two strangers learn to fall in love again (1/3)
Title: two strangers learn to fall in love again (1/3)
Rating: PG-13
Starring: Puck, Quinn, other original characters
Pairings: Puck/Quinn
Category/Warning: Future!fic
Word count: ~6000
Author: domfangirl
Summary: A month goes by, and he listens to Quinn's message too many times, wondering what he expects to hear in those seven words that will set him on the right course.
Author’s Notes: This is the follow up to You Make It Hard To Be Faithful. I had so much response to this story--so many people who asked me to continue it--so I have to tell you that it was you that got these characters talking to me again in this particular universe. I hope the conclusion is satisfying for you. The title is a line lifted from "Faithfully" by JourneyNew Directions. (As an aside, one of Quinn's pieces of dialogue in this story is a direct quote from andbless_mybaby. Steph, I just assume you and Q are on the same wave length. :D) Also, aboutbefore, if you don't leave me a comment on this story, I will find a way to filter you out! /fake threats
Additional A/N: Beta'd by the famous and wonderful becca_radcgg whose entire goal in life, I feel, is to make me a better writer. I ♥ her. (Also, Becca, I totally extended the ending, because I wanted to end on Puck's POV. It's just because I love him so much, not because I don't value your opinion. :D)
Everything is such a blur those first few days after he hears Quinn's message that he doesn't even feel bad about not returning her phone call. Then days stretch into weeks and he starts eating Tums like they're candy because guilt is eating a hole in his stomach. Responsibility wars with anger at the certainty that she did it on purpose--not fucking him, obviously she'd been upfront about that--but to intentionally get pregnant? He can't get his mind around that any more than he can the fact that there is another child out there, fathered by him so fucking cluelessly.
He fumbles through everything from work to his poker night to his home life with Maria, and the constant question from the people who care about him is "What is up with you?"
So he lies. And lies, and lies. I'm fine. I'm tired. I'm hungover. They work for the most part, but Maria notices that he's losing weight, too. He's not eating like normal (because he's not hungry, but his intake of Jack Daniel's has increased, so there’s that), and he feels like such a girl.
A month goes by, and he listens to Quinn's message too many times, wondering what he expects to hear in those seven words that will set him on the right course. And the woman he'd fallen in love with so easily, who would have always remained completely in the dark about his one-time dalliance, begins to look at him with suspicious eyes. He can feel everything falling apart. He's grasping at the pieces of his life, trying with all his might to hold it together, but at the back of every thought is Quinn and his child. He feels so much like that high school kid all over again that his temper becomes frayed, and anything and everything sets him off.
He actually thinks about calling Finn, even though they haven't talked in years, and then he wonders what the fuck good that would do. Then he realizes he wishes someone would just beat the shit out of him for being so fucking stupid, all over again. It's like he never learned anything from giving up Alicia, or he somehow let Quinn fuck with his head so much that it's like he's just standing there again, silently, while someone else picks up the obligation for him. It swirls around in his head, the two parts of his life mixing until every time he closes his eyes and dreams, he's back in that hospital room, and suddenly he's the mean one, he's the one who has to take the baby away from Quinn because she's changed her mind when she never wanted his kid, not once the entire time she was pregnant. (That's what really happened, but he hadn't picked up on the irony before.)
He wakes up one day and understands what his subconscious has been working out this whole time: maybe she hadn't wanted Alicia until it was too damn late, but this time is completely different. She did it on purpose because it's what she wants, and for the life of him, he can't figure out why she wants it.
Things drift, and before he knows it, it's September 11th. A bunch of the FDNY guys head to down to Myrtle Beach for a Golf Tournament they throw every year, but Puck declines and stays home, working double sleepover shifts for a few days to allow those who want to go adequate travel time.
When he gets home after the third day, he's beyond exhausted, the physical depletion overwhelming the emotional rollercoaster he rides daily. He can't outrun it, that much is obvious, especially after he yells at Maria about some stupid thing. "That's it," she says quietly, putting her clenched fists on her hips. Facing him across the back of the sofa, she demands, "You either tell me what the fuck is going on here, or you get the hell out."
She points at the door, and he looks at it for a long moment. When his gaze returns to her face, she's got tears in her eyes, and he can't believe how easy the decision is.
*
Quinn's office is in the upstairs portion of the Arts Studio, across the hall from her partner's. She glances up just as he pokes his head through her slightly ajar door. "Hey, Momma, it's almost six. Get outta here and get some rest."
