A/N: Welcome to Chapter 10! Thanks for all of the reviews and thanks to everyone for reading! This story takes place during Dream On and Theatricality. The next chapter will take place during Funk, but, obviously, with some major changes to that storyline. I'm thinking we might need a Puck and Quinn duet...Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thanks again for reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee (sadness) or and KISS songs or any Bon Jovi songs (major sadness).
The Saturday after the glist, Puck tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible, but that was not an easy feat because Quinn's head was resting on one of his arms. When he pulled it away she stirred, a frown forming on her lips.
"Sorry, babe."
"What time is it?" she asked, trying to sit up.
"Seven," Puck replied. "Go back to sleep."
"Ugh, my head," Quinn murmured, rubbing her temples. "I feel like someone hit me over the head with a bag of hammers. My throat is kinda sore, too."
"You feeling alright?"
Puck sat back down on the bed and brought his hand up to her cheeks. "I don't think you have a fever."
"I feel like I'm getting a cold. How the hell did I get sick?"
"Maybe from all of the stress of last week? Please don't hate me for saying this, but you don't look so good."
"I don't feel so good."
"I think I should stay home with you. Lemme call Kurt's dad, tell him I won't be in today and then we'll take it from there."
"Don't be ridiculous," Quinn said, trying to get out of bed but her legs felt like mush and she fell, defeated, back onto the bed. "I'm not that sick."
"Yes, you are."
"You need to go to work, Saturdays are really busy for your guys."
"I want to make sure you're OK."
"I can take care of myself."
"You can't even get out of bed, Quinn. I'm gonna grab my laptop."
"What? Why?"
"Because, what if having a cold is different when you're pregnant?"
Quinn sighed heavily and propped herself up against the headboard of the bed. She hated being sick. She hated the feeling of being weak and not being able to do anything for herself.
"OK, so according to , you only have to go to the doctor if your symptoms get way worse or last for more than a week," Puck said, carrying his laptop.
"What else does it say?"
"It says that you should get plenty of rest, drink a ton of clear fluids, eat well, like, lots of fruits and veggies, and you could drink hot tea with honey and lemon for your throat. It also says that warm showers or baths can soothe sore muscles and help with congestion."
"Great," Quinn said sarcastically. "I know I'm not allowed to take cold medicine, so I basically have to wait it out."
"Which is why you should let me stay home and take care of you."
"I don't need to be waited on hand and foot."
"I know, but I would just feel better if someone was here with you. Maybe Sara can keep you company."
"She has softball practice this afternoon. Maybe Mercedes could keep me company," she suggested.
"Give me your phone and I'll call her."
Puck grabbed Quinn's cell from off of her nightstand and dialed Mercedes' number, not really caring if he woke her up.
"Hey, girl," came the sleep answer on the other end. "Why are you up so early?"
"It's actually Puck. Quinn has a pretty bad cold, but I'm supposed to work today. Do you think you could stop by later and keep her company just in case she needs anything?"
"Yeah, of course. What time?"
"I'm not sure. I think she might try and go back to sleep for a little while."
"OK, just have Quinn call me when she wants me to come over."
"Alright, thanks Mercedes."
Puck turned around to find Quinn trying to get out of the bed again, still not making much progress, so he went over to help her.
"I just want to get changed," she explained. "These clothes are making me feel gross."
"OK, you take the bathroom. I'll get changed out here. Let me know if you need me for anything."
Puck quickly threw on his work jeans, a t-shirt and boots and went into their small kitchen to grab a mountain dew and an apple. He felt terrible about Quinn not feeling well. He figured that she had worried herself sick over everything that happened with the glist. As he drank his pop, he got out the orange juice, poured a glass for Quinn and handed it to her when she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, a headband keeping the stray pieces back, and she had changed into his sweatshirt and a pair of grey yoga pants.
"Thanks," she said after taking a drink.
"I feel so bad for leaving you."
"I'll be fine, or, at least, I'll survive."
"Make sure you eat something today."
"Puck, I'm sick, not a baby."
"Just trying to look out for my girls," he said, brushing his knuckles over her belly.
