A/N: First of all, YAY, GLEE! GLEE KIDS, HOORAY! I nearly cried when they won the Golden Globe. They deserved it! They were all so cute, especially drunkity drunk DRUNK little Dianna Agron.

Second of all, I think I can end this is two or three more chapters. Maybe. We'll see.

Third of all, I watched Willy Wonka with my niece this afternoon and I forgot about the hardcore chocolate porn in the beginning. I want to rewind it and watch it over and over again. Just putting that out there.

FOURTH: Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed. I actually did attempt to reply to reviews last chapter, but I think the site messed up because none of the replies are in my outbox. Totally figures that I'd try to be a good person and then get thwarted by the website.

"Bram Stoker. Twilight. Interview with a…?"

"I don't know. Pass."

"No! Think about it!

"I don't know!"

"They're immortal. They can't be in the sun. Ugh, Twilight. You know what Twilight is about!"

"Telling me that I know doesn't make me know. I don't know! Pass!"

"Fine," Rachel growls. "Okay, Audrey Hepburn. Holly Golightly. Yellow diamond."

"Pass!"

"Noah. What is the first meal of the day?"

"Breakfast!"

"Yes! Breakfast at…?"

"Pass!"

"Blue. Lamp. Audrey Hepburn."

"I said pass!"

"If we pass, they get a point. Use your brain. AUDREY. HEPBURN."

"That meant nothing to me the first time you said it, and it means nothing now. Pass!"

A large stack of cards go flying past his head in that moment, and then Rachel is up from her seat and stomping out of the room. "It was 'Tiffany', you imbecile!" she yells, already halfway down the hall. She's done this at least ten times during this game alone – he lost count of her storm-outs during Monopoly.

"We don't generally play Taboo, mostly because it's usually just the three of us and you can't play Taboo with three people, but also because sometimes Rachel can get a little intense with games like this, but then, you know that already – sorry again about what happened during Pictionary. Who would have thought a Sharpie could leave a mark like that?" Seth says, laughing nervously.

Puck nods, subconsciously rubbing the small bruise on his forehead, which he received after incorrectly guessing that the seahorse Rachel was drawing was a penis – he knew it was a seahorse, of course, but since when did he pass on a chance to annoy her? Plus, he figures if he's going to be stuck at her totally lame family game night, he might as well make it interesting.

It's been a few weeks since they dropped the L word, and things are pretty much the same. They still argue more than is probably appropriate – in fact, if he had to put his mediocre math skills to use, he'd estimate that ninety percent of their conversations are disagreements of some kind, and the other ten percent are her talking about something and him tuning her out, but occasionally adding an "hmm" so it sounds like he's paying attention. Then she usually realizes that he's not actually listening and they start arguing about it.

The only real different is that Rachel uses it as an excuse to make him do stupid stuff like this, because "it's what people do when they love each other." He suspects that that's complete bullshit, but he goes along with it (to a certain extent – he put his foot down when she started suggesting duets they could sing at the Berry's weekly family cabaret), because sometimes there's just no point in fighting the crazy that is Rachel Berry. So they play games with her dads and have dinners with his mom and sister and it's not like he enjoys it or anything, but there are probably worse things he could be doing.

A few minutes after her diva fit, Rachel stalks back into the room with her arms crossed and resting on her now prominent stomach and calmly reclaims her place on the sofa. "I believe that brings the score to six for us, and…seventy-two for Team Dad," she says, clearly pained by this fact. "I suppose it is time to concede. What's next? Apples to Apples?"

Puck suppresses a groan. They've been doing this family togetherness thing for hours, and he would really like to avoid any further injuries. "I should probably get out of here. My mom might start worrying."

That's not really true – his mom probably wouldn't care if he never came home. She's still freaking out about the baby drama, and half the time, she just looks like she's about to cry every time she sees him.

Rachel looks unconvinced, but doesn't put up much of a fight, so after saying goodnight to her dads, he makes his way toward the front door.

"You need to be here by eight tomorrow morning," Rachel says, handing him his jacket. "Don't be late."

Puck scowls. Tomorrow is Saturday, and the only thing he does at eight in the morning on a Saturday is sleep.

"Don't tell me you forgot."

"I…didn't forget?"

Yes, he did.

"Yes, you did. You forgot!" She looks like might faint. "Tomorrow is the ultrasound. The ultrasound. I told you yesterday – how could you possibly forget?"

He shrugs. "Distracted, I guess." Truthfully, yesterday was the first time he noticed that Rachel's boobs were way bigger than they used to be, and he had trouble focusing on anything else for most of the day, let alone whatever nonsense was coming out of her mouth.

"This is such a huge deal. Easily the most important thing that's going to happen until the baby is actually born. How could you forget? You're like a goldfish or something," she fumes, seemingly unaware that he said anything.

