Author's Note: Here you go, guys. With bonus characters.

9. none of us were angels

It's sixth period, right after lunch. She's decided to do this now because there's literally no chance of him walking in on her. Even if this is the girls' bathroom, that means nothing to Puck. He's been in here before and if he thought something was wrong, he wouldn't let something as stupid as a sign keep him away. And Santana knows that he's getting suspicious. She and Puck have math sixth period and, pre-Calc or not, Puck still doesn't attend the class regularly. It's his designated 'beauty nap' period.

So she's safe.

She walks down the hall with her head held high, shooting Jacob Ben Israel a glare as she passes. He sputters something about a hall pass and she flips him off instead. Jewfro's been on her ass since last year, starting that ridiculous boob job rumor and spreading it like wildfire. But after Puck had a little talk with him, he hasn't bothered her once. Having one of the most feared kids at McKinley as her boyfriend has its perks.

Pausing at her locker, Santana re-applies her lip gloss and looks herself over in the mirror. She looks a little paler than usual, but otherwise nothing's changed. Glancing left, then right, she makes sure no one's looking before grabbing the box and shoving it into the pocket of Puck's letterman jacket. She still has her Cheerios one somewhere, but she's taken to wearing Puck's ever since he awkwardly presented it to her after Glee club one day. It's huge on her and hangs way past her hands if she doesn't roll up the sleeves, but it smells like him. It's somehow comforting.

Santana heads to the bathroom and locks herself in a stall in a robotic motion, takes off her spanks (but not the skirt) and takes out the box, squinting at the directions before ripping it open and staring accusingly at the little stick. It's ridiculous that pissing on it is going to determine her plan and, quite possibly, her future. Sighing, she looks at the ceiling and takes the test, setting it on the toilet paper dispenser while she pulls up her spanks and flushes the toilet. The box says it's supposed to take two minutes.

It's the longest two minutes of her life.

She gets out of the stall and takes the pregnancy test with her, perching on the counter beside it and examining her fingernails. The black's already beginning to chip off. Maybe she'll apply a new coat in study hall next period. The door creaks open and Santana scrambles for the test. In her hurry, her hands send it flying off the counter and onto the floor.

Someone in a Cheerios uniform stops dead in her tracks.

Santana might've been safe from Puck, but of course Brittany would come looking for her. Usually, the Cheerios go to the bathroom in packs. When Britt saw Santana passing her remedial Algebra class, she'd taken it as a sign to meet her. Brittany blinks while she crouches down to pick up the stick. "…what's this for?"

They weren't there the first time Quinn took a pregnancy test, but they were there the time she went through six of them and a gallon of orange juice in a half an hour trying to prove the first two tests wrong. Brittany knows what it's for, but she also knows that Santana's not like Quinn. She's smart. Even if the guy did use a condom, she's on the pill. 'Trust me' certainly isn't an effective form of birth control.

Santana exhales a little shakily and rubs her temples. "I'm late."

"Oh," is all Brittany says. It's quiet for a second before she asks "What's a pink plus sign mean on this kind of test?" Her tone suggests she knows just what it means. Santana grits her teeth.

"It means I'm pregnant."

"Cool. What're you and Puck gonna name it?" Santana appreciates that Brittany doesn't have to ask if it's Puck's or not. Obviously it's his. The bright-eyed look on her best friend's face makes it hard to say what she has to.

"I'm not keeping it."

"Oh." Her face falls instantly and Santana has to try really hard not to imagine the expression Puck will be wearing when she tells him the same thing. Her next words are "Don't tell him."

"Okay."

"You have to promise."

"Pinky swear, San." In Brittany's world, that's like swearing on her life.

Puck stares at her. He's sure he's heard her wrong. He hasn't had that much to drink, but he's had enough shots to be a little buzzed. He'd thought the walk over here had sobered him up. Apparently not. His eyes are blank. "You're drunk," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. Santana just shakes her head silently and keeps staring at her hands in her lap. The too-long sleeves of his leather jacket are covering them and she's soon tucking her arms around herself. She looks really small, then, and Puck has the simultaneous desire to scream at her and wrap her up in his arms.

He does neither.

