"I don't know what you expect me to say," Santana said with a heavy scowl after about ten minutes of silence. "I'm not sorry."

"Right," Puck scoffed. "I wouldn't expect you to be. You never were one for remorse. I seem to recall you telling Rachel to get over herself after she found out you took Finn's V Card."

"Took?" she asked with a wry laugh. "You think I took it from him? Damn, Puck," she shook her head, another laugh escaping, "I didn't take anything. He was more than happy to give it up to me. Just like you were."

"I …"

"And don't bother trying to deny it. We both know that I was your first."

"What about it?" he asked roughly. "It's not like you had any experience either. I was your first too."

She stared at him for a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grinding. She counted to ten in her head. Then twenty. Then thirty. "Shut the fuck up!" she exploded. "God, Puckerman, what the fuck is wrong with you? Wrong with us? Why the fuck can't we stop fucking fighting over the most ridiculous fucking things?"

"Was there ever a time when we didn't fight over something important? I mean, think back, San. Really fucking think about it. Because it seems to me like every time we have to have an 'adult conversation'," he told her, his voice raising to sound as much like Rachel's as it could, "we start fighting about some pretty unimportant shit. Like, you know, us having our first times together."

"That's important!" she replied loudly. "A girl remembers her …"

"God!" Puck screamed as he stood and gripped the sides of his head. "This is exactly what I mean! We don't need to be talking about what happened ten years ago! We need to be talking about what happened two days ago. We need to talk about why."

"Why what?" she replied scathingly.

"Why you're too afraid to admit that you love me," he said softly as he sat back down in his seat.

Santana turned her head to stare out the bars of the cell.

-x-

"So what exactly are you doing in a Holiday Express outside of Dayton?" Kurt asked as he and Jesse slid into opposite sides of a booth in a not-as-tasteless bar down the road from the hotel.

"I could ask you the same thing," Jesse replied with a smile as he took a sip of his gin and tonic.

"I," Kurt said as he directed a finger at himself, "was forgotten in the back seat of Sam and Quinn's car when she decided to seduce her husband into leaving Rachel, Finn, Santana and Puck at some seedy biker bar in Dayton." Kurt took a sip of his martini and looked back to his drinking companion. "So? Dish."

"It's nothing," Jesse said with his ever-present charming smile. "I'm working on a little Off-Broadway number and the show is getting ready to launch a tour. We're going to a few obscure places first, just to get the average man's opinion. Once we get statistics to show what we already know – that the show is spectacular, of course – then we'll launch the nation-wide and possibly world-wide tour! It's all very exciting."

Kurt stared at Jesse, a bored expression on his face. He rolled his eyes, took another sip of his drink and exhaled. "And the truth?"

Jesse blinked before downing the rest of his drink in one fell swoop and holding the glass up to attract the attention of their waitress. "It's a long story."

"I got time," Kurt said sassily as he took another sip.

"Well, I went to the University of California at Los Angeles …"

"You can call it UCLA. I think we all get it," Kurt interjected.

Jesse shot him a look and continued, "As you know, it's in Los Angeles. Which is an excellent town for someone trying to break into the business. Show business, I mean."

"Yeah," Kurt said deadpan. "I know what you mean."

"So. There I was. In Los Angeles. I was at school, of course, on a full scholarship. Did I mention that before?" When Kurt didn't answer, Jesse plowed on. "So I was singing and acting and dancing … I'm a triple threat. I don't know if you knew that. But, as I was saying, I was taking dance and acting and vocal classes and lessons but I was also going on auditions. Those are …"

"Yes, Jesse. I know what auditions are. You don't need to explain it to me," Kurt bit out, wondering exactly why he had asked Jesse to tell his story.

"Right," Jesse nodded. "So, of course, I get a callback for Chicago. I'd auditioned for the role of Billy Flynn. The male lead, of course. But the callback was for Amos. Amos! It was like the proverbial slap in the face. Amos is dumpy and weak and not interesting at all. Only a sub-par actor would settle for the role of Amos. He was …"

"I know who Amos Hart is, Jesse. I was actually in a production of Chicago when I was younger."

"Which role did you play?" the dark-haired man asked with a wide grin.

"Amos," Kurt said flatly. "It was my favorite role I've ever had."

Jesse stared at his for a moment before quickly downing his new drink and holding the glass in the air. "Waitress!"

-x-

"This is nice," Rachel said as she lounged in front of her husband in the large Jacuzzi style tub in the bathroom of the hotel room she and Santana were meant to stay in that night. "I'm glad we decided on a bath. It's been really stressful without you. I missed you," she added softly.

"I missed you too, babe," he replied in the same tone as he bent forward to press his lips to her bare shoulder. His hands skimmed over her skin to rest on her protruding stomach. "Only a few weeks left. Then we get to meet our little boy or little girl."

