(Author's note: I said to myself, while writing Dying In America, "Wouldn't it be cool if Shannon Beiste and Holly Holliday were roommates? I'd totally watch that situation comedy." -amy)

Prologue: August 2010

Holly was in the process of shifting a large pile of papers off the coffee table and onto the floor just as a loud knock sounded. Startled, she spilled the papers across the carpet.

"Shit, shit, shit," she sang, unperturbed, and clambered over the papers to get to the door. "On my way!" She stubbed her toe on the edge of the table and swore again. By the time she pushed the door open, she was stumbling and breathing hard. "Hi?"

The figure on the other side of the door peered at her dubiously. "You Holly? Am I in the right place?"

"Depends on what you're looking for, but yes, I'm Holly." Her face brightened. "Are you Shannon?"

"That's me," she said.

"Great! I'm also waiting for somebody named Brock to look at the stair stepper I listed on Craigslist, so I wanted to be sure."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a Brock?"

"I've given up making assumptions about names." She beckoned, smiling. "Come in, come in. Figgins said you were coming."

Holly led the formidable woman through the door. Her eyes took in the room, sliding over the papers and dishes piled on the coffee table.

"I didn't clean up," Holly explained. "I figured anybody who wanted a neat apartment wouldn't want to live with me. Best to be honest up front."

"I'm not lookin' for much. Just a place to sleep when I ain't teaching. I'm thinkin' I'll be at school most evenings." Shannon carefully placed her feet between the sea of wayward papers, moving through them until she stood before the kitchen sink.

"Seems like all teachers work late." Holly slipped on her EDC 303 notes and almost toppled into the kitchen table, but recovered in time. "That's what I'm studying to become. Hence the paperwork. I've been teaching Spanish at the high school all summer. It was a ball, I'll tell you. Any tips for a newcomer?"

Shannon's mouth twitched. "Start firm with your kids. You can always back off later when they know and trust you, but they have to start the year believing you mean it when you say something. If they can't trust your word, your teachin' ain't worth crap."

Holly inclined her chin. "Mmmm. I tend to focus more on relationships than rules. Although I have a couple I always start with. There they are, on the wall."

Shannon reached out and touched the framed words over the sink. "Number one," she read. "I'm not here to fix myself or anyone else. Number two, I'll strive to balance positive with honest. Number three, I've got a voice and I'll use it." She grinned appreciatively. "Those are some good guidelines to live by."

"They're for my clients - I'm a therapist, mostly working with teenagers - and I wouldn't ask them to do anything I didn't believe in myself. I try to give them a framework for a life they can believe in, too."

"Kids need some clear boundaries," Shannon said, nodding. "Can I see the bedroom?"

Holly's chattering didn't seem to put Shannon off any more than the dirty dishes had. She responded to her small talk with ease. By the time they returned from their tour of the bathroom and bedrooms, Holly had learned that Shannon taught PE and coached football.

"I'm thinking you won't mind me adding a little to the mess," Shannon said, indicating the living room floor. "I do some crafting myself."

"Knitting?" Holly guessed.

"Leatherwork." She held out her arm and showed Holly the cuff snapped around her wrist, finely tooled and dyed in Celtic knots. Holly touched the cuff and offered some noises of approval.

"Totally not a problem. So…" She made an encompassing gesture. "What do you say? Roomie?"

Shannon laughed, shifting her hand to offer it to shake. Holly did so, beaming. Then she rummaged in a stack of folders on the counter until she came up with a not-too wrinkled copy of the sublease contract.

"Where are you teaching? Not here in Lima?"

"Yep," said Shannon. "McKinley High. The football coach had to leave suddenly, but his record with the kids wasn't that impressive to begin with. I'll whip 'em into shape."

Holly gave a little clap. "Oh, McKinley! That's where I was this summer! Will Schuester, the Spanish teacher, he's a really nice guy. And Sue Sylvester, the other P.E teacher, she's awful."

"Is that right." Shannon didn't sound too perturbed. She waited while Holly cleared off a chair at the table and sat, digging a pen out from underneath a balled-up fast food wrapper. Her printing was clear and bold across the top of the contract: BEISTE, SHANNON. "I'm pretty good at holding my own against adversity."

