Puck's Safe Place
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Chapter 1: Little Mama
Noah Puckerman had been through hell and back—two prosthetic legs, no sight, and scars both inside and out. But tonight, he found peace. Wrapped in a thick hoodie and sweatpants with the quiet hum of a white noise machine in the background, Noah lay curled up in a toddler bed, arms protectively around a sleepy two-year-old girl. Tracy Anderson, small and stubborn, gently rested her hand over his heart as she whispered, "He's okay now, Dada... Tell Queenie I'm sorry there's no room in my bed for her, but I'm okay with him staying."
Her voice was barely a whisper, but the words carried enough weight to keep the demons at bay. Noah clung to her like a life raft in a storm, tears soaking her pajama sleeve.
The door creaked open, revealing Quinn Fabray—duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a pack of adult diapers in her hand. Her brows were tight with concern.
"You sure about this, sweetheart?" she asked softly. "Nono's nightmares are loud. I don't want you scared."
Tracy blinked at her, annoyed. "He calms down faster with me," she said, matter-of-fact. "Look. He holds me. He pushes you out of bed. He napped with me today, no problems."
Her tiny arms crossed. "Now go back to bed. He's okay. I want to keep it that way."
Quinn hesitated, then quietly backed out, closing the door halfway behind her. Kurt stood in the hallway, arms folded.
"It takes me three hours every night just to get him calm," Quinn muttered, voice tight with exhaustion and something close to envy. "She walks in today, and five minutes later—he's asleep, dry, no meds. All I've done is change his diaper and get pushed out of my bed."
She rubbed her temples. "I know I shouldn't be jealous of a toddler, but damn it, she's right. He's only himself around her. And she's the only one who doesn't take his crap."
The next morning, everyone jolted awake at the sound of Tracy's shouting.
"Nono, STAY! This is my room, and if you keep acting like a baby, I'll treat you like one! Just 'cause you're in a diaper doesn't mean you get to act like it!"
Noah tried to reply, but Tracy barreled ahead, hands on hips.
"You're not a baby! So what if you're blind and missing your legs? So what if you don't feel like Queenie's man anymore? So what if you only feel safe with *me*? You're *Uncle Hulk, remember?"
Noah choked out a soft laugh. "Any more dumb questions?" Tracy added.
He finally managed to mutter, "Am I done with time-out now, Little Mama?"
Tracy nodded like a tiny general, then immediately shoved him toward the hallway, holding her nose.
"GOD, Nono, you APE! My room smells like a skunk died! Queenie! You better have wipes, or Nono's bathing in *my* tub! Someone open a window before this place stinks all day!"
From the hallway, she shouted, "He farted in my face and laughed about it! That red mark on his leg? That's from my ruler! He didn't even *feel* it! I'm gonna barf!"
She dashed toward the bathroom, gagging dramatically.
Blaine cracked open the window as Quinn and Noah shuffled toward Tracy's bathroom, trailing embarrassment and a faint smell of regret. Burt Hummel followed them in, his face like thunder.
"I'll wash him," Burt grunted. Quinn hesitated at his tone but stepped aside.
Once inside, Burt didn't hold back.
"Puck, I've had it. Do you think Finn would've put up with this? You're not a loser. You're not a baby. And Tracy isn't Beth—she's your best friend, not your daughter."
Before Noah could speak, a shrill voice shouted from behind the door, "GRANDPA HULK, COOL IT! Don't make Nono feel worse! Wash him in silence, or you're in time-out!"
Both men froze. Then chuckled.
"Okay, Little Mama," they whispered in unison.
Later, as Burt helped Noah into a clean hoodie and shorts, Noah whispered, "Mr. H, grab my phone. Third photo in the gallery."
Burt obliged and raised an eyebrow at the image.
"You've got a Super Soaker in your gun closet?" he asked.
Noah smirked. "Comes in handy."
Burt nodded slowly. "Tracy hasn't wet the bed in six months, you know. Quinn keeps joking that she has to sleep on your floor just to stay dry. But I won't tell Kurt that *you* filled those balloons if you promise to use the paintball gun on your daughter's first date."
From the hallway, Tracy called out, "Grandpa Burt, you do remember the baby monitor, right?"
Burt rolled his eyes. "Busted," he muttered.
Just then, Blaine entered, brandishing a Super Soaker.