"Which do you want?" she asked as her hands moved over his, toying with his fingers. "A boy or a girl?"

"Either. Both. Seven of each," he told her seriously, his lips moving to press against the back of her head. "So long as the baby comes out healthy I don't care which we get. Because we're not stopping after this one."

"We're not?" Rachel asked with a smirk, trapping his hands against her stomach as the baby let off a series of powerful kicks.

"Nope," he responded quickly. "Big family. Huge. Like, think Brady Bunch plus Boy Meets World."

She scrunched her brow together before her eyes widened. "Finn! That's ten children!" she laughed.

"Yeah. Ten Little Rachels," he replied with a smile.

"Or a healthy mix of Little Finns and Little Rachels," she replied.

"So long as they're mine and yours, we can keep going until mother nature makes us stop."

She smiled before twisting her body slightly to catch his lips in a gentle kiss. "Finn?"

"Mmm?" he asked as he pressed his lips back to hers.

"If you want ten children, you're going to have to figure out a way to guarantee a couple sets of twins. Because I don't think I'll be able to do this eight more times."

He smiled and pressed his lips to hers again. "I'll do some research."

Rachel snorted inelegantly before turning back around and melting into her husband's embrace once again. "This tub is lovely," she sighed out as Finn's hands started gently rubbing the taut skin of her stomach again. "San would love it."

They both froze and then simultaneously shouted, "Oh no!"

"Santana!" Rachel cried as she tried to shift.

"Puck!" Finn shouted in response as he stood.

"Help me up," she demanded of her husband.

Finn helped her and then wrapped a towel around her. "I can't believe we forgot them!"

-x-

"Where the fuck are they?" Puck muttered to himself for the fiftieth time as he paced the small holding cell. "Shouldn't be taking them this fucking long to get here and bail us out."

"Maybe they only have enough money for one of us," Santana replied as she inspected her nails. "And Rachel's trying to figure out a way to make Finn think it was his idea to leave your ass to rot in here."

He stopped and turned to look at her. She was acting nonchalant but he could still tell she was rattled from their earlier conversation.

"You know, I wish I'd never said anything," Puck said after a few minutes of silence. "I wish I would have kept my mouth shut. Then there would have been no fight. No trip to Dayton. No bar fight. And no jail. We'd be fine."

"It's …" she sighed, frustrated. "It's not …" She stomped her foot and growled.

"Okay, Rachel," he said sarcastically. "I'll just let your crazy ass figure out what the fuck you wanna say to me. I'll be over here … on the sane side of the room."

"You know," she ground out. "You always make it seem like I'm the one deflecting our conversations. But every time I fucking try to say something you call me crazy and walk away. What the fuck is that about?"

"It's about giving you your space or whateverthefuck you chicks always bitch about. If your head explodes I don't wanna be in the splatter zone."

"I'll show you a fucking explosion, Puckerman," she bit out as she advanced on him.

"I forgot you were an exhibitionist," he smirked. "Wanna give the boys a show?" he teased snarkily.

"Fuck you," she spat as she moved closer.

"That's the general idea, babe."

She lunged for him and, though he would never admit it, he winced and braced himself for a punch or slap or a knee to his junk.

Instead, her lips pressed feverishly against his and her arms wound around his neck.

He opened his mouth to try and take a breath but found the passage was blocked by his girlfriend's tongue. Fuck it, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He ground himself against her and internally smirked at her moan.

They broke apart and gulped in quick breaths. Their eyes connected and they instantly tightened their arms around the other again.

Puck, needing even closer contact, lifted Santana and spun them so she was pressed against the wall of the cell and he was between her legs, his hips thrusting automatically into hers. His hands moved on autopilot and started to unbutton her top.

Just as he got to the last one, a loud clang started both of them. They looked over Pucks shoulder to see the young officer who had arrested Santana scowling at them.

"This wasn't part of our deal, Puckerman," the young man stated.

Puck removed his hands from his girlfriend's waist so quickly that they blurred in the officer's vision. Just as quickly, they moved to cup his privates as he slowly backed away. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I'm so fucking dead.

The officer smirked and walked away, whistling all the while.

"Deal?" Santana asked lowly.

Fuck.

"You made a deal with a cop to get me fucking arrested?" she asked, her voice raised slightly.

Fuck me.

"You sneaky bastard," she smiled with a shake of her head. "Get the fuck over here."

"Uhh …"

She grunted in frustration and hurled herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck once more, lips crashing violently against his.

Puck froze for a moment before realizing that she wasn't kicking his ass. He figured his business was safe so he gripped her hips and kissed her back.

"You really do love me," she whispered as she pulled back from him.

"The fuck you think I've been trying to tell you, woman?" he asked with a playful growl. "You never fucking listen." Before she could respond, he pressed his lips to hers again.

He didn't need to hear her say the words in that moment. Her acknowledgement of his feelings were more than enough.

For now.