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Chapter 2
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Puck knew that this was stupid. It was over and he should just move on, right? But the annoying thing was he couldn't; he just could not get the image of his baby girl out of his head. Beth had turned out so perfect and those hands had been so small, and those fingers had wrapped perfectly around his one. She'd squeezed him tighter than he figured a baby could, but this was his daughter; she could probably take on all the other wussy babies in that room. If babies could, like, fight and stuff . . . whatever.
Point being, those eyes had stared right at him and he was lost.
He hadn't really thought much about what would happen after Quinn gave up the kid. A part of him had been relieved – because he would've done right by her, no lie, he wasn't his father (he wasn't), but it would've been so hard, and he probably would've still found a way to mess it all up. So, better that she was with someone less likely to be a fuck-up and already graduated from high school. But then Ms. Corcoran had walked away and he . . . he wanted to chase her down and say it was all mistake – that he and Quinn had changed their minds. He knew Quinn felt the same. She'd burst into tears the second Ms. Corcoran was out of sight.
Puck felt guilty because he had kinda wanted to give Beth away, and how didn't that make him like his dad – like someone who would walk away from their family?
He was an utter failure at everything he touched. His pool cleaning business was totally going down, because, well . . . a lot of the hot housewives in this town lived in more or less the same neighbourhood, or close to it. And who else happened to live in that same, nice neighbourhood? Beth and her new mommy.
He couldn't bang some cougar, knowing that his little daughter was down the street, or a few blocks over, or even just behind the house he was in. He couldn't and how fucked up was that?
Then Ms. Corcoran had forgiven the debt he and Finn owed, and even though it was cool having the extra cash, he'd had to quit his job at Sheets N' Things, because so many things were already making him feel like crap; he didn't need those friggin' ugly smocks to put him in an even crappier mood.
Not to mention he was pretty sure Mr. Ryerson had tried to grab his butt. More than once.
So, now he was cleaning pools of non-cougar types – and it paid less since he didn't get tips for . . . extra labour. He was kind of working at Hummel's Tires and Lube, but only 'kinda'. Kurt was still teaching him about cars and engines, and it was pretty hard. But he liked doing that, at least. Even when Kurt got all huffy each time Puck forgot the name of some part or how it worked. It wasn't Puck's fault; it was hard to take the dude seriously when he had oil and grease spots all over his normally pristine face, and when he pouted, Kurt looked like he was about the same age as Puck's little sister – sometimes he had to stop himself from giving the guy a noogie like he did Sarah when she was getting on his nerves.
Not that he would ever do that with Mr. Hummel around. He was pretty sure that guy could brain him with a wrench and then keep right on working, stepping over Puck's bloody body without a thought. He probably wouldn't even stop to wash the wrench. The way he stared sometimes while Puck was working with Kurt – he would swear the man was reading his mind . . . which, just for the record, sir, I would never hurt your son. Like, ever. Not even a noogie. And the lawn furniture thing wasn't my idea! Puck was on the other side of town from the Hummels, but just in case Burt Hummel's mind reading powers were like, Jedi Master level crazy, he sent the thought out there.
He stared at Ms. Corcoran's house for a while before glancing at his wristwatch. It had been half an hour and he hadn't caught a glimpse of his girl or her adopted mother. She probably had put Beth down for a nap or something. It was time to head on out.
Quinn had come to see him that morning before he headed over to the garage and told him she wasn't going to allow him to drag her here again. And she warned him that what he was doing was not only unhealthy, but that someone was bound to notice the red, rusty pick-up truck that was parked in the same spot almost everyday for a substantial amount of time. Especially in a neighbourhood of housewives, half of which he had screwed at one point or another.
Puck had nodded like he was listening, which he had been, somewhat, and now he parked the truck somewhere different each time – and made sure it wasn't in front of the house of one of his ex-clients. He'd made that mistake once already, and it was a pretty uncomfortable one.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, answering it before it could even ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, dude, I know you just spent the morning at the garage, but you wanna come over and have some lunch? We can play Call of Duty when we're done. And maybe some Left for Dead."
Puck shrugged, and then realized Finn couldn't see that. "Uh, yeah, okay. I'll be there in twenty."
"Uh, better make it forty – I don't think your truck can take those speeds. Why don't you let Kurt fix it?"