"You're not the only one with a big bladder, man," Blaine said. "Finn gave me this back at NYADA. Let's just say he caught me mid-incident."
That afternoon, another nightmare hit. Noah started thrashing during a nap. Tracy sang softly—"Tomorrow" from Annie—until her voice broke. Tears in her eyes, she found Quinn and said, "Just come hold him. I need to make a phone call."
She grabbed Kurt's phone and marched off, Burt following silently.
"Mama Rachel!" she shouted when the call connected. "Why aren't you here with Aunt Beth? Nono misses her! Nana Shelby's being *mean*! He calls me Beth in his sleep. He begs God in Hebrew to take him every night! He's starting to see again, and the only person he looks at is me!"
She paused for breath, then added, "If you don't help bring Aunt Beth here, I'm sending Queenie or Grandpa Burt to yell at you!"
Burt returned just as Quinn stepped out of her room.
"I'll see her tomorrow," Quinn said, tired but firm. "We're moving in here. Nono's mom already confronted Shelby when he got home."
She looked to Burt. "You're coming with me. He sees you as a father, and honestly? You've got yelling to do."
Then, in a whisper, "I found Elizabeth's diary. Carole gave it to Puck. You two have a lot in common."
Burt paled. "She didn't... mention nicknames, did she?"
Quinn grinned. "No, Lady Killer."
The scene at Judy Fabray's house was chaos. Santana's car was already in the driveway. Inside, Tracy was in full-on fury mode.
"Nono and Queenie are SOULMATES! He's not a loser—you are! Why did you tell Nana Shelby to keep Beth away from him? He never forgot her!"
Judy opened her mouth, but Tracy cut her off.
"I know your name is Judy! I know about the money you sent Shelby for Beth's birthday! I'm not dumb, BITCH!"
Burt stormed forward. "You tried to control Quinn her whole life. You *arranged* that meeting with Shelby, didn't you? At my shop, no less! My guys saw everything. I wonder if Russell knows about your little chat with Puck back when he was still cleaning pools."
Quinn snapped. She shoved her mother and punched her square in the jaw, then stormed out, tears streaming.
Burt found her an hour later at Elizabeth Hummel's grave.
"I didn't name her Beth," Quinn whispered. "I named her *Elizabeth*. I wanted to be like Kurt's mom. But after Finn found out about my cheating, I just... I just wanted to get rid of her. Puck told me not to. Now he can't even feel below the waist, and he clings to Tracy out of guilt. He barely looks at me."
Burt wrapped his arms around her. "Tracy thought you and Puck were the Hulk and Black Widow. Elizabeth used to call me Daddy Hulk. Kurt was strong, but he taught *me* how to be stronger."
Quinn sniffled. "I kept telling him to have faith when you were in the hospital. Now I'm the one losing mine."
They stopped at a gas station halfway to Shelby's. Santana and Tracy were already there.
"She called me," Santana said, nodding toward the sleeping girl in the car. "Blaine gave the green light. She told Judy off like a pro. I can't wait to see what she says to Shelby."
Burt chuckled. "Got pull-ups in the truck. Tracy's a hurricane with pigtails. Only Puck can say no to her."
Quinn walked up, holding four Dr. Peppers. "Alright," she said. "Let's finish this."
The air at the gas station felt heavier than it should have, thick with gasoline fumes and unsaid truths. Burt replaced the fuel cap on his truck with a quiet click, then leaned against the driver's side door, watching Tracy through the windshield. She was still curled up in Santana's back seat, clutching her stuffed lion—Finn's old NYADA mascot—like it was a lifeline.
Quinn handed Burt a cold Dr. Pepper, her
voice softer now. "We're about to do what we should've done a long time ago. *We*—all of us—deserve to make things right."
At Shelby's House
Tracy stood in the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest. The familiar tension in the room was like static electricity, thick and unyielding. She had never seen Beth this way before—so sharp, so guarded—and it made her hesitate for a second. Tracy might have been five, but there was something in her that couldn't look away from Beth's stormy expression, the same way she had learned to read Noah when he wore that same face.
"You know, Beth," Tracy began, her voice small but steady, "Nono needs you. He needs his family." Tracy took a few tentative steps into the room, her eyes locked on Beth, trying to make her understand. "You can't just leave him behind."