"I know. I'd kiss you if I wasn't worried about getting you sick, too."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take."
Puck was always a risk taker and a stupid cold virus didn't scare him. He pulled Quinn to him and lightly kissed her lips, rubbing his hands up and down her back. Sometimes, actually a lot lately, she felt so tiny to him, even though her bump seemed to get bigger by the week. There was a vulnerability about her that he had only seen in Quinn a few other times, and he always felt that need to protect her, to make things OK. Puck broke the kiss and rested his chin on Quinn's head as he stroked the back of her neck.
"I know Mercedes is coming over, but I'm going to leave a note for my mom to check on you, too."
"But I don't want to be a bother to her," Quinn protested, her voice raspy.
"You won't be. The website said you'll be fine as long as you don't get a high fever. Will you just do this to give me some piece of mind when I leave?"
"Alright."
"Thank you. What time are you going to have Mercedes come over?"
"I don't know. Maybe around eleven or so? I wanted to let her go back to sleep for while. It is Saturday after all."
"You should try that, too."
"I think I might just camp out on the couch in front of the TV, less moving around."
"Good. I'll go get your blanket and pillow."
Puck disappeared into the bedroom to grab Quinn's things. If he didn't hurry, he would be late for work. He placed the pillow and blanket on the couch and a box of tissues on the coffee table.
"Promise you'll call me if you need anything?"
"I promise. Do you want me to pinky promise?"
"No, that's girly shit," Puck scoffed. "I'll be back a little after five, remember…"
"I know, call if I need you for anything."
"I mean it!"
Concentrating on his job was not an easy thing for Puck to do. Every time he finished on a car he would check his phone to make sure he didn't miss any calls from Quinn. He sent her three text messages before eleven o'clock until she finally responded to the last one by texting: I 3 u, but I can't sleep if u keep txting me.
By three o'clock, he had still not heard from Quinn at all so he decided to text his mom rather than wake her up. He promptly received a very grammatically correct text, telling him that she checked on Quinn forty-five minutes ago, she had begun feeling a little better after drinking some herbal tea and she was watching 10 Things I Hate About You with Mercedes.
Content with the update, Puck went back to work until his shift ended at five. He had read online that morning that chicken noodle soup was good for a cold because it was warm, had lots of liquids and was fairly nutritious so he stopped quickly at Panera Bread on his way home. He picked up a bowl of soup for Quinn, a sandwich for himself and a chocolate chip cookie. When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed that Mercedes' car was not there. Puck immediately assumed the worst and thought that, maybe, something had happened and Quinn had to be taken to the hospital. He rushed inside and down the stairs to find Quinn sitting up on the couch, covered in dress up jewelry and his sister sitting on the floor.
"Where's Mercedes?" he asked.
"I sent her home a little while ago because I knew you'd be back soon and then Sara came down."
"Mom always plays Pretty, Pretty Princess with me when I'm sick," Sara explained. "I figured it would be fun."
"It's amazing. I haven't played in so long, but I have the black ring!" Quinn exclaimed.
"You sound better," Puck said, unpacking the bag of food.
"I feel a little better. Definitely not as tired. Did you bring me something?"
"Dinner is served," he replied, handing her a plate with a bowl and a piece of bread in it. "Scram Sara."
"Whatever jerk."
"How come you can be so nice one minute and then not be nice the next?" Quinn asked after Sara left. "Do you have a switch or something?"
"She knows I'm just joking around. Eat your soup before it gets cold."
"Thanks for getting it."
"There's also a surprise in the bag if you eat your soup."
"What is it? I wanna know. Tell me, please?"
"You have to finish your dinner first."
"Please?" Quinn asked, pouting her lower lip. "I am sick you know."
"Don't try to use it to your advantage like that. I'm still not telling."
"Fine, dad," Quinn said, bringing a spoonful of soup to her mouth.
"Speaking of," Puck replied with a smile. "I thought that I could paint the nursery tonight. Everything is taped off and the paint has built in primer, so it shouldn't take long."
"Aren't you tired?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Besides, you can just rub my shoulders later."
"Deal, but you have to rub my ankles and feet."