She smiles at her best friend and taps the ledger with her pencil. "I'm just inputting these figures, and then I'm on my way."
"I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early, right?" he asks.
"You better be there," she says, mock glaring at him.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Justine will open in the morning."
"Thanks, Lyndon," she says.
"I'm so excited," he responds, and Quinn feels her chest get tight.
"Yes," she nods. "So am I." The huge grin that spreads over her face doesn't feel as foreign as it had just a few months earlier. Nowadays, she smiles so much, she actually suffers from cheek aches sometimes.
Pregnancy really agrees with her.
Lyndon raps his knuckles against the door and gives her a final go home soon look before leaving her office. She finishes entering the revenue they received that day and then closes her ledger book. Of course they had all this sort of stuff on the computer, and they had an accountant that handled their big financial matters, but Quinn is as thorough in the finances of the company as she is in her daily ballet classes. Every detail matters.
She's going to have a child in a few months, and being financially stable has been a huge part of her preparation for that. Their business did very well, and her partnership with Lyndon was one of the few relationships she'd had that had endured through the years. They'd met in college, and it had been a natural progression of things between them to get into business together. Neither of them was ever going to be world famous for singing and dancing, but they certainly could start some other people's dreams on that track.
Locking her files into the safe, she gathers her sweater and purse and heads out to her car. It's early October, the first few days of autumn settling in, and the leaves on the trees have already started turning burnished gold in color. She really loves Ohio in the spring and autumn. Summer was too hot, and winter was too cold, but for the first time ever, she looks forward to wintertime. In February, her child will be born, and the joy she feels warms her from the inside out. She knows for the first time, her house won't be so cold.
She turns the deadbolt to lock the side door and drops her key ring into her purse. Slipping her hand into the side pocket, she finds the remote for her Hybrid, and is just about to pop the trunk to put her bag inside when she hears someone say her name.
She gasps in surprise, partly because she'd thought she was alone in the fading daylight of the small parking lot, and partly because when her eyes connect with Puck's, she's suddenly breathless. Gasping is her only chance at oxygen.
"Oh. My. God," she says, because that's the only thing that comes to mind. She stops moving, standing just a foot or two from the back end of her Nissan Altima. Her purse drops to the ground as her arm fails to hold it up and she feels a little faint. Clenching her teeth, she straightens her shoulders and swears that she's not going to pass out at his feet, even though it would make much more sense if she were to wake unexpectedly and find that it's all a dream. (Not that she ever dreamed he'd come to find her, because she hadn't.)
She wants to ask him what he's doing there, but she finds that any words she might have had have melted away. He's wearing a white wifebeater under a black leather jacket, and tight dark jeans set low on his hips, and she wonders if he's trying to make her want him, or if he knows about pregnancy hormones.
Knowing Puck, it's entirely possible.
But when she looks at his expression, even in the shadowy light, she realizes she doesn't know him at all, not really. On some level a part of her thought she would always know him, and know his reaction to certain things, but the logical part of her brain succumbs to the fear she should have considered when she made that phone call at the end of July.
Telling him had been the right thing; living with telling him could go oh-so-wrong.
"So," he says, and he gestures at her middle section. She's not huge; in fact her belly had really only popped up a week or so earlier, something she'd impatiently waited for. This time she wanted to look pregnant. She didn't resent gaining weight, because this child was her choice. (Her saving grace, perhaps.)
She finally chokes out an airy "Hi," and he purses his lips like he always does when he's annoyed.
It's all she's got. She never prepared herself for this, because it was never going to happen.
Her second try is, "I didn't think you'd...wait, how did you know how to find me?"
He glances down at the pavement beneath his feet and shrugs a little. "I called your folks. By the way, they know you're pregnant. Thought I ought to know since I was looking you up."
She laughs quietly. "Yes, I told them first thing. They couldn't kick me out this time. And they couldn't be mad at me for dating a Jewish boy, since I didn't tell them who the father was. Did you tell them?"
A little smile touches his mouth, and Quinn feels her heart break wide open. She'd only gone to New York for this, for the baby she carried under her heart now, but she wanted--wants--so much more. With him standing in front of her, this horrible sense of hope fills her chest, but she quells it quickly. This could go either way, and more than likely it will go badly.
"No," he shakes his head. "Didn't feel like it was my place."
She takes a deep breath. Her chest still feels unbearably tight. Speechless again, she turns from him and pops open the trunk, just to give herself something to do. Slinging her bag into the back of her car, she's startled when he's right there, helping her close the lid. He's close, but not too close, and Quinn feels her legs start shaking. Or maybe they've been shaking the whole time, but she's only just noticed it.