"Sorry. I'll be here."

"Should I call you when you…"

He kisses her, which shuts her up for about half a second.

"…get home? Will you forget in the ten minutes it takes you to get there? Should I tie a string to your finger? I mean, honestly…"

"I've got it, Berry. I'll see you at ten."

"Eight!" she shrieks, shoving his shoulder.

"Just wanted to see you do that thing where you eyes bug out of your skull. See you at eight."

He's pretty sure he can still hear her ranting indignantly when he reaches his truck.

The appointment is long and boring and he learns way more about Rachel's cervix than he ever wanted to know. He tries to occupy his time by looking at pictures of wrinkly babies and deciding which one is the weirdest looking, but that gets old because they're all really weird looking. He'll love their kid no matter what, obviously, but he really hopes it doesn't look like an old man.

They're eventually led to another room and get started on the ultrasound, which actually is pretty cool. The kid has a total melon head, but the ultrasound technician keeps saying that everything looks really good, so he's just going to trust that it's normal.

When the tech asks if they are interested in finding out the sex, they answer in unison with a resounding yes. Puck is pretty sure it's a boy – he's not really sure why, but he's just kind of assumed – but a confirmation would be nice, especially since Rachel is totally convinced that it's a girl, along with half the Glee club (all the girls, plus Kurt).

After a few minutes of trying to decipher the grainy image, Puck is pretty sure he's been vindicated. "Are those the family jewels?" he asks.

The ultrasound technician lets out a surprised squeak before shaking her head. "Um, no, actually, that's a foot." She repositions the wand on Rachel's stomach and studies the screen intently. "Actually, it looks like…yes, it's a girl. Congratulations."

Puck feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. A girl. He's suddenly imagining tiny, more delicate, less obnoxious Rachel Berry, dependent on him. He knew that a boy would be just as reliant at first, but somehow a little girl seems like so much more responsibility. He shudders at the thought of boyfriends. He knows there's, like, eighteen years before that's an issue (much longer, if he's got anything to say about it), but still. He's going to need some time to prepare for that one.

He looks down to Rachel, who's smiling as brightly as he's ever seen and still somehow managing to bawl her eyes out. She loops her arm around his neck and pulls him into a kiss.

"What are the odds that you're not going to gloat about this?" he asks when they pull apart.

She thinks for a moment. "Slim to none."

Puck honestly doesn't have many ideas when it comes to naming the kid. He had some opinions when there was still a chance that it was a boy – he would have had such a fucking badass name, like Maverick or Blade or something – but it's a girl and he doesn't really think there are many badass girl names, so he planned on just letting Rachel handle it.

But then, surprise, surprise, she started coming up with all these totally gay names for their spawn. She was sold on Idina Maureen Berry-Puckerman for an entire day and a half, and that one only passed when she watched Fiddler on the Roof and suddenly decided that she couldn't possibly continue living unless they named the kid Tzeitel, and seriously, that shit isn't going down if he's got anything to say about it. He shot that one down fast, as well as the names that followed (if the kid after doubts that he loves her, first thing he'll say is, "I saved you from being named Hermione."), and then she was all, "You can't veto my suggestions unless you offer your own," which is how he ends up looking through books with pictures of fat, naked babies on the cover, making a name list like a fucking girl.

Her master plan is to have them both write down their favorite names and then any names that appear on both lists will then be merged into a new list, and from there, they'll make a decision. This would work if Puck had more than three possible contenders and if Rachel had less than three hundred, but as it stands right now, she is on her fourth sheet of college-ruled notebook paper, and he's writing on a napkin.

"Oh, my," she breathes, after several minutes of silently copying names to her list. "I have the name. It's perfect."

She's said that about the past twenty names she's seen, but he humors her to the best of his ability. "Oh?"

"We're going to name the baby…" she pauses for dramatic effect, grinning like a lunatic. "…Maria."

Puck blinks. "Funny."

Her smile drops. "I'm serious, Noah. I think this is it. Think about it. Maria."

"No."

"Maria! Say it loud and there's music playing. Say it soft, and it's almost like praying. Maria! I'll never stop saying Maria!"

"Quoting West Side Story lyrics is not going to help your case here, Berry," he laughs, trying to ignore the fact that he just correctly matched a show tune to its musical.

"Oh! If she's ever in trouble, which is pretty likely with Puckerman genes, you know, we can sing Maria from The Sound of Music. You know, how do you solve a problem like Maria? That would be great. Not if she's in real trouble, of course, because it's inappropriate to make jokes when disciplining a child – it sends mixed messages. But if it was just something little, that would be so fun."

"Forget it."

"I think Maria is a beautiful name," Kurt chimes in from across the room, and suddenly Puck really regrets letting Rachel convince him to do this in the choir room.