"Fine, but then I get to pick what movie we watch."
"Agreed, as long as it's not Fight Club or something like that."
After three hours, Puck finished off the nursery and although he didn't really like the color (he still didn't know what was so wrong with lime green) he felt proud of what he finished. He poked his head out the door and called to Quinn, who was working on her homework while watching What Not To Wear. She slowly got off the couch to inspect the job Puck had done. Quinn smiled as she walked into the small room that had been painted the lightest shade of purple.
"It's perfect," she said, turning around to face Puck. When she caught a glimpse of him, she couldn't help but laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"You somehow managed to get lavender paint in your hair," she giggled, running her fingers over Puck's mohawk. Quinn used to hate his choice of hairstyle, but now she had a hard time picturing him without it. Of course, she remembered what he looked like, but it almost seemed as if that was a different person. To everyone else, Puck's mohawk defined his badassness, but to Quinn, it was just another part of him that she had grown to love, it was endearing.
"Great, now I have to shower before we start the movie," Puck complained.
"Actually, I think I should get to bed early. I'm starting to feel sorta crappy again. When I'm sick, I usually feel bad in the mornings when I wake up and before I go to bed at night, but decent during the afternoon."
"Alright, I'll meet you in bed then. I'm feeling pretty beat, too."
"I'm not surprised. You did an awesome job, though!"
After he showered, Puck carefully inspected his mohawk to make sure he had scrubbed every last bit of paint out of it. He found Quinn in a light pink long-sleeved t-shirt, instead of his sweatshirt, propped up by some pillows against the headboard, hands resting on her stomach with her eyes closed. He turned off the lights and carefully climbed into bed, kissing her forehead. She sighed and snuggled closer against him.
"Puck?" she murmured against his dark grey t-shirt.
"Yeah, babe?"
"Will you always take care of me?"
Puck was taken aback for a moment. He and Quinn had never really talked about what their life would be like past the summer, but he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't thought about a future with her and their daughter. Yeah, he was only sixteen, but people stayed with their high school sweetheart all the time.
"Always, Quinn," he said, wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep.
Puck didn't know who the fuck Bryan Ryan was. Mr. Schue might have mentioned where he came from, something about the school board, but Puck was too busy thinking about how much he looked like a tool. Now, he wanted them to write down what their dreams were. Thinking the guest speaker would collect the answers and read them, Puck smiled as he wrote his dream: That my pregnant girlfriend's boobs stay as big as they are now after she has my kid. It may have been a true wish of his, but it was definitely not his biggest dream. He wasn't going to share that with some prick in a pleather jacket from T.J. Maxx.
"Do you think he is serious about cutting glee?" he asked Quinn after rehearsal. Basketball was over now and Puck was happy to be done for the season. They sucked hardcore and he had more important things he would rather spend time doing.
"I don't know. He seems like such a jerk. Did you see the way he just threw Artie's dream in the trash? I mean, who does that?"
"He's just a bitter jackass. If he couldn't make it, no one should be able to."
"What's your dream?" Quinn asked.
"Can't tell you because then it might not come true."
"Also known as, you think I'll get ticked off if you tell me."
"Yep," Puck quickly admitted. "Come on, I need to get to work."
Quinn just shook her head and rolled her eyes as she walked with Puck out to his SUV. There were some things she just couldn't change about him and there were some things that she didn't want to either. They were all traits that made Puck…well, Puck.
The rest of the week was a veritable tug of war between Mr. Schue and Mr. Ryan. Once day the club was going to be cut off, the next, Mr. Ryan was buying them tacky jean jackets that only Kurt could be excited about, and then he was cutting them off again. Mr. Schue was so wrapped up in the personal competition that he didn't even assign the glee clubbers a weekly assignment.
On Tuesday night, Puck and Quinn attended the third week of their birthing classes at the hospital. Puck couldn't really stand the other participants, especially the other guys. They all had this look about them, an air that said they were better than him. Whatever, Puck thought. Your wives are ugly as shit and your babies probably will be, too. That evening, their instructor talked about natural births versus using medication to help with the pain.
"I want as many drugs as they can give me," Quinn whispered to Puck.