"That's an excellent skill to have." Holly crossed her arms thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have to ask this, but I might as well be clear before you sign on the dotted line that this is a LBGT-friendly apartment."

Shannon paused, eyeing Holly.

"I ain't gay," she said firmly. "People think because I'm strong enough to lift a trailer that I'm automatically gay. But I'm not. I love men."

"No problem," Holly said. "So do I."

"I mean, sometimes they're a pain in the tuchus," Shannon went on. "I ain't sayin' it wouldn't be convenient sometimes not to care about them."

"Yeah, but we do." Holly smiled and touched Shannon's thick arm above the leather cuff. "I always have, even when everybody else thought I was a gay man."

Shannon's eyebrows went up to the top of her forehead and remained there. "A… gay man?"

"Remember what I said about honesty up front? That's what I'm offering." She held out her hand again, and after a moment, Shannon shook it. Holly felt herself relax under the grip of her hand. "If you're OK with me the way I am, I think we're going to be fine."

Shelby was waiting on the porch of her new rental house as Puck crunched up the driveway in the Impala. He watched her smile widen as Puck lifted Beth's carrier out of the back seat. He set her down just long enough to give Shelby a hug.

"Been a while, Noah," she said, but her eyes were on Beth as Puck unbuckled her from the car seat. "Hey, peanut, look at you! You're so much bigger than you were last week."

"She's wet," he warned. "And there's a tooth coming in, right up front. She's biting on everything in her path." He showed Shelby the little nub. "Watch your arm. She took a chunk out of Burt's shoulder."

He hovered for another moment before Shelby gestured toward the door. "Come in for a bit before you head back to Lima. Or are you going on to Westerville?"

"Yeah, I thought I would stop there on my way home." Puck kept his voice casual, but Shelby obviously wasn't fooled. Her smile over her shoulder as she held Beth was knowing.

"I have the feeling you'll be doing that route a lot this year."

"It's only an extra hour. And Blaine —" He shrugged, scratching his neck as he felt his face get warm. "Yeah, okay. Pretty much every weekend."

"Trust me, I saw how the two of you were this summer." Shelby ducked Beth's grasping hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. "You're still glowing. You miss him?"

"Not as much as I'm gonna miss this monkey." He moved in close behind then and nuzzled Beth's cheek, provoking laughs and babbles. "You sure you're OK quitting your job?"

"I am so sure," Shelby promised. "It's done, they've hired my replacement. Dustin Goolsby's not a particularly nice man, but he's a very good director, and if he and Toby can keep from killing one another, they'll produce an unstoppable choir by the time sectionals rolls around. So I'm the weekday parent; you're the weekend parent. And you're going to keep up your grades."

He wasn't fooled by her severe look. "Trust me, I got Kurt and Finn on my ass about that."

"I don't want to hear details," she reminded him, but she was grinning.

The car was a lot quieter on the way out of Akron than it had been on the way in. Puck put on the brand-new Katy Perry album and hummed along to Teenage Dream. It was pretty cool to hear a song on a CD that had been written using words he'd offered to the songwriter about his own boyfriend.

Someday, he thought, I'll hear Adam's recording of the song Finn had him write about me.

He paused at the gas station to fill up his tank, and sent Adam a text of a picture of Shelby holding Beth. For Daddum, he typed slowly. He knew Adam wouldn't receive it until he was done with his visit to Boston Children's Hospital, but that was okay. Kurt told him the word for their relationship was asynchronous, and Puck was mostly used to it by now. It was Adam who suffered most. At least he had Angela to take care of him. Not that she was providing the kind of service that Puck would have given Adam, had he been with him on tour. Puck would have offered regular blowjobs, for one thing.

Blaine wasn't waiting on the porch of his dorm or anything, but Puck called him when he arrived and Blaine came down to meet him at the benches west of the courtyard. They were under the shade of some mature trees, out of the way of prying eyes. Not that Puck really cared who saw him with Blaine, especially not in Westerville, but he knew Blaine didn't want to risk any gossip getting back to his father.

He opened his arms as Blaine approached, and Blaine put a little speed into his step to arrive that much sooner. As soon as Puck was holding Blaine, he let out a relieved sigh, which was mirrored by Blaine's.

"Better," Puck said, his voice husky. Blaine just nodded, quivering a little as he settled into Puck's embrace.

