OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Chapter 6
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Quinn was nervous as she stood in front of Shelby's front door. Puck was standing behind her, nearly pressed up against her back, and she knew he was freaking out just as much as she was. Neither of them had been this close to Beth since they gave her up what felt like an eternity ago.
"We don't gotta do this," he said quietly, but she could hear the lie in his voice. There was no way she could rest easy if she lost this one opportunity to hold her daughter, and if she was feeling that way now, Puck had to be out of his mind with need to push past this painted red door and swoop their girl up into his arms.
"We're doing this," she said firmly. She lifted her hand, rested her knuckles against the wood for a brief second, and then knocked.
Two seconds later, they were facing Shelby. She felt Puck sag as they both took in the fact that Beth wasn't in the woman's arms, but she had to be somewhere in the house, so Quinn tried for a smile. "We're a little late, sorry." They had arrived five minutes early, and spent the past ten minutes staring at the house.
"No worries, come on in." Shelby stood back from the doorway and let them through. It was a nice home, small but clean and comfortable. Shelby lived on her own with Beth, so what more did she need but what she had? Everything was baby-proofed and Quinn spotted a play mat littered with soft toys and rattles on the floor of the living room. Her eyes caught sight of pictures lining the mantelpiece – pictures of Beth on her own, or in Shelby's arms.
"Did you guys want something to drink? I have Coke, Ginger Ale, and way too much apple juice. Tea too, if Earl Grey is to your liking."
There was a stretch of awkward silence before Quinn gave a small nod. "I'll have a Ginger Ale, if that's okay."
"Yeah, uh, a Coke for me." Puck was staring at the toys.
It took several minutes of drinks being served, Shelby making her own cup of tea, and then each of them sipping robotically, before the older woman put her mug down to speak at last.
"I think I made a mistake, accepting Quinn's closed adoption." She didn't give them a chance to say anything in response. "Beth is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I love her more than I ever thought would be possible – but I know what it is to give up a child. To have that child come looking for answers." She was smiling weakly, "Rachel wasn't put up for adoption – these two kind men wanted a daughter, and I thought it would be easy, it would be profitable – but I was young and stupid, and didn't understand what it is to be a mother. Quinn, you know what I mean. To feel a life grow inside you . . ."
Quinn's eyes dropped to the counter. It had been indescribable, and then she'd been taken away – Quinn hadn't understood the true meaning of heartbreak until those weeks after. No amount of comfort from friends or her mom could soften the jagged edges left behind when Beth was ripped away, except that small bit of reassurance that it had been her choice, made so that Beth was better off – Quinn had to take care of her mother, and everything else would improve on its own.
"I messed up," Quinn said, voice low. "First when I didn't tell Puck what I did, but . . . I didn't fully realize the consequences, and for that I am so sorry – so sorry, Puck, Ms. Corcoran. This must be – you don't have to do this, for us."
"We appreciate you letting us have this chance to say good-bye for good." Puck's own voice cracked there, and Quinn reached out a hand, grabbing the tanned, calloused fingers tightly in her own.
"That's not why I invited you here." Her smile kinder than Quinn would've thought it could be, considering how she sent a boy to spy on her first daughter, a boy who ended up wooing her and humiliating her.
Then again, Quinn helped Mr. Schue's wife fake a pregnancy and almost gave him her baby to maintain the lie; Quinn wasn't about to throw rocks from within her glasshouse. Puck squeezed her hand tightly, his expression one of tentative hope. Quinn could almost share the sentiment now, but her fear of being all things wrong and corrupting for her child was choking the hope right out of her.
"I've been thinking a lot since I saw you last, Puck. Letting go of your daughter . . . I know better than anyone that it's almost impossible to do, and that one day Beth might have that same curiosity Rachel did. It works for some, giving up their kids for better lives, but I . . . I don't think that's what you two need, and believe it or not, I do care about you two – you gave me this wonderful gift. I know you're good kids, based on what Mr. Schuester has told me and what I've seen for myself. There's a lot you both can offer her and I love her more than anything – so I want her to have those things. I don't want her to ever wonder why she was given up. She'll know she was loved, she was cared for right from the beginning. Do you understand?"
Quinn was staring at Puck, who looked like he barely dared to believe what was being offered. His face went inscrutable when he noticed Quinn looking, turning away and then asking, gruffly, "Is this, like, you'll send us pictures, and we can see her maybe once in a while?"