"'Cause I told you – I wanna do it myself," Puck stated stubbornly, "And the fairy says I'm not ready yet."
"Hey," and Finn's voice became serious, "listen, watch it with those words, man. Kurt's my friend, and he's had to deal with enough of that crap at school – I've told you to cut it out. And I mean it."
Puck sighed heavily, but apologized – it was pathetic, but he really didn't want to mess up this thing with Finn. "Yeah, fine, dude. Sorry. I'll see ya in a bit."
"Cool. Bye."
Puck stared at his phone for a minute before pulling out and heading to the Hummel-Hudson household. The whole thing with Finn was weird. They weren't back to being best friends – he wasn't sure if they ever would be – but Finn was being surprisingly cool about everything.
It had taken Puck some time to get why Finn was so pissed off in the first place – yeah, he'd snaked his girlfriend, and that was totally against the bro-code, but he'd figured Finn had always understood his sex shark tendencies. He could get the being ticked part, but not why Finn held onto the grudge for as long as he did.
Now, he got it – at least a little – he got how . . . wrong the whole thing was. Quinn helped him understand some of it, just by being there for him, even when he was being, according to her, a total douche (which she had explained using some not-nice words he didn't even think she knew). Mercedes had helped him a little more, telling him how much she didn't like the dumpster-tossing jock he was (used to be). Then Finn, right after Beth . . . Puck remembered the conversation that he and Finn had had, word for word:
"Dude." Finn looked at him, and Puck tried to look indifferent, but his baby had just been adopted, and he was still feeling a bit shocked – and traumatized – by the whole birthing experience. But mostly, he was tired and shaky, and . . . oh God, Beth. Beautiful, perfect Beth, who looked like Quinn, but he thought maybe she might have his eyes.
"Puck." Finn nudged him lightly this time and Puck just stared back, not saying anything.
Finn sighed heavily. "Listen. We're not best friends anymore, okay? I mean, sleeping with your best friend's girl, getting her pregnant, and then the whole letting me think it was mine –"
Puck wanted to point out that that last particular bit of nastiness was mostly Quinn's fault, but he didn't. If the situation had been reversed, he now realized that he would have still been ticked at Finn anyways – because Puck should have told Finn, regardless of Quinn's issues, because he and Finn were like brothers, once.
"But . . . this is really messed up. And you look really messed up. And it just . . . I can be your friend, if you want. Just not your best friend. Not yet. Maybe never, I don't know. But for now . . ."
He slid a hand onto Puck's shoulder, and suddenly, Puck was staring at the floor, his daughter's small, pink face all he could see, besides the inexplicable blurring of his vision – oh shit, tears. He wiped at his eyes as subtly as he could before looking up at Finn.
Finn gave him a smile. Puck tried to return it, but he knew it was half-assed. And that was it. No other words needed to be said.
He and Finn, they weren't not-not talking that last month school, but after Beth, Finn actually nodded 'hello' when he saw Puck, and they sorta smiled at each other over jokes and stuff. Before that, there had been nothing. No eye contact, no nods, no acknowledgement of any kind. Well, except for the slashing of the tires thing – which had been fun.
Now things were getting even better. Puck hadn't realized how much he missed the big idiot until Finn invited him over to shoot some hoops for the first time in months. Quinn had unfortunately witnessed his totally not-cool reaction to it.
As Puck turned onto the street that Finn and Kurt lived on, he noticed the gay kid's SUV parked in the driveway ('gay kid' was better than 'fairy', he figured, and hell, Kurt was doing him a solid with all the car crap he was teaching him, so he could try and do what Finn told him). That was weird – Kurt had been all over the place the past couple of weeks. Finn had mentioned that he barely saw the other boy any more.
Puck parked his truck in front of the house, walking up and giving the door a sharp rap. A few seconds later he was facing the wrench-wielding princess himself. The gay kid. Oh . . . fuck it, who cared what he called the boy inside his own head? Maybe he'd slip once or twice and say it out loud, but Kurt gave as good as he got anyway – plus, he and Hummel Jr. had an understanding. A mutual-insult sort of understanding.
Kurt gave him a raised eyebrow as greeting. "Puck. I heard your truck coming down the street. It's giving out its death throes."