"Everything okay with Shelby?" he asked, his words muffled against Puck's shirt.

"It's gonna be fine. She's with her mom. That's almost as good as being with her Papa, or you." Puck kissed Blaine's head. "And I'm here, with you. I dreamed about you last night."

"I dreamed about you, too." It was a joke, because most nights for the past year, they'd dreamed about one another. Ever since he and Blaine had met at the dance club last year, somehow they'd remained in each others' memories. Puck brushed Blaine's cheek with the back of his hand, and Blaine leaned into the touch with clear appreciation. "I miss you all so much."

"We miss you, babe. Kurt said to give you a kiss." He did that, making it long and gentle. Blaine sighed into it, letting his body relax into Puck's.

"That's so nice."

"Yeah. And here's one from me."

This time Blaine surfaced from the kiss gasping, nudging his pelvis against Puck's jeans-clad hip. His eyes were glassy. "Yeah, that… that felt like it was from you."

Puck placed his lips against Blaine's ear. "I can't give you what Finn has for you out here," he whispered. "Not until we're in your room."

Blaine moaned, chuckling a little. "I can only guess what that might be."

Blaine was calm today. There were things Puck could do for Blaine that would help maintain that calm — things he knew Blaine also got from Finn on their Wednesdays together — but it didn't seem that Blaine needed them at the moment.

It wasn't exactly true anymore to say that Kurt and Blaine had the romantic role in their foursome, or that Puck and Blaine were the sexy ones, or that Finn was in charge. They all shared all those roles now. This didn't seem to bother Blaine in the least; on the contrary, he seemed nothing but delighted by the whole situation, if a little overwhelmed. Puck could relate: he knew exactly how incredibly humbling and totally terrifying it was to have so many people taking care of you.

Puck took Blaine's hand and led him back to the rear exit door of the dorm. He squeezed Blaine's hand once before letting him head back around to the front. It wasn't more than another minute before Blaine was there opening the door from the inside, and two more minutes before they'd made their way up the rear stairs to Blaine's dorm room.

"We have forty-five minutes before Trey gets back from the grocery store," Blaine said, pulling the door shut and locking it with a firm click. He met Puck in the middle of the floor, his hands already tugging off pieces of his clothing. Their lips joined hungrily.

"I'm not wasting any of it," Puck promised between kisses.

He didn't mention Blaine's collar. Puck knew without a doubt that was one of those things Finn would provide for him later that weekend. There was a limit to how far down Blaine would be able to go into subspace in forty-five minutes, anyway. Puck used his hands instead, holding firm to Blaine's wrists as he placed him on his back on the bed and had his way with him. Blaine just watched him through it all, the love and amazement showing plainly on his face: I get this? And Puck did his best to show him that yeah, fuck, yeah, he did.

When Blaine got loud at the end, the way he usually did, Puck gathered him up with one strong hand and covered his mouth with the other, slowing down and drawing it out. By now he knew how to pace it just the way Blaine liked it, to keep him at that point just before coming for a good long time. Blaine's frantic breaths, the way he was writhing and struggling in Puck's arms, just served to inspire him to draw it out further, but eventually he couldn't hold out any longer, and they collapsed together on the bed.

"Oh god," Blaine panted, rolling over onto his back, "oh, god. You are the best… the most…" He shook his head and laughed helplessly. "I can't add enough superlatives to that sentence."

"Yeah, I know." Puck curled up close beside him, grinning. He used the edge of Blaine's sheet to pad the moisture off Blaine's forehead. "You aren't the only one feeling that way."

"But I'm not doing anything," Blaine said. Puck had to laugh.

"You're here, you're real, and you react like that. That's all I'm asking for." He leaned in and kissed him on his temple, the way Finn would have done, and basked in the worshipful look on Blaine's face. "I don't want you to do anything."

"Just lie back and take it?" Blaine asked. His tone was joking, but his expression was so hopeful that Puck had to kiss him again.

"That's right, babe. You're gonna let me love you like that, I'm gonna do it, as long as you want it."

"Wow." Blaine's smile broadened until it took up his entire face, his eyes shining. "That sounds like… quite a promise."