"No – if that's what you want, that's fine with me. But what I'm offering is that you be here for her. Birthdays for sure, maybe other holidays, we can see what works best. Perhaps a monthly phone call when she gets to be older, if she wants it. Whatever you think would be easiest – and yes, pictures, drawings. The fact is that I'm on my own with this, so your help wouldn't be remiss." Her mouth lifted in a tired smile, and Quinn noticed for the first time the heavy layer of make up under her eyes.
Puck opened his mouth again, but a sharp cry interrupted whatever he was going to ask. Shelby's smile became less tired and more fond. "That would be the end of nap time. C'mon you two, let's get some formal introductions out of the way, shall we?"
She walked down a hallway off the living room, and Quinn went to follow, then froze. That was her daughter making that noise, crying, and being soothed by Shelby. Puck was behind her again, pressed in close. A hand came up to rest on her arm. "What do you think? Tell the truth."
"I'm terrified," she whispered, hardly daring to speak louder. "I'm so scared, Puck. Can we handle this, really? I tried to cut ties completely for a reason, as much as you might hate me for it."
"I get it, Quinn, it was a defensive move. You saw all the hurt coming, and you tried to cut it off before it could get here. But it was always gonna hurt, always. I don't think us being any farther away is going to make it less."
"This could be such a disaster, Puck, I mean, what if we – she's better off here, with her, I know she is, but even if she's Shelby's daughter now, every fibre of my being knows she's mine."
"We can deal with that later, Quinn, c'mon. We can be the cool aunt and uncle for now – all the cute with none of the responsibility." He was trying to sound aloof, but Quinn knew that the yearning in him was as powerful as ever. And suddenly she didn't care about the wisdom in this arrangement, in the potential for more pain down the road – those soft gurgles and laughs were calling to her.
She grabbed at his hand blindly, and held her head high as she walked down the hall. They stopped before the doorway of a room, a nursery, where Shelby held Beth close, the baby's head swivelling towards them. Puck's breath stuttered and then stopped. Quinn swallowed hard. Shelby just grinned. "C'mon in, guys – I'm just going to get her next meal ready, and then maybe clean up the play area. You stay with her."
She walked towards them, and then carefully held out Beth. Quinn was reaching for her before she even realized her arms were out, and then the baby was in her arms, warm, smooth, soft, smelling of powder and soap. Shelby made sure Quinn had her secure in her arms before disappearing. Beth made some noises, sounding a little scared, a little worried. Puck was leaning in, a shaking hand resting on Beth's back, almost encompassing all of her.
"Hey baby girl," he croaked out.
Those words were Quinn's undoing. She started crying, but she tried to keep the sobs down, quieting herself. Beth made a distraught noise, small hands reaching for Quinn's face. She loved her so much – she had loved her from the moment they put Beth in her arms, and maybe she'd tried to lie to herself, but she couldn't now, and probably never again.
Puck was humming ("It only hurts for a little while, that's what they tell me, that's what they say." Quinn filled in the words in her mind) and Beth went silent, one tiny hand clutching at Quinn's face.
"She's gonna be a knock-out, like her mom," Puck said softly, reaching up to put an arm around Quinn's shoulders without disturbing the hand he kept braced against Beth's back.
"Hopefully she'll inherit some of her dad's badassery – so that she can keep the boys in line," was her raspy, muffled response.
Puck snorted, and it was a repeat of all their other conversations about Beth. Quinn knew she would have a glimpse into their baby girl's future now. She knew that they would have pictures if nothing else, and maybe phone calls and invitations to birthdays and graduations. Something in her settled. Beth deserved the best. Shelby was a strong, capable woman, who knew what it was like to lose a child by choice. Quinn still had to finish high school, help support her mother through her alcoholism and her divorce. She had to be a kid, and grow up, and go to university. Puck had matured a lot in the past year, but he still had quite a ways to go too.
In the meantime, Beth would be loved and raised by her new mother – and Quinn and Puck could provide extra love and care when they could. Beth was one lucky little girl. She had three parents, and some people only got the one, or none, or parents that just didn't give a damn. Quinn considered herself blessed with her mom, because she was trying so hard and loved her so much. Puck's mother was the same. Kurt struck gold in the parent lottery.
Her thoughts whirling back to her own motherhood, Quinn realized that everything would be okay. Beth had found her way back into her life in the only way that made sense for either them.
"We can do this." Quinn looked up at Puck, feeling at peace, feeling found, for the first time in a long, long while. "We can do this, and we will do this. Together?"