"Yeah, well, it would be alive and kicking if you would just graduate me already and lemme try and fix it," he growled out as Kurt stood to one side, letting him in.
"You mean let you mangle it beyond recognition. Sorry, unfortunately I'm too nice a person to let you do that. And I would probably end up having to fix it myself afterward, which is entirely much more work than I'm willing to put into a piece of crap – especially considering I won't be getting paid for it anytime soon."
Puck scowled, but let Kurt have that round. The other boy headed towards the kitchen, picking up a mug of tea. "Look, I have Quinn and Mercedes coming over soon, so just head on over to Finn's room – he's already plugged in. Oh, and take those cookies with you – Carole baked them yesterday, and someone needs to eat them before I cave and break my 'one dessert a week' rule."
Puck snorted. "Cookies aren't dessert – they're a snack. Dessert is a triple layered chocolate cake with three pounds of icing on top and ice cream on the side." Yeah, his mom had baked one of those for his twelfth birthday and it had been heaven. Kurt choked, eyes glazing over and Puck made a mental note to show up one day with a massive chocolate cake and ice cream – it would totally make his day to watch baby Hummel crack, pig out, and then bitch like a queen after. Heh.
He grabbed the plate of cookies, brushing against the Vogue magazine sitting on the table, knocking it off and revealing . . .
"Dude, I've never seen you take more than a sip of wine at dinner when your dad lets you – what the hell are you doing with so many flyers for AA?"
Kurt grabbed them all up, pressing them against his chest, glaring. "None of your business. Now go be a good boy and play."
But something about this was fishy, and Puck couldn't figure out what. He knew Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Hummel were clean – and Finn was a pussy when it came to drinking – so stupid for someone his size. Puck wracked his brains and . . . oh.
"It's for Quinn's mom, right?"
Kurt stared. "You know?"
"Well, yeah – I've been over once or twice, and I've seen her at it. I've never actually seen her get shitfaced though. I think she's pretty good at hiding it from Quinn – or at least keeping her from seeing her boozed up and puking." Puck watched Kurt's eyes widen.
"Allow me to clarify – you know and haven't tried to do anything?"
Puck stared right back. "What the hell am I suppose to do?"
Kurt sighed, glancing down at the pamphlets. "Yeah, never mind. I suppose it's too much to ask you to think, let alone to think outside the box."
Puck put down the cookies and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey, Quinn's my friend too, fairy," and there it was, "But it isn't like I can throw her mom into rehab to dry out. Or tell Quinn to get the hell out of there. Her mom isn't too bad – and she isn't beating on her or even yelling. It's all apologies and love and tears."
"It's also Quinn taking on all the responsibilities of an adult – including trying to deal with the mess that was her pregnancy. Which you haven't been helping with, considering your own messed-upness," Kurt accused.
What? Puck blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about spying on Ms. Corcoran and your child, you Mountain of Moron," Kurt spat out. "You think dragging Quinn over there was a good idea? Do you think it helped her any? Is it helping you?"
Puck made an angry motion – he wasn't going to hit Kurt or anything, but the diva flinched as if he was. Puck clenched his jaw and stared at the wall, trying to figure out what exactly had him so pissed off at the other boy.
Which was when Finn walked into the kitchen, of course.
The tall teen glanced between his two friends, looking confused. He stepped up to Kurt, standing slightly in-between the two boys, and Puck felt even more annoyed. Because Finn was going to take Kurt's side no matter what, and it sucked.
"Is everything okay?"
Kurt looked around Finn, catching Puck's eye. "Yes, Finn. Puck is just frustrating me with his lack of memory skills – I was just explaining the function of the carburetor for the twentieth time. If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to head downstairs and prep things for my visitors."
He walked around Finn and Puck, not looking back.
Finn shrugged. "Sorry, man. I know you got enough of that this morning. Just . . . try and keep it together with him. He does like you, you know."
Puck snorted incredulously. "Right. Let's go blow shit up. I need me some carnage."
OOOOOOOOOOOO
Shooting the crap out of little people on a screen seemed like a great idea – until Puck heard the front door opening and closing, and a few minutes after that, the sound of Mercedes and Quinn laughing.
Then Finn totally murdered him and kept right on massacring him until he paused the game, turning to Puck. "All right, tell me, what's going on?"