"But babe, according to the granola twins over there, it will drug up our baby," Puck replied in a low voice, causing Quinn to giggle.
"Is there something funny you wish to share?" the stern instructor asked.
"Uh, the baby has hiccups."
"Really?" one of the other guys said. "How do you know? You're not even touching you're girlfriend."
"Why don't you mind your own business, dude."
"Puck," Quinn warned. "Please don't embarrass me."
"I wasn't going to embarrass you," Puck said after their session was over. "I just can't stand some of those uppity assholes."
"I know."
"They're probably going to name their kid something stupid like Preston or Miles."
"Speaking of which, we haven't really talked about names yet."
"Did you have something in mind?"
"I was thinking about Eva or Olivia."
"No," Puck said wrinkling his nose.
"Well, do you have a better idea?"
"Jackie."
"Jackie?" Quinn questioned.
"Yup. Jackie Daniels, totally badass name."
"Puck, I think that is almost worse than Drizzle."
"But, Drizzle is, like, such a cool name," Puck imitated Finn. "Because it smells like rain, but it's not actually raining yet."
"Have you and Finn been talking again?" Quinn asked tentatively.
"Yeah, kinda. We sort of bonded over Rachel's video and how pissed we were about it."
"I'm glad. I really didn't want to come between two guys who had been friends for as long as the two of you were."
"Don't worry about it. Guys aren't really like girls. We don't really hold grudges. Usually we either fight it out or just plain forget about it. This is Finn we are talking about here. Not the smartest crayon in the box."
"I still can't believe Rachel got back with Jesse. He's such a jerk."
"That's what a lot of people said about me when we started dating."
"Yeah, but you just act like a jerk sometimes," Quinn said. "Jesse is the opposite. He pretends to be nice, but is actually a jerk."
"I see. You still think I act like a jerk?"
"Well, not usually to me, but to celebrate the first day of spring a few weeks ago you did throw half of the AV club into the dumpster."
"It's open season again! I gave them a hiatus during the winter."
"I know, and I know that you want to keep up your image at school, but, do you think you could limit it to one kid a week?"
"One a week?" Puck asked in disbelief. "Four a week."
"Two a week."
"Three a week."
"Fine, but it can't be the same kid more than once."
"Deal."
Quinn was right, Puck did try as hard as possible to keep up his badass persona at school, but he had a good reason to. The more afraid the other guys were of him, the less likely they were to insult or make fun of Quinn. Puck saw being a BA as a necessity for keeping Quinn safe and happy.
Puck was always glad when the weekend rolled around. He actually enjoyed working with his hands and Burt was letting him work on a sweet old Camero at the shop. Mercedes and Kurt had taken Quinn off to a girls' day of shopping and mani-pedis.
"Wait until my dad checks my bank account next," she said the night before, while they were at a movie. "He's probably going to flip."
"Do you ever worry that he'll stop putting money into your account?" Puck asked.
"Not really, for two important reasons. One, my mom wouldn't let him and two, he's got that guilt thing going for him."
"Your mom let him kick you out."
"True, but there's only so much she can do."
"Are you still pissed at her?"
"Honestly? I don't know how I feel. One minute, I'm furious about it and the next, I feel sorry for her because she's trapped there with my dad. I can almost guarantee that he would have made me give the baby up for adoption if he had let me stay there."
"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive him?" Puck asked, but before Quinn could answer the question the theater lights dimmed and the previews began.
In a way, Puck didn't want Quinn to forgive her father because he was terrified that she would move back to her parent's house after the baby was born and take their daughter with her. He didn't really like to think much about what would happen after their daughter was born, so he just didn't and Quinn never brought it up. They just continued to prepare as usual. Puck had brought Sara's old crib out of storage and sanded it down. It was now sitting in the garage, waiting to be painted white along with a changing table and small dresser.
At the end of his shift one of the mechanics came up to Puck.
"Hey man, a few of us are going over to Tony's to celebrate his birthday. You wanna come?"
"Umm, I'm not sure. Lemme make a call first."
"What? You gotta call and ask your girlfriend's permission first?"