"You did it on purpose, didn't you?"
There's no accusation in his voice. She's not sure what she hears there besides curiosity. It's almost like he's baffled by the whole idea. And perhaps he is, and that's why it's taken him more than two months to respond to her call.
"I--" she starts automatically to tell the truth, but when she hesitates, he steps closer to her. She glances at him, seeing that boy she once knew and a man that's mostly a stranger to her all at once. She can't decide if honesty is the best route.
"Dammit, Quinn," he growls, and there's a little bit more of what she's familiar with mixed in a flash of anger. "How could you do that? How could you just come in and wreck my life like that?"
She jerks her head back, stunned by that assessment. "I didn't wreck anything," she says. "I would never tell anyone, your life doesn't have to change at all--"
"Right, I'm just gonna let you give another of my kids away? Or maybe I'm just gonna let you have it, with no support? I didn't do that when I was 16, what the fuck makes you think I'd do it now?"
"I didn't ask you for anything!" she shouts.
"Then why did you call me to tell me? Why did you think I should know?" He grabs her arm then and she tries to escape, even though she knows his strength and that she could only ever get away from him if he allowed it. She wrenches herself back anyway and he yanks her into him harder. She gasps again when their bodies collide, and she can feel his breath hot on her face. She can smell the whiskey then, and the proximity takes her back to that evening in New York.
It's a little sickening that the smell of alcohol has somehow become a turn on for her.
She closes her eyes and steels herself, pushing those thoughts away. Gritting her teeth, she forces the words out, "You deserved to know."
He shakes her a little bit, but doesn't speak until she opens her eyes and looks at him. "I deserved to know beforehand, not after!" His voice goes up in volume for the first time when he adds, "Not when my baby was already inside you."
"Maybe you should have used some birth control," she snaps. "Oh, but that's right, you don't ever do that. You think pulling out will work as well as a condom."
"I didn't pull out that night, and you never once asked me about birth control!"
"I think you lost your right to have unprotected sex a long time ago!" She can't believe how angry she feels suddenly, and she pushes hard against his chest, catching him by surprise. He loses his grip on her arm and she backs away from him, circling around the end of her car to get to the driver's side.
"Just wait a fuckin' minute," he calls hotly and she can feel him coming after her.
Whirling, she throws her hands out, shoving him back again. "Leave me alone!" she cries. "I don't know what you came here for, but I don't need this. I don't need you. I didn't ask you for anything, and I don't want anything. Consider yourself off the hook. Go home to Maria and live your little life, and don't worry about the damn birth control with her!"
"Goddamn you, Quinn," he mutters and she feels his hand curl around her elbow again. "Maria kicked me out. And maybe you don't need me, but that kid's mine, and you aren't gonna fuckin' steal it from me. Do you understand?" He hauls her closer, pulling her up so that their faces are level. "You don't get to have everything while I've got nothing."
Quinn's mouth opens automatically, a response trembles on her tongue, something perfectly awful that would wound him and make him retreat. She knows what to do here, she'd perfected it when they'd been together in high school. He's never bested her during an argument. He could make her bend to him in bed, but never when they sparred with words.
But nothing comes out. She doesn't say anything, she just sort of gapes at him as what he said registers in her brain. Does he really think she has everything? If she had everything, would she have flown to New York City to steal his baby? The only thing she has is his child; the rest of it is meaningless to her, no matter how hard she works at it. That's been the problem all these years, the only two things that had ever mattered to her were far away from her, all because of the choices she made.
So she tells the truth, and cringes as she does it. "Yes. Yes, I did it on purpose."
His eyes search hers, and then he pushes her up against the car with his body. His hands surround her face, and his mouth covers hers. She gasps again, and he takes the opportunity to stroke his tongue over hers. It's an oddly sweet kiss considering the angry current between them at the moment and Quinn finds her fingers gripping the leather over his upper arms, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He tastes like Jack Daniel's, the flavor that's been in her head since May.
He ends it too quickly, disengaging their mouths, but his forehead comes to rest against hers and he whispers, "Why?" so poignantly that she barely has time to register that she's crying because his thumbs are already wiping at her cheeks and his lips keep glancing off of hers. He's not kissing her, but they're sharing oxygen, and their open mouths keep rubbing and bumping clumsily. She can feel everything, his muscled body hot against her front and her car cold and hard behind her.