"Why? Keep playing." He tried to grab Finn's controller, but Finn just held it up out of reach. He could do that, the damn freakish Frankenteen.
"No way. I know something's wrong. Tell me what it is and we can go back to shooting Nazis."
Puck tossed his own controller onto the floor, next to the empty boxes of leftover Chinese and the crumb-filled plate that had once been full of cookies. "Man, can we just play? I do not do the talking thing. Just ask your girlfriend – we barely stopped making out long enough to do anything else."
He knew it was low the second he said it, but Finn only looked angry for about a minute before turning off the TV and facing Puck, completely serious. "Fine. Just so you know, you're making me do this. You're going to tell me what the hell is going on. And let's start off with this: does it have something to do with Quinn? Or is it Beth? Or both?"
Puck glared, keeping his mouth shut. Finn rolled his eyes, and suddenly he was up in Puck's space, so close his nose brushed against Puck's, and what the fuck? ! Puck shoved Finn anyway and scrambled backwards all in the same movement. "Dude, what the hell!"
Finn gave him a mischievous grin. "You said you don't talk – you just make out. So either talk to me, or get with the making out."
"Man, living with the gay kid has messed you up!"
Finn retreated, allowing Puck the room to sit back up, Puck making sure to keep plenty of space between the two of them. "It's not a gay thing. But you're right, Kurt has taught me a lot about dealing with asshole jocks – he says they're all 'secretly terrified of people who are different, who cause them to constantly question their own masculinity and so feel the need to humiliate others to re-establish their identity'."
Puck stared. "Holy crap, that was scary. You win. Just . . . don't even think of trying that again and don't channel Kurt at me – it's bad enough there's one of him around."
There was a long silence. Finn shut off both the TV and the console, and if trying to hug or kiss or whatever hadn't proved he was serious, that did. Puck glared at the floor accusingly, blaming Kurt, blaming Quinn, blaming the universe at large, before finally speaking. "I'm messed up dude. Beth's part of it, but . . . I think Quinn needs more from me than I can give her. I . . . sorta love her, you know." God, this was so pathetic. He was going to have to start going to his fight club twice a week to make up for it.
Finn said nothing, just sat quietly for a minute. Then, "I thought you guys weren't dating."
"We're not." He really hated how depressed-sounding that came out. "I mean, we tried, but there's no action . . . and there's only really one thing that we talk about anymore. And Quinn . . . she's the one who sorta broke it off, 'cause she's dealing with more than I am. I mean, Beth is one thing, but Quinn doesn't have . . . she lost her family, dude. And that . . . that was partially my fault, you know? And now she's dealing with this crap from her mom and . . ."
"What crap?" Finn asked abruptly. "Is she okay? Is everything all right – there isn't any –"
"Nah, man, she isn't getting abused on or anything it's just . . .," Puck let out a breath. "We're trying to deal with adult shit, and it's like a crash course in it. I feel crappy for giving up Beth, but at the same time, like, I know if we kept her, we'd've screwed it up somehow. But that doesn't stop me – stop us – from missing her like crazy and wanting her with us. For us to be a family."
Finn didn't say anything this time, just gestured at Puck to continue. Puck rolled his eyes, glowering, but he did keep on talking – now that he'd started it, he couldn't stop. "And Quinn's mom is messed up too. She's drinking, and it isn't as bad as it could be . . . but it's still pretty bad. And too much on top of everything else. Kurt and Mercedes are trying to help her out."
Finn considered this for a while, and Puck shifted uncomfortably, waiting for . . . he didn't know what, he just knew he wanted this touchy-feely talking crap to end.
"Well, Quinn's stuff isn't your fault – it's her stupid dad's fault. And whatever's goin' on with her mom . . . if Mercedes and Kurt are trying to do something about it, it'll get fixed, no doubt about it . . . But about Beth . . . dude, you haven't talked to me about her either . . . I think this is the first time you've ever told me that you miss her."
Puck clenched his jaw, glaring at the floor again. "It isn't weird – to miss my daughter. I didn't want to talk about this with you 'cause of the whole . . . you thinkin' she was yours thing . . ."
Finn looked up at the ceiling for a bit. "Yeah, well . . . that was pretty friggin' messed, not gonna lie. But you're her real father, and it makes sense to miss her, man. You did right by her – putting her up for adoption."