"Together," Puck agreed. Then his face twisted up. "Except, you know, maybe not together together, 'cause I think we can both agree that hot as you are, and smokin' as I am, we aren't exactly the best –"
"Puck, not in front of the munchkin, please," Quinn hushed him with a laugh. "But yes. I get it. We'll be friends. I think we could be good at that, if we try."
"Not just for Beth either," Puck said with that boyish smile very, very few people got to see. "You're a pretty cool person, Quinn Fabray."
"Thank you, Noah." She laughed again when he made a face at the use of his given name, and suddenly Beth was giggling too. They both stared down at her in wonder, and there was a flash. Shelby had appeared, holding a bottle and digital camera.
"Here." She handed Quinn the bottle and then stood back. "Let's get another one, shall we? Smile at the camera, guys! Beth, over here sweetie!"
The camera flashed.
A few hours later, Quinn was with her mom, holding a fresh print out. In it, Puck and Quinn were smiling, wide and true, the baby had her mouth clasped firmly around her bottle, and she knew that this picture was going in the new blank photo album she'd bought on her way home; across the front she was going to put simply Beth.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
"I can't believe they didn't kill each other in the end," Finn muttered. "You have no idea, dude. Sometimes I was afraid to leave them alone in a room – I was pretty sure if I did, I'd have a body to clean up when I got back."
Puck would have snorted derisively at this, but he'd seen Kurt wield blowtorches, wrenches, hacksaws and other potentially lethal tools, with a frightening ease and grace. And it went without saying that Rachel's brand of crazy could be pretty damn scary all on its own. "Trust me I know – I was there when the whole truce thing fell apart and scissors were thrown at certain people's heads." He pointed at himself. "It's a good thing Artie took over directing. Making Tina assistant director was pretty damn inspired too. I think otherwise Kurt and Rachel would have used their little kiddie minions to wage war."
Finn chuckled a little, "Yeah – hey, did you text Quinn?"
"Yeah, she says her mom's got the stitching done on those costumes – we can pick her up, and she'll have them ready."
"Awesome," Finn breathed out. "Kurt would've have scalped me if those weren't done."
"It was his idea to ask Mrs. Fabray to help, don't think he would have killed you for that."
"You haven't seen either him or Rachel in a week. I can't even begin to describe how ready they were to kill anyone who could possibly mess up their play." He shuddered dramatically and Puck conceded the point; these gleeks were hardcore when it came to show business.
Quinn was waiting at the bottom of the stairs that lead to her apartment, her mom waving at them from the top as they pulled in.
"Hey boys," she called down. "You in a hurry, or do you want something to drink before you head out?"
"That's really cool of you, Mrs. Fabray." Finn tilted his head back to speak to her. "But we've gotta get these down there, fast."
"I hear you – Kurt's been texting me at least three times a day for the last week about finishing these." She was grinning and shaking her head. "I'll be there for the curtain up in a few hours then – good luck!" She headed back inside.
Quinn was rolling her eyes. "He wasn't just texting my mom. And Rachel was getting in on it too today. It was their antics that put them behind on wardrobe and set making, I don't understand why the rest of us had to pay the price."
"It will be over as of today – well, tomorrow," Finn amended. "But I figure if it all goes smoothly today, the second show tomorrow should be cake, right?"
There was a heavy sigh from Quinn. "God, I hope so. I love Kurt a lot, but this was a test of that love if ever there was one."
"So why are headin' over so early?" Puck asked, loading the costumes into the back seat, hanging some and being extraordinarily gentle with others – Kurt had been texting him too, and there were threats made that had Puck distinctly aware of how their next session in the garage could play out: namely with lots of bloody 'accidents.' "The play doesn't start for a couple of hours."
Finn did that shifty thing he did when he was trying to hide something, and failing very hard at it. He'd been doing that since showing up at Puck's door, demanding that they head to the community centre right away, because they'd been summoned by Rachel and Kurt to assist in the final stages of getting ready. Quinn eyed Finn speculatively.
"It's nothing, guys, just trying to keep two of our friends from committing homicide. Everyone else is going to be there too." He was pulling out from the parking lot, and Puck was pretty damn sure even if he didn't need to be keeping his eyes on the road, he'd be avoiding eye contact right now.
Puck exchanged a quick look with Quinn via the rear-view mirror. Quinn arched an eyebrow but then shrugged. Puck nodded back, because whatever they had planned couldn't be that bad.
It isn't until they were at the community centre and bringing the costumes inside that Puck got a little concerned – because this was the same geek patrol that thought Push It was a good idea for a school assembly. And Kurt had the entire football team do Single Ladies, which Puck considered a confusing memory of one of the most awesome and embarrassing things he'd ever done in his life.