"I have another kid who doesn't know me?" Puck's voice is deadly calm, and Santana has known him well enough to know that he's really pissed off right now but trying not to be for her benefit. Or maybe he's just still trying to process it. Either way, he isn't as calm as he's trying to pretend he is. The questions are escaping him before he can stop himself. "Is it a boy or a girl? How old are they now? Don't they ever ask about me?" His voice is getting more hysterical which each question, his tone louder. The last one is back to a normal volume, but the words are laced with disappointment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Santan hangs her head dejectedly and mutters something into her knees. Puck rolls his eyes and leans forward to grab her chin. She flinches away from his touch, not because he's hurting her (he never would, at least not physically), but because she's ashamed of what she has to say. "I can't hear you. What'd you say?"

She lifts her head to meet his eyes for the first time since the conversation turned, and Puck's surprised to see tears building on her lashes. Santana Lopez almost never cries, and definitely not in front of him. The few times she did, it'd been mostly his fault and he felt terrible about it. The urge to hold her is even stronger now and he crosses his arms to keep himself from submitting to it. When she finally says it, her voice is thick with emotion.

"Because I never had it."

The words hang in the air for a moment. Puck's brows furrow and he stares at her for a second before it dawns on him. He takes his hand away from her face and leans back against the wall of the tree-house, look up at the ceiling vacantly. This is what she'd been afraid of in the first place. His face crumples and he runs a hand over his eyes, scrubbing at nonexistent tears. He looks so broken and it hurts Santana that she's the one who made him look like that.

Back in high school, she'd resented Quinn for putting him through so much crap. She led him on, wouldn't let him own up to his mistakes, and eventually just left him for a guy with a Bieber-cut and big lips without explanation. If she's honest, though, Santana thinks that giving Beth up for adoption was the one thing Quinn Fabray got right. She and Puck were way too young and way too different to raise a baby. But this is different. Even if Quinn hadn't told him, Puck knew about Beth. He'd never known about this, and he never got to say goodbye.

Puck brings his gaze to hers and is back to his fake-calm voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't be Quinn Fabray, Puck. I had my whole future in front of me." Santana sounds a lot more sober when she says that, and Puck just shakes his head before getting to his feet and turning to leave the tree-house. "Wait!" He hesitates in the doorway and gives her a glance. His eyes are hollow and she falters. She knew he'd be upset and now, she doesn't think he'll ever look at her the same way again, like he had Senior year. She screwed it all up.

When she doesn't say anything, Puck steps out onto the little porch. "Wait!" Santana cries again, getting awkwardly to her feet and almost tripping over one of Sarah's old Barbies as she rushes to catch him. "I'm sorry, okay? I should've told you."

Puck nods solemnly. "Yeah, you should've." He shrugs his shoulders lamely. There's nothing either of them can do about it now. He starts down the rope ladder and Santana hiccups, trying to stifle the tears welling up behind her eyes until he's gone. Finn Hudson had once told her she was a 'weepy, hysterical drunk'. He's not entirely wrong. If she's not really horny, she's definitely hysterical.

A mohawked head pops over the edge and Santana swears her heart stops for the briefest second as he watches her. She licks her lips, mentally preparing herself for whatever he's about to say. In her drunken state, she's convinced herself that it's one of two things. Either he's going to forgive her and ask her out again, or he's going to say screw youand walk out of her life forever. She's not ready for either of those, so she braces herself the best she can.

What Puck actually says is "Are you gonna be able to get down okay since you're drunk and all?"

Santana just nods. He shrugs and disappears again. Once she's checked to make sure he's gone, she lets the tears fall.

The first time she tries to tell him is before Glee club one Tuesday. He stops her with a kiss on the lips and a cheeky grin, telling her that whatever it is can wait until after rehearsal because he has something to show her. Then he goes and plays Gaving-fucking-DeGraw for her. She can't really ruin his life after that, can she?

She decides that she can't tell him in person, because the look on his face would kill her. A text is too wimpy. So she's going to call him.

The first time, she calls and hangs up because he picked up the phone. She's also decided that she'd be much more comfortable leaving a message. Even when she tries to plan it strategically so he should be in class or at practice, he answers. They end up talking about stupid stuff like Glee and baseball instead. It's eating her up inside because she knows what she wants to do, but she should give him the chance to explain his side.