She pushes him back, only so she can get clean air. She won't be able to answer him if she stays so close to him, because if all she can smell and touch and taste is him, she'll forget that words are even important.
Not angry words of defense and protection, but the truth, the things he needs to hear so he can stop hating her for what she's done to him.
"It's hard to explain," she starts.
He interrupts with "Try," that's mostly a plea, but partly a command. She nods, reaching a hand up to touch his face. He stares at her as she smoothes her fingers over the curve of his jaw. There are so many things to say in that moment, but she leads with why she went to New York. (Maybe later there will be time for everything else.)
"I've been empty, for so long. Broken, like something inside me was missing. I've always just assumed it was her, and you, and the fact that I didn't have either of you. But then I started to think about how if I had a child now, maybe that would help. Fill up the holes--make it better. So I started really thinking about making it happen, and then it was--her birthday was coming up. And I'd seen your mother the last time I was in Lima. I knew you were still in New York, and I had this crazy idea. I know it makes no sense, but it could only have been yours. Ours. If I was going to do it, it had to be that way.
"But then I got there, and you were happy. You had someone. So what was I going to say? I hadn't really intended to ask you anyway, but obviously I wasn't going to when I knew you wouldn't want to be with me."
She pauses, because she doesn't think she can lay herself anymore bare than that. Then she feels the tears descend even further down her cheeks, so she covers her face with her hands to wipe away some of it. He backs up a little, putting more space between their bodies. Using the sleeve of her sweater to mop up the excess, she knows she must look terrible, but when she hazards a glance at him, he's not looking at her face. Instead his hands lower carefully until they cover the small mound of her stomach, and she hiccups, the residual tears still shuddering through her chest.
Enthralled by his expression, she finds the nerve to ask, "Maria threw you out because you told her about m--the baby?"
*
She's small right now, only 20 weeks along (yes, he did the math, he's been keeping track all along, unable to pass by a calendar without mentally calculating it), and his hands cover the bump easily.
She's wearing a frilly white shirt, a lot like the ones he remembers her wearing when she was pregnant in high school, and there's so much about all of it that's like fucking déjà vu, but this Quinn--this woman telling him how empty and sad she's been isn't the same girl who'd verbally castrated him on a regular basis and then made it up to him with sexual favors.
He makes a noise, something that sounds sort of negative as his response to her question about Maria, then flips up her shirt and puts his hands directly on her skin.
"Puck!" she exclaims, and he wants her so much, so quickly. All the irritation and anger funnel into a hard-on that his jeans don't have much room for. Quinn's hands automatically land on his forearms, but she hesitates just long enough that when she doesn't push him away he takes more liberties. Sliding the last two fingers of each hand under the waistband of her skirt, his palms cover her entirely, and she arches into him.
He kneels down in front of her. "You never let me touch you then," he says, his mouth against her belly. She'd lived with him through much of her first pregnancy, but they hadn't really been together then, so they weren't having sex and she'd never let him see her belly. Who knows, maybe back then he hadn't been interested in it, but he sure as hell is interested now.
"I know," she whispers.
Puck takes a deep breath and reminds himself that they're in a public parking lot, and stripping her down out here isn't what he came to do anyway.
Not that he'd really had a plan. He's been in Columbus for three hours already and all he'd managed to do is locate the Motel 6 and rent a room. Then he found a bar a few doors down from that where he had a couple drinks to give him the balls to do whatever he was going to do.
He isn't going to sex her up against her car, for sure, but now it's all muddled, and he really doesn't know what he intended. Maybe with Quinn, the fucking is always implied. He can't do anything without wanting the other, no matter how pissed she gets him.
He'd never had a plan with her, he'd just always led with how he felt.
It had obviously been a dumb way to do everything.
Her fingers tentatively slide through the hair on the back of his head, and she asks, "Why did Maria throw you out?"
He rests his cheek against her soft skin for a moment, calming himself, and then he gets back on his feet. Carefully he lowers her shirt so she's covered, removing his hands from her skirt before looking into her eyes. "She didn't throw me out," he says. "I left."
That's the truth. Of course, if he'd told her he knocked up some other chick, she would have thrown him out for sure, but it's all semantics now. He hadn't come here because Maria tossed his ass out, and he didn't go to the city that night to get Quinn pregnant. But that's how things had turned out, and some crazy part of him thinks maybe this is how it's supposed to be.
But he's not ready, or even capable, of saying that to her right now. He just stares at her, looking for some kind of cue.
"Why did you leave?" Quinn asks.