Maybe he should be scared, was what his mind informed him. It was too late though – they were in the darkened theatre, Finn ushering Quinn and Puck into seats right in the middle, before rushing to the stage, a single spotlight achingly bright right in the middle. He kept on an eye on the red, glowing exit sign; he totally wasn't above bolting like he was the QB in a championship game if this ended up being Single Ladies, the reprise.
Kurt stepped into the light, and he smiled warmly at them both.
"Well, surprise surprise, we brought you here to sing to you."
"That's what I figured," Quinn said drily as Puck relaxed a little bit; there would be no unitard for him then, that was a relief (not that he wouldn't rock it – because he so would, he could rock anything). "But I'm not too clear on the why."
Finn appeared next to Kurt. "Look, things have been crazy this year and this summer. But I think out of all of us, you two have been the ones who haven't been able to catch a break, to move on and stuff."
Mercedes came up behind Kurt, leaning on him a little. "And we know that there's been drama between, uh, well, everyone here. And that there's been some pretty big screw-ups."
That was putting it lightly. Puck stared at Finn, still unable to fully get the fact that his best friend was trying to repair everything Puck had ruined so completely. There was the giant oaf, smiling at him and understanding and so damn nice. He stood next to the gay kid that would soon be his stepbrother, the gay kid he and Puck both used to torment and now would call friend and family. There were the rest of the gleeks, forming ranks around the three already on the stage, grinning at him and Quinn, people whose names he hadn't known at the beginning of last school year, who Quinn had either ignored or looked down upon.
Their best friends in the whole freaking world.
He sighed and figured the least he could do was let them sing him a stupid song. Wasn't that their preferred method of communicating now?
Rachel fussed with her brown hair as she spoke. "We want you to know that no matter what, we're going to stick by you. I think this year has proven that we can overcome some fairly impressive obstacles, and remain friends throughout. And right now, you two have had some big obstacles to overcome."
"There may be more on the way too, considering everything." Kurt didn't specify what that 'everything' was, but he didn't need to. "And, well, Puck, it's a long, winding road, you know?"
That was a reference to a conversation he'd had with Kurt and Finn not a day after the whole agreement with Shelby. ("The screw-up is gonna happen, you know?" he'd said, staring down at his slice of pizza. "I'm a fuck-up and that means screwing up, a lot."
Kurt had flung a waded up napkin at him and Finn nudged him hard. Then Kurt kicked at him, forcing Puck to meet his gaze.
"Puck, you've already improved by leaps and bounds, and that means that this road you're walking, uphill, bumpy and all – you're going to keep on walking it, and you'll be able to look your daughter in the eye at the end of it, because you never stopped or fell back."
Finn nodded, grinning. "And if anything, you have Kurt and me to kick your rear in gear if you ever lose your way.")
Mercedes winked at Quinn. "And you know I have your back, Lady Fab, no matter how bad it might get, or even just to have a squeal-off, 'cause your girl is one adorable little princess."
"The point is, we want you to know that no matter how tough your todays are," Rachel said with all the dramatic flair she possessed – which was too damn much, in Puck's modest opinion. "Your tomorrows are going to be better, because you have us."
The music cued up, and Quinn both groaned and burst out laughing, while Puck shook his head, unable to hold back his disbelieving grin. He had only just learned what the word cliché meant, and this, this song fit the definition pretty perfectly, in his mind.
Rachel's sweet voice (because the girl did have talent, no lie), started it off: "The sun'll come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun." Kurt took over the next line, also kicking ass and taking names with his own vocal talents.
Then the bass line jumped in and Artie started rapping. Quinn really cracked up then, clapping in delight, and Puck choked out an unrestrained bark of laughter himself, almost bending over double as their glee club took a classic show tune and hip-hopped it up.
They mashed it up with It's a Hard-Knock Life, and somehow it all made sense and it was good besides. It finished with them in perfect, choral harmony, without musical accompaniment, holding that final note for a ridiculously long time. Both Puck and Quinn were up on their feet, whistling and cheering before song ended, and they kept it up.
"Oh, that was fantastic!" Rachel clapped herself, beaming at everyone. "I'm so glad we're doing that as our finale – Puck, Quinn, you have to join us at the end of the show!"
"But we technically didn't contribute anything, other than the occasional bit of homicide prevention," Puck pointed out.
"Or lending my mother as last second costume support," Quinn added.
