OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 3

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Quinn had no problems whatsoever right now.

Right now, in this moment, she was watching Rachel and Kurt trying to rip each other's throats out and honestly? She wanted to film this and send the DVD in as a pitch for a reality show. This was absolutely one of the most entertaining things she'd seen this summer.

She had sneaked into the auditorium with Mercedes, Finn, Matt, Santana, Brittany, Artie and Mike following close behind her. She wasn't expecting anyone other than Finn and Mercedes to meet her at the theatre. They were going to pick up Kurt and then go with her, to be there while she spoke with her mother. So to pull up to the parking lot outside the community centre and see the two extra cars unloading a bunch of other gleeks . . . it was a surprise. And she didn't really know how to feel about all of them knowing – which they obviously did considering the hugs and sympathetic looks she was getting. Santana actually didn't scowl, for once, and sort of patted her on the shoulder. Which was incredibly weird.

Now, going back to the amazing bitchfest at the theatre.

They had walked in covertly and sat down near the middle row in the auditorium – just on the edge of the darkness that started where the stage lights ended. And it was perfect. Rachel was directing a group of kids, half dressed in their costumes (some items and fabrics which looked strangely familiar), and she was stepping in every few minutes to either correct their stance or . . . sing their parts.

"If you hit that note – which admittedly you could probably only achieve with my years of experience and extensive training – then we'll have achieved perfection! But, I understand the limits of your youth and lack of musical backgrounds, so we'll settle for less than perfect! Remember, 'if you shoot for the moon and miss, you still land among stars'!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. The girls (and one boy – but he was young and vaguely girl-like) playing the orphans were actually pretty good – and enthusiastic despite Rachel's 'encouraging' words. Quinn also noted that while the lights were trained on the kids there was also a spotlight trained on Rachel and it followed her around the stage. Constantly. Somehow, this did not surprise her at all.

Then, in the middle of 'It's a Hard-Knock Life', Kurt came strolling onto the stage, an army of pre-teen girls following him. For a long moment he just stood there, hands on his hips, as if posing. The singing tapered off as all the kids on the stage sort of shuffled backwards, exchanging looks. Some were frightened, others wearied . . . but most of them looked like they were two seconds away from pulling up some chairs and breaking out the popcorn.

Rachel whipped around to glare at Kurt and his posse. "Yes, Mr. Hummel, what can I do for you?"

Kurt moved one hand off his hips, lifting it up slowly to point directly at Rachel. "You. You evil parody of fashion incarnate, you did not just send back all the fabric I special ordered. I know you did not do that because that would be an act inviting retribution the likes of which you have never seen – righteous justice that would make the wrathful God of the Old Testament seem like Ned Flanders."

"I did!" Rachel said defiantly, completely ignoring the widening eyes of their younger charges. "It was completely wrong for Warbucks! I mean, a violet waistcoat with –"

"Cashmere was wrong for a millionaire?" Kurt hissed out, his back-up of prepubescent girls tensing right along with him. "You're just angry that I pilfered a few items from your wardrobe –"

"Try half, you –"

"To make the fantastically awful costumes for the orphans." Quinn and Mercedes had to bite their lips and cover their mouths to keep from bursting out laughing. "I did you a favour both in creating the wonderfully accurate get-ups of our poor little orphan children and in giving you the opportunity to dress less like the lovechild of an old lady's animal sweater collection and an uncoordinated kindergartner – it was an act of friendship. This" – here he brandished a patch of fabric – "this is atrocious and uncalled for! Are you trying to sabotage our play?"

"Polyester is cheaper and a perfectly acceptable fabric! And for the last time, it's my play!"

"I am in charge of the wardrobe department now, Berry, so either get me my fabric back or I go back to your house for another afternoon tea with your fathers in order to steal the other half of your closet! And I thought the deal was that we split responsibilities, therefore making it our play!"