Beth scoffed and shook her head, her bitterness spilling over. "What do you know about family, huh? You're just... just a little kid. You don't get it. You don't know what it's like to have someone give you away." Her eyes flared with the same anger Noah had felt when he was a teenager, the sharp sting of abandonment that could never quite fade.
Tracy blinked, surprised by how raw Beth's words were. It wasn't just the usual teenage rebellion; there was something deeper, more painful behind her words.
"You don't get it, do you?" Beth continued, her voice rising. "Nono gave me up. And now, you think you can just come in and fix everything? You think I'm supposed to just forgive him? Just like that?" She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing in the room. "I can't do that. I won't. He's the reason I've been carrying this pain for so long."
Tracy flinched, but then she steadied herself. She might not be able to understand all of Beth's pain—how could she?—but she understood enough. Noah was her Nono, her protector, the one who always made sure she knew she was safe. But even she could see how much Beth was hurting, like Noah had been when he was younger. He'd held onto his anger for so long, too, even after everything had started to settle down.
"No one's asking you to forgive him overnight, Beth," Tracy said quietly. "But Nono's not a bad person. And neither are you. You're not your dad. I don't expect you to forget what happened, but you can't keep holding onto this forever. You've got him—he's here. And I can't take that away from you, no matter how hard I try."
Beth stared at Tracy for a long moment, her eyes dark, her jaw tight. There was a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—but it was quickly swallowed by the bitterness. "You don't get it, Tracy. You never will." Her voice was quieter now, but there was no less anger in it. "You're not the one who got abandoned. You're not the one who was left behind, again and again. You haven't felt the way I felt—*how I still feel*—when you have to watch your dad walk out on you. When you feel like you're nothing."
Tracy didn't know what to say. She was only five, but she understood enough to know that sometimes, words weren't enough to fix things. It wasn't about fixing anything. It was about being there. But she also knew she wasn't the one who needed to fix this—Beth needed to find her way through it.
Beth swallowed hard; her eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly wiped them away, unwilling to let them fall. "Nono left me. And I'm supposed to just... forget? Just forgive him because you think it's that simple?"
"No," Tracy replied firmly, her voice small but resolute. "You don't have to forgive him right now. But he's trying, Beth. He's trying because he knows what it's like to feel like you don't matter. He just wants you to know you do. You do matter."
Beth looked away, biting her lip hard as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. Tracy stepped forward, close enough now to see the strain on Beth's face. The older girl had been carrying this bitterness for years, long before Tracy had even known about her, and that wasn't something that could be fixed in a day.
"I can't just let it go, Tracy. I've tried. And it hurts so much. It's not that simple." Beth's voice cracked, the anger draining away, replaced by the exhaustion of a pain she hadn't let go of.
Tracy's gaze softened. "I know. It's not easy. But you don't have to do it alone. Nono doesn't want to be the reason you're stuck in this hurt. He doesn't want that for you."
Beth's eyes flicked over to Tracy, a hint of vulnerability creeping in, but just as quickly, it was masked by her usual walls. "Maybe he doesn't, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to forgive him. I don't know if I can. Not yet."
"You don't have to forgive him today," Tracy repeated, her voice softer this time, with the simple, unshakable conviction of a child who didn't understand all the weight of the world. "But you should know... he's still your dad. And he's here. And he's not going anywhere. Just don't let that bitterness make you forget that."
Beth didn't answer. She didn't know what to say, or if she even had it in her to say anything. The pain was too fresh, the wound too deep, and maybe, just maybe, she wasn't ready to let go of the anger she'd been holding for so long.
Tracy's small hands clenched into fists, her eyes staring up at Beth as though she could will her to understand. "You don't have to forgive him today," Tracy repeated. "But Nono loves you. And he needs you. Please, just show up. Don't make the same mistake he did."
Beth didn't respond, but for the first time, she didn't argue either. She just stood there, looking at Tracy, unsure of how to move forward but unwilling to shut her out completely.
Heading Home
Blaine leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to his phone. He looked over at Quinn and Santana, who were sitting on the couch, absorbed in their conversation. As he scrolled through his feed, a notification caught his eye. It was a video. He clicked on it, his expression immediately shifting.
"Puck's gonna love this," Blaine said, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he turned the phone toward Quinn and Santana.