Kurt waved that off. "Who cares? It's an excuse to sing and show off and be fantastic together. When we're on a stage, you have to admit that there's nothing we can't do or be."
There was no arguing with that.
The small auditorium filled up with about two hundred or so parents, families of both the performing kids and the behind-the-scenes crew, so when the entire audience was on their feet, whistling and cheering themselves hoarse as the glee club plus the cast and crew of Annie did their finale thing, Puck felt that invincibility Kurt was talking about. Somehow, it clicked within him that things would be okay – that even when it all wasn't okay, when that road he walked well and truly sucked, he had this insane group of people to help him out, share the load.
Cliché as it was, that meant that he really was looking forward to all his tomorrows.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Epilogue
The annual St. Anne's Hospital Car Wash was something of an event in their neighbourhood. It was usually a combination of barbecue, car washing, and the inevitable water fights. This year, the Cheerios made sure that they were seen as local news was still occasionally talking about their epic win at Nationals. This meant Kurt and his fellow cheerleaders were in full uniform. He didn't mind it so much, as the material was light enough to not be totally cumbersome, even when soaking wet.
This car wash, however, would be considered an event for an entirely different reason this year.
Puck and Santana had decided, after the entire Kurt-gone-missing-but-not-really debacle, that this would be the day to settle their bet as to who could pull more phone numbers in cheerleading uniform.
And as Santana would never let Puck forget what his manly posturing had proposed, they were both in the same uniform, skirt and all.
It was mildly disturbing, but that didn't stop Kurt from joining in Artie, Tina and Mike in recording this for posterity. It must be documented from every conceivable angle.
"I can't figure out how he's doing it," Artie mused, watching as yet another girl, this one college-aged it seemed, handed Puck a piece of paper. The mohawked boy shot Santana a triumphant look, even as her seductive posing with the watering hose got her another pair of boys on the approach.
"It's a confidence thing," Tina answered, zooming in with her camera. "He's totally putting out I rock this and am completely secure in my masculinity vibes, so, you know, girls – and some women – like that."
"It has to be more than that," Kurt disagreed, because he didn't think he could ever erase the image of Puck's hairy legs poking out from beneath that way too short skirt. "This is definitely not at all flattering to his figure. I say this both as a fashionista and someone with an attraction to males – he is not even remotely appealing to me right now."
"Ditto," came Quinn's voice from behind him as she washed a window leisurely. "I think he could probably do all right in a kilt through. We should see if he'd be willing to pull that off for another occasion."
"No, I have a kilt outfit all planned out for September – I will not be imitated," Kurt stated firmly.
He got water splashed at him from Mercedes, and pretty soon all people with cameras were pulling back to a safe distance as the fifth water fight of the afternoon broke out. Kurt had been soaked several times in the last hour and had pretty much resigned himself to being wet and gross for the rest of the day.
"How did yesterday go?" he asked Quinn quietly, once they got back to actually rinsing off the SUV they were cleaning.
"Pretty well." Quinn smiled sweetly and serenely. It was an expression he was seeing more and more of as the summer neared its end. It was good, knowing that she and Puck were finally healing from all the past hurt. "Beth's started crawling and Puck's pretty convinced he can get her saying 'Puck' before she's six months old." She rolled her eyes. "Of course, Shelby and I keep telling him that it's probably better if she says dada or something – we could end up with a six month old dropping the f-bomb as her first word."
"I want to be classy and say that wouldn't be hilarious – but it so would be." Mercedes was laughing even as she said it. "You need to have a camera on hand for that precious moment."
"Hey! I see more chatting than car cleaning! If you have the energy to gab, you have the energy to wash, rinse, wax and give a complimentary performance of Rose Royce's classic 'Car Wash', complete with flawless round-offs. That goes double for you, Porcelain!"
They'd hopped back to work before that mega-phone tirade was even half-over, and Kurt snuck a quick look at Coach Sylvester at her position under a large tree, shaded and comfortable in an armchair of all things, being fanned by two Cheerios.
"I don't think I'll be able to handle another year of her crazy," Kurt murmured to Quinn and Mercedes. "So fair warning, I may be quitting soon."
"She's been considering making you head Cheerio – are you sure about that?" Quinn finished cleaning the side-view mirror, frowning in disappointment at him. "It would be very cool to have you in charge. Sort of."
"I don't know." Kurt sighed. "I just really want Glee club to be my priority this year – I want us to get to Nationals and win it all. I'd be dividing my attention between two really demanding clubs, and you just know Coach would use me as a pawn in her war against Mr. Schuester."