They were almost nose-to-nose now, breathing hard and glaring into each other's eyes. Rachel reared back and for a dizzying moment, Quinn could have sworn she was going to slap him – but no, she just stuck a pointed finger in Kurt's face and burst out with, "I may have made you co-director, but I am still the one Mr. and Mrs. Grant put in charge of this musical, and that means I make all the executive decisions, and that means my fabrics stay!"

Kurt reared back, his entire form stiffening. His entourage waited breathlessly behind him.

Quinn nudged Mercedes, pointing at the totally helplessly puppy-love expressions on their faces . . . Kurt hadn't mentioned that. Although, that was probably because he hadn't noticed, dense idiot that he was. Santana murmured quietly to Brittany, "Huh. Hummel's got his own groupies – sorry Britt, looks like some preemies may have beaten you to the punch."

Brittany huffed. "No way. Kurt is totally my make-out friend, and those girls are such skanks."

Quinn stared at the adorable, perfectly decently dressed (Kurt's influence she was willing to bet) and completely enamored group of twelve and thirteen year old girls . . . Oh God, between Kurt's entourage and Rachel's diva-fit, Quinn was going to be rolling on the floor laughing soon.

"All right, Rachel, you leave me no choice. I tried to be reasonable. I gave you a chance. I let you completely change the choreography to my numbers with minimal insulting. I let you determine the rehearsal schedules and the deadlines for costumes, insane though they are – but you have finally forced my hand. Tina, do it!"

And suddenly Rachel's spotlight, that had been following her throughout the entire argument, went dark.

Rachel spluttered in the darkness and spent a few minutes wandering somewhat . . . lost, around the stage, but at every lit portion, she was turned away with a warning flickering of light.

Kurt stood triumphantly in his own spotlight. "That's right, Director Berry – I control the lights now. Which means, now that half the departments will only take final orders from me, I am officially your equal. Therefore, if you will acquiesce to admitting that I am in fact, your partner, and not your subordinate, I will graciously admit you into my spotlight, and allow you to listen to my compromise."

Quinn had to sit on her hands to prevent herself from bursting into applause. Kurt stood regally, the anger eradicated from his features by absolute victory.

Rachel crossed her arms in the shadows, staring at her feet before tentatively approaching Kurt's light.

"What are your terms?" she asked, still annoyed, still defiant.

Kurt eased his stance a little, smiling. "They are simple – we work within our own departments, with no interference from one another – we will keep each other informed of progress and changes. If there is something that we consider highly objectionable and we can not resolve it on our own, then we put it to a vote," Kurt indicated the girls behind him and the actors on the stage. "We let the others decide because, after all, this is more about them then it is about us."

Rachel clenched her jaw, but she glanced around at the people surrounding her . . . including various back-stage helpers that were emerging, shyly and fearfully from the wings. The stage was full to the brim with everyone involved in the play, and Rachel finally softened her expression, turning back to Kurt with an apologetic smile.

"Agreed – and I'm sorry about your fabrics. Some of them were lovely. And there were some good bargains in terms of pricing."

"And your choreography did end up being better suited for some of those songs, I was actually mildly impressed." He held out his hand, shaking hers firmly.

"All right, Tina, let her have it!" Kurt announced. Rachel's spotlight returned, and there was resounding applause from everyone on the stage.

Brittany started clapping too. "Wow, that was really good. But I don't get it – which one of them is Annie?"

Quinn gave in and burst out laughing, clapping and crying herself into a fit of hysteria. Everyone else joined in, catching the attention of their friends on the stage.

Kurt squinted out into the seats, breaking into a wide, happy smile. Rachel waved at Finn excitedly – he was already striding down the aisle and Rachel leapt off the stage when he reached it, almost knocking him flat onto the ground. "Hi!"

"Hey!" He grinned. "So, it's awesome that you and Kurt are cool now – does that mean we can go back to making out in my house instead of yours? 'Cause, uh, my mom and Burt don't knock on the door every five seconds when you're over."

"I told you that was just my dads being overprotective after the whole thing with Jesse." Rachel sighed, then perked up. "But yes, your house would be much more . . . agreeable than mine for making out!"

