The funeral was nice. It's one of those things that always gets said because no one knows what else to say. It was true though. Puck wasn't useful for much in the first week after Marianne was born. He held it together long enough to put in his two cents about her name. When he first saw her, all he could think about was that she looked like a little doll, so he tossed out the name of Sarah's favorite childhood baby doll, not even registering that she wouldn't be around to enjoy the joke.

The adoption paperwork had been started beforehand, so that prevented the newborn from being placed into the system as an orphan. According to Gina, the only real change that was made in the process was immediate placement instead of the required three-day waiting period. She pressed everything through, and within 24 hours, Puck was the legal father of Marianne Renee Puckerman.

He sat in the back of the service, one hand in Kurt's and the other on Marianne's carrier. Rachel and Finn had flown in, sitting towards the front between Burt and Leroy. Rachel ended up giving a short eulogy, talking about everything from the first time she babysat a five-year-old Sarah to a conversation they had had a mere two weeks ago about whether or not the organic cocoa butter would work as well on stretch marks as the generic stuff. She talked about their friendship, an unlikely match up given the difference in both age and temperament, but one that worked through the years.

None of the rest of the "family" had the power to speak. Her friends, her glee club that stuck by her through the pregnancy, the very teenagers that had invaded Puck and Kurt's apartment a few times to hold mini impromptu baby showers and spa sessions (Kurt liked to spoil the girls) got up at the end to sing. Puck would have laughed at how nothing had changed since he was in New Directions and they still had to speak through song, but then the pictures appeared on a screen.

Apparently Kurt had been helping his girls again, because it was a slideshow. Photos of a baby Sarah, often being poked or prodded by a young Puck, were displayed for all to see. The pictures changed and she grew: macaroni art projects, Halloween costumes, the few vacations they had taken. One memorable one, of a six-year-old Sarah sunburned bright red, and Puck standing next to her, white stripe down the middle of his forehead. Sarah had dropped gum on his hair and the first mohawk had disappeared to remove it.

The pictures kept switching, flashes of memory assaulting Puck, when the words of the song finally registered.

"Yeah, when I get where I'm going, don't cry for me down here…"

Puck picked up the carrier and walked out of the room. If anyone asked, Marianne needed a diaper change.

At the end of the first week, Puck finally broke. He was cleaning out the dresser full of maternity clothes, intending to donate them to the homeless shelter where they served Christmas dinner years ago, when he came across a soft white shirt, obviously purchased for Marianne. It wasn't something she'd be wearing anytime soon, the label claiming it was for a four month old, but the message was too perfect.

Daddies' little girl.

He picked it up to set it on top of the dresser, but a crinkling noise stopped him. Pinned to the back was a folded up sheet of notebook paper, addressed to "Baby." Puck undid the safety pin and put the shirt aside, unfolding the note.

Dear Baby,

I would use your name if Noah and Kurt would actually give you one. I can hear them right now, talking about it in the living room. Kurt likes the name Ellen but Noah thinks it's too old. Really though, anything is better than the names your Uncle Finn came up with once upon a time. He wanted to name your older sister Drizzle.

Now I kinda like that as a nickname.

So Drizzle, just FYI, this is your mother speaking. Well, I'm also your Aunt Sarah, but given that we just got back from the hospital after possibly one of the scariest nights of my life, I'm going to go with mother. Not mama, mother. That's kinda what I want to talk to you about.

Dr. J told me that some shit happened and there's some danger to you and/or me. Like, death kind of danger. More of it to you than me, but it's still there for both of us. That means there's a chance that you might make it out of this and I won't. If that's what goes down, I just want you to know a few things.

One, you are the cool Puckerman now. It was always me, so that job is yours. Unless Kurt dropped the Hummel when they finally got married and is just Puckerman. In that case, you're the second-coolest Puckerman. You will always rank above Noah, but don't tell him that.

Two, your daddies know what they're doing. Usually. So you should listen to them. Usually. But don't be afraid to make your own mistakes.