Puck didn't answer. He wasn't the promise-making type, and there was no sense in pretending he was. He knew Finn was willing to make all the promises for the lot of them. Puck would be right behind every one of them.

They showered and got dressed quickly, just in case Trey came back early. He wished Blaine had gotten Jeff for a roommate this year. Jeff knew all about Finn's disciplinary relationship with Blaine, and had even filled in for him on occasion when Blaine was falling apart and needed relief. The few times Puck had run into Jeff, he didn't seem to object to Blaine's suddenly acquiring two more lovers, so that made him okay in Puck's book.

"How's school going so far?" Puck asked. His own school hadn't begun yet, but Dalton had started two weeks ago. Blaine shrugged.

"Things are fine here. At home, not so much. My dad and his partner Thomas, I think they're breaking up. No surprise, considering my dad's just as controlling with him as he is with… everything else in his life."

Puck knew he meant with me, but he didn't push him. He'd leave that to Finn, and the paddle Blaine kept under his pillow. "That sucks. You like Thomas."

"I do," Blaine said. He directed his gaze out the window and smiled wistfully. "It's hard getting attached to people. Seems like I end up missing everyone more all the time. You, and Kurt and Finn, your sister… and especially Bethie."

"I'll bring her soon," Puck told him as he rose to his feet. "I'll come by Friday night on my way home with her, if you want."

"Yeah?" Blaine looked hopeful again. "I know that would mean we couldn't… that we wouldn't be able to do other things, but… I'd like that."

Knowing that Blaine liked seeing Beth as much as he liked the awesome sex they'd just had made him feel inexplicably smug. Check it out. My boyfriend digs my kid.

The ride home went by in a happy haze of singing along to Adam's album and thoughts of their summer with Blaine. It seemed like a lot less than an hour and a half had gone by when he pulled into the freshly-paved driveway.

He carefully drove around to the side and eased his Impala into the rear garage. His car was the only one there. Carole's station wagon was with her at work. Kurt's Navigator and Finn's Focus would have been parked in the other garage, the one around the front, but the Focus was at the shop for a brake repair, and Kurt had taken Sarah and Frances clothes shopping in preparation of the first day of school.

It wasn't weird to be alone in the house of Sarah's design, no matter how big it was. It honestly felt more like his house than any other place he'd ever lived. The kitchen was entirely his domain, nobody had argued about that, and Sarah had let him outfit it from top to bottom. The back two upstairs bedrooms, for him and Beth, had their own staircase and their own bath. And then there was the basement.

Instead of heading up the stairs to his rooms, he went down to inspect the bare drywall and cement floor of the basement rooms. They were still unfinished, but looking around, he had some ideas about how they would come together. A music practice room, for one, big enough to house Finn's drums (they were currently upstairs in Finn's bedroom, but Puck knew he wasn't complaining). Storage for Carole's craft supplies, and whatever materials Kurt had set aside for future sewing projects.

Puck paused in the doorway to the room behind the laundry. There was space for a bath with a stall shower, but on the floor plans, the large space beyond was marked "Storage." Finn had already started installing the double layer of insulation in the walls and ceiling. Reaching up with one hand, Puck ran his fingers along the reinforced joists, ready for hooks and other secure attachments, and felt a shiver. He was pretty sure there was no official designation on architect blueprints for "Playroom" or "Dungeon," but it didn't matter, because he knew how it was going to end up. This would be their own personal version of Carl's studio - private, lockable and more secure than any space outside of Tessera.

He'd been uncertain about it the first time Kurt had brought it up. Does that mean you won't be able to cuff me to my bed anymore, he'd asked. Kurt had hugged him tightly and reassured him, Not at all, sweetheart. It just means whenever you want to be really loud, you'll have a place to do that without worrying about who can hear.

He knew what that meant. Puck was seldom loud, but Blaine was, almost always. Kurt was as invested in Blaine's comfort as he was in his own. This home would serve them in all possible ways.