"No," Puck denied, but it was pretty true. "I'm just going to tell her not to wait up for me."
"That a boy!"
Quinn rolled out of bed to use the bathroom. It was such a usual occurrence now that she stopped counting how many times she got up through the night or what time it was. It wasn't until she came back to the bedroom and realized that Puck was not in bed that she bothered to check the clock. The neon green display read 2:15 am. Puck had called her while she was out with Kurt and Mercedes to tell her that he was going to a party for a guy from work and not to wait up for him. He very quietly added that he wouldn't be too late. Quinn checked her phone but there were no messages on it which caused her to worry slightly. She found his number in her contacts list and pressed send, hearing it ring four, five, six times before his voicemail picked up.
"It's Puck, leave one and if you're cool I'll hit you back." BEEP.
"Puck, it's me. It's about two-fifteen and I'm just a little worried because you're not home yet. Please call me and let me know you're OK. Bye."
Shit, she thought, clicking the 'end' button. Every worst case scenario played through her mind. Puck, beat up at some guy's apartment. Puck, in a car accident (again). Puck, dead on the side of the road. Quinn sat on the couch and began to chew on her fingernails as she sent him a text message: Where r u?
After five unanswered calls and seven text messages within thirty minutes, Quinn heard the basement door open and saw Puck tiptoeing down the stairs.
"Oh my God," she said with a sigh of relief as she flung herself at him. "Thank God you're OK. Why didn't you answer my call and texts? I was worried sick about you."
"I told you not to wait up for me," he replied nonchalantly.
"You also said you wouldn't be too late. It's two forty-five."
"Whatever, sorry," Puck said, brushing past her, the faint smell of beer following him.
"Were you drinking?" Quinn asked.
"I might have had a beer or two, no big deal."
"You got drunk and drove home? That is totally a big deal! Are you an idiot or did you just forget about getting hit by a drunk driver in January?"
"I'm not drunk. I just played some beer pong. Why are you making a big deal about this?"
"Because you scared the crap out of me! What if you got into a car accident again? What if you hurt someone, or what if you were killed?"
"Stop being so dramatic, Quinn," Puck said, rubbing his forehead. "You're making my head hurt."
"I can't believe you don't see anything wrong with this."
"Will you please lay off of me? God, it's not like we're married or anything. Excuse me for trying to have a life!"
Quinn recoiled at Puck's words as if she had been slapped and he instantly regretted saying them.
"So, I guess the time we spend together clearly doesn't count as part of your life?" Quinn said softly, her voice laced with hurt.
"Babe, that's not what I meant," Puck replied, trying to reach out to her but she pulled back.
"Don't call me babe. I'm sorry that me being here is such an inconvenience for you. I'm sorry for caring about you and worrying about you."
"Quinn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"Are you going to disappear at night once out daughter's born? Not bothering to answer your phone?"
"The guys were making fun of me, I couldn't answer it."
"Oh, so then I get to sit and wonder if you're OK."
"Quinn, just listen to me."
"No," she said, tears falling down her face. "I can't talk to you right now."
"Come on," Puck pleaded. "I'm sorry."
"Maybe you should have thought of that earlier, you know, before you decided to act like your dad."
Quinn shut the bedroom door between herself and Puck and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. She moved to the bed and nearly collapsed onto it, clutching Puck's pillow to her before allowing silent sobs to rack her body.
The next morning, Quinn quietly dressed, relieved that she showered the night before, therefore avoiding unnecessary noise. She scribbled a note and left it on the coffee table next to Puck's sleeping form.
Gone for the day. Please don't call me. Be home later tonight. –Q
For a moment, she allowed herself to look at him, face down on the sofa with his boots still on and she didn't want to go. She wanted to wake him up and tell him that she loved him and make things go back to normal, but she couldn't, not yet. She was still so hurt and angry at what he did and said the previous night that she grabbed her purse and slipped out of the house before nine.
She wasted time at a small Starbucks downtown, working on the homework she had brought and reading until she thought it was late enough to call Mercedes.
"Hey hot mama, what are you up to? He friend answered exuberantly.
"Umm, are you busy? Are you home? I just really need someone to talk to right now."
