Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Well here we go folks. Showtime. Thank you all for your kind reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. After careful consideration I'm abandoning plans for a sequel. I'm just going to keep the current story going and mash the two plots together into one big ball of slashy angst.

Chapter 28 - Puckerman vs Puckerman


Kurt spent the majority of the night after getting home crying softly into his pillow. He was used of course to the name calling, the dumpster dives and the slushie facials. He could deal with those. But for someone... for someone to hate him that much that they would set fire to his baby, he struggled to comprehend.

When Quinn had brought him home and he'd fallen asleep on the couch he'd had bad dreams. Horrible dreams of being in the car as he burned alive and he'd woken with a scream just as his Dad had returned from, he assumed, collecting the wreck of his baby.

The man had simply knelt down in front of the shivering teen, who was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a blanket and before Kurt had even realised what had happened he was in his Dad's strong arms and he was sobbing hysterically.

"Why Dad?... I... I don't understand..."

Burt's face was anguished at the pain in his son's voice but he had no explanation to offer.

"I... I'm a good per-rson Dad. I go to school, I don't break the law, I love my Dad and I just happen to live boys rather than girls... why does that make me so repulsive to people?"

Burt just held the boy to his chest as he rubbed circles on Kurt's back helping the brunette to ride out the waves of agony coursing through him. Burt was a strong man, a proud man and he loved his son fiercely and it killed him inside to understand that he was powerless to stop others from hating his son for no other reason than he didn't conform to their expectations.

Eventually the brunette had cried himself out and had fallen asleep in Burt's arms.

Burt examined his son's face as a lone tear rolled down his cheek at seeing his anguished expression even in sleep. Hoisting the too small body into his arms, he carried him to his basement and tucked him into bed, placing a kiss on the boy's forehead.

Task completed he headed up to the kitchen and to the refrigerator. Opening the door he stood in the glow of the little bulb and his brow knitted together in momentary confusion. He could have sworn he'd had more beer in the house than what was in front of him.

'Have'ta go to the store tomorrow then...'

Picking up one of his few remaining bottles, he popped the cap before downing the contents in one go. Snatching up a second without pause, he shuffled aimlessly through to the unlit den and collapsed on the couch in front of the darkened TV.

The beer didn't help to numb the pain he felt and Burt sobbed brokenly for his son and for the sorrow he was powerless to prevent.


Noah couldn't sleep. His Mom knew. Or suspected. Or had been told flat out. He didn't know. It didn't matter really. He'd wanted to avoid this for a while longer. A good while longer if truth be told.

Q had come home a few hours earlier and he'd pretended to be watching a movie while his eyes had actually been staring unseeing at the action on the screen.

If he had been in any way lucid he would have realised he was watching Pee Wee Herman and would have seen Q's concerned look at his choice of movie and at the complete lack of inflection in his voice. The girl realised something was wrong with her friend but chalked it up to his anger at the events of the evening.

Noah had heard the girl say her goodnights and he sort of recalled perhaps, mumbling a reply, he didn't know.

He had no idea what he was going to do when his Mom returned. It was no quirk of fate that found his Uncle Raymond and his Mom's family living in Utah. They were fanatically devout Jews, their ranch was pretty much one giant dusty Synagogue.

Noah had never been to his Uncle's ranch but he'd heard stories over the years from his Mom about how his Uncle Raymond was a pillar of the community and how he was a fine upstanding man that Noah should learn to aspire to. For years now his Uncle Raymond had been the boogie man his Mom had used to keep him in line.

From the moment he'd begun admitting his feelings for Kurt he'd known that one day there would be a reckoning between his Mom's religious beliefs and his own life choices. While his Mom was in no way devout, her only son dating another guy? There was a greater chance of Rachel ditching those granny sweaters than there was of his Mom being in any way cool with his dating Kurt.

Sighing and letting his head sink back to thump against the wall, Noah considered with rising dread what the morning would bring.

'I'm going to kill Santana...'