Santana knows Puck. Even if he's not exactly a conservative, she knows he won't want her to get an abortion. Hell, he'll want her to keep it. Puck won't want to lose two babies in two years. She's seen what losing Beth has done to him. She really hates to be the one to screw him over this time, but she can't be Quinn. She just…can't. She has her entire future ahead of her. She will get out of this cow town. She will be a lawyer. She can't do that with a baby on her hip.

(Her Papi is also somehow under the delusion that she's a virgin, and she knows how disappointed he would be.)

Puck's number is three on her speed dial, right after her Ma and Papi, but she dials it out of memory for the umpteenth time. Last time, he'd picked up with too happy a greeting for her to tell him, so she'd just hung up before even saying anything. He probably thinks she's avoiding what he said, but she's not She 'really likes him', too. That's why it's so hard.

He's playing videogames with the boys, so she's hoping he's too distracted to answer. Santana counts the rings silently and prays for the first time she can remember in…years. The familiar playback of Puck's voicemail isn't comforting. Just hearing his voice makes his stomach churn.

"You're go for Puck. I'm either not here or ignoring you. Leave a message after the-" Beep.

"Puck, it's me. I wanted to tell you before…" She's quiet for a few seconds, trying to gather her courage. Her heartbeat is pounding in her ears and she's picturing the broken but somehow determined look on Puck's face when he learns that she's pregnant and not going through with it. Listening to him try to persuade her to keep a baby that's his is the last thing she wants to do. He can be…very persuasive. And she can't let him convince her to change her plans now. She just…can't.

Gripping the phone with white knuckles, she finally exhales low and sputters out "I can't…do this. I'm done."

She hangs up.

When Puck gets home, Finn's waiting for him in the kitchen. "Hey," he says cautiously, looking up from a plate of Breadstix breadsticks and setting down the one he was eating. "Did you figure out why?" Puck nods, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he goes straight for his Ma's liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He has to try really hard not to think about Beth, then, or the other baby that he never knew about. He pours two shots and when Finn goes to grab one, Puck throws both back. Finn frowns. "…are you gonna tell me?" He waits a beat. "Are you okay, man?"

Puck shakes his head, pours two more shots, and offers one to Finn this time. He takes one and licks his lips. "No."

Finn carefully pries the bottle out of Puck's fingers and sets it off to the side before he can pour anymore shots. Finn's is still sitting on the table and Puck makes a grab for it, but Finn tosses it down before he has the chance. He sputters as the alcohol burns his throat. He's always preferred lighter stuff than his best friend. Puck's lips twitch faintly but he doesn't even smile as Finn practically chokes on a shot of whiskey. Instead, he's pacing the small kitchen and he keeps running his hand through his hair.

"No, what?" Finn finally asks, raising his brows. "No, you're not gonna tell me or no, you're not okay?"

Puck shrugs. "Both." He looks like a caged animal especially now that he doesn't have any alcohol to numb the pain. Finn knows the routine. Puck gets pissed off or hurt, goes drinking, and then the next morning it hurts just as bad. He's not going to let that happen again. Puck takes out his pack of Camels and his Zippo. He lights one up. His Ma would kill him if she knew he was smoking in her house.

"Come on, Puck." He just takes a long drag off of his cigarette and retreats into the living room. Finn follows him after a second and isn't surprised to see The Breakfast Club playing on TV and Puck sitting on the couch. Finn plops down next to him unceremoniously and plucks the cigarette from his friend's lips, ignoring the swearing and tossing it into Sarah's forgotten cup of coffee. It floats lamely, extinguished, and Puck reaches for another. Finn steals the entire pack and promptly dumps the rest.

"Fuck you! Those are expensive."

"Right. You're a firefighter. Like you don't have enough risk for lung cancer as it is." Puck just shrugs, crosses his arms defensively, and puts his feet up on the coffee table. They're both quiet for a while. Finn speaks again. "Are you okay?" Puck shakes his head. "Are you gonna tell me?" Puck sighs.

"She was pregnant."