Three, if Noah ever gives you crap having sex before you're forty, ignore him. Kurt will be much more realistic about it.

Four, you need to sing. A lot. Even if you don't think you can. It just makes things easier.

Five, I have always loved you and I always will. I told Noah that I had to know who you were. It sucks that you reading this means I probably didn't. But I was not ready to be your mama. I am seventeen, still in school, and I made a mistake. But you are not a mistake. You are something wonderful. I just wish I could have had you when I was ready.

Six, you may not have a mama, but you have two daddies who love you very much. And if anyone tells you that's wrong, just give them a good punch to the mouth. Ask Noah how to do it. Or if you'd rather kick, ask Kurt. He's scary good.

I'm exhausted now and those two are arguing over if Gwen or Gwyn is better. Drizzle, I really hope they get their shit sorted out by the time they actually need to fill out the birth certificate. If not, I'm taking over. I'll threaten them with naming you after Aunt Rachel, but giving you my middle name. They'd never go for it though, so I hope your name is as badass as you are.

Here's hoping you never have to read this.

Love,
Sarah Renee Puckerman

Puck dropped the letter. His knees gave out and the tears came thick and fast. He had focused on Marianne since Sarah died, not letting himself grieve for even a moment. As long as he had his new little girl, he didn't have to think about the one he'd lost. Trading one munchkin for another.

As he'd just realized, it didn't work like that.

He sobbed for hours, and when Kurt came home from work, Marianne's carrier on one arm and a bag of groceries on the other, Puck was asleep on the floor of the spare bedroom. A trash bag full of clothes sat half full and the second drawer was still open. Tear tracks had dried on his face.

They had gotten a nine month lease, which meant moving out in the insane July heat. Burt, Carole, and Ruth all wanted them to stay a little longer, but it had always been the plan to leave eventually. The only difference was that the original plan had Sarah living in the second bedroom of their new place, with the crib in theirs. Now, they could go back to their studio and keep the cheap rent. It still suited their needs, but they'd be keeping an eye out for larger places. Marianne would need her own room in a few years.

The drive back was difficult. Apparently Marianne hated being cooped up in a car as much as Sarah had, because she screamed bloody murder for most of the drive. They had made the drive in a single day before, but with the number of stops they had to make just to get her out into fresh air, they ended up checking into a hotel somewhere in Pennsylvania. Once inside and settled into the small crib the front desk had rolled over to their room, she gazed around the room quietly, taking in the new location.

"One way or another," Puck muttered as he carefully loaded a still-sleeping Marianne into the car the next morning, "I'm pretty sure this kid will drive me insane."

"Haven't you heard? Insani—" His statement was cut off by his own loud yawn. "Insanity is hereditary. You get it from your children."

"Then where did Rachel get it from in high school?"

Kurt was quiet for a minute, looking at the window and smiling fondly. "I have no clue. Even now, I wonder about her sometimes, especially around Marianne. It's like she's waiting to sink her teeth into this little one."

"I know it. I feel like we should give her something to make her back off a little for a while."

"Like what, a night babysitting? We'd never get her back. Rachel would steal her and jump the border to Canada, leaving Finn behind to figure out how to feed himself with a bowl of spinach and a block of tofu."

"I was thinking more like godmother, and make Finn godfather. You know he'd love making those jokes." Puck side-eyed his boyfriend as he switched lanes on the highway. "I think you're sleep-deprived. Why don't you take a nap for the next hundred miles?"

"Mmkay." Those were apparently the magic words, because Kurt's eyes slid shut almost immediately. "We should go to Canada. Just for fun. We can go on a Sunday."

"Sure, Kurt," Puck chuckled. "Let's go to Canada on a Sunday."

Rachel was overjoyed at being named godmother, and Finn attempted his best Italian accent in asking for a cannoli. Marianne settled into her section of the apartment well, and both men could easily hear when she was upset wherever they happened to be. They would have been upset about the lack of sex they were having, but with Kurt out auditioning all day and Puck taking care of Marianne between writing down notes and lyrics, it was too much effort to even try.