He shakes his head. "I never shoulda been there."
For a million reasons: he hadn't ever told her the whole story; it was a fantasy; she was in love with the idea of him, not who he really was; he would never love anyone or want anyone or need anyone the way he did Quinn Fabray; he didn't think he would ever have what other people considered a normal life, and faking it with Maria wasn't going to last forever anyway. Better to get out before it got worse.
A million reasons. Not one of them escapes his lips, though. "Don't make me beg to be this baby's daddy," he says, and maybe that's the heart of it right there.
A sob erupts from her mouth and she starts crying some more (still? maybe she'd been crying the whole time, he doesn't know) and she whispers, "No, I won't," and then they're hugging, and Puck buries his face in the curve of her neck. They are so fucked up, but when she whispers that she has an ultrasound in the morning, and asks him if he wants to go, he's afraid he's going to start crying, too.
He agrees, and she writes down directions from the Motel 6 to her doctor's office.
"9:30?" he asks, even though he heard her quite clearly.
"9:30," she reconfirms.
He wishes she'd invite him to her house, but he knows it's probably better that they don't blur it up anymore with sex.
But man, does he want to blur it up. He settles for kissing her mouth (with no tongue) and palming her belly again (over her shirt) before helping her into her car. Watching her drive away, he longs for things he never even knew he wanted.
*
Quinn arrives at the doctor's office a little early--closer to nine, and she hopes Lyndon will be his normal fifteen minutes early is really five minutes late self so she can explain it to him. She'd tried calling him the night before, but he hadn't returned her call, and she didn't want to leave a message, or send a text about Puck.
Of course, Lyndon knows everything about Puck, and he doesn't like him on principle alone, mostly because Quinn seems to cry whenever she speaks of him. It isn't Puck's fault, but she knows her friend well enough to know he might get pretty mouthy, given the chance. The other thing she knows is that if provoked, Puck could do serious damage to Lyndon.
When she sees his car pull into the parking lot just a few spaces down from hers, she jumps out and rushes to tell him.
"I'm sorry I didn't get your message until just now," he starts explaining as he climbs out of the driver's seat. "My phone died last night, so by the time it was rechar--"
"Lyndon, shut up! Puck's here. He showed up last night, so I invited him to come this morning, and you, you have to be nice, because--"
"What?" he demands, slamming his car door hard behind him. He reaches out, grasping her shoulders to hold her steady in front of him. "He just showed up, now, after all this time? And you're just letting him come to the ultrasound and play daddy like it's been the plan all along? Quinn, no. No. You have got to be reasonable about this, we agreed--"
"He is the father, Lyndon. And if he wants to be involved, I'm going to let him."
"Quinn--"
"Listen to me," she pleads.
He shakes his head at her, his eyes flashing. "You've been living with this ridiculous fantasy all these years, sweetie. And even though you somehow managed to make this happen," he gestures at her pregnant belly, "--it's still a fantasy. Quinn, seriously! What do you think some guy who knocked you up in high school has to offer you now--"
Quinn puts her hand over Lyndon's mouth to get him to stop talking. "You know," she whispers. "You know. I never got over him. And maybe this is as crazy as we've talked about it being, but I have to try. I have to see. I have to know, for sure. And he's here. He came, and he--wants the baby, just as much as I do."
Lyndon reaches up and pulls her hand gently away from his mouth. "That's not the same as wanting you," he says, his voice soft, as though anything he does with his voice could take the reality out of those words.
"I know," she whispers, and she starts shaking, the inner quaking of her heart trembling out through her muscles. "But maybe...maybe he will want me." She straightens her spine and lifts her chin. "And if he doesn't, then at least this baby will have two parents who love it. That's the least I owe my child."
Lyndon looks at her for a long moment without saying anything. When he pulls her into an embrace, he says, "Am I just an enabler? Have I done nothing all these years to show you the hopelessness of it?"
Quinn shakes her head against his shoulder. "I'm not stupid," she says. "I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid. I know it could all blow up in my face." She lifts her head and looks into his eyes. "But what if it works out? What if..."
Lyndon stiffens in her arms, and she realizes the subject of their conversation must have arrived. She turns just in time to see his truck come to a stop on the far side of Lyndon's car. The New York plates give him away. As Puck gets out of the car, she turns her head and whispers, "Be nice."
"Hey," he says, giving her a questioning smirk as his eyes wander over to Lyndon.
