(Author's note: Thank you to the amazing and talented knittycat99 for beta-reading the last twelve chapters, and probably all those to come! Thanks to her, the ending of the last chapter didn't suck. All those in favor of the story not sucking? I thought so. Warning: minor angst ahead. Enjoy. -amy)
"Puck." Finn had to say his name three more times before Puck heard him, and when he looked up, his eyes were distant. He leaned against the locker next to Puck. "How are you holding up?"
"Just tired, more than anything," he said. "I had a dream last night."
"About your dad?" Finn said, softly.
"No." Puck looked at his shoes. "About the baby."
Finn sighed. "I thought we'd settled this."
"It was awful, Finn," he whispered. "She was alone, and she needed me. And I wasn't there." He shook his head. "I really think there's something here, something I'm supposed to understand."
"Yeah, it's that you're tired and freaking out about your mom," Finn said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Puck's gaze stayed on the floor. "She's going to be okay."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the doctors are going to take care of her."
Puck shook his head. "No - the baby. How do you know she's going to be okay? She's my responsibility, no matter what, no matter if I'm ready for her or not. She's real. I'm gonna have to do something."
"No, Puck." His tone made Puck straighten and look up. "You don't have to do anything. Quinn's going to find a good family for her, and she's going to grow up someone else's kid. You've got to give this up. It's hurting you."
"I don't know if you can get this, man." He hesitated, then plowed on. "But it would hurt me more if I gave her up. I need to be part of this, somehow. She's part of me."
Finn knew they'd reached the limit of acceptable touch in the hallway of McKinley High School, and he didn't think he could resist Puck's haunted eyes much longer. He stepped away. "We'll talk about this later. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Puck whispered, and shoved his hands into his jacket before trudging down the hall to class.
They successfully avoided Puck after lunch by suggesting he call the hospital from the office to check on his Ma, and slipped away to the auditorium. Brad had devised some really inspired synthesizer parts to go with the piano on the Lady Gaga song, and both Mercedes and Rachel had excellent ideas for choreography.
"This is already ten times better than that stupid hair mash-up," Rachel said excitedly. "Why can't we do this one for sectionals instead?"
"Because Lady Gaga hasn't released the track yet," said Kurt. "It's not even supposed to be out for distribution. We just got a copy from... a friend who knows her."
"Since when do you know someone who knows Lady Gaga?" Mercedes demanded.
Kurt tipped his head. "Let's just say it was a gift, and we have to treat it that way. No public performances. Just for Glee. Let's go over the bridge one more time."
It wasn't until the very end of their rehearsal that Kurt realized Rachel was crying. He exchanged a glance with Mercedes. "Are - are you okay?" Mercedes asked.
"This song," she sobbed. "Kurt, I know why you chose it."
"You do?" He felt a stab of fear.
She turned glistening eyes on him, and smiled. "It was for me, wasn't it? To say... that you understand what I'm going through."
"What you're going through?" Kurt said, outraged, but Mercedes cut in.
"Of course that's why he picked it," she said, giving him a quelling look. "He's just that kind of guy."
"I feel like every line was written for me," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "Well, except my dads never threatened to cut my hair if I didn't dress the way they said I should."
"I think Lady Gaga has that effect on people," Mercedes said. "Everybody wants to be understood, to be seen for who they really are." She ran fingers through her heavy bangs. "And we all hide, under our hair, or other things sometimes."
"I hide under being a jock," said Finn, and they turned to stare at him. He shrugged. "You know. Like everybody expects me to be a certain way because I play football and stuff. It's my cover."
"Yeah," said Rachel, watching him with shining eyes. "But inside, you're just... yourself, wanting to be free, wanting to be... loved. For who you are."
"Yeah," Finn replied, gazing back at her, and past her, to where Kurt stood.
Kurt ignored the tightening in his gut and cleared his throat. "Okay, guys... let me show you what I had in mind for the beginning. Can we meet before school tomorrow to go over it one more time? Brad... from the top, if you please."
Before they left for fourth period, Rachel stopped Kurt and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. "For the song. I wasn't sure, after what happened... if you wanted to be friends. But I'm glad you do."
Kurt had a strange sensation that he couldn't quite identify for a moment, but realized with a start that it was affection. For Rachel Berry. "It's... my pleasure, Rachel," he said. "Thank you for helping us. Helping me," he amended. "With the song. You're really talented."
"So are you, Kurt," she said, and hugged him before he could do anything to stop her.