For a second, Finn doesn't know what to say. His eyes widen slightly and he quickly looks at the TV so Puck won't notice. He does anyway, but doesn't mention it. "Oh. So she left?"

"She didn't have it."

"…oh." They're quiet. Puck doesn't even smirk when Bender sticks his face up Claire's skirt and that's his favoritescene. Finn clears his throat. "That really sucks, man. She probably should've told you." He's waits a beat before adding, "What now?"

"Now." Puck stands up and walks toward the stairs. "We're going back to Columbus."

Finn blinks. He sort of meant what nowbetween Puck and Santana, but he doesn't have the heart (or balls) to elaborate now. "Uh, okay. I'll drive since you're drunk." Puck says that he's not drunk but doesn't argue much after that, just disappears upstairs. Finn settles in to watch the movie while Puck packs.

He doesn't have much to take with him. He just wants his jacket and a couple things from his drawers. As he walks into the room, Puck remembers that Santana still has his leather jacket and swears loudly. When he flicks on the light, he finds the jacket sitting on his bed. Blinking, he tugs it on, digs in his bedside table for another pack of cigarettes, and tucks them into his pocket. There, his fingers brush a piece of paper. He pulls it out and looks at the familiar, curvy handwriting on the front. Puck.

He almost doesn't want to open it at all, but he knows he'll wonder if he just sets it on fire. So, he unrolls the piece of paper that looks suspiciously like the back of one of his comic books, and reads the message.

I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd convince me to keep it.

Well, that just makes him feel worse.

She walks out of the clinic on shaky legs. It was worse than she thought it would be. The procedure itself was quick and the woman who did it was nice, if not too optimistic, but she just feels like she's missing something. She feels about ten pounds lighter, but not in a good way. Her stomach is in knots and she just feels sick because she just took away something that wasn't just hers, but Puck's too.

The hand on her back is supposed to be reassuring, but Santana can't help but think she's judging. She should've just brought Brittany. Or Rachel. Even if they're not the best of friends, the girl is very pro-Choice and all for women's empowerment. The person she actually asked to pick her up isn't.

It doesn't matter. She still helps her into the car and buckles her seatbelt, even brushes some hair away from her face and asks if she's okay. She doesn't even look judgmental when Santana says 'no'. Instead, she just gets into the driver's seat and puts on Lady Gaga like they're just going to the mall instead of driving away from Planned Parenthood.

"Do you think I'm going to hell now?" Santana asks hoarsely.

"No." Quinn's lips quirk upward very faintly. "All the pre-marital sex has already got you a one-way ticket."

Santana stares at her, then laughs quietly. "So that means you'll be joining me?"

"Guess so."

Silence settles over them and Santana squirms uncomfortably when Billy Joel comes on the radio. Quinn's quick to change it but Santana's already babbling. "You think I'm wrong, don't you?"

The blonde sighs and shakes her head vaguely. "You did what you think is best. Even if I don't agree with it…I understand. I did what I did for the same reasons." Santana blinks. "Giving my baby up for adoption after holding her was the single hardest thing I've ever done. Everyone always tells me I'm such a good person for giving her up so she could live a better life, but the truth is, I did it mostly because I'm selfish. I wanted my dreams and my life and a baby wasn't in the cards." Quinn pauses and clicks her tongue. "Besides, if I had an abortion my parents would've really disowned me."

"…and what they did wasn't disowning you?"

"Well, my mom did take me back eventually."

Santana's quiet, but she moves over in her seat to rest her head on Quinn's shoulder. "Hey, Q? Thanks."

"Don't mention it. No, seriously, if my mother finds out I even set foot in there, I don't think she'll pay for college."

"Britt?"

"San! Puck called me. Are you okay?"

"…I'm drunk."

"Oh. Bad drunk or good drunk?"

"Bad."

"Oh. Does that mean you told him?"

Santana's forehead wrinkles as she tightens her grip on her phone. "…How did you know…?"

"He called me." Brittany shrugs it off. "I wouldn't tell him anything, though. I promised."

Sighing, Santana answers. "Good."

"Yeah." There's a pause. "San?"

"Yeah?"

"He'll forgive you, you know. He really likes you."

"…I'll be home tomorrow."