Santana raised an eyebrow, watching the screen with a quiet, interested stare. The video showed Tracy standing face-to-face with Beth, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, yelling. The video was shaky, but the frustration in Tracy's voice was clear. Even over the noise, the tension between the two was unmistakable.
"Oh, damn," Santana muttered under her breath. "That's gonna blow up."
Quinn leaned in, squinting at the phone. "Is that Tracy?"
"Yeah," Blaine replied, scrolling down through the comments. "Rachel's got a funny one. She said, 'Fighting like sisters. Classic.'" He chuckled a little, but there was an edge to his amusement. "I don't think she meant it as a joke."
"Tracy has got some serious fire," Santana remarked, still watching the screen, clearly not surprised.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I hope they don't make this a trend. If she's acting like this with Beth, who knows what's going to happen when she gets older."
Blaine glanced over at them, his tone turning more serious. "It's not just Tracy. It's Beth, too. There's a lot of pain between them. I've seen it. This isn't about just a fight. This is a lot deeper than that."
Santana didn't disagree, but she couldn't resist the urge to poke a little fun. "Yeah, but knowing those two? They'll probably hug it out eventually. Or maybe... start a YouTube channel."
But the humor didn't land. Blaine's expression was tight, eyes full of concern as he stared at the phone. Santana noticed and nodded toward him, her voice quieter. "We need to be there for them, Blaine. Both of them."
Then, shifting to Noah's perspective and emotional struggle:
In the other room, Noah was pacing in his wheelchair, the creak of the wheels echoing in the otherwise silent space. He had seen the video, too. Of course, he had. It was everywhere. He could practically feel it smothering him. He had seen it and felt... lost. Angry. Guilty.
"Damn it," Noah muttered, gripping the wheels tighter, his hands shaking. He wasn't used to this. To be the center of attention like this. The last thing he needed was people pitying him. And now, his daughter was fighting with Tracy.
"She doesn't need me, does she?" Noah asked, his voice hollow but loud enough for Kurt to hear from the other room. "She doesn't need me, Kurt. She's better off without me."
Kurt, who had been sitting quietly at the table, raised his head slowly. He didn't say anything at first. He just watched Noah, his heart aching for the man who had become like a brother to him.
Noah's face twisted with frustration, his words coming faster now, angry at himself, at everything that had gone wrong. "I'm a blind, crippled asshole. I can't give her what she needs. And now... she's stuck with me. She doesn't need this. She doesn't need a father who can't even see her... can't even do the things she deserves."
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Noah was already pushing forward again, the wheels of his chair turning harshly beneath him.
"Puck—"
"No," Noah snapped, cutting him off. He was practically yelling now. "Your mom—your mother never left you. She died. She didn't ditch you, Kurt! I'm not... I'm not like that. But I am like my father, aren't I? I left her. She doesn't need me."
He slammed the wheels down onto the floor, propelling himself forward again, his frustration barely contained. "She deserves more than I can give her, and I'm just... useless."
With one last push, he rolled himself toward Tracy's room, fists clenched. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he saw her, but the words were already building inside him. Tracy had always been the one to challenge him, and maybe she'd be the one to make him see sense. Or maybe he was just too far gone.
New Addition
Quinn sighed, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her nightgown as she answered Blaine's earlier comment. "Sarah told him after he tried to borrow money from her. My mom saw them talking at the Lima Bean the day Puck went missing. She called me on the way back here. Shelby informed Rachel before Tracy yelled at her. She texted me about it when we stopped to get gas."
There was a pause as Quinn looked around the room before her eyes locked onto Blaine's. "I was just wondering, though... how long can Tracy hold her pee? Because she didn't need a diaper until we stopped at Santana's house."
Blaine's smile softened a little, though his tone was still light. "She's wet the bed only fifteen times since she was born. By the way, she can hold it for eight hours, day or night. That's why I call her She-Puck when no one is around. Kurt calls her that too, especially because of her temper."
Before Quinn could reply, Carole added with a chuckle, "Sarah and Norah call her that as well. Speaking of which, Quinn. Santana streamed her yelling at Judy, Beth, and Shelby. The reason Tracy used Puck's phone to text her is that we wouldn't take her. Tracy's dad only gave in because he didn't want to deal with She-Puck. I helped raise Puck and Sarah, and trust me, Tracy is just like him. I thought she took after Burt at first until I saw her go at it with Beth."