Quinn gave a soft noise of agreement, because that was the truth of their crazy high school, and then Brittany was jumping on him from behind, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, demanding that he help her wash a small, sleek Camaro that had just pulled up.
Mercedes and Quinn burst out laughing, refusing to explain why, which seemed to be the leitmotif of his last month of summer – too bad he had no idea what the hell it was supposed to represent, if anything at all. Maybe his best girl friends were just messing with him, but it was more likely there was an inside joke he was missing, which was frustrating.
The Camaro was a nice piece of work, but it was a relatively small car in comparison to the SUV, pick-up truck, and mini-van the others were washing. Brittany smiled happily at him as he picked up his cloth and got to work. Somewhere off to the side Santana crowed, "That's two in one shot, Puckerman. I am so bringing you down, cabrón."
"Watch it, mamacita, I've still got at least half a dozen housewives on their way here!"
"Huh, this isn't exactly a kid friendly environment, is it?" The voice was light and teasing, and Kurt glanced up to see a blinding smile, followed by wide, dark eyes and a jaw line that was just . . . nice.
"We probably should put up a parental disclaimer somewhere," Kurt agreed, trying very hard not to blush because he'd dealt with good-looking guys before, and they were always tragically straight. Even if he somehow, miraculously, stumbled across another gay male in Lima, Ohio, he doubted that particular gay male would be attracted to him.
Brittany was pressed a little close to his side, but he couldn't move over that much, because that would put him right in the car owner's personal space. He set about cleaning as best he could, even as Brittany chattered a little (well, a lot, but less so than normal) randomly about Lord Tubbington. Hot Camaro Guy was looking adorably confused by this, but he seemed to believe the best tactic was to nod along and smile.
Kurt was wiping down the hood when the guy spoke again. "So, um, do you guys do this every year?"
"Yes, hence the word 'annual' on the banner," was Kurt's too snarky reply. He toned it down quickly. "But I think this is the first year the Cheerios have been involved."
"Really." He gave Kurt's uniform a cursory glance. "That seems like a missed opportunity, for those other years, I mean."
"Possibly." Kurt stepped back to let Brittany have her fun rinsing. "Nothing brings out the crowds like girls in wet shirts and short skirts. Or a guy, incidentally." He saw Puck lounging against the hood of a small two-door Honda as the driver, a teenaged girl with long blonde hair, drooled pretty obviously over him. Kurt shook his head – he just did not get it.
"All done – you can pay by Coach Sylvester. The lady with the megaphone," Brittany clarified.
The guy (now that Kurt was convinced of his straightness, he could look him directly in the eye – he looked like he was maybe sixteen or seventeen) smiled at her, and then at Kurt, holding his gaze. "Thanks, you guys did a great job. This is my dad's car, and this is my first time being allowed to drive it on my own."
"And you brought it to a teen-run car wash?" Kurt said with a laugh. "Brave. I guess the Cheerios lured you in too."
The guy nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Uh, yeah, I suppose I can't lie about that." He stuck out a hand, "Thanks a lot –"
"Kurt."
"Kurt – I, uh, hope you have a nice summer."
"Sure, you too." The boy wandered off to pay and Kurt allowed himself one last glance before moving back to Mercedes and Quinn, Brittany pouting at him – he promised to help her with any big cars that came her way, and that seemed to placate her for the moment. Quinn and Mercedes (and Tina and Rachel) were looking at him, wide-eyed and grinning. They offered no explanation (seriously, what the hell was up with them?), but they did give him a gloriously cold can of diet Coke, so he forgave them immediately.
The car wash wrapped up in the early evening, and as other volunteers dealt with the majority of the clean up, the New Directions sat in the shade of the trees, enjoying the sight of others subjected to Coach Sylvester, and tallying up Puck and Santana's phone numbers.
Artie and Mike had been the chosen counters, and Artie held a hand up for silence when they finished. "Okay, can we have a drum roll please?"
Everyone immediately started one off on their thighs, grinning madly as Puck shot Santana one last smug look.
"Noah 'Puck' Puckerman received a grand total of . . . twenty one phone numbers!"
There was applause and cheering; it was a very impressive number, Kurt had to admit.
"That's right bitches – I can't be tamed, even by a skirt and pompoms!"
Santana booed and hissed, and Artie held up his hand again. "And Santana Lopez received – wait for it – twenty nine numbers – a clear and undisputed victory!"
"Wait, no way – that guy with the hat totally didn't –"
"E-mails count too, Puckerman, so suck it!"
"No way, that means I have like, at least ten more to throw in."
