A/N: Sorry for the length of this chapter, and also how long it took to get it out. It's been a shitty week and I haven't been able to devote any real time to this, and every time I tried, I felt like I was hitting my head against a brick wall. So, I thought it would be best to hammer out what I could, publish it, then move on.

Thanks for all the reviews, again. I got the 100th review yesterday, which is just silly and amazing. You guys are probably the most generous and adorable fandom I've ever written for (effin' Grey's Anatomy has nothing on you lot). Also, thanks for the birthday wishes. It was a most excellent day. Happy belated birthday to those of you who also came into this world on the 15th – congratulations, that's the day that cool people are born!

"We should discuss what's happening here."

They're walking down the hall together when she says it. Puck groans. They'd be over and over this, and he thinks it's pretty obvious what's happening here. It has been a little over a week since the initial kiss, and while that seems like a ridiculously short amount of time (even to him), they have somehow managed to fall into a comfortable groove. They're not dating, not even kind of, but they do end up spending a fair amount of time together, and yes, the kissing has continued, and neither has any complaints – well, actually, Rachel would like it if Puck could stop blaring Nickelback every time she gets in his truck (just to annoy her, because he knows she hates it) and Puck has requested a daily quiet time, during which Rachel shoves her head into a pillow and attempts to be completely silent for ten minutes. But these are minor infractions, in the grand scheme of things.

"I kissed you, and then you kissed me…"

"Correction: I allowed you to kiss me again."

"Fine. I kissed you, then you totally begged me to do it again, and so now we kiss and I walk you to your classes and stuff, and you love it. What is the big deal?"

"The big deal, Noah, is that our relationship is still wholly undefined, despite the overly simplistic and generally false summary you've just provided. We need to set clear expectations and boundaries, or things will get weird."

Puck has no idea what she's just said, so he offers his fail-safe reply, "Can I kiss you now?"

"No."

He smiles, and she rolls her eyes.

"…Yes. Fine. Get it over with."

As he begins to pull her toward him, she pushes away.

"Wait, no. No. I think that a relationship formed out of something like this is a bad idea. It's doomed to fail. We could never work."

"The kissing works."

Rachel blushes. "A relationship is much more than kissing, though. Just because we kiss does not mean we're compatible people."

Puck nods wisely. "So, just to make sure I'm understanding you correctly, you are suggesting that we do it, right? To make sure we're compatible?"

Rachel ignores this. She's learning to pick her battles.

"Let's be honest. You think I'm obnoxious and I find most everything you say and do completely repulsive, and if it weren't for our predicament, you'd still be treating me to slushie facials every other day, and I'd still be compiling a list of all the elicit activities you take part in on school grounds and forwarding it to the school resource officer every Friday."

"That was you? Now I feel kind of bad for beating up that Jacob kid."

"As we've previously discussed, a pleasant acquaintanceship would be appropriate, and it seems that we have achieved that. However, it would now appear that we have progressed further than originally anticipated, and I believe we need to reevaluate the things we're doing and why we're doing them. The kissing, for instance."

"Berry, don't even pretend that you're not all over the kissing."

"While I will concede that it is not unpleasant, I stand by my original statement. We need to talk about it. What does it mean? It is a friendly thing?"

"Well, I'm not exactly slipping my tongue in Finn's mouth, so…"

"So it's a romantic gesture?"

Puck shrugs. "Yeah, I guess, whatever."

"Are we kissing other people, then? Or is this exclusive kissing?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe what?" Rachel glowers at him. This is not a difficult question and he's being vague on purpose and she wants to kill him. "Maybe we're kissing other people, or maybe we're not?"

"The second one. Maybe. I don't know."

Rachel stops walking, and it takes Puck a few seconds to notice. When he turns around, she's staring at him with her mouth gaping.

"You need to consider your motives, Noah. Is this coming from some warped obligation to be romantically involved with the mother of your child-to-be? Because if so, I suppose I appreciate the gesture, but I'm also kind of offended, because…"

"It's not like I'm asking you to marry me, Berry, so chill."

It's a lame answer, he knows this, but he can't just come out and say that he finds her presence almost enjoyable (in a masochistic kind of way way), and that he thinks she's probably the funniest person ever (particularly when she's not trying to be), and that he's actually kind of attracted to her (it's just a shame about her clothes), and that every time he kisses her, it's more thrilling than the time before (but only because she's totally into it).

He starts walking again, and she quickly matches his pace.