Tracy mumbled in her sleep, her voice soft and drowsy. "Shut it. We need sleep! Queenie might need a sleeping bag tonight. Now, let us rest!"
Quinn smiled as she settled into the rocking chair next to Tracy's bed, her hand brushing over Tracy's hair in a soothing gesture. The others quietly filtered out of the room, and soon, only Quinn remained. After a few moments of silence, Quinn reached into the pocket of her nightgown and pulled out a pregnancy test, whispering to the sleeping Tracy. "Tracy, Nono is going to be a daddy again. I hope you're right about his eyesight because he'll need it if this baby is a girl."
Tracy, half asleep, responded in a soft murmur, "I hope you live here when I'm Aunt Beth's age. Papa put Nono's guns in the closet in your room before I had Tana get them, and Dada put a lock on it. I found the key to your storage unit and gave it to Papa."
Quinn giggled quietly, her heart full of warmth. The conversation shifted as Kurt and Blaine started bickering in the other room, and Quinn leaned over to whisper, "Your papa gave me the key before I returned to your room, and your grandpa should be grateful that Nono likes me."
Just as Burt and Carole began to argue, Quinn and Tracy shared a quiet laugh. At three in the morning, Tracy awoke to the soft sound of Quinn singing *Ashes* by Celine Dion, her voice gentle and calm. Quinn was sitting next to Noah's bed, her fingers gently stroking his face as he wept silently. The peacefulness of the moment was interrupted only by the sound of Noah hugging Quinn, his emotions raw.
Tracy blinked, the scene before her bringing both comfort and sadness. Before she drifted off to sleep, she heard Noah's voice, faint but full of tenderness.
When Tracy awoke the next morning, she could hear a soft moaning from Quinn's room. Getting up quietly, she made her way into the living room to find Burt and Blaine sitting awkwardly in the corner, clearly trying to avoid movement. Carole and Kurt were cooking breakfast, their laughter barely contained.
Tracy, still half-asleep, rubbed her eyes before she asked, "Grandpa, why are you and Papa in time-out?"
Before Burt could respond, Kurt piped up from across the room. "Uncle Puck put them there when Grandpa Burt and Papa Blaine were laughing about Aunt Quinn calling him Papa Hulk. They can't move until Uncle Puck and Aunt Quinn finish having their fun."
Tracy stared at Burt and Blaine, who were crossing their legs in obvious discomfort. She casually walked over to the sink, washing her hands slowly as she heard Kurt and Carole trying not to laugh. The silence stretched on for another ten minutes before Burt and Blaine attempted to stand up, only for Kurt to call out, "You can't get up until Puck or Quinn comes out."
Noah's voice broke the tension as he finally emerged from Quinn's room. Blaine was the first to dash for the bathroom, and Burt hurried to another one. Tracy burst into laughter, her giggles filling the room.
Noah chuckled as he rolled into the kitchen, his voice still tinged with amusement. "How long have they been waiting to use the bathroom?"
Kurt laughed and replied, "Fifteen minutes."
Tracy whispered, "I washed my hands slowly just to tease them. Grandpa Burt peed his pants, and Papa is in my bathroom."
Just then, Burt shouted for Carole to bring him clean clothes, and Blaine dashed for his bedroom, wrapped in a towel.
Tracy giggled and whispered, "Actually, they both peed their pants, and Papa's got a towel around his waist. Speaking of boys having accidents, I have a little test for my person, and I could use your help with it."
Noah laughed quietly, his voice low. "I hope Quinn has a son like Grandpa Burt. I heard what she told you last night."
Kurt just shook his head in disbelief, muttering a "no" under his breath. Tracy and Noah shared a laugh before Burt chimed in from across the room.
"Son, stop stressing. If you keep it up, you'll give yourself a heart attack."
As Blaine emerged from the bedroom, he called out to Noah, "Don't you ever do—" but he was cut off when Noah grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to the time-out corner, setting the stove timer for thirty minutes.
Turning to Kurt, Noah grinned. "It wouldn't matter what Quinn has, Kurt. I'll still be worse than your dad. Now, if you don't want Tracy to see both her parents in time-out, I suggest you keep quiet."
Chapter 2 will be up soon.
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