Kurt didn't wake at his usual time the following morning. He'd slept right up until his Dad had woken him mid-morning with the sound of the food mixer in the kitchen.

'Thank God it's Saturday'

He'd checked his cell and tapped out a response to Mercedes to try to allay her fears that he'd somehow died in the night.

'Seriously, I don't reply to one text and the girl goes off the deep end.'

He did love her to bits though.

He was slightly disappointed to realise that Noah hadn't called or sent him a message to see if he was alright.

'He must be busy...' he rationalised.

But the tinge of sadness remained.

Realising his last memory from the night before was sobbing into his Dad's chest on the couch, that he was now back in his bedroom and that his Dad must have carried him there, Kurt felt a burst of love for the strong silent man who'd supported him his every step without fail.

'Have to do something nice for Dad... maybe hit the...'

"Oh..."

The realisation hit him that he no longer had a car. No baby. No means of getting to Mecca without having to schlep there on public transport or hitch a ride with his Dad or 'cedes.

His burgeoning good mood sank without trace as a melancholy overtook him.

His car was more than a car to him. It was a gift from his Dad first and foremost. Secondly it was a lifeline to him.

"It was beautiful dammit!"

His exclamation was unexpected and the sound of his own voice caused him to jump in surprise.

"Great... now I'm going crazy too... maybe I'll marry Santana and we can have lots of little psycho babies..."

Kurt shuddered at the thought of hetero sex. The whole process was so unnatural... not to mention messy...and the boobs... who really needs boobs? Give him well defined pectorals any day!

"Ew... ew... ew... bad images, bad images..." he yelped while trying to claw out his own eyes as his mind betrayed him and he imagined the Hell that is sex with Santana.

"Kurt? Everything OK?"

'Huh? When did Dad get here?'

Kurt looked to the basement stairs in surprise to see his Dad standing there with a tray in his hands and a look of concern on his face.

"I... I'm fine Dad..." Kurt tried to project a genuine smile but from the look on his Dad's face he'd probably grimaced at him instead.

"I... uh... I made breakfast... pancakes... to cheer you up..." said Burt unable to meet his son's eyes. The man looked supremely uncomfortable.

"...like Mom used to..." the significance of the act wasn't lost on the brunette who's eyes misted up...

"Uh... yeah... did it work?"

Kurt cracked his first genuine smile since the day before as he settled himself under the covers and motioned for his Dad to bring over the tray.

The pair sat shoulder to shoulder on the bed as they tucked into the pancakes with relish, both smiling at the other as they enjoyed the sticky indulgence.

"This is going to go straight to my hips..." moaned Kurt in feigned distress.

"And I'll bet this Noah boy... he likes your hips the way they are?"

Kurt simply raised an eyebrow at his Dad, the same expression that always made the older man supremely self-conscious

'Subtle Dad'

Kurt sighed before answering,

"He told you then?"

Burt nodded as he speared a section of pancake and dragged it through some syrup. Popping the treat in his mouth he simply waited for his son who was clearly collecting his thoughts.

"It's new Dad... like three days new... but I really like him."

Burt considered the smile that lit up his boy's face at the mention of the jock and the blush at the admission of the depth of his feelings, even after only three days.

"Noah Puckerman... any relation to the Puck who used to pick on you?"

Burt realised he'd hit the nail right on the head when the colour drained from his son's face.

"So he's the same Puck then?" he asked a definite hard edge entering his tone.

"Yes... I mean no... I mean yes... oh Liza help me... he's different now..."

Kurt tried to organise his thoughts but he could tell he wasn't doing a very good job of articulating himself.

"The boy I saw last night certainly seemed to care about you..." admitted Burt as his son's blush returned full force, "...I just don't want to see you get hurt Kurt."

Kurt felt his throat closing as his eyes teared up at his Dad's obvious loving concern.

"I won't Dad. I promise."

Nodding and hoping to move the conversation to more lighter subjects Burt asked,

"So... you're being safe right?"