"Ms. Berry?" A little girl with braided pigtails stepped forward. "Are we . . . um, done for today? Because our parents are waiting–"

"Oh yes, Penelope, all of you." Rachel whipped around within the circle of Finn's arms. "Well done today – though, keep in mind we still have a long way to go before we are even close to the standards I expect for opening night. But, yes, we'll finish . . . oh, we're finishing on time . . . well –"

"Yes, it's nice when we don't push things an hour later than we're suppose, isn't it? Oh, and Penny, you really sounded great – I liked that little twirl you added at the end of your verse."

Penny giggled. "You should, it was your idea. But thanks anyway Kurt! Bye, Ms. Berry!"

There were similar calls as the actors and stagehands bolted from the auditorium. Rachel, it seemed, wanted to get a head start on the making out, and was pulling Finn into an enthusiastic kiss.

Quinn knew she was making a face, but she couldn't help it: couldn't they keep it behind closed doors?

Kurt grinned down at her and Mercedes. "Hey ladies, want to help me one up Rachel and catch me after a fantastic triple flip off stage?"

Mercedes snorted. "Baby, I love you, don't get me wrong, but you jump off that stage and the only thing catching you is the floor here."

Quinn, on the other hand, held out her arms, grinning widely. "Go right ahead – I'm not too sure about the strength in my arms after months of no Cheerios' practise, but –"

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "As kind as your offer is, I think I'll find my own way down."

"Kurt, um," came the soft simper of a member of the Hummel Harem (Quinn made a mental note to pass that name onto Mercedes as soon as possible).

Kurt turned to face her, his smile bright, still flushed from his success at taming Rachel (at least for the duration of this play). "What do you need from me, Carly?"

There was an actual lovelorn whimper from somewhere in the back of the group, but Carly, brown haired and freckled, soldiered on. "Since, uh, we don't have the fabrics for now –"

"Oh, right," Kurt sighed. "Well, you guys can finish off Ms. Hannigan's dresses – and Annie's dress for the last act needs a little em –"

"I finished it!" came a cry, and suddenly a black-haired girl, olive-skinned with wide, wide dark eyes emerged from the middle of the group. Quinn stared at her oblivious friend, who clapped and congratulated her on a job well done as she all but melted before him, and holy crap no wonder Kurt hadn't noticed Brittany's seduction this entire summer. He really was that clueless when it came to girls.

Speaking of Brittany . . . Quinn glanced over and saw that the girl was making her way onto the stage, frowning and tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder. She reached Kurt and wrapped an arm possessively around his waist. "Kuuuuuurt, can I ride with you over to Quinn's?"

Kurt turned to her, almost swallowing a few wavy locks as Brittany pressed herself even closer. He coughed lightly before wrapping an arm around her. "Of course, Brittany."

"Pfft, I can't wait 'til this phase is over with." Santana glared at the two. "How can Hummel be so fucking blind? You should see her when we're practicing routines together – she's practically shoving his hand up her skirt and he's still not getting it."

Quinn had to smile both at Santana's bitchery (was that jealously she faintly detected?) and at the absolutely crestfallen expressions on the little pre-teens' faces.

One of them rolled her eyes to the sky, muttering something that looked rather like duh, of course he'd have a hot blonde girlfriend. Quinn had to swallow down another round of insane laughter and she glanced over at her partner crime, Mercedes, who was staring at the ceiling, clearly chewing on the inside of her cheek. Their eyes met and they both looked away, struggling yet again for control of their mirth.

Kurt pulled Brittany closer, frowning slightly as they made their way off the stage. "You know, Britt, I realize we already have several on-going dramas, but I'm worried – you've been really clingy this summer, and I don't mind," he was quick to add, "But I just want to make sure you're okay."

Brittany was all starry-eyed innocence and poorly concealed flirtation – a hand was tiptoeing its way up Kurt's chest. "I'm just sad I don't get to see my friends everyday. So when I see you, I get extra happy."

