Chapter 3
"Puck?" Quinn said as glee let out, placing her hand delicately on the boy's arm. "May I speak to you for a moment, please?"
She almost laughed when Puck turned to Kurt like he was asking for permission. Unlike the rest of the glee club, Quinn wasn't so preoccupied by how out of character the two boys had been acting all day. She figured it was a joke and she might as well enjoy it, especially Rachel's over-the-top reactions. Something about seeing the girl so flustered made Quinn wish she had a video camera, so she could savor the moment forever. And maybe post it on YouTube for the amusement of the rest of the world.
In response to Puck's silent question, Kurt nodded, "It's alright, honey guns. I trust you. See you at home?"
"Sure thing, sugar thighs," Puck replied with that dopey smile, leaning in to kiss Kurt while Quinn put a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from snorting in laughter.
When Kurt was gone, along with the rest of the glee club, Quinn smirked at Puck and asked, "How do you expect anyone to take you seriously when you're using such ridiculous pet names? Really?"
"The Puckster's in love," he replied, sitting back down in his chair and picking up "Molly" from her carrier on the floor, rocking the doll comfortably. "That shit just sorta comes out."
"Really?" Quinn replied, still smiling as she sat down facing him. "Because it feels to me like you and Kurt are trying to one-up each other with those names. Love bunny? Sugar guns?"
"Honeyguns," Puck corrected, patting his doll on its back when it made a whimpery little noise. "And sugar thighs. There's a difference."
"I'm sure there is," Quinn chuckled, though her mirth was dampened a little by the sight of Puck caring for the little bundle in his arms. That could have been Beth, in another life maybe. Quinn didn't need to convince herself that she'd done the right thing. Not anymore. But, "You would have made a good dad," she allowed, heart beating rapidly when Puck nodded and then smiled up at her.
"I guess this is sorta like a second chance," Puck shrugged, cooing (actually cooing!) at the doll in his arms. "Isn't that right, Molly? Aren't you daddy's second chance?"
Quinn laughed, but cut off her laughter when Puck gave her a hurt look. "What?"
"Nothing," Quinn insisted, patting his arm. "I just stopped you because I wanted to ask you to keep the PDA with Kurt to a minimum. I'm happy for you two," she chuckled a little at Puck's eye roll and continued, "but it's distracting everyone."
"They'll get used to it," Puck sniffed, his jaw clenched. That's when Quinn realized Puck wasn't acting. Not completely, anyway.
"Oh my god," she breathed, catching his eyes. "It's real, isn't it? You and Kurt?"
Jaw still clenched tightly, Puck's eyes dropped to the bundle in his arms and nodded. "That's what I've been telling all you punks all day."
"When?" she demanded. "There's no way this happened in one night, because of a doll, Puck."
Puck opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then a wicked smile spread across his face. "Molly is a little doll, isn't she? Aren't you, baby? Didn't you help daddy get together with other daddy? Yes you did! You did, girl of mine!"
Quinn clucked her tongue at Puck, hiding behind a stupid doll. "Fine. You can tell me when you're ready to stop acting like a child. Have a nice night, Puck."
"Can you say bye-bye to Auntie Quinn? Bye-bye?" Puck said in that stupid baby voice.
"Oh," Quinn added as she stopped in the doorway, grinning at Puck. "Don't think I didn't see how you signed your geometry quiz this morning. Noah Hummel-Puckerman? I guess we know who wears the pants in your relationship, don't we?"
"Hey!" Puck called after her as Quinn left the choir room. "We both … We both wear the pants, Fabray! Both of us!"
Quinn chuckled her way to her locker, set on just letting this thing play itself out, since it definitely made her life more interesting.
Blaine wasn't quite sure what he was doing here, but since Kurt's brother called him at lunch to ask what the hell was going on, he couldn't just let this go. Kurt had a boyfriend – or thought he did – and hadn't told Blaine! Weren't they supposed to be friends? Well, according to Finn, this relationship was about a day old, even though Kurt and his new paramour were acting, "Like they've been married for years!" Finn explained as much after he ran out to meet Blaine in the McKinley parking lot post glee club rehearsal.
"Kurt's gonna be here any minute," Finn told Blaine. "You have to help me talk to him."
"What about that Puck guy?" Blaine asked. "What if they're walking out here together?"