"Daaad..."

The whine in Kurt's voice was evident as the boy blushed brighter than before.

"I'm serious Kurt... if you're going to be... y'know... I want you to be safe doing it... I'm not pretending to be an expert on the mechanics but if you need anything... condoms... lube..."

Kurt's brain had stopped working, jumped out an emergency hatch in the back of his head and made a break for the border. His Dad, his straight, manly, John Mellencamp listening Dad was offering to buy him lube so he could have sex with Noah.

"Dad. Please. Stop..." he pleaded as he could feel his whole world reality shifting. He didn't think his face could get any hotter at this point.

Looking to his Dad he could see the older man was red in the face himself and that he was biting his tongue trying to contain his snickering.

"Daaad... that was evil!" complained Kurt as Burt finally gave into the hearty belly laugh that had been threatening to erupt for the last minute or so.


Noah had been scrubbing the same pan for twenty minutes. That was exactly how long Quinn's patience lasted with the boy before she snapped.

"For God's sake Noah, just spit it out!"

The boy jumped as if forgetting that the blonde was even there and the pan he'd used more than a half bottle of washing up liquid on fell to the floor with a resonant clang.

The boy stood facing the sink and from his posture Quinn could see he was tense. More tense than she thought she'd ever seen him.

"Noah..." she tried the gentle approach this time to see if that would get any better response.

"My Mom's coming home."

Quinn rolled her eyes though the boy couldn't see them as she replied sarcastically,

"Yes I know... in three weeks."

"No. Not in three weeks. In about three hours."

Noah was clearly incensed and he was biting off each word as if it hurt him.

Quinn's stomach dropped as she realised the implications.

"What did she do?" she whispered to herself as the boy clearly heard her and gave a bark of harsh laughter.

"What did she do?... She called my Mom in Utah and told her I was a fag is what she did!"

Quinn couldn't help the horror struck expression on her face. This was bad. This was off the charts bad.

When she'd been asked to leave the Hudson house, she'd come to live with the Puckerman's at Noah's vehement insistence. Though they had always been civil to each other, Quinn and Lilith Puckerman had never bonded.

The woman clearly disapproved of the whole baby situation, even right down to the choice to put the baby up for adoption. She had spent the first few weeks dropping hints about how she and Noah should work things out. How if they just thought of the baby and the need for it to know it's parents, that they'd make the 'right' decision.

It had become fairly self-evident that the 'right' decision as far as 'Lilith' was concerned was that the pair should get married straight out of High School and raise their child together.

Quinn could see Noah's knuckles were white where he had a firm grip of the edge of the counter and she could actually hear the formica creaking in protest at the treatment.

"What... what are you going to do?" she asked, partially afraid of the answer.

Noah seemed to crumple in on himself though he remained standing rigid by the sink.

"I... I don't know. You know Mom... she's going to rant and rave and threaten and... I don't want to give up Kurt."

As the last syllable left his mouth Quinn heard a bubbling sob escape the football player which he quashed viciously.

Rinsing his hands under the faucet, Noah retrieved the pot, which would need washed again now, and dried his hands on a towel.

Turning to look at the blonde girl he could see her eyes alight with compassion and had to offer her an escape,

"You don't have to be here. It's not going to be pretty."

Quinn looked truly offended at the suggestion,

"If you think I'm going anywhere you're an idiot Mr..."

Chuckling he sat himself down in the chair opposite Q and placed his head in his hands.

"What time does your Mom's flight get in?"

"Any minute now."

The pair sat and waited for the fireworks to begin.


After having spent time with his Dad eating breakfast the good mood the pancakes had temporarily engendered had worn off.

'Noah still hasn't called'

The troublesome Finn voice in his head wouldn't leave him alone. He'd checked his cell at least once every five minutes in the past hour, annoying himself so much in the process that he'd thrown the gadget into a drawer on his vanity and locked it.

He was now pacing his room trying to work out what he was going to do. He was essentially housebound without his car. Sure he could travel by bus but seriously, his clothing on polyester seats on a bus? He'd rather just stay home.