"Are you sure about this? Because really, if you think about it, it's kind of…"

He leans in and kisses her quickly, and it's practically over before she even realizes that it's happened.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"I figure since we're not kissing other people, I don't have to ask anymore."

"Well. I guess that's fair." Rachel straightens her shirt. "But I'd appreciate a warning."

Puck is not so great with parents. Well, actually, he's pretty freaking awesome with moms, but dads? Not so much. They immediately write him off as an immoral, irresponsible, womanizing loser with a criminal record (it's all true, if you replace loser with rock star, and remember that all he did was nail the gay kid's lawn furniture to his roof, and it's not like anyone died), and they never give him a chance to prove that he can be a mildly decent boyfriend for a short period of time.

It would totally fucking figure that Rachel has two dads and zero moms.

He's not really sure how he even ended up here. Rachel had told him he didn't have to come. In fact, she kind of begged him not to. Thinking now, that's probably why he's here. When Berry tells him not to do something, he always does it anyway, because she gets all flustered and shrieky, and it's usually hilarious. He's trying not to do it as much now, since she's hormonal and shit, but sometimes she just makes it too easy.

He's never really seen her house before – the only other time he'd even been inside, he was pretty anxious to get to her room, so they didn't really have time for a grand tour. It only takes five minutes in her living room to figure out why Rachel is so goddamn full of herself – the entire room is a shrine to the little drama queen. Framed photos of her (from birth to what looks like sometime last week) cover the walls, and every flat surface in the room supports some sort of trophy or award that she's garnered over the years. He's gaping at a tiara awarded to her at the tender age of one ("Little Miss Lima 1994" was the inscription) when Rachel enters the room.

"They're coming," she announces. "Sit down. They're coming."

Puck knows that this is not the time to do anything but obey, so he sits.

She hangs by the doorway, nervously peering into the hallway every few seconds. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs, and suddenly his stomach does a flip, and he thinks hers might have, too, because she's clutching at her shirt and looks a little green.

Seconds later, Rachel is ushering her parents into the room. She quickly gestures for him to stand, which makes no sense because she just told him to sit, but that's kind of typical Berry, so whatever. He stands up just as her dad (or is it daddy? Rachel showed him pictures, but he wasn't really listening. At any rate, it's the one that looks so much like her, it's frightening) pulls him into an embrace. Puck is not really a hugger, especially not with dudes, and really, seriously, definitely not with gay dudes, but Rachel is smiling brightly in front of him, and he knows how quickly that smile can turn into a death glare, so it he just goes with it.

"Uh, thanks, Mr. Berry," he manages. "It's nice to meet you?"

"Please, call me Seth," he says, releasing Puck from the hug. He gestures to the tall, dark man behind him and adds, "This is Pete."

Pete doesn't do the hugging thing, thank God, but he does shake Puck's hand (though it feels more like he's attempting to break Puck's hand), smiling warmly.

Once everyone has been sufficiently introduced, Rachel encourages them to sit. Her dads take the matching armchairs on one side of the coffee table, while Puck reclaims his spot on the sofa. Rachel remains standing. Puck figured that she'd sit next to him and he'd hold her hand or whatever, like on television. But then, Rachel's always been more of a solo artist, and he knows this. It's still weird for him, though, and now he's kind of thinking he really shouldn't be here, and maybe, for once, Rachel was right to suggest that she do this by herself, because what purpose is he serving, sitting on their overstuffed couch, twiddling his thumbs as she gives her parents the worst news ever? He'll answer that: none.

He considers pretending that his house is on fire, but before he can covertly set his ringtone off, Rachel clears her throat and stoically announces that she has something to say.

This is it.

Well, if Rachel could actually bring herself to speak, this would be it. Every time she tries to formulate a sentence, her mind goes blank. Being a natural performer, Rachel doesn't really have a frame of reference when it comes to stage fright, but she thinks this must be what it feels like. Her parents are staring at her, and she's pretty sure they're expecting her to announce that she is courting this upstanding, young Jew, which is just completely tragic and kind of makes her want to melt into the floor in a puddle of shame.

She needs to snap out of this. She is better than this. She's not the person that hides from a problem – she faces it head on and solves it.

Ready.

She memorizes the way her parents are looking at her in this moment – the way they've always looked at her. They can hardly keep their love and admiration from bubbling over, not that they would even try. They are her biggest fans, and in their eyes, she's perfect. She's fairly certain that they'll never look at her the same way again, and she wants to remember what it feels like.