He went back up to the first floor, then lugged his own weekend clothes and Beth's diaper bag upstairs to do a load of laundry. His own room was still mostly bare. Nobody had pushed him to decorate, and he appreciated that. The bookshelf held his copy of The Missing Piece, along with the two trilogies of Griffin & Sabine stories. They hadn't yet read the third book, or the second trilogy, but he was sure it would happen in time. His dog-eared copy of All the King's Men lay beside his assortment of sheet music, and his guitar and the cardboard box containing his father's collection of Neil Diamond records were at the foot of his bed. An Adam Lambert fan club calendar was tacked to the wall — it made him grin every time he saw it — beside the much-folded list of things he'd long ago written of things he wanted in a girlfriend, beginning with "hot" and ending with "forgives me." In the corner was a desk from the Salvation Army; it held Finn's old computer with the keyboard missing the J, since Finn's room was already full of drums.

Puck didn't boot up the computer. Instead, he opened his notebook and flipped past his scrawled menus for upcoming meals, to the pages in the middle that held his notes for songs. The original ideas for his song about Kurt and Finn were there, and the song he'd written with Sarah at Tessera last year. Most of what he'd been creating recently were tunes, but every now and then, he felt inspired to write lyrics. Finn and Kurt knew better than to ask him about them. If Puck had anything that was private in his life, it was that notebook.

He hadn't written more than a few lines before his phone buzzed with a text. Puck wasn't crazy about reading texts, but Blaine had a habit of sending him voice texts, and they felt like nothing less than little gifts in the middle of his day. He had to roll his eyes at his own sappiness, but he pressed Play and listened.

There was a lot of ambient noise of people talking in the background, but he could hear Blaine's voice, too, sounding very much in control and in charge. "All right, guys," he said, "just like we practiced. Ready? I'm recording. Hit the twos and fours hard, Trey."

Puck almost laughed, but once Blaine started singing, he just sat there with his phone in his hand and breathed. There were no instruments, just a whole bunch of boys singing all the parts.

You think I'm pretty without any makeup on
You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong
I know you get me, so I let my walls come down

Puck let his lips move along with the words, but he didn't make a sound. The Warblers, singing perfect harmony in backup to his boy, in particular this song, inspired by his own description of himself and Finn, written by Finn's cousin Katy, all tied together by Blaine's incredible voice… it was hard to say if he'd ever felt more in love with Blaine than he did at that moment.

He was sitting so still and so focused that he didn't hear the garage door close, or the shoes on the stairs. The knock on his doorframe made him jump. Finn stood in the hallway, his head cocked.

"Hey, I didn't know you were going to be home this early. Could you take me over to the garage to pick up my —" Finn's voice drifted off as he caught Blaine's voice, and he stood there, staring at the phone. "Is that…?"

Puck beckoned him into the room. Finn came over and sat down beside him on the bed, huddling close with a hungry expression. He looked at Puck, his eyes wide, and Puck nodded. They sat there until the very last a cappella chorus:

Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans
Be my teenage dream tonight

"That was great!" Blaine's voice exclaimed, amid whoops and cheers. "I think we should —" The sound cut off.

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. He touched Puck's wrist. "Would you send me a copy of that?"

"Yeah, sure, man." Puck blinked for a moment, realizing. "He didn't send it to you?"

"No, no," said Finn, waving it off. "This is your song. We've got lots of stuff we sing together. You know that U2 song, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For? He did that at Irene's way back at the beginning, before we formed Labyrinth with Carl. And the Indigo Girls one, Kid Fears. Lots of stuff." He smiled encouragingly at Puck, and Puck felt his shoulders settle a little with the approval. "You get to have this."

"Yeah?" Puck gazed down at the phone. He wanted to listen to it again, right away. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing."

"What do you mean?"

Puck shrugged. "Thinking this thing with Blaine matters so much. Who has this many big-deal relationships in one year? There was you and Kurt last October, then Adam in December, then Blaine this summer…"

"It is a big deal," Finn said quietly. He slid his hand up the center of Puck's back to gently squeeze his neck, then moved it back to his shoulder. "He… he's a big deal. For all of us." He nodded at the phone. "You going to tell him?"

For a moment, Puck felt a wave of terror. "Tell him what?"

"What you thought about the song." He glanced at Puck curiously. "What did you…?"

"Nothing," Puck said hurriedly. He fumbled with the phone, tapping at the keyboard. Awesome, babe, he sent.

"Puck." The Voice was unmistakable. Puck closed his eyes.

"I — said something to him today. About being, um. Around. For as long as he wanted me." When Finn just nodded for him to go on, he squirmed a little. "I don't know. It felt like…"

"Like what?" Finn prompted, his voice still gentle.