"You would," Puck sneers. "Back to the book, Berry. It's not happening."

She frowns, then begins singing under her breath. "Maria, I've just met a girl named Maria, and suddenly that name will never be the same to me…"

He has a feeling he'll be hearing a lot of that song in the coming days.

"It's just that I've had a deep, personal connection to the role of Maria since…"

"…the age of one," Puck finishes. "I know. You've told me. A million times. It's not going to change anything. What if the kid doesn't even like West Side Story?"

"Bite your tongue!" Rachel cries. "What a horrible thing to suggest!"

"It could happen," Puck says with a shrug. "My badass genes could totally overpower your nerd genes. That kid is probably going to come out with a mohawk."

Rachel seems genuinely disturbed by this idea, and quickly launches into a lecture about what kind of traits are determined by genetics and what kind of traits develop due to social pressures, and he's too busy pretending to pay attention to notice the hockey player coming toward them with a slushie in hand.

Rachel's sharp intake of breath is the first thing he notices, and he's vaguely aware of something wet on his arm. He can hear scattered laughter echoing throughout the hallway, and then he realizes that what's just happened. His first instinct is to smash the punk's head against a locker, and he would do just that if it weren't for Rachel pulling him back.

"Stop, Noah. There's no point – it's not worth it. Just stop."

He disagrees, because the point is clearly to make him cry for his mommy, and of course it's worth it. But Rachel is adamant.

He backs down and turns his full attention to her, and that's when he notices the way the wet fabric of her shirt is clinging to her stomach, and fuck, that's it. His kid is in there (and not just his kid, but his daughter, which somehow makes it that much worse), and he doesn't really know how that all works, but what if it can feel when Berry gets slushied? No one messes with a Puckerman or its incubator, especially not some twerp from the hockey team.

He's suspended for the rest of the week because he broke that little fucker's jaw, and he only has two regrets. The first is that he let Finn break up the fight before he could rearrange the rest of his face, and the second is that he let Rachel inside when she showed up on his doorstep after school.

"What were you thinking? You could have been arrested!"

"But I wasn't, was I?" He tosses aside the ice pack that he had been holding to his face before she came over (tending to one's wounds is not badass) and unceremoniously drops onto the couch.

"What if this affects your eligibility for extracurricular activities? What if you can't be in Glee anymore?"

"It's not going to affect my eligibility for extracurricular activities," he says mockingly. "It's happened before – it's not a big deal."

"But what was the point? Why risk it? The slushie hardly touched you."

Puck knows she hates when he laughs at her, but he can't help it. "You think I did that for me? Really, Berry? For such a smart person, sometimes you're just…not."

Rachel scoffs. "I beg your pardon! What is that supposed to mean?"

"It wasn't about me, it was about you and the kid," he replies, relishing in the opportunity to use that slow, condescending voice she uses on him so often. "You think I'd just let that jackass treat you that way?"

She steps back and stares at him, her eyes fixed in a thoughtful frown. "You defended my honor," she finally says, realization softening her face.

"You're my baby mama," Puck shrugs. "What did you expect?"

"It was a really stupid thing to do," she says, easing onto the couch and curling up against him. She grabs the discarded ice pack and presses it to his cheek. "and in the future, I'd like to see you utilize more appropriate outlets for your anger. But…thank you," she says, kissing his jaw lightly.

He turns his head to meet her lips, and suddenly she's pulling back, gasping. He's afraid she's going to freak out again, which is seriously getting old, because obviously they've already done worse than kissing, but then she grabs his hand and presses it against her stomach.

He opens his mouth to ask what she's doing, but she shushes him preemptively. "Just wait."

Seconds later, a light thump against his palm sends his hand flying away from Rachel's stomach. "Was that…? Did it just…?"

She nods, smiling, and brings his hand back. His first instinct is to pull away when he feels another kick, because this shit just isn't normal, but she's holding his hand in place.

"I've never felt it on the outside before," she says. "I think Maria is trying to let you know that she agrees with me. You should be more careful."

"I think she's just excited to hear that her dad is a total badass," he replies, ignoring Rachel's sudden glare (it's not like the kid speaks English yet). The baby kicks again, harder this time. "And just now? She said, 'No fucking way are you naming me Maria.'"

A/N: Guhhh. I have to work in the morning and I stayed up to finish this, because my life is about to get stupid busy. My online classes technically start tomorrow (well, today, since it's after midnight). It's easy stuff this week, but it's only the beginning, and then my on-campus classes begin on the 25th. Boooo.

I am going to try and keep updating weekly, but who freaking knows? It might not happen. If this story isn't updated for weeks after this, blame college and know that I haven't abandoned you, my adorable readers+reviewers.

ALSO: I'm with Rachel on this one. I effing love the name Maria, and I don't care who knows it.