Finn, who made Blaine feel even shorter than he was, took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off his brow with a shrug. "I'll ask Puck something about school, or whatever. You just get Kurt to tell you what's going on!"
Luckily, Kurt was coming their way alone, giving Blaine a bright smile and hugging him as he asked, "What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't going to see you until our shopping trip on Saturday!"
"I heard," Blaine replied as Kurt let him go, trying not to get too big a whiff of Kurt's cologne. It always got to him a little and that wasn't supposed to be the reason Blaine was here in Lima. "…that you've got a boyfriend."
"Husband, actually," Kurt smiled, holding up his left hand to show off the plain silver ring. "Well, unofficially, since we're living in a theocracy, apparently."
"I see," Blaine replied, sharing a look with Finn as he began to understand what the guy had been dealing with all day. "Um, congratulations! When do I get to meet the lucky fellow?"
"You could follow us back home," Kurt suggested with a shrug, holding up his car keys. "Noah's moving in as soon as we talk to my dad. It's what's best for Molly."
Blaine felt like he should know who that was, but he didn't, so he asked, "Molly?"
"My daughter," Kurt explained, like that was the end of it.
Blaine was so confused that he was actually relieved when Finn said, "Your Sex Ed project. And I didn't name mine because Lauren said we couldn't. And she could, like, break me, dude. Which is why I'm taking care of him again tonight," the boy added, pulling a doll out of his backpack.
"Oh my god, Finn!" Kurt cried, taking the doll from his step-brother with a huff. "You can't hold him by one foot! If you're not going to take care of him properly, Noah and I might have to adopt him. Jesus, and you wondered why I wouldn't make you Molly's godfather!"
"Molly's the doll, right?" Blaine asked, heart up in his throat when Kurt rounded on him, upset fury in his eyes.
"Molly is a person, Blaine. A small person, yes, but a person nonetheless. If you can't understand that, maybe you should take some time and talk to me again when you can accept my family for what it is." Shaking his head, Kurt pressed Finn's doll back into the tall boy's arms and hopped up into his truck, slamming the door behind him.
Looking up at Finn, Blaine asked, "Did that just happen? I didn't imagine that, right?"
"Nuh-uh," Finn shook his head. "It's been like that all day. He makes you feel insane, right?"
"Uh, yeah," Blaine chuckled, patting Finn on the upper arm. "I'll … I'll go home and try to think of something. In the mean time, hang in there, bud. Okay?"
"Yeah," Finn sighed, stuffing the doll back into his backpack and ignoring its cries. "Thanks, Blaine. I'm sure between the two of us, we can get to the bottom of this."
Blaine nodded, but he wasn't all that sure. Maybe Kurt was the insane one. Blaine had never really believed that coming back to public school was in Kurt's best interest, but Kurt had insisted that all his trouble was taken care of now and that he really needed a place where he could be himself – Dalton wasn't it. Blaine understood, somewhat. Just because he felt more himself in the Dalton uniform than in anything else didn't mean that Kurt felt the same, right?
And just because Blaine was finally figuring out what he wanted, didn't mean Kurt felt the same anymore either, did it?
He watched as Kurt drove away, only to be surprised by a microphone in his face and a red-headed kid with dark-rimmed glasses asking him, "How does it feel to be bested by a rag-tag group of public school kids at the Regional Show Choir competition? Did you ever try to bribe your way to the top? How much hair gel do you use every day? Is that a jew-fro I detect? What nationality are you? Is it true you're openly gay? How does it feel to be the shortest male lead in the history of Ohio show choir?"
"What?" Blaine asked, dumbfounded before retreating to his car and going back home, ignoring the kid and trying to figure out how to get the truth out of Kurt.
When Burt got home from work, exhausted and nerves frayed within an inch of his life, he was glad to smell food already in the works. Carole had second shift this week and unless Kurt was home and felt up to cooking, Burt and Finn would usually make do with peanut butter sandwiches, those pseudo-potato chips that Kurt made him buy instead of the good ones, and root beer floats (diet root beer and soy ice cream, god help him). It filled the belly and it had become his and Finn's thing, but a guy can only stand so many peanut butter sandwiches before he starts craving steak and burgers and pizza. Well, now that he didn't have to pay tuition at Dalton, they could afford things like pizza again. Not that Kurt would let him eat it.
Hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes, Burt roamed toward the kitchen, shuffling through a stack of mail as he arrived, saying, "Hey, kiddo. What's for-"
Burt's words were cut off when he saw his son sitting on the kitchen counter (Kurt never let Burt do that!), all his limbs wrapped around that Mohawk kid, their faces real close together. It was Puckerman, the running back. He expected the two boys to jump apart, and frowned when they didn't. Instead, Puck just turned around in Kurt's embrace, facing Burt with a cocky little smirk that was just asking for a punch to the nose.
"Hi, dad," Kurt said from over his boyfriend's (?) shoulder. "We're having turkey a l'orange. It's supposed to be duck, but I would have had to special order the duck, and that just would not fit our budget at the moment. You remember Noah."
"Yeah," Burt grunted, before sighing and going to the fridge for a (light) beer. "This the guy you've been seeing, then? Never would've guessed by dinner last night." Burt knew in his bones that something had been up with his son lately. Why else would he have begged to transfer back to McKinley?
Burt also knew his son too well to miss the flash of surprise on Kurt's face, before it was covered up by feigned confusion. "I don't know what you mean, dad," the kid tried to say. "Noah and I just got together last night, after dinner. We got married so that your granddaughter could have a proper family."
"Granddaughter?" Burt asked, momentarily confused before he remembered that doll that Finn had been fussing over the night before. "Oh, right. Well, a baby does need both its parents, doesn't it?"
"I knew you'd understand!" Kurt cried, pushing his way out from behind Puck and hopping down from the counter. Then, Kurt hugged Burt tightly around the middle and said, "I knew you'd be okay with Puck moving in with us! Everyone else keeps trying to keep us apart, but I knew you'd do anything for me, right, Dad?"
Burt had no idea where Kurt had learned how to say things like this, but he had a suspicion it was from his grandmother, Burt's mother. It felt a lot like one of her little tests. Well, two could play at that game. Burt figured these two would get so sick of each other so quickly, they'd break up a lot quicker than if Burt was to try to keep them apart. Besides, if they were having sex, Burt would rather it be in his house than out in a car or something, where they could get arrested by the cops. "As long as Noah's mother knows what's going on, I'm fine," Burt grinned, almost laughing at Kurt's second flash of surprise in under two minutes. It was so rare that his kid was caught unawares that Burt had to savor it while it lasted. "Just keep it down, alright?"
"O-okay, Dad," Kurt replied, sharing a look with Puck as Burt left the room, beer in hand, to go watch some TV and rest his aching feet.
Sue Sylvester was doing her 10 a.m. patrol of the hallways, looking for things she could steal and victims to intimidate, when she saw the most disgusting sight she'd ever had the misfortune to witness. She'd heard about Holly Holliday's new Heath class project (Which she thought was an incredible waste of time – kids were going to screw up and have babies. Why make those mistakes easier on them by teaching them how to take care of a simulated infant? Survival of the fittest, people!) But she hadn't seen any of the dolls yet.
This sight in front of her took the cake. Was it a pimply, flat-chested floozy and a lame-brained Neanderthal with too many sperm and too many illegal substances in his system, struggling to take care of what amounted to a toy that anyone in her right mind would grow out of by the age of five? No, it was that confusingly feminine Porcelain and okay, half her expectations were right with the Puckerman kid standing next to him. They were wrapped up together and had their heads bent over what could be a very intriguing fruitcake, but was more likely one of Holliday's "learning experiences." Puckerman whispered into Porcelain's ear, making the doe-faced boy chuckle lightly and lean closer.
This had to end.
"Hummel! Puckerman! I wanna see eight inches between you two at all times!"
The two boys separated grudgingly, which made Sue smile. Her day wasn't complete until she ruined someone else's. It was a rule of physics or something, just ask Isaac Newton. Oh, you can't because he's dead? Too bad for you, then, reader.
"I suppose," Porcelain sighed, "if we can't express ourselves physically, Noah, we'll just have to audibly remind each other how much we love each other."
"You're right, bossy-boots," Pukerman (yes, pukerman, get over it) replied with a sickening smile. "We might just have to sing each other love songs all day. I could never live without you." Oh, god! There was singing now?
"Noah, You are the wind beneath my wings," Porcelain sang, a huge smile on his face and his eyes far too bright for a public school student. How dare that little twerp think he could get away with singing in her presence?
"That's it!" Sue cried. "Lunch-hour detention!"