Kurt glanced over at Mercedes, a rather bemused expression on his face. "That's . . . really sweet, Brittany. I definitely miss hearing your witty repartées on a regular basis."

Brittany looked positively thrilled with that pronouncement, but Quinn was pretty sure she had just translated 'witty repartées' into 'breasts and kisses'. Or something. Either way, this had to stop – Quinn's eyes were watering from all the laughter she was keeping back.

Rachel turned to the girls on stage. "I'm sorry for depriving you of your fabrics, ladies – I promise I'll make it up to you!"

The girls all smiled, eyes still on Kurt, and Carly, their spokesperson it seemed, said, "Thanks Ms. Berry, we appreciate that. So . . ."

She looked down at Kurt expectantly and Kurt blinked back before jumping a little in realization. "Right – sorry, guys, you can go too! I'll see you tomorrow!"

The pre-teens all sang out goodbyes and disappeared, with many a backward look at the oh-so-oblivious gay boy. Brittany relaxed once they were gone, and pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek before giving him some breathing room. Quinn took advantage of this, reaching over and threading an arm through Kurt's, Mercedes on his other side. "So, those girls seem sweet. Like, sweet on you."

Kurt gave her a puzzled, disbelieving look. "Uh, right. I think they've picked up on the fact that I'm about as gay as they come, Quinn."

"Well, sometimes people don't see things because they don't want to see 'em," Mercedes said sagely. "And other times . . . because they're too freakin' dense to pick up on something that is staring them right in the face."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Well, if you say so . . . I'll talk to them later . . . maybe out myself. That should take care of any crushes, don't you think?"

Thinking of Brittany, Quinn wanted to say, 'I wouldn't count on it', but she nodded. "Yeah, put them out of their misery, please. Poor girls need to know there's no chance in hell for them."

They reached the doors leading out to the parking lot fairly quickly, Brittany skipping over to Kurt's SUV, waiting by the front passenger side door. There were more cars now, and various kids were hoping into them, waving at Kurt and Rachel as they left. Tina emerged as well, after a couple of minutes, chatting with the boys and girls under her charge in the lighting department – they ran to their parents' waiting vehicles, shouting goodbyes.

Starring at one little girl throwing herself into her mother's arms, the reality of the situation started to register with Quinn – her mom . . . her mother was about to hear her daughter tell her she was unfit to parent – that she had a problem . . . She separated herself from Kurt reluctantly. "I guess . . . I'll see you all –"

"I'm riding with you, Lady Fab," Mercedes interrupted. "And yeah, we'll be waiting for you downstairs, but all you need to do is holler – or text – and we'll be up there Superman-fast. I promise."

All the laughter and fun of the morning was seeping out of her, even as she desperately tried to cling to it. Her stomach was tying itself into painful knots, and God, she had never wanted to not do something more in her life. This was right up there with telling her parents she was pregnant. With confessing to her mother the true father of her baby girl. It just sucked.

"Right, okay," Quinn breathed out. "I . . ."

She noticed everyone else staring at her, waiting by open car doors. Tina was standing next to Artie, already tucked comfortably in his van, both of them shooting her warm, encouraging smiles. Santana looked bored by the whole thing, but she was standing there patiently, not saying a word. Quinn felt like maybe they were waiting for a speech or something? What the did they expect her to say?

"Thank you, all, for being here," she said awkwardly. "Um, but let's just get going, okay?"

She walked swiftly to her own car, sliding into the front seat, gripping her steering wheel tight enough to stretch the skin of her hands, making her knuckles whiten and her tendons stand out.

Mercedes got in beside her, slamming her door shut. There were similar echoing sounds as everyone piled into their rides, but then nothing. They were waiting for her again, and Quinn really didn't want to go. Maybe this could wait 'til the end of summer? Maybe her mom would clue in on her own, and none of this would be necessary.

Mercedes put her own hand over one that was in a death grip on the wheel. "Okay, Quinn?"

Quinn inhaled once. "Yeah, yeah." No, not really.