It hit Puck all of sudden one night. He was warming a bottle of formula on the stovetop and talking to Marianne about what he should cook for dinner when Kurt walked in. He hung his bag on the small coat rack they had wedged beside the door and walked over to the two in the kitchenette, planting a small kiss each on the baby's head and Puck's cheek. It was something that had happened every day for the past week, a simple domestic gesture. But one moment he was thinking about not scorching the pan, the next he felt like he was in some fifties, Leave It To Beaver world where the husband comes home to see his wife cooking and caring for the kids. The only real difference was that they were two men and Puck wasn't sure he could pull off the classy gloves and pearls those dames did.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Kurt picked through his bag and found a day planner. He flipped it open to the right page, scanned it quickly, then said, "Nothing as far as I know. Why?"

"Thought you might want to go to Canada."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You don't have to make that joke every week. I realize I babble when I get tired. You'd think you'd stop holding my stupid comments over my head eventually."

"Not my fault you have a problem with the way you think."

"That was one time! And it was years ago!"

"Doesn't make it any less funny." He turned off the burner and moved the pot off to the side, not wanting to risk it when he wasn't giving it his full attention. "So, you want to do something tomorrow? You, me, our girl, maybe Finn and Rachel?"

"That depends," Kurt answered, slipping the calendar back into his bag. "What would we be doing?"

"Getting married."

Kurt turned slowly, eyebrow raised. "Is this seriously your proposal?"

"Yeah." Puck shrugged, then shifted Marianne to his other shoulder. "I mean, there's a pair of rings in my underwear drawer, but," he grabbed the bottle and tested it on his wrist, "I kinda have my hands full right now."

"You do know there's a wait period, right?" Kurt asked, walking over to the dresser and pulling out Puck's drawer. "Even if the office is open tomorrow, we wouldn't be able to have the ceremony."

"So we go when it opens again and just get it done."

"You say the most romantic things," Kurt drawled.

"Come on." Puck adjusted the bottle so Marianne wasn't sucking down air. "You and I both know that the only thing that makes us not married is that little piece of paper. We've lived together for years, we have a kid together, we have the same cell phone plan, the same sock drawer. Hell, we even have joint checking. The only thing that will really change is some last names and our tax return."

"So you just want to go down to the courthouse, get married with Finn and Rachel as our witnesses, and then what?" He turned around, ring box in hand. "How are you going to break that to my dad?"

"Think he can get time off of work?"

"He owns the place."

"Then it's no problem." Kurt just stared. "Look, I'm tired of not being married to you. Maybe once upon a time I'd be worried that I'd freak out once I had a ring on my finger, but that ring is just going to be one more thing that proves I'm yours and you're mine. It's been that way for a while and it's not changing anytime soon. So I don't see the need for a fuss. If you want to fly Burt and Carole up here for a little something at the courthouse, then we can do that. Ma told me a few months ago that she thought we'd already been married for a couple of years and just let people figure it out for themselves, so me calling her to say we put our names on a piece of paper is going to get a congratulations and a bunch of questions about what Marianne did during the day."

Puck set the bottle down and threw a spit cloth over his shoulder. Propping the baby up and patting her back, he approached Kurt. "I just want to be married to you. I don't really care about the how or what we're wearing or anything like that, I just want it to happen as soon as possible."

Kurt's eyes were watering, and he smiled slightly. "Okay, I'll accept that proposal."

Both men broke into wide grins. Kurt pulled the rings out of the box and slid one onto his finger. It was loose, so he took it off and tried the other one. With one secured, Puck stuck out his ring finger from where his left was supporting Marianne's bottom. As Kurt got it all the way on, she let out a large burp, along with a little spittle.

"That's the other thing you get with marrying me," Puck said. "Makes it a hell of a lot easier to adopt this one here."