"Hi," she says, and she can feel the smile on her face threatening to crack her skin. She tries to control it, but she can't. She's been feeling the small flutters of her child for a couple of weeks now, but this morning, she felt it more strongly than ever before, and she can't help but think it's tied to Puck's presence. All three of them move up onto the sidewalk that leads to the door of the office building, and Quinn says, "Puck, this is Lyndon McNeil, my best friend and business partner. Lyndon, this is Noah Puckerman, my..."
She falters and is about to say ex-boyfriend no matter how juvenile it sounds when Puck steps forward and sticks his hand out for the introduction. "Baby Daddy. I'm the baby daddy."
Lyndon shakes his hand, only because he doesn't know what else to do, and Quinn laughs because it's all so very awkward. "Lyndon had planned to be here with me for this, so I hope you don't mind," she says, inclining her head towards Puck. She doesn't really care if it bothers Puck, and she wouldn't send Lyndon away even if he made a big stink, but he doesn't, he just flashes that winning smile and says, "No problem!" before they all head into the building.
As they're waiting in the lobby, it's painfully silent, and when Quinn's eyes meet Lyndon's, he's screaming at her, but when she looks at Puck, there's some kind of wonderful joy simmering between them. She almost wishes she could ask her friend to leave, but she knows Lyndon can be a drama queen, so she doesn't start anything.
She's just thankful the men aren't really looking at each other or trying to engage in any conversation. They're only waiting a few minutes before the nurse comes and calls Quinn's name. They follow her back to the exam rooms, and the nurse directs Puck and Lyndon to the ultrasound room to wait so she can take Quinn's vitals. As she's getting weighed, the nurse asks her, "Now you drank at least 32 ounces of water before you came, right?"
Quinn nods, and suddenly becomes aware of how much she needs to use the bathroom. "Yes," she murmurs. "It's kind of mean to do that to a pregnant woman, you know. Like I don't have to pee every five minutes anyway."
The nurse laughs as she leads Quinn into a changing room. "Oh, honey, I know. But as soon as you've seen your little one, you can hop right into the restroom. There's one in the tech room." She hands Quinn a smock to change into. "You can leave your underwear on," she says, smiling as she backs out of the room. "Just stick your head out the door when you're ready and I'll take you where you need to go."
"Thank you," Quinn says. As she unbuttons her top, she notices her hands are shaking. She's about to find out if she's got a son or a daughter growing inside her, and she's understandably conflicted about the whole thing. She pulls off her pants and tugs the hospital gown up over her shoulders.
She remembers another ultrasound, and how foreign it had felt. Her biggest concern then had been about the gel they used to locate the baby ruining her Cheerios uniform. Maybe this time, she'd get another little girl, one she could make all that up too, one that had been wanted from before she was even conceived; one that would never be taken for granted.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door to find the nurse waiting for her.
*
Sitting in the ultrasound room, Puck rests his left ankle on his right knee and taps his fingers against his leg. He glances over at Lyndon, who is quietly observing the machinery in the room from the chair right next to Puck's. He can't explain how he feels right now, the anticipation of seeing his baby on the little TV that sits in the corner makes him feel both nervous as hell and sort of horny.
Or maybe that's just Quinn. There's no telling really, because when he saw her standing there in the bright sunshine, he felt a lot of different things, but one look at the joker next to her had given him pause. For about five seconds, really.
"So," he says now, drawing Lyndon's attention to him. "You gay?"
Quinn's business partner arches a brow at him and smiles in a way that isn't friendly. "As a matter of fact, I am. But that doesn't mean I don't have any say in what's going on here."
Puck snorts, a reaction he's unable to muffle. "You don't have any say when it comes to the kid. It's half mine, by law."
Lyndon shifts in his chair so that he's facing Puck a bit more. "If you think my primary concern is the child, you're greatly mistaken."
Puck holds his gaze, and replies, "Ditto."
"If you hurt her, in anyway, I'll make sure it's virtually impossible for you to see your child."
Puck scoffs. "If I hurt her? You do know how all this happened, right? I mean, she fucking seduced me for my sperm."
"If you think all she wants is your sperm, you're as stupid as I've always suspected."
Puck's right hand curls into a fist, and he's about to lose what little patience he has for this guy when the door opens and Quinn and the technician ("Hi, I'm Marcie," she says) come in. Quinn looks at him first, which he counts as a victory and he stands up automatically, like royalty has just entered the room. She smiles, a beam of light practically shooting out of her face at him.
He glances back at Lyndon, who's watching him, not Quinn, and Puck thinks maybe he likes him. Maybe he's just who Quinn needs in her life to make sure she doesn't get involved with a douchebag like him.