"Quinn, is everything OK?"
"Yeah, I mean, no, not really," Quinn said, beginning to choke up. "Puck and I got into a really bad fight last night."
"Where are you?"
"The Starbucks downtown."
"Get your white girl ass to my house now," Mercedes ordered.
Quinn drove less than ten minutes before pulling up in front of Mercedes' house. Out of habit she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and exited her car. She was only halfway up the font walk when the door opened and her friend ushered her inside and up to her bedroom.
"Girl, what happened?" she asked.
"You know how Puck hung out with some guys at work, right?" Quinn asked and waited for Mercedes to nod in confirmation. "Well he didn't get home until almost three and I could smell beer and we fought and I said some things I shouldn't have said and he did too and…"
"Please do not tell me he touched you."
"What? Oh my God, no. He would never hit me, ever."
"You never know what a drunk guy will do."
"I don't think he was actually drunk, I could just tell he had been drinking."
"Well, what did he say?"
"Basically, that I need to lay off, we aren't married and he was just trying to have a life."
"Aw hell no," Mercedes exclaimed. "What did you say?"
"That I was sorry for caring about him and inconveniencing his lifestyle and then I told him he was acting like his dad."
"Wow."
"I shouldn't have said that. You should have seen the way he looked. It was like I hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer."
"He deserves it after what he put you through."
"If he deserves it, then why do I feel so awful about it?"
"Because you're a good person."
"I was just so worried that something happened to him," Quinn said, breaking down. "I love him, so much."
"I know you do," Mercedes replied, hugging her. "That's really why this is all so hard for you. If you didn't, it wouldn't hurt so badly. Let's get you something to eat."
Please don't call me, Puck read on the note that Quinn had left him. Fuck that, he thought and searched for his phone. Texting isn't calling.
P: Just tell me where you are, please?
Q: Mercedes'. I don't want 2 talk 2 u
P: I'm sorry.
Q: I know
Puck chucked his phone onto the loveseat and ran his hands through his mohawk. He couldn't stop replaying their fight over and over again in his mind. Quinn's words just like your dad were burning a hole in his heart and mind. Hadn't he promised her that he wouldn't be like his dad? Hadn't he promised her that if she gave him a chance, he wouldn't blow it? Nice job, Puckerman, he thought.
That day, Puck avoided his mom and sister and set to work on painting the furniture for the baby's room. It was the only thing that could take his mind off of the situation with Quinn. He was always good at working with his hands; if only he could work on thinking things through before he spoke. By 8pm, Quinn still hadn't come home and Puck got out his cell phone again.
P: r u coming home?
Q: yes
P: when?
Q: when I'm ready
P: I miss u
His last text was met with no reply from Quinn, but an hour later she walked thought the door, consciously trying to avoid Puck's gaze.
"Quinn, I…"
"Puck, I'm not ready to do this," she said cutting him off. Her tone wasn't angry or hateful, it was sad, almost emotionless.
"But I finished painting all of the furniture today. It's in the garage. Do you want to see it?"
"Thanks for doing that, but I think I just want to go to bed."
"Quinn, we need to talk about this," Puck said, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder.
"I know," she replied. "But please just give me some time."
Quinn and Puck continued on this way for the better part of the next week. Quinn felt just as angry with herself as with Puck and he just wanted things to be right between the two of them, but she wouldn't talk to him. Their assignment for the week was Lady Gaga, but the guys had hijacked the assignment and chose to do KISS instead.
When things were no better for the two of them by Wednesday Puck found himself knocking on the door to Mr. Schue's office.
"Mr. Schue, you got a minute?"
"Aren't you supposed to be in class, Puck?" he asked, looking up from the Spanish tests he was grading.
"Yeah, but this is sort of important. I need some advice."
"Come on in. Have a sear and tell me what's up."
"Alright, well, I don't know if you've hard or noticed, but Quinn and I haven't really been talking since the weekend."
"Oh yeah? I hadn't noticed," Mr. Schue lied. He had noticed Monday during Spanish that things weren't quite right between them. They usually sat next to one another, held hands or passed little notes back and forth to one another, but on Monday, Quinn sat next to Tina instead. He had also heard a number of rumors that day before Glee practice that said they had gotten into a huge fight.
