt because they both know it's even better like this. When it's just them, in a moment that's so insignificant and so perfect that not the future or the past can haunt them. A moment where they can just be.

She breaks the silence first. "Can we go get bacon?" He laughs into her stomach and she feels the smile against her skin as the baby moves again, pushing against her stomach. "See, she wants bacon."

They pull away from one another and he nods. "Yeah. We can go somewhere that has bacon." She squeals and does this little dance before rushing out of the room.

"Jenna! We're going out to eat so hurry up!" She pops back into the bathroom and stands in front of the mirror. "You should change though. I'm not going out with you like that," she says as she starts taking out the pink extensions. "Even if I plan on inhaling bacon like there are no more pigs in the world."