Set.

She makes it a point to take deep, regular breaths, because she keeps forgetting that she'll die if she doesn't, and she feels like her lungs are about to explode.

"Dad, Daddy, I need to tell you something."

Go.

"I'm pregnant."

There is a moment of confusion, because her parents are certain they did not just hear what they think they just heard, and then the words settle like debris from an explosion, and it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the house.

After several minutes of excruciating silence, Seth is the first to speak.

"What are your plans?"

"I'd like to…" She stops herself. This is not the time to appear uncertain. "I'm going to keep it. I'm confident that I can finish this school year without issue. I'll have the baby in May, and then I'll have the summer to work out my schedule for next fall."

"Rachel, honey," he says softly. "We've raised you to be a practical person. You're not going to keep this baby." The words come awkwardly, like he can't quite process the fact that he's just had to say that to his sixteen-year-old daughter.

She stands tall, squaring her shoulders.

"I don't believe that's up for discussion."

Seth pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Rachel."

"Daddy."

"Don't be difficult about this. We'll just do what we need to do and then we'll just put it behind us, okay?"

Her hands instinctually fly to her stomach. "No."

"Rachel, we are not doing this. You're going to graduate high school, and you're going to go to Julliard, and you're going to be an amazing performer. You are not going to have a baby at sixteen."

"I can still do all of those things, Daddy. I know that I can," She says, and it's kind of a lie, because all she really knows is that she's two seconds away from bursting into tears (hormones: 1, Rachel: 0).

The smaller mans is standing now. He mutters something about so much promise before storming out of the room.

(Puck makes a mental note to make fun of Rachel for being so much like him, once things aren't so shitty)

Rachel turns to her dad, who has been silently staring at his hands the whole time.

"Dad?"

He swallows hard, then stands.

"Please, don't go," she whispers, scrambling to the doorway to block his exit. She's trying not to appear too hysterical, but it's hard. She feels like the weight on her heart might actually kill her.

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead.

"If you're sure about this, then we'll support you. Are you sure that you're sure?"

Rachel nods before throwing herself into his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"I know," Pete replies. He hugs her tightly, until a door slams upstairs, causing them both to jump. "I'll talk to him. He'll come around, but it's going to take some time."

"I know," Rachel sniffles. She hugs him again before he starts toward the door. He has always been the peacemaker in their family, mainly because out of the three of them, he's the only one who doesn't favor screaming and/or performing dramatic monologues from various musicals when things don't go their way. She's glad he's her dad.

Before exiting the room, Pete turns to Puck. "You and I," he announces, his eyes narrowing angrily. "will talk later."

In turn, Puck comes very close to wetting his pants.

When it's just the two of them, Rachel sighs heavily and dramatically plops onto the couch. She looks like she's just seen a ghost. Or kind of like she's just told her parents that she's pregnant. It's weird, seeing her this way. Fragile is not a word he'd ever consider using to describe Rachel Berry, but in this moment, she looks like she might shatter into a million little pieces.

Puck gently rubs her back and goes through all the encouraging phrases in his repertoire ("It's okay, everything's going to be fine, don't worry, be happy", repeat). The only other time he has had to comfort a girl was when Santana dropped her iPhone in Quinn's hot tub and her parents wouldn't buy her a new one until Christmas – she cried for, like, a week. So he's not really sure if this is the right thing to do, but Rachel isn't yelling at him, so he keeps at it.

A heated exchange is taking place above them, and fragments of the conversation drift downstairs, causing Rachel to stiffen.

"So, they're kind of…intense," Puck smirks. "I guess you were doomed from the start, huh?"

"I'm sorry you had see that," she says, wincing as another door is forced shut upstairs (it is really quite a wonder that they've only had to replace the hinges twices this year). "and hear that."

He shrugs. "My mom's pretty crazy, too. You should have seen her that time she found dirty pictures of Kathy Lee Gifford on my laptop."

Rachel chooses not to respond, and the room is silent.

"Do you want to get out of here for awhile?" he asks when he can no longer stand the quiet.

She sits up and wipes her eyes. "Very much so."

A/N: Basically, it's taken me FOREVER to get this short, boring chapter out, so I'm ending it here – sorry that it's abrupt. Things will pick up. I promise.

Okay, also, does it freak anyone else out that the Gleeks are 16 and therefore born in 1993-ish? 1993 was two days ago. I'm not old, but that makes me feel ancient. Freaking ancient.