But it's too late for that. About eleven years too late, actually. She's involved. He's involved. They're all merrily fucking involved, and as Quinn settles on the examination table, Puck steps forward until he's standing beside her. He threads his fingers through hers and she squeezes his hand tightly, her green eyes brilliant under the fluorescent lights.
She laughs nervously and covers her mouth with her free hand. It's endearing, and he can't help but think he's never met this girl before--the one who so joyfully carries his baby. "You ready?" he asks, his stomach knotting up in a familiar acidic ache.
"So ready," she answers.
Lyndon comes to stand beside him and Marcie says, "This is probably going to feel a little cold." Quinn's gasp confirms that truth and Puck closes his eyes as the rollercoaster goes through a corkscrew.
PART TWO
Rating: PG-13
Starring: Puck, Quinn, other original characters
Pairings: Puck/Quinn
Category/Warning: Future!fic
Word count: ~6000
Author: domfangirl
Summary: A month goes by, and he listens to Quinn's message too many times, wondering what he expects to hear in those seven words that will set him on the right course.
Author’s Notes: This is the follow up to You Make It Hard To Be Faithful. I had so much response to this story--so many people who asked me to continue it--so I have to tell you that it was you that got these characters talking to me again in this particular universe. I hope the conclusion is satisfying for you. The title is a line lifted from "Faithfully" by JourneyNew Directions. (As an aside, one of Quinn's pieces of dialogue in this story is a direct quote from andbless_mybaby. Steph, I just assume you and Q are on the same wave length. :D) Also, aboutbefore, if you don't leave me a comment on this story, I will find a way to filter you out! /fake threats
Additional A/N: Beta'd by the famous and wonderful becca_radcgg whose entire goal in life, I feel, is to make me a better writer. I ♥ her. (Also, Becca, I totally extended the ending, because I wanted to end on Puck's POV. It's just because I love him so much, not because I don't value your opinion. :D)
Everything is such a blur those first few days after he hears Quinn's message that he doesn't even feel bad about not returning her phone call. Then days stretch into weeks and he starts eating Tums like they're candy because guilt is eating a hole in his stomach. Responsibility wars with anger at the certainty that she did it on purpose--not fucking him, obviously she'd been upfront about that--but to intentionally get pregnant? He can't get his mind around that any more than he can the fact that there is another child out there, fathered by him so fucking cluelessly.
He fumbles through everything from work to his poker night to his home life with Maria, and the constant question from the people who care about him is "What is up with you?"
So he lies. And lies, and lies. I'm fine. I'm tired. I'm hungover. They work for the most part, but Maria notices that he's losing weight, too. He's not eating like normal (because he's not hungry, but his intake of Jack Daniel's has increased, so there’s that), and he feels like such a girl.
A month goes by, and he listens to Quinn's message too many times, wondering what he expects to hear in those seven words that will set him on the right course. And the woman he'd fallen in love with so easily, who would have always remained completely in the dark about his one-time dalliance, begins to look at him with suspicious eyes. He can feel everything falling apart. He's grasping at the pieces of his life, trying with all his might to hold it together, but at the back of every thought is Quinn and his child. He feels so much like that high school kid all over again that his temper becomes frayed, and anything and everything sets him off.
He actually thinks about calling Finn, even though they haven't talked in years, and then he wonders what the fuck good that would do. Then he realizes he wishes someone would just beat the shit out of him for being so fucking stupid, all over again. It's like he never learned anything from giving up Alicia, or he somehow let Quinn fuck with his head so much that it's like he's just standing there again, silently, while someone else picks up the obligation for him. It swirls around in his head, the two parts of his life mixing until every time he closes his eyes and dreams, he's back in that hospital room, and suddenly he's the mean one, he's the one who has to take the baby away from Quinn because she's changed her mind when she never wanted his kid, not once the entire time she was pregnant. (That's what really happened, but he hadn't picked up on the irony before.)
He wakes up one day and understands what his subconscious has been working out this whole time: maybe she hadn't wanted Alicia until it was too damn late, but this time is completely different. She did it on purpose because it's what she wants, and for the life of him, he can't figure out why she wants it.
Things drift, and before he knows it, it's September 11th. A bunch of the FDNY guys head to down to Myrtle Beach for a Golf Tournament they throw every year, but Puck declines and stays home, working double sleepover shifts for a few days to allow those who want to go adequate travel time.