Then she quite suddenly remembered something – a lack of something, actually. "Where's . . . where's Puck?"

"Oh, he's meeting us there – something about a pool job this morning or whatever. But he said he'd be there, and he's been pretty good about his promises this summer."

That was true. Except that Quinn was pretty sure he was still spying on Beth, but she really couldn't do much more about that than she already had.

"Right, okay . . . let's" – she cleared her throat, blinked to get rid of her blurry vision – "head out."

As she pulled out of the parking lot, she took comfort in the cars following behind her. This . . . this was all for the best, Kurt and Mercedes had said it a million times over, and Quinn really wanted and tried to believe that.

A part of her still felt like she was somehow betraying, hurting, her mother. Despite that, she was going to do this – because Kurt and Mercedes were right – her mom had a problem, and Quinn loved her enough to help her with it. No matter what the cost.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Puck was parked closer then he normally would be, but damn, it had seemed like forever since he'd caught a glimpse of his girl. He hadn't lied to Aretha – he had been cleaning Mrs. O'Leary's pool this morning, but it was just one street over from Ms. Corcoran's place and he still had plenty of time before he had to be at Quinn's . . . so what was the harm in waiting for a bit, just in case Beth was heading out to the park today?

Well, there was a lot of harm, he soon discovered.

He was glancing down at his phone, reading a text from Finn telling him that they were all at the auditorium waiting for Kurt and Rachel, and going to be heading out to Quinn's soon, when he looked back up . . . and there was Ms. Corcoran, striding out onto the street, staring straight at him.

He reached for the parking brake, knowing perfectly damn well as he did that there was no way he could peel out of there before Ms. Corcoran reached him. But reflexive flight instinct aside, he also had a fair bit of fight in him. Damnit, that baby was his daughter. It wasn't anything other than bad timing that had forced him to give her up. And he'd seriously been considering convincing Quinn to keep her, even though it would probably have been a huge mistake in the long run. But how could being a family – with her real parents – be such a wrong thing?

"Noah Puckerman." She reached the truck in less than five seconds, and as she came to a stop, Puck got out, standing in front of her . . . hating that she was basically as tall as he was.

He crossed his arms and raised his chin. "Yeah, that's me."

She nodded. "Right. Let me just make something clear right now – I understand. I get exactly what you're feeling right now. And I've known for weeks that you've been spying on me – well, on Beth."

Puck blinked, mouth parting . . . okay, he actually didn't know what to say to that.

Ms. Corcoran pressed her lips together before continuing. "I've let it go because . . . because that little girl in there . . . she's mine, but she's also yours – just like Rachel is always going to technically be a part of me, Beth is a part of you. But you've got to start letting this go, Noah, and I'm not just speaking from a selfish place here – I'm telling you that if you don't start making peace with this, it's going to eat you alive – all the 'what if's, and 'shoulda, coulda, woulda's – and you're going to do something stupid."

Puck cocked an eyebrow. "Like sending a teenage boy to seduce my daughter so I could get her to know me . . . and then totally ditch her when it wasn't picture perfect like I wanted?"

He knew it was mean, but Puck wasn't one to sugarcoat the truth – he never had been. He knew people considered him an asshole, but one thing he wasn't was a liar.

Ms. Corcoran winced but she stood her ground. "Yep, that would be one such stupid thing. And for the record, I asked Jesse to 'befriend' her. He took on his own interpretation of those words and when I found out about the egging, I had to put up some kind of fight over the slashed tires, otherwise the parents would have had my head on a silver platter . . . but there's a reason why you and that Hudson kid are off the hook now, and it's because my kids made a huge mistake in assuming that since I wasn't pursuing a maternal relationship with my daughter, it meant that I didn't care about her."

Her dark eyes were steely, and Puck nodded slowly – all right, he could get behind that, appreciate it even. She smiled faintly at him before continuing.