"That's crap!" Pukerman cried, but Porcelain held him back.
"We didn't mean to offend you with our gayness," the kid insisted, pushing his boyfriend farther behind him, clearly breaking the eight-inches rule Sue had just put into place. She had to admire Kurt's nerve, just a little.
"Our awesomeness," Pukerman amended.
"Shut up, tiger," Kurt hissed. "Can't you see we're already in trouble?"
"Well, at least one of you has some good sense," Sue sniffed, frowning as she looked the up and down. "This has nothing to do with being gay and everything to do with how awful you both are. I expect to see you in detention."
"We'll be there, Coach!" Porcelain promised and Sue was about to walk away when he spoke up again. "Oh, and could we get your lawyer's number? Since we can't legally marry in this state, we'd like Gloria Allred to draw up the contracts we'll need to protect each other and our daughter in the event of some misfortune. Also, we'd like to sue the state of Ohio for the right to marry."
Now, Sue often said things before thinking them through, and claiming Gloria Allred as her lawyer was one of those things. But it was alright. She thought quickly on her feet. "You think the famous Gloria Allred has the time to deal with you warts? I don't think so, buddy. Find your own damn lawyer."
Sue walked away then, in the hopes of finding younger and dumber kids who were easier to terrify and manipulate. Her day just wasn't complete without it.
Mike had a standing meet-up with the glee guys in the park every Sunday afternoon to work on their dancing, play some basketball in the park, and complain about Rachel Berry. Usually only Sam and Puck came regularly, but sometimes Finn and Artie would show up. The Sunday after his friends started their Sex Ed project, it was just him and Puck. And Kurt.
"Uh, hi, guys," Mike said as he got to the picnic table where they normally met up. Puck was dribbling his basketball against the pavement at his feet, wearing his normal sweats, wife beater, and hoodie. What wasn't so normal was Kurt sitting on the table behind Puck, feet on the bench on either side of Puck's hips, and knees held close to Puck's ribs. Kurt wore something that Mike guessed was supposed to be active-wear, but looked more like Lisa's outfit from Fame. What? It was one of Tina's favorite movies, plus it had dancing, which Mike could totally appreciate.
Then, Mike noticed the absence of a certain crying bundle. "Where's Molly?" he asked, making sure to play into whatever delusion had been driving Kurt and Puck for the past week. No one had been able to break whatever joke they were playing, so Mike decided to just play along, because he liked having friends. Even if they were crazy.
"With my sister," Puck replied. "We're paying the little twerp to babysit for an hour or two."
"As a test run," Kurt added. "For date night."
"Date night?" Mike asked, pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.
"We've been together for almost six days now," Puck sighed before looking up at his "husband". "When you've been with someone for that long, you've gotta do something to keep the spark alive."
"Tina and I have been dating for eight months," Mike pointed out. "And we don't have a dedicated date night. Do you think we should?"
"Of course," Kurt replied, placing a kiss on Puck's cheek before standing up and lifting his iPod boom box onto the table. "I'm sure Tina would appreciate the extra romance."
"Yeah, dude," Puck agreed, tossing Mike the ball, which he just barely managed to catch. "You hittin' that? 'Cause if you're not, date night might be the key to gettin' in those cute little Asian skirts of Tina's."
Kurt sighed, but didn't say anything, so Mike dribbled the basketball a few times before asking, "Are you two okay?"
"Just tired," Kurt replied, giving Puck a significant look.
"What?" Puck asked, approaching the other boy and saying softly, "Kitten, we talked about this. Just wake me up when it's my turn to take care of the little ape. Please?" Kurt nodded in agreement and Mike thought it was weird how Puck so fondly called his Sex Ed project 'ape.' Though, when he was small, Mike's parents did have some awfully strange names for him. Like "poo-factory" and "brick." Nope, it was just better to ignore his friends' behavior and shoot some hoops. Maybe go through their numbers for nationals a few times, to make sure Puck had it down and wouldn't be half-assing it like he did sometimes.
Because Mike really wanted to do well, if only to show his mom that singing and dancing was just as worthwhile as becoming another Asian doctor.
Reviews please! This is going to be from everyone's POV, with Puck and Kurt at the end. Next up will be Puck's mom, Beiste, Brittany, Sarah, Emma, and Karofksy, before the final chapter. Thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!