It descended into chaos as everyone debated whether the emails should count, and then Santana said she gave her number to a couple of guys she had liked, and they had accepted, which should also count. Eventually, Santana maintained her crown: e-mails included, but personal numbers given out excluded, she still beat Puck by three.
Puck, for all his posturing, turned out to be a good sport about it. "Well fine, but I think we all know that if I hadn't been handicapped by the girl clothes, I totally would have won."
Santana threw her empty water bottle at him. "Take the loss like a man, Puckerman, and be glad I don't demand payment in the way of you wearing that outfit for your first game of the season."
"No, please," Kurt cut in. "We've had enough of Puck in drag, I personally don't believe my retinas are ever going to recover."
"Shut up, Hummel, I can be just as pretty as you!"
Kurt threw his empty can of diet Coke his way from his reclined position in Mercedes' lap. Mercedes raised her own hand for silence. "Actually, I think Kurt deserves an honourable mention for that hottie in the sweet ride."
"Wait – what?" Kurt blinked up at her.
Santana whipped around to stare at him, eyes glittering. "Oh, did Hummel get some gay tail? Spill it, Mercedes!"
"Kurt, dude, high-five!" Finn stuck his out, and Kurt hit it lightly, hesitantly, totally bewildered.
"I have no idea –"
"This guy pulled up in this really nice dark red Camaro!" Tina gushed, "And he almost tripped all over himself when he got close to Kurt."
"I am fairly certain it was the sight of Kurt soaking wet and wiping down that big SUV that got him in here in the first place," Quinn added, smirking down at Kurt from her position on Mercedes' left.
"There was no tripping!" Kurt protested.
"He looked so dazed when he was driving away." Rachel was laughing, giving Kurt an encouraging smile. "You should try and find him. I hope he didn't get into an accident on the way home – you really did a number on him."
"I hate all of you," Kurt said, feeling and sounding dazed himself. "Why couldn't you have pointed this out while he was still here?"
"We figured it was obvious." Tina patted him on the shin. "Sorry, we forget you can be stupidly dense sometimes – you're a guy, after all."
This led to another wave of discussion, and Kurt extending an invitation his dad had insisted he make for everyone to come for yet another barbecue meal, but at his house, in his backyard. Mercedes and Quinn had already known and packed accordingly. There was agreement from everyone else too, but most had to make pit stops at home to shower and change.
"One thing's for sure," Mercedes said as she stood and then helped Kurt up. "Those pictures we took are so gonna go over great when baby Beth gets older."
Puck didn't flinch, which didn't surprise Kurt at all, considering the swagger with which the boy had been walking and talking with all day. "Yeah, she'll know how truly awesome her dad is – able to pull any and all kinds of babes, even when he's dressed like one."
"It's good to know you're so at peace with your future mocking at the hands of our daughter," Quinn said blithely, exchanging soft smiles with Puck.
It was wonderful to see them like this, and Kurt wished the best for them this coming year. He was already worrying about what would happen years down the road when Quinn went away for college, like he knew she would, or if Puck couldn't keep his good boy act together and did something stupid . . . but for now it was summer; it was the time of minimal responsibilities, with days and nights spent lounging outside with friends and family.
"Kurt, can I catch a ride with you?" Brittany asked excitedly.
"Sure, Britt."
He ignored the giggles from the other girls, and offered Brittany his arm. "Mercedes, you and the others can just catch a ride with Quinn or something. I don't need your mocking!" He glared at them, good-natured, because he'd had a good day; some guy had apparently found him attractive. He took that to be a sign of oncoming good fortune – maybe he wasn't the lone island of gay he thought he was. He was smiling to himself as he got into the car with Brittany.
"We've got to stop by the store and get some extra steaks and stuff for dinner, that all right?"
"Sure, Kurt," she chirped. "Whatever you need!"
He pulled away from the parking lot, humming softly to himself and picturing the meal he could help his dad create, wondering at how his summer had started so very differently from where it had ended up.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Brittany waited for Kurt while frowning to herself; she had done everything she normally did and a few things she didn't to get Kurt to make out with her, and nothing was happening. She'd made out with a lot of people – like everyone in school – and she could tell when someone wanted her to kiss them, which was everyone, all the time. Except Kurt.
She exhaled her frustration, blowing her bangs off her forehead. She was bored. Kurt had been in that grocery store too long; he'd said five minutes and it had been way longer. Maybe it had been hours and Kurt had somehow disappeared again – she should probably call everyone together, because last time had been pretty scary.