"I know I did," Puck ground out. "That isn't the point."
Finn cocked his head. "So what is?"
I miss her, I want her. I want to know how she's doing at every Goddamned second of the day. I want to watch her walk for the first time, hear her talk for the first time, and I wanna put her drawings on my fridge and drive her school. I wanna chase off any stupid-ass boys with mohawks and cases of wine coolers . . .
Puck rubbed at his temples. "I'm done, dude, it's over . . . there's nothing I can do about it – so let's just drop it, okay? Good. Now turn the damn game back on."
Finn took in a deep breath, ignoring Puck and staring at the controller in his hand. "I gave my mom all the money I saved for . . . for Beth."
Puck turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"I had all this money saved, you know, for the baby I thought was mine. And after . . . all that crap happened, I just . . . I didn't want it – I didn't want to spend it, didn't want to even know about it. So I gave it to my mom, and she . . . I don't know, but I figure she probably added it to my college fund or something."
Puck wasn't sure what the point of all this was (other than to make him feel like complete and utter scum . . . again), so he just watched as Finn began putting the Xbox 360 away.
"Once I calmed down enough not to want to beat your face in every time I saw you, I was thinking . . . maybe after she was born . . . I would write you and Quinn a check . . . have that be my, I don't know, baby shower gift."
Puck really felt like a douchebag now. Seriously, it was such a pain, this newfound awareness of his. He inwardly cursed Quinn, Mercedes and Finn for bringing out his own personal Jiminy Cricket from whatever rock he was hiding under because shit, it sucked to feel this guilty.
"After Beth was gone . . . I just felt . . . cheated, I guess. Like I hadn't realized it, but I'd been imagining the look on your face when I gave you that check, and then being around to watch you and Quinn change diapers and stuff, and being all grossed out, and having Beth with us for Glee practise and . . ." Finn stopped here, finally looking at him. "I wasn't the only one planning and imagining. I think Kurt was designing, like, a whole wardrobe for her."
Puck felt a little awestruck now – holy crap, was this for real?
"I get it, Puck, I think I get it more than the others do . . . because I thought Beth was mine . . . and then you and Quinn took that away from me. And then after . . . I thought maybe I could be a cool uncle or something, and that got taken away too . . . I just . . . I know how much it sucks, how it hurts – I know you're still thinking about her growing up, without you around. Maybe it still doesn't come close to what you're feeling – 'cause you're actually her dad, and you actually got to hold her and love her before she was taken away but . . . dude, I get some of it, and I'm telling you – the pain, it gets easier to deal with."
Puck didn't know what to do with everything Finn had just thrown at him. He felt a bit disoriented and . . . God, was his chest hurting? What the hell?
"Finn – look, man, I appreciate what you're saying –"
"It still hurts Puck, but maybe you just need to wait, for a little while – eventually it won't hurt as much, and then maybe you can start to . . . let it go?"
Right there, right there was where Finn lost him, because Puck couldn't imagine ever being able to 'let this go'. But Puck wasn't going to tell Finn that – and he really did appreciate everything Finn was telling him, even if it made him feel like the worst asshole in the entire universe for how he treated him before. Like, second only to Hitler. Or maybe third – had to throw Stalin in there too . . . and Jack the Ripper . . . and that douche that cheated on Sandra Bullock – because if Puck had Sandra Bullock (his secret celebrity crush since he hid behind the couch years ago to watch While You Were Sleeping without his mom knowing) Puck wouldn't even need to try to make monogamy happen.
Wait, where was he? Oh right – Finn was treating him way better than a fifth place asshole like him deserved.
"Thanks, Finn," Puck said finally, and left it at that.
Finn clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Anytime, dude. Now, let's go see what Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn are up to – and if we can help or something. I didn't know things were that bad with Quinn."
Puck nodded at that, even though he really didn't feel up to much of anything right now.
What if they were doing stuff like painting each other's nails or . . . having a naked pillow fight? Which, on any other occasion, would be awesome, but Fairy Princess Hummel was down there, and that was so not something he wanted to see. Unless . . . wait, not ever. Puck took a mental rolled-up newspaper to his horndog tendencies – damn it, this was what happened when he hadn't been laid in a while – the hot make out session with Clara (Chandra? Cara?) the cashier at Sheet's 'N Things, and the blowjob from that waitress at Breadstix (Melissa? Mara?) so did not count. Plus, those two had been near the beginning of the summer and nothing had been going down since then.