Finn's hands were already deep in Kurt's hair and their tongues were down each other's throats when Puck ducked into the janitor's closet after fourth period. He never felt jealous to find them together. It actually made him feel good to know they were so into each other. It was comforting, in a way, to know he could count on that. Plus, they're smoking hot, he thought, but today it was with a vague, detached appreciation. He locked the door behind him and sat in the paint-splattered chair, leaning forward onto his knees.
"Sweetheart," said Kurt, pulling away from Finn and coming over to Puck, running soft hands over his back.
"I don't think I can handle that right now, Kurt," Puck said. His heart felt shuttered, put away, and he didn't know how to get to it, or even if he wanted to.
"What?" Kurt was startled.
"Sweetheart," he said, and it stuck in his throat. "My Ma calls me that too."
"I - I didn't know," Kurt said, and he took his hands away. "I don't have to call you that, if you don't want me to. I thought you liked it."
"I do," he promised. "Really. I'm a total sap and I love it. Just... not right now."
"Okay," Kurt said softly.
Finn sat on the floor next to Puck, which seemed really strange to him. He didn't quite know quite how to handle how it made him feel. "Nothing from the hospital?" Finn asked.
"I talked to her at lunch," he said. "She sounds fine, ornery as all fuck, but totally awake and everything. She knows what happened but she doesn't remember it. We're just waiting on tests now." He sighed. "I hate waiting."
"Maybe we can distract you," said Finn, running a hand up the inside of Puck's thigh. Puck put a hand on Finn's and shook his head.
"No, thanks," he said. "It's just - it's good to be alone with you guys, instead of out there. Nobody knows what's happening except you. I kind of want to keep it that way."
The sound of a key in the lock was so unexpected that at first, they all just sat there, staring at each other, but then Puck sprang up, and they were all standing apart, carefully not touching, not looking like anything was going on. Except, of course, they were in a locked janitor's closet that was definitely off limits to students. "Hey!" said a voice, and Puck made a break for it, ducking under the man's arm, down the hall and out of sight before he could even be identified.
"What are you guys doing in here?" he heard the custodian say, angrily, to Finn and Kurt, but he didn't stick around to find out what stupid-ass answer they were going to come up with. They're lousy liars, anyway, he thought.
Puck cast around for someone who could help, and saw Brad walking with a big box. "Here, let me help you with that," he said, taking the box.
Brad looked startled, but said, "Oh, hey, thanks."
"And I could use your help," he said, steering Brad in the direction of the janitor's closet. "Finn and Kurt are in trouble - we got caught in the closet together. Can you get us out of it?"
"Um," said Brad, and then his eyes lit on Finn, getting chewed out by the custodian, who looked ready to drag him down to Principal Figgins' office. "Hey," he said, jovially. "Thanks, guys. I really needed that... um, paper towel." He reached into the closet, under the suspicious gaze of the custodian and the startled, guilty looks of the two boys, and grabbed a few rolls off the shelf. "Sorry, Jeff, I just asked these students to stop by the supply closet for some paper towel. I hope it wasn't a problem."
"No," the custodian said, relaxing. "Not a problem, Brad. Just, maybe send a note next time, so I don't jump on them for no reason. Sorry, kids."
"It's okay," said Kurt, picking up a package of paper towel too. They meekly followed Brad up the hallway to a staircase, then up to the second floor. A door at the top of the stairs took them down another short hall and up a second stair. This was the old part of the building, seldom used for anything but storage.
"Seriously, you guys have been making out in the janitor's closet?" Brad asked in a mild voice, and Finn laughed nervously.
"It - sounds pretty bad, when you say it that way," he admitted. Brad turned to Finn, looked him up and down, and gave a little snort.
"Well, I might have an alternative for you." He pushed open a door that swung in to reveal a sun-dappled room, half of which was taken up by the slant of the roof, and the other half of which was lined from floor to ceiling with wooden bookshelves. Every shelf was stacked with file boxes, neatly labeled, and piled besides with stacks of paper. Closer inspection revealed that the paper was sheet music, photocopies and originals.
"Will decided this stuff should really be in the choir room," he said. "We have enough file drawers down there that we can have it all accessible, and not have to worry about the manuscripts fading in the light from the window. This room is superfluous." He raised an eyebrow to Finn. "You know what that means?"
"Um... it's got a really bad cold?"
Kurt cleared his throat. "Brad. Please don't tease the jocks." He put a hand on Finn's arm. "It means it's extra. They don't need it for anything else."
Puck looked around, touched the wooden paneling, the boxes of music. He walked to the window in the eaves and saw, far below, the ecology greenhouses, the parking lot and the football field beyond. It gave him a sense of mysterious awareness, as though he might be able to tell what was going on anywhere in the school from this room, as though he were on the bridge of a ship. "This is... fucking awesome." He turned to Brad and gave him a smile. "Who else knows about this room?"