Dabbing at his eyes with a sleeve, Kurt ran a hand down her back. "That's another thing that it would just be putting names onto paper. She's already ours."

"She really is." Puck carried her over to the crib and set her down. "Sometimes I look at her and wonder what we did to get so lucky, you know? It's not like I was a saint or anything for most of my life."

"Hey, stop that." Kurt swatted at Puck's chest with the back of his hand.

"Don't hit me, you never know when she might start picking up our habits."

"She's three months old, I don't think me reminding you that you're an idiot is going to significantly impact her development." Puck pouted, but Kurt kissed it away. "You are a good man, Noah Puckerman. You might have messed up along the way, but overall, you did good. It's not like I was always the best person either."

"Yeah but—"

"No. No buts."

"What about this one?" Puck asked, reaching down to grope Kurt.

"Fine, that one, but no buts with one T. You know me. When have I ever accepted anything less than the best?"

"Never."

"And whose ring is on my finger right now?"

"Mine."

"Well, there you go." Puck smiled uncertainly and Kurt wrapped an arm around his waist, watching their little girl. "I don't believe in God, but I do think that things work out in the end. Call it a musical mentality, but I think the good are rewarded and the not-so-good get theirs. And things work out the way they do because that's the way they're supposed to."

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end." Kurt nodded and squeezed. Puck faced his now-fiance. "So, you ready to hyphenate?"

Kurt couldn't help himself. "I'm really looking forward to being the cool Puckerman."

"Nah, that's always going to be Sarah."

It took longer than they would have liked for the three of them to become a "true family." Burt was able to close the garage whenever he really wanted, or could leave it in the hands of his more trusted employees, but Carole was having a hard time getting enough time off from the hospital. She told them she had put in the request to get vacation scheduled as soon as possible, but it could easily be two weeks before it was put into rotation.

Seeing as they were having to wait anyway, Puck called his mother and asked if she wanted to come to his wedding. She was wary, not wanting to make the drive herself and being scared of flying, but when he mentioned the possibility of carpooling with Kurt's parents, she put in her notice for vacation time as well. Luckily, the timing all worked out in the end.

The justice of the peace that married them was a tiny old lady with long white hair. As they approached the front, Puck couldn't help but comment that she looked like an elfin queen, which caused Kurt to giggle as they said their vows.

The adoption petitions got more complicated. Kurt was adopting under the step-parent rule, but there were some kinks that had to be ironed out since Marianne was born and adopted for the first time in Ohio. The clerks kept asking about the birth mother and the biological father and all these other questions until finally Kurt just handed them Gina's number, saying that she handled the first case, so she had the details.

Two days later, he received a giddy call from Gina. The clerk had questioned her work in their case, giving her the chance to ream him out for insensitivity and unprofessionalism. It was the most fun she'd had at her job in a while.

A week after the debacle in the office, they were summoned to sign the final papers, thereby making Marianne legally their child. With a flourish of a pen, Kurt commented that he expected to feel different, but nothing had really changed.

It wasn't until they were trying to put Marianne to bed that night that the truth of that statement sunk in. Puck was still the one fixing the bottle and Kurt was still the one bathing her in the sink, just like every other night. As happened more often than not, she refused to be put down, crying every time they set her in the crib.

"It's like she thinks were putting her in jail or something," Kurt complained as he picked her up for the third time. Puck was resting on the bed, jeans slung low on his hips as he cradled the guitar to his bar chest. He plucked a few notes, then played a longer string. Nodding, he scribbled it in the staff book laying next to him before looking at the crib.

"I don't know. Those bars do remind me a little of juvie."

"Oh, the bars in juvie were made of formica and painted bright pink?"

Puck grinned. "Just saying, she's already on the same brain wave as her old man."

"Well, old man, if you and her have the same thoughts, then what is going to get her to sleep? I have an audition at nine tomorrow morning across town."