When they made it down to the basement (after Finn knocked to make sure that they weren't having that naked pillow fight), Mercedes, Quinn and Kurt were sitting on the floor, surrounded by the pamphlets Puck had seen earlier.
Quinn quickly wiped at her eyes, but they were red-rimmed and gleaming.
"Uh, sorry," Puck said without thinking, but inwardly it surprised him – because he really meant it.
Quinn smiled. "What for? You haven't done anything particularly stupid or jackass-ish recently, that I haven't already reamed you out for."
"Sorry . . . it's a sorry for . . . not being a good friend and stuff." He held back a glare when Kurt raised an eyebrow, a smug look on his pale face. "I knew your mom wasn't . . . okay, and I should've tried to talk to you about it . . . so yeah."
Quinn looked at Kurt, who quickly schooled his expression into one of innocence (which with his wide, wide blue eyes and little boy looks, made it damn easy . . . stupid gay-kid). She rolled her eyes at them both, but her smile became a touch warmer. "Don't worry about it, Puck. We've all got problems – and you and I have one in common. I figure one set of baggage for each friend will tide us over nicely."
Finn shuffled further into the room, clearing his throat. "So, uh, is there a plan or something?"
Kurt raised his eyebrow again. "Well, or something. I assume your bumbling apology means you're going to try and help us?"
Puck rolled his eyes. "Yes, your high and mighty Gayness, can I please be part of this?"
Finn shot Puck a warning look, but Kurt just took a second to think about it, before glancing over at Quinn. "You okay with him joining us?"
Quinn shrugged. "Sure, why not? Actually, wait, don't answer that. Just . . . it's fine, with me." And her smile was a lot warmer this time. Puck smiled back.
"All right, Puckerman, sit your ass down and listen," Mercedes slid back and in closer to Quinn as Finn and Puck sat down in their little circle. "We basically want Quinn to stage an intervention for her mom . . . we're thinking sometime over the weekend, when there's no work or nothing – plenty of time to chat. And we're considering being there – not actually there there. But like, waiting down in the car, in case things don't go over too well."
Puck looked down at the pamphlets, frowning to himself – he didn't like that plan all that much. Finn leaned back on his hands. "That sounds good and all but . . . but I don't think Quinn should be there alone."
"I'm sorry, but I can't have you guys there," Quinn said, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "It's . . . it's personal, okay? I mean, my mom doesn't need to have a bunch of kids telling her she has a problem – I may be a teenager, but I'm her daughter. It needs to come from me, and only me."
"Doesn't your mom have any friends that you could –" Finn started but Quinn was already shaking her head.
"No . . . a lot of them were . . . more like friends of her and my dad. And even though what my dad did isn't exactly a . . . secret, they don't really want to have much to do with her, anymore. Especially because of my own . . . issues. And stuff. They're all . . . I mean, when my mom and I go to church, they say hi, and say that they're 'praying for us', and then get as far away from us as they can. I don't need or want their help. And my mom's new friends from work are nice and all but . . . they don't know her well enough to . . . it's on me, okay? It's all on me."
Her voice wavered and broke at the end of that, and she was wrapped in a hug from both Mercedes and Kurt, leaving Finn looking really sorry he asked, and Puck feeling really uncomfortable. But he was not backing down now that he was in this. Even though everything in him was telling him to hide from the tears – to get away from the crying, he crossed his arms and forced down his flight instincts.
"Lady Fab, we're gonna be right there – waiting for you downstairs and . . .," Mercedes pulled back from the hug. Quinn pulled away too, though she was still pressed a bit against Kurt. Mercedes chewed on her lip before continuing. "I was thinkin' . . . if you wanted, until everything with your mom is cleared up . . . you could come live with me again? My parents won't mind it – they missed you like crazy when they realized you're the reason why the dishwasher was emptied every morning and all the laundry folded – and 'cause you made my brothers actually wear clothes around the house. Your room is just like you left it."