He took a long breath. "Like a promise. A real one. Like… that one time with Kurt last January, when I told Kurt I wanted him to be my baby. And you were there, and I said it felt — like I'd kind of proposed, and you said —" He couldn't meet Finn's eyes. "You said I should warn you if I was gonna do that. Because you'd want to get two rings."

"Yeah." Finn didn't sound upset. "This feels like that?"

"Well, kind of. I think it was just then when I realized how I felt about you."

Finn cocked his head, confused. "About me?"

"Yeah. That I wanted you to make those kind of decisions, for me."

Now Finn looked completely floored. "You mean… if I proposed to Kurt, that would count for you, too?"

Puck relaxed, smiling. "Yeah. Because I'm already — I mean, I told you before. Where you go, I go, right?"

"Mine," Finn whispered. He was still searching Puck's eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it, because he reached in to cup Puck's face before claiming a long kiss. Puck made a noise into his mouth.

"Yes sir," he whispered back, when he could talk again.

Finn nodded, sitting back. His eyes were as serious as Puck had ever seen them. "What if I told you I already talked to Kurt about this, and told him it was too soon for us to think about getting married?"

Puck nodded back. Yes, sir, was about all he could imagine saying, and he'd already said it. It all felt okay. Finn was taking care of it.

Finn cupped Puck's hand in his own, cradling the phone containing Blaine's song. "And… you know how I feel about Blaine, and about Kurt."

He nodded again. This time Finn smiled, somewhat ruefully.

"Have you noticed the diamond anklet Kurt's been wearing this summer?"

Puck thought about it for a minute, and nodded, slowly. He didn't really notice stuff like that, but he could recall it now that Finn mentioned it.

Finn sighed, studying his lap. "That was from me, for his birthday. My not-engagement present to him. It wasn't going to be a collar," he added, at Puck's look, "but I wanted it to be something. Something important."

"So how do you know when you're ready to do something like that for real?" Puck asked.

"I don't know," said Finn. "I think there has to be a reason. A reason to change what we already have. Not just because I don't want him to leave or whatever. I mean… if he wanted to leave, he should leave."

"What do you mean, leave?" Puck felt himself tensing up as his voice rose. "Kurt's not leaving."

"No, no." Finn tightened his hand around Puck's. "I don't think he would. I'm just saying he should be able to. He can make his own decisions."

Puck suddenly realized Finn wasn't really talking about Kurt. "But not Blaine. Blaine can't make his own decisions?"

"I don't know," Finn admitted in a low voice. "I don't know if he even knows what that means. Or if I would even offer it to him, if he did. I mean, how would it feel to you if I told you you should make your own decisions about your life?"

Just the idea, coming from Finn, was so unexpected and appalling that Puck felt like he might suddenly puke all over the floor. As he began to shake, Finn let the phone fall to Puck's lap and used both arms to wrap him up in a tight hug.

"I'm not doing that, okay?" Finn promised, right into his ear. "I'm not. You're mine, and you always will be. No matter what."

Puck took a few minutes to remember how to breathe, and let himself regain his equilibrium. "Yes sir," he said at last. He felt Finn kiss his cheek, and whimpered when Finn pulled away.

"I have to get my car," Finn said. It was kind of an apology. He stood up, holding out a hand. "You drive."

It wasn't a question, like the one Finn had come into his room to ask. This was a command, and just the act of obeying it made Puck feel better. But after they'd settled into Puck's Impala, before he pulled out of the garage, Puck made himself look at Finn.

"If you ever stop wanting that," he said, with an effort, "you… you should tell me. Okay? I don't want you to be in charge of me unless you want to be."

Even as he said it, he recognized the incredulous look on Finn's face. It was just like the one he'd worn himself earlier that afternoon, when Blaine had said but I'm not doing anything, is that really good enough? You just want me to lie back and take it? He knew exactly what Finn's look meant: of course I want that, are you fucking crazy?

Puck ducked his face, feeling his cheeks heat, and but he suddenly felt a lot calmer. He grinned as he put the car in gear.

"After we pick up my car from the garage," said Finn, resting a confident hand on Puck's knee, "I'll show you just how in charge of you I want to be."