"Pretty much just Will and me," Brad said. "I bet some of the other teachers might know about it, but they have no reason to come up here. This could be... yours." His eyes glittered. "But you have to do something for me."
"Um," said Kurt.
"Dude," said Puck. "I hope it's not illegal. Or... not too illegal, anyway."
"Child slave labor might be considered illegal," he said, taking a box down from the shelf. "But maybe not if it's voluntary. I need to move all these boxes and piles downstairs, and file the music. You up for that?"
They considered the shelves that ran the entire length of the room. "There's over two hundred boxes here," Kurt estimated. "That's going to take a while."
"We're not in a huge hurry," Brad said. "Before you graduate would be good."
Finn smiled gratefully. "I think we can handle it," he said, and held out his hand. "You've got a deal."
Each one took a box. They were heavy, full of papers, and some of them were falling apart, but it wasn't too much effort to carry one.
"I'm guessing you've already got a key?" Brad said, not looking at them as they flipped off the light.
"Maybe," said Puck.
It was indicative of how invisible Brad was at McKinley that no one questioned or even noticed the three boys carrying the boxes of papers. Perhaps others thought it was a punishment, but to Puck, it felt like the kindest freedom, not to be noticed, to be completely apart from the student body. They stacked the boxes inside the choir office door, and Brad showed them the empty file cabinets.
"I can write you a pass today," Brad said, "but I don't think I can do that every day. Maybe every now and then, when you really need... extra time. For this project."
"Of course," Kurt said, his eyes dancing. He accepted the pass with a little skip, and ran off to give Mr. Wright the reason they were missing history. Finn and Puck unloaded and broke down the boxes, and stacked them against the wall in the hallway.
"I'll explain it to Will," said Brad. "Without telling him anything."
"This is awfully nice of you," Finn said, but Brad waved it away.
"I wish someone had understood what we were going through when Andi and Laurie and I got together. It wasn't something we'd ever heard of before, so we were making it all up, and we made a lot of mistakes. It would have been a lot easier if we'd had someone to talk to."
Finn nodded. "Any words of wisdom?"
"Honesty, as much as possible," he said, "sometimes to the point of obnoxiousness. Attention to each partner is really important. Being fair, which isn't always about being equal, but just listening to each other and figuring out what the others need. Oh, and be willing to be jealous. It's normal, everybody feels it, and it'll pass."
"I don't," said Puck.
Brad grinned. "Well, you probably will, someday." He gestured to Kurt, who was on his way down the empty hall with an expression of smug satisfaction. "Have fun, guys. See you in Glee."
They positively scampered up the two flights of stairs to the attic storage room and closed the door behind them with a click. With secret smiles, they prowled through the silent room, appreciating every wall socket (five), every windowsill (two, one high, one low), every surface. "We're going to need to clean this place," said Kurt.
"I kind of feel like I've been given a clubhouse," said Finn, reaching up and touching the rafters. "Anybody object if I bring, like, a rug or a lamp or something?
"As long as you don't let Kurt decorate," said Puck, grinning at Kurt's protest. "But a couple of folding chairs would be good. I can swipe them from the orchestra room."
"Do you think we should bring some more boxes downstairs now?" asked Kurt.
"In a little bit." Finn took his hand and stood in the center of the room. "Come here." He pulled Puck over to them, and with his long arms, he made a space for both Puck and Kurt, wrapped them up, and just held on tight. Puck felt Kurt's heartbeat under his hand, and Finn's under his cheek, and when he closed his eyes, he knew he could be anywhere, in any building, in any city in the world, and if he had these two guys with him, he would be at home.
When they moved apart, Puck's face was wet, and he didn't bother to pretend it was because of the dust, or anything else, because, fuck.
"I love you guys," he said, hearing the words coming out of him, and they sounded good in the sun-dusted light of the attic room. And the next words were easy, too, because he knew they were there, that they would help, would help with everything. "I'm scared about what's going to happen."
"I know, sw - Noah," said Kurt.
"It's okay, Kurt," he said, turning his head and bending to kiss him. "You can call me that now. It's okay. I'm ready to hear it now. I need it." He felt Kurt's lips on his neck, and he sighed. "Please."
"Sweetheart," Kurt whispered. "My Noah, my sweetheart."
"Yeah," he said, hoarsely. He let the balm of Kurt's voice carry him into a place of calm, where he didn't have to worry, and nothing would hurt him.