Quinn wiped her tears and Kurt loosened his embrace enough to let her sit up straighter. "I . . . I don't know, 'Cedes – I don't like the idea of leaving my mom alone –"
"She can come see you anytime – and you can go see her anytime, it's not like we live that far."
"I have to admit, I like the idea," Kurt added.
"I like it too," Puck said slowly. "I, uh, I don't think you should get back with your mom until she can prove she can take care of you. When my mom went through her rough patch after my dad . . . my uncle Jacob told her to get her act together, for my sister and me, or else he would take us from her. A week later, all the bottles were in the garbage . . . there hasn't been a drop in my house since. It's why I gotta beg on Fridays to get my beers."
He ignored some of the mildly surprised looks shot his way at that bit of sharing. Specifically from Kurt and Mercedes – Finn already knew about that stuff.
"So I give my mom the chance to get her act together," Quinn insisted, looking at them all pleadingly. "I would hate myself forever if I left and that . . . I don't know, made her worse or something. I can't, I won't."
Mercedes grabbed her tight-fisted hand. "All right, all right – I get it, it's cool. Just know that you can always come on by and crash if you ever need to – for however long you want. But I'm – we – are not going to force you to do anything."
Puck stared at the two girls that he had dated and wondered if he was a total asswipe for still picturing that naked pillow fight (without Kurt this time, thank his Jewish God). But he was also worrying about Quinn (and who said guys couldn't multi-task?), and he said as much as Mercedes lead Quinn away to help clean her up and hide evidence of tears.
"I just think maybe you should try and change her mind," Puck pushed on as soon as the bathroom door closed.
Kurt frowned at him. "Why? And by 'why', I mean, 'why the hell are you suddenly so interested?' "
Puck rolled his eyes. "Your bitchiness finally got through to me, jackass. That's the . . . the mother of child in there, so screw you, but I wanna make sure she's somewhat happy and safe."
Finn cleared his throat. "I'm with Kurt, dude. Quinn'll be okay. And Kurt and Mercedes are totally gonna stay on top of this, let us know if she needs any serious help, right Kurt?"
Kurt nodded. "Of course. Now, if you two don't mind, I'm going to see if I can help my two girls – you may retreat back into your respective caves."
Finn shrugged. "Okay – you tell us when this is all going down though – I kinda want to be there. Quinn deserves all our support."
Finn was such a nice guy . . . it really sucked. Puck used to like it – because it meant that he could be as mean as he wanted and the universe worked itself out. Except now that he actually felt bad for some of his . . . lesser moments, Finn being nice only rubbed it in further – reminded him of the fifth place asshole that he was.
"Hey, Puck." Kurt turned around before he opened the door to the bathroom, and actually smiled. Not smirked, not scowled, but a full on, real smile. "You're coming along quite nicely – we may make a half-way decent person out of you yet."
And he flounced into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Puck didn't really know what to make of that, but it did sorta put him in a good mood. He turned down Finn's offer for more videogames though – he wanted to head home, maybe catch a five-hour nap. Maybe jam on his guitar or look up some actual naked pillow fights online. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.
He got into his truck, glancing at the time as he put it in gear. It was just past three. He froze, chewing hard on the inside of his cheek.
Sometimes Ms. Corcoran took Beth out to the park near her house around this time.
Puck pulled out of the Hummel-Hudson driveway and then idled for a bit. He pushed aside all the voices (Quinn's and Kurt's mostly) telling him that this was stupid, unhealthy (not to mention stalkerish), and helping no one.
He should just get to his computer, look up some porn since that was currently his only way to get some kind of action, and forget about . . .
He turned in the opposite direction of his house – he would just drive by before heading back home. Just a few minutes, a quick glimpse, and fuck the rest of them. He could handle this. He could.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
It's so easy to be smart
With somebody else's heart
But I don't know where to start forgetting you
What can I do?
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: Well, I found Puck easier to write than Quinn . . . but what to actually do with the delightful asshole was another thing entirely. I proofread this rather quickly so please, if there are any mistakes, let me know and I shall fix them.
Again, hope you all enjoyed, and see you next chapter, wherein there shall be further gleek involvement! Unfortunately, I don't know exactly when that will be, as I don't have it completely written yet, but I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. Any feedback from you guys will add fuel to the fire - thanks for reading!