"Of course, I fu-, umm, screwed up," Puck said. He recounted every detail of his fight with Quinn, including the part when she told him he was acting like his father. "That's the part that hurt the most, but it opened my eyes. I'm gonna be a dad in, like, two months. Dads don't go out and get shitfaced, not answer their phones and then tell their girlfriends that they want a life."
"Have you said any of this to Quinn?"
"No. She doesn't want to talk to me. We come to school together in complete silence, or she'll give one word responses to everything. The only time she talked to me is around my mom and sister so they won't think something is up."
"Maybe you just need to give her time," Mr. Schue suggested.
"Fuck time. Sorry, but, and you'd better not repeat this, I'm really worried that she might change her mind about keeping the baby. We were supposed to pick out a name this weekend and then I messed up. We tried to pick one the other day, but I didn't take it too seriously."
"Picking a name is a big deal and I'm sure Quinn really wants your input. Maybe, if you showed her that you can be serious about something like that, it will open up the lines of communication."
"That makes sense, but what if she won't listen."
"Maybe you shouldn't give her that option."
"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Puck said, standing up quickly as an idea came to him. "Do you still have that KISS sheet music?"
"Mr. Schue, I have something I want to say to Quinn," Puck said as he strode into glee on Thursday, causing Quinn to turn and look at him with confusion. All of the girls (and Kurt) were dressed in their Gaga gear and he secretly thought she looked like a hot rocker chick with her super long eyelashes and pink hair extensions. "I want everyone to hear it."
"Alright," Mr. Schue complied, handing the floor over to Puck.
"At first, I didn't really get this theatricality assignment, being larger than life and puttin' it all out there, because I'm kinda like that all the time. That's how my dad was, too. He was too busy being all crazy and rock and roll to be there for his kid." Puck paused for a moment to glance at Quinn. "But you know what? I didn't care that my dad was a badass. I just wanted him to be there and he never was, and then I learned all this KISS stuff and while Jackie Daniels is a great name for, like, a power boat or something, it's not right for a baby girl. So, if my KISS mates will help me out, I got a better idea."
Puck called the rest of the guys up, but once he started to sing "Beth" the only person he could see was Quinn. He watched her eyes turn from a look of annoyance to sadness as they filled with tears that slid down her long pink eyelashes. He hadn't wanted to make her cry in front of everyone. He hated it when she cried and he felt like his heart would break into pieces when she took a ragged breath. Quinn didn't break their gaze until Puck finished the song, closing her eyes tightly.
He approached her, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of her.
"I know I wasn't taking the name things seriously the other day, but I wanted you to know that I do care and I think we should name out daughter Beth."
"I like that name," Quinn said with a faint smile, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I love you, Quinn," Puck added.
"I love you, too," she replied, standing from her stool to wrap her arms around his neck. Puck held her as close to himself as her outrageous pink dress would allow, never wanting to let go.
"Get a room!" Matt jokingly suggested, to lighten the mood, causing the entire club to laugh, including Quinn and Puck as they pulled away from one another.
"Nice job guys," Mr. Schue said, throwing Puck a knowing glance. "Now, let's get down to business!"
Puck waited on the couch for Quinn to come out of the bathroom. After glee rehearsal, Quinn was still pretty quiet on their way home, but reached over to hold Puck's hand as he drove.
"Will you give me a couple of minutes to change?" she asked when they walked through the door.
"Do you need any help?"
"No, but thank you."
"OK, I'll just wait on the couch," Puck said.
Once Quinn had gone into the bathroom, Puck grabbed his guitar off the stand in the corner of the room and the small box he had in his underwear drawer, sliding it into his pocket. He was making sure the guitar was tuned properly when Quinn came out of the bathroom, dressed in more comfortable clothes.
"Are you going to play another song for me?" she asked, easing herself down next to him.
"Maybe in a minute, but, technically, that song wasn't for you."
"I really loved it."
"You did?"
"Yeah," Quinn assured. "And I think Beth is a really pretty name. Puck, I'm so sorry I ever told you that you were acting like your father."