"But, don't you get what I'm saying? I held onto this fantasy of my daughter and all I did in the end was hurt myself, and more importantly, hurt her. And I . . . I see you here, and I see it on your face – it's killing you that you can't have her with you, watch her grow, but you and Quinn made that decision and trust me, at the end of the day, it'll all work out. And I promise you that I love Beth with everything in me – with everything I would have loved Rachel with," she said softly at the end.

And fuck it if he didn't believe her – she was speaking truth. He knew bullshit when he heard it – like when Finn had tried to hide Glee club behind his mother's 'prostate' surgery, or whenever Rachel made executive decisions for the 'good of the club' which was really for 'the good Rachel's solos'. Ms. Corcoran was looking at him with complete compassion and it made him uncomfortable because he'd wanted her to yell, to accuse him of something, anything, but this . . . this was everything Quinn, Kurt and Finn had been telling him, this was everything he already sorta knew himself, but didn't want to face.

Fucking hell, it hurt like a bitch to hear it from his baby's new mother.

"But . . ." Puck floundered for something to say, because there had to be something, something he could do, because the idea of never seeing Beth again . . . "But you . . . isn't there some kind of rule about giving us updates or some shit? I mean, pictures, and e-mails –"

Ms. Corcoran was looking at him strangely. "The agreement that Quinn and I worked out didn't include any of that – I was more than willing to send you guys whatever you wanted, whenever, and my lawyer and the agency representative both strongly suggested it as well, but Quinn . . . she said that you both wanted a clean slate, and no contact whatsoever."

Puck did not remember having a conversation with Quinn about that – like, ever.

"What do you mean?" he asked, already dreading the answer. Because Quinn could be a bitch, could be shallow and whatever – just like him, he freely admitted. Telling your boyfriend that he's the father of his best friend's kid? Pretty Goddamn selfish and bitchy, but after all that they went through, there was no way Quinn would just . . . cut him out of a huge decision like that.

"We talked about it for hours, and . . . she said she had discussed it with you already. The agency we used allowed for both us to design the type of adoption we wanted . . . and having gone through what I went through with Rachel, I was ready to offer as open an adoption as you both wanted but she said that zero contact was a must. And that means she's cut all ties – something like a closed adoption."

Puck tried to flash back to the papers he signed – Quinn had told him everything was in order, that it was all . . . Shit, how could he have been so blind, so fucking naive? He went frantically through Ms. Corcoran's words, trying to understand it all, and a large part of him got it, really got it, but he couldn't help himself.

"What does that mean?" he asked again, stupidly. He felt like he had that day in that hospital – it was too much, all at once, too fast, too everything.

"It means that you have no legal rights to her anymore, no right to contact her, or even to know anything about her – you're just a name on a birth certificate, and I can call the cops if you keep showing up here," she said it gently, as if this was her being nice, and Puck wasn't having his daughter ripped away from him all over again. Why did he feel this way? Why was he acting like this was news to him? He'd agreed to give her up, but Quinn, that damn . . . She'd had no right to do that without at least telling him first.

"I'm sorry, Noah, but maybe if you talk to –"

"No, no, never mind. Just . . . forget it." He jumped back into his car, slamming the door shut. "I'm gone – you'll never see me again. I swear."

He tore away from the curb. It was weird – the road looked a bit blurry, and it took him ten minutes to figure out that there was wetness on his cheeks. He growled to himself and pulled violently onto the stretch of road that would take him to Quinn's – after all, he was late to her intervention for her drunk mother – he had to be there to support her. Like she had been supporting him this whole summer . . . while fucking lying to his face.

His fingers clenched the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

It only hurts for a little while

That's what they tell me,

"Just wait and see."

But I will hurt 'til you come back to me.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note: Apologies for any mistakes – I'm half asleep and bone-tired, but I wanted to post this now – this is going to be the week from hell in terms of busyness for me . . . Oh, and I did do some research on different types of adoptions and the like. Most of my info came off a website for an actual adoption agency based somewhere in Ohio . . . *drifts off* Right – hope y'all enjoy this, and see you next chapter (or for the next chapter of Close Enough which will likely be the next thing I update, though I have no clue when).