She looked around the car, not entirely sure what she was expecting to see but when nothing caught her eye, she started rooting around the inside of the SUV, starting with the glove compartment. She found road maps, a bottle of water, some papers and . . . a pair of boxers?
Brittany stared at the boxers – this had to mean something.
Once, when she'd been making out with Brian Schubert in the empty mall parking lot in his car, they'd been about to take it further when a cop knocked on the window. Brian had freaked out, yanking his shirt back on, and she'd quickly pushed her clothes back into place. Her bra had been lying across the dashboard, and he'd shoved it into the glove compartment really fast, before rolling down the window to smile at the policeman. They hadn't gotten into any trouble, and Brian been nice enough to drop her off at home and apologize for nearly getting them arrested. She'd totally forgotten about her bra in his glove compartment – but that was okay, she did that a lot, and he returned to her the next day.
Oh, that makes sense. She nodded to herself – Kurt totally had a girlfriend that he made out with or had sex with in his car, and he was one of those nice guys that didn't make out with more than one girl at a time. Or, wait, hold up, what am I missing? She stared at the boxers. Boyfriend, he's someone's boyfriend . . . and the boxers could be his or . . . She shook her head. No, she needed someone else's opinion on this – Santana? Or better yet, Mercedes – she was Kurt's best friend forever, she would know if Kurt had a girlfriend or something. Or something. Like that guy in the Camaro. Boyfriend.
Brittany looked up to see Kurt walking back to the car – she quickly grabbed her purse, shoving the boxers inside, and then shut the glove compartment.
She would go to Mercedes, explain the whole Brian thing, and then show her the boxers. The girl would tell her what was going on, if Kurt had a secret boyfriend – unless Mercedes was the secret girlfriend? But that didn't change anything, and maybe Mercedes would give her permission to kiss Kurt sometimes?
Brittany would totally let Mercedes make out with Kurt if he were her boyfriend – like how when Puck and Santana were dating, Puck didn't care if she and Santana made out sometimes.
"All right, Britt – you want to pick the music?" he said as he closed the door behind him.
Brittany nodded excitedly. "Totally! Hey, are we going back to your place now?"
"Yeah, Mercedes should be there with my dad, getting ready for dinner tonight. I think Quinn's mom is coming too, and Carole, of course. Artie's parents are stopping by at some point, as are Rachel's dads – you could invite your parents too, if you want." Kurt was the best guy. She was grateful for the glee club and all the people it brought into her friend circle – apparently losers weren't losers when you got to know them, and even though Rachel was a little scary, and sometimes she wondered if Mike was really Gumby in disguise because he was way bendy, or if Artie was part robot, she couldn't regret a single slushie she took for being friends with them. She leaned over, gave Kurt a kiss on the cheek, and he grinned sweetly (and totally strictly friend-like, she got it) at her.
Right before she lost herself to some Britney Spears, she used the memory technique her mom taught her. She'd been using it a lot this year – there was so much to keep in mind, so many new faces and names. People she really, really liked. All these new ideas and thoughts – really cool, vital (a word she'd picked up from Rachel) things that she was pretty sure she would remember all her life.
She really did want to talk to Mercedes about the boxers (it was pretty cool that his dad was there too – his dad would know who Kurt was dating, if Mercedes didn't) and maybe the idea of Kurt having a secret boyfriend (he might be gay for good now? That would be sad, but she did want Kurt to be happy and Camaro guy was cute). But she also wanted to just spend time with these geeks and cool people she considered her best friends. The boxer thing could be some fun dinner discussion.
Brittany never forgot the really important stuff.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: It took an insane amount of time, but it's DONE! *confetti* Yay! So many thanks and hugs given to those of you who read from the beginning – I'm sorry for being such a bad updater, but I did promise to finish, and here it is! Now I have only two other stories to get done, and they each require only one more chapter – you guys have no idea how thrilled I am by this prospect! *yet more confetti*
There is in fact, a rap song that used It's a Hard-Knock life as its chorus, which is called Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem), by Jay-Z. Otherwise, The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and It's a Hard-Knock Life belong to those who wrote the musical Annie.
Also, adoption is a wonderful, beautiful thing, in which many kids do not go through what Rachel went through, and do not feel the need to seek out their birth parents, or vice versa. And sometimes there are open adoptions wherein contact is permitted and pictures are sent, etc. This is one situation, highly specific and fictional. I'm not trying to comment on the whole process in general, just on the crazy world of these Glee people :)
Much love all readers, new and old, and I hope you all enjoyed this!