"No, I'm sorry. I should have never given you a reason to. It hurt like hell to hear you say it, but I deserved it. I did just about all the things I told you I wouldn't do."
"I was just so worried about you. I feel like I keep saying that, but it's true."
"I know, and I overreacted. I never meant that I don't love the life we have."
"You do?"
"Hell yeah. Is it easy? No. Is it gonna be harder once our little girl comes? Probably, but it's worth it. I've told you before, I don't want to be with anyone else."
"Me neither," Quinn agreed.
"You're it for me, so I got you something," Puck said reaching into his pocket. "Now, don't freak out, it's not what you probably think it is."
He opened the small box to reveal a silver sing that was a crowned heart being held by two hands.
"So, this is a Claddagh ring. I read about them when I was looking up stuff on Ireland for a genealogy report. My mom told me that my dad was part Irish. Anyway, over there, it's tradition to give this to the person you love. It's like a promise ring, or something. The heart means love, duh. The hands mean friendship and the crown symbolizes loyalty, I think."
"It's so beautiful," Quinn said. "Are you going to put it on me?"
"Oh, OK, yeah. I wasn't sure if you would even accept it."
"Of course I do."
"Awesome. There's a little saying that I'm supposed to say when I put it on you. I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget it." Puck reached back into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "OK, here goes. With my hands I give you my heart and crown it with my loyalty."
Puck gently slid the silver band onto the ring finger of Quinn's right hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.
"I love you so much and I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"I love you, too," she said, kissing him
"I missed you," Puck replied, pulling her into his arms.
"Me too, I got so lonely at night. This is just perfect."
"I haven't even played my song for you. So this is a Bon Jovi song. He's like, freakin' awesome. He plays badass music, but he married his high school sweetheart and now they have four kids or something like that, so here goes."
It's hard for me to say the things
I want to say sometimes
There's no one here but you and me
And that broken old street light
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you
Are these five words tonight
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes
The sky's a different blue
Cross my heart
I wear no disguise
If I tried, you'd make believe
That you believed my lies
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
You pick me up when I fall down
You ring the bell before they count me out
If I was drowning you would part the sea
And risk your own life to rescue me
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you
Are these five words tonight
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
You parted my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
When I couldn't fly
Oh, you gave me wings
You parted my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
When Puck finished, Quinn carefully took the guitar from his hands and set it aside before moving herself onto his lap and holding his face in her hands.
"That song goes both ways you know," she simply said. "After everything I've done, I don't… I never expected this."
"You mean falling for the guy who knocked you up?"
"That's one way to put it."
Quinn sighed as she felt Puck's arms wrap around her body to hold her closer. When she kissed his forehead he gazed up at her and smiled. It wasn't his signature sex shark grin, it was the sweet smile that she knew he reserved only for her. Taking advantage of her position, she began to place light kisses down Puck's jaw until she reached his lips.
"I love you," she breathed against them as she moved her lips over his.
"Mmm, you, too," Puck practically moaned.
"You know, you look like a total badass whenever you sing rock songs."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, so anytime you feel the urge to be one, you could always play something for me."
"I could, but I think I've got a better idea for my little monster."
"I thought you didn't like Lady Gaga,"
"I don't, but your little outfit was pretty awesome, even though you're hot in anything."
"Really?" Quinn asked in disbelief. "You think I look hot right now?"
"No," Puck said honestly and watched her face fall. "I think you look beautiful, so God-damned beautiful. You look it when you first wake up in the morning and your eyes still look sleepy and your hair is ridiculous. You look it when you're concentrating hard on a test or quiz and you chew on your lip. You look it when you're singing and learning new dance steps, or when you rub your belly while you're curled up next to me, watching TV. But, most of all, you're so beautiful when you don't even try."
"I thought you said you weren't good with words."
"I have my moments," Puck smiled.
"I'll say. Now, what was that good idea you were talking about a few minutes ago?"
"Hmm, I could show you, but I think it's in the bedroom."
"Carry me?" Quinn asked with a smirk and a seductive little raise of her eyebrow.
"At your service."