Deciding he needed to get out he slipped on his shoes and headed up to the main level. His Dad was in the kitchen clearing up what appeared to be the aftermath of 'food Hiroshima'. Though Kurt appreciated the pancakes, he'd be finding flour attached to surfaces for weeks after this episode, no matter how much his Dad cleaned right now.

His Dad was currently on his hands and knees with a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush trying desperately to get what looked like dried egg out from the grouting between the floor tiles.

"Hey Dad..."

"Hey Kurt..." said Burt redoubling his efforts to remove the tricky goop.

"I'm... well I'm bored frankly so I'm going to go for a walk. I'll be back in a few hours."

Nodding as he cheered momentarily as the goop came free, he replied just as he heard the door close behind him,

"Take your cell..."


Noah was a wreck. He was so agitated he couldn't sit still. He was shaking and he felt the need to strike out at something. And considering what was about to go down getting striking out at something was not going to be in any way helpful.

Quinn was at the window making a fresh pot of tea as the cab pulled up to the kerb and Lilith emerged, dressed in comfortable travelling clothes and carrying a single hold-all. The woman looked understandably tired having just travelled 1700 miles from Salt Lake City to Lima.

"She's only got a small bag with her Noah. She can't be planning to stay long."

Noah who had been pacing the length of the kitchen table nodded in acknowledgement of the slight ray of light before emptying his mug of tea down the sink. Placing the mug down he made his way to the front door. Time to meet the inevitable head on.

He flicked the catch on the door just as he heard his Mom's footfalls on the porch steps. Opening the door to her he saw the weariness in her eyes and also a calculating gaze which made him uncomfortable.

"Hi Mom. Welcome home..." he tried to sound cheerful and pleased to see her but he wasn't sure if he carried it off or not.

"Hello Noah." she said as she brushed past him and into the living room, laying her bag down on the couch. Noah followed behind her silently.

'OK then... straight down to business'

The frosty tone of his Mom's voice was the first real confirmation that Santana had indeed given his Mom the full details of his relationship with the soprano. Still Noah wasn't going to be intimidated and plowed on regardless.

"How was your flight?"

"Oh it was fine... unexpected and inconvenient... but fine."

The chit-chat continued for several minutes with Noah asking after Sarah and Uncle Raymond and confirming he'd been feeding the cat and had been going to school.

Just as the atmosphere was becoming tense, Q waddled in, cup of tea in her hands and settled herself in the love-seat in the corner.

"Hey Mrs P..." she greeted. She was a much better actor than Noah that was for sure. She actually sounded pleased to see the matriarch.

"Hello Quinn... you're looking well."

And so the cycle of mindless pleasantries began once again and Noah could feel the sweat on the palms of his hands. Eventually though, Lilith got to the point.

"Quinn honey. I don't mean to sound rude but would you mind giving Noah and I some privacy?"

Quinn's expression certainly didn't give anything away as she replied in an even manner.

"I think I'd better stay if it's all the same to you."

'Need to get Quinn something nice... a boat maybe... or a huge diamond necklace... the girl is an absolute star.'

Lilith looked rather put out before she hid the expression behind one of civility.

"Alright fine then. I'll start then shall I?"

Noah didn't reply, he simply tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"I was in the middle of baking cookies with Sarah when your friend, Santana was it, called..."

Lilith was oblivious to the glance shared between the blonde and the jock over the use of the term 'friend' when it came to their friendly neighbourhood psycho.

"I didn't want to believe what she was telling me but she was very convincing."

Lilith looked to Noah now expecting to see capitulation in his eyes. She was to be sorely disappointed.

"And what exactly did Santana..." he spat the name out like poison, "... tell you?"

This was the defining moment of the conversation, life from here on in could go either one of two ways.

"She expressed concern that you'd... begun to associate with the wrong kind of people."