He stared at her, then put his fingers to his temple in a mimicry of mind reading. When Kurt rolled his eyes, muttering "Any day now," Puck started playing and singing softly.

"Come stop your crying, it'll be alright…"

As Marianne calmed, Kurt began moving carefully back towards the crib. By the time Puck hit the final notes of the song, she was sound asleep under her blanket. Kurt backed away slowly, then collapsed on the bed.

"How did you do that?"

"It's what I sang to Sarah when she was a baby and couldn't sleep." Kurt looked over at his husband and smiled, then kissed him softly. He crawled under the covers as Puck stood to put away the guitar and notes.

"You know," Kurt began, "every time I think I've got things under control, there's something new. I'm still trying to figure out how Dad managed with me by himself for so long."

"I'm starting to think Ma was Wonder Woman in disguise or something. Newborn Sarah and bratty eight-year-old me, right after Dad left?" Puck stripped off his pants and turned off the light, feeling his way carefully to the bed. "I don't have a damn clue how she did it."

"I seem to remember a lot of Disney movies and boxes of Goldfish."

"Cable TV and Pop-Tarts."

"Only eating one brand of black cherry yogurt, and only after someone had eaten out the black cherries."

"Going to bed sometimes without a bath because Ma just didn't feel like fighting me."

"Playing in my room until 2am because I got up after Dad went to sleep."

"Crawling into the fireplace full of ashes as soon as I was left alone."

"Playing with the box that the toy came in."

"I think every kid does that."

"Especially when the box is big enough to be a house."

"I once ate an entire tube of toothpaste in the middle of the night because I was hungry."

They peered at each other through the dark and laughed.

"All that stuff some parents preach about organic foods and approved discipline techniques and properly stimulating the brain at all times?" Kurt asked.

"Total bullshit," Puck concluded. "I think we turned out pretty good."

"There's this one story my dad tells." Kurt curled into Puck's side, resting a hand over his heart. "I was about four, playing in the backyard, and it gets quiet back there for a while. He goes out there, and I'm eating in the vegetable garden."

"What'd you do, dig up some carrots?"

"Not even close. That particular summer, he had let it get overgrown with wildflowers. Then Mom decided she was going to keep them as a garden of her own." He let out a soft chuckle. "My reasoning was that they smelled good, so they should taste good as well. Luckily there was nothing poisonous, but I decimated a pretty big section of the garden. Just the flowers, though. All the leaves and stems were still there."

"How did Burt explain that one to your mom?"

"He didn't. As far as she knew, a bunch of birds picked over her 'natural garden' that she loved so much."

Puck had a mental image of a younger (hairier) Burt explaining to the woman in the picture on Kurt's nightstand about a flock of wild birds attacking her garden. There was arm flapping involved. He started laughing, being sure to keep it low so it didn't disturb Marianne.

"I loved Barney when I was little," he admitted. "Like, obsession levels. And you couldn't pull me away from an episode without me throwing a complete hissy fit. Unfortunately, it came on at eight on Saturday mornings, literally a split second after the morning news wrapped up. Now Dad refused to give up his morning news, but he never mastered the art of turning off the TV before Barney came on."

"So? What's wrong with watching Barney?"

"Nothing. But synagogue services started at 8:30 and it took twenty minutes to get there."

"Oh, no." Kurt could obviously tell where this was going.

"For about three years, we were twenty minutes late to synagogue every week."

"Your poor mother." But Kurt was laughing too. "Why didn't they just turn it off at the commercial break?"

"Dude." Puck was scandalized. "Do you not know your Barney? The I Love You song comes at the end of every episode. It was not over until I had heard that song. Otherwise there were tears and screaming."

"Once she gets old enough to fight back, we are going to be horrible parents," Kurt joked.

"Yep," he agreed cheerily. "But as long as we're screwing her up together, I'm okay with it.

"Me too."

A/N: If you want to see the amazing art for this story or listen to the song I borrowed the titles from, you can check it out on AO3 under the same name.