Noah could feel his hackles rising at the implied message and his patience was about to snap. He was saved from the inevitable explosion by Q running interference while he desperately tried to clamp down on his emotions.

"I'm sorry Lilith, I'm sure I don't understand. I spend most days with Noah and I've not seen him associating with anyone other than the football team and the kids in Glee."

Lilith simply smiled sweetly at the girl before dismissing her entirely.

"Yes well... that Glee club is part of the problem I think. I mean openly encouraging boys to sing girls songs? And to dance suggestively too? No I think I'll have to be speaking with nice Mr Figgins about my concerns in that regard."

Quinn bristled at the woman but it was so subtle that Noah only picked up on it through years of having had the girl bristle at comments he'd made to her. The flint in her eyes however was unmistakeable as she replied,

"Kurt was entitled to sing 'Defying Gravity' if he so chose and his Father was well within his rights to insist that he school give him that opportunity."

Years of living with his Mom had given Noah an insight into what he called the 'Lilith Scale'. Normally his Mom operated at around a one or a two in response to the stress of day to day life, making her slightly irritable. A good argument would get her up to a five or a six. Noah could quickly see that this conversation was going to escalate higher than it ever had before. He wasn't even sure if the scale went high enough.

"Be that as it may I simply don't feel it was appropriate. And I shall be taking steps to ensure that my feelings on the matter are recognised."

Quinn simply simpered at the woman but Noah could clearly see the urge to launch herself out of her chair and to claw the other woman's eyes out. Before the girl could seriously consider the mechanics of levering her heavily pregnant body out of the chair however Lilith continued,

"Seeing as you've so handily brought him up Quinn, I'll move on to my next point. This Kurt boy you've become friendly with. I don't like it. You are to stop associating with him and I'll hear no argument over it."

Noah however wasn't in the mood to simply bend over and take it.

'That was Kurt's job... or it would be...'

"Excuse me?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

"I'm sorry – was I in any way unclear?" his Mother looked at him with a cold fury that her son was questioning her decision making.

"No. You were perfectly clear. I was just wondering when I handed over my balls to you in a jar is all."

Quinn attempted to interject herself before Noah could lose it completely however a glare from the football player had her simply sitting back and observing. Noah was going to take care of this his way.

"Noah, I am your Mother..."

"Yes you are but that gives you no right to tell me who I can or cannot associate with..." he said stressing the word in the same manner she had just moments earlier.

"You are still a child Noah and I will treat you as such if I your poor decision making means I have to. You are not to associate with that Hummel boy anymore and that is final."

Lilith's voice rose as she slammed her hand down on the coffee table in emphasis at the end of her statement.

Noah had had enough, he wanted this conversation over with and now, so he went for the sucker-punch.

"What is it that has you so afraid Ma? Is it that your darling baby boy might not be all that interested in a 'nice Jewish girl' as you'd hoped?"

There. He'd admitted it. Now it was up to his Mom to decide how she wanted to respond.

"Your friend was right to call me Noah. I will not allow you to ruin your life anymore than you already have. First you get one girl pregnant out of wedlock, which was shameful enough for the family, and now you're... you're..."

"Gay, Ma... the word you're after is Gay! G-A-Y... it's real easy to spell!"

A part of Noah smirked internally realising that his ability with sarcasm was edging towards the more bitchy end of the spectrum. He also knew he wasn't strictly Gay but spelling Bisexual would have taken away from his snappy response.

'Damn Hummel's influence...'

Lilith was shaking her head in denial, unwilling to believe what her son had just declared.

"Uh... excuse me?" butted in Quinn.

Mother and son both snapped at the blonde simultaneously,

"Stay out of this Quinn!"

Both combatants sat glaring at each other their nostrils flaring, neither willing to concede an inch on the battlefield. The small worried voice in the corner however dropped another of her bombs.

"I think my waters just broke."


A/N: Ahahahaha! Isn't that just evil of me... cliffhanger... LOL.

There will be more fallout that's to be sure. Plenty more conflict to come.

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