When he gets home after the third day, he's beyond exhausted, the physical depletion overwhelming the emotional rollercoaster he rides daily. He can't outrun it, that much is obvious, especially after he yells at Maria about some stupid thing. "That's it," she says quietly, putting her clenched fists on her hips. Facing him across the back of the sofa, she demands, "You either tell me what the fuck is going on here, or you get the hell out."
She points at the door, and he looks at it for a long moment. When his gaze returns to her face, she's got tears in her eyes, and he can't believe how easy the decision is.
*
Quinn's office is in the upstairs portion of the Arts Studio, across the hall from her partner's. She glances up just as he pokes his head through her slightly ajar door. "Hey, Momma, it's almost six. Get outta here and get some rest."
She smiles at her best friend and taps the ledger with her pencil. "I'm just inputting these figures, and then I'm on my way."
"I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early, right?" he asks.
"You better be there," she says, mock glaring at him.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Justine will open in the morning."
"Thanks, Lyndon," she says.
"I'm so excited," he responds, and Quinn feels her chest get tight.
"Yes," she nods. "So am I." The huge grin that spreads over her face doesn't feel as foreign as it had just a few months earlier. Nowadays, she smiles so much, she actually suffers from cheek aches sometimes.
Pregnancy really agrees with her.
Lyndon raps his knuckles against the door and gives her a final go home soon look before leaving her office. She finishes entering the revenue they received that day and then closes her ledger book. Of course they had all this sort of stuff on the computer, and they had an accountant that handled their big financial matters, but Quinn is as thorough in the finances of the company as she is in her daily ballet classes. Every detail matters.
She's going to have a child in a few months, and being financially stable has been a huge part of her preparation for that. Their business did very well, and her partnership with Lyndon was one of the few relationships she'd had that had endured through the years. They'd met in college, and it had been a natural progression of things between them to get into business together. Neither of them was ever going to be world famous for singing and dancing, but they certainly could start some other people's dreams on that track.
Locking her files into the safe, she gathers her sweater and purse and heads out to her car. It's early October, the first few days of autumn settling in, and the leaves on the trees have already started turning burnished gold in color. She really loves Ohio in the spring and autumn. Summer was too hot, and winter was too cold, but for the first time ever, she looks forward to wintertime. In February, her child will be born, and the joy she feels warms her from the inside out. She knows for the first time, her house won't be so cold.
She turns the deadbolt to lock the side door and drops her key ring into her purse. Slipping her hand into the side pocket, she finds the remote for her Hybrid, and is just about to pop the trunk to put her bag inside when she hears someone say her name.
She gasps in surprise, partly because she'd thought she was alone in the fading daylight of the small parking lot, and partly because when her eyes connect with Puck's, she's suddenly breathless. Gasping is her only chance at oxygen.
"Oh. My. God," she says, because that's the only thing that comes to mind. She stops moving, standing just a foot or two from the back end of her Nissan Altima. Her purse drops to the ground as her arm fails to hold it up and she feels a little faint. Clenching her teeth, she straightens her shoulders and swears that she's not going to pass out at his feet, even though it would make much more sense if she were to wake unexpectedly and find that it's all a dream. (Not that she ever dreamed he'd come to find her, because she hadn't.)
She wants to ask him what he's doing there, but she finds that any words she might have had have melted away. He's wearing a white wifebeater under a black leather jacket, and tight dark jeans set low on his hips, and she wonders if he's trying to make her want him, or if he knows about pregnancy hormones.
Knowing Puck, it's entirely possible.
But when she looks at his expression, even in the shadowy light, she realizes she doesn't know him at all, not really. On some level a part of her thought she would always know him, and know his reaction to certain things, but the logical part of her brain succumbs to the fear she should have considered when she made that phone call at the end of July.
Telling him had been the right thing; living with telling him could go oh-so-wrong.
"So," he says, and he gestures at her middle section. She's not huge; in fact her belly had really only popped up a week or so earlier, something she'd impatiently waited for. This time she wanted to look pregnant. She didn't resent gaining weight, because this child was her choice. (Her saving grace, perhaps.)
She finally chokes out an airy "Hi," and he purses his lips like he always does when he's annoyed.
It's all she's got. She never prepared herself for this, because it was never going to happen.
Her second try is, "I didn't think you'd...wait, how did you know how to find me?"
He glances down at the pavement beneath his feet and shrugs a little. "I called your folks. By the way, they know you're pregnant. Thought I ought to know since I was looking you up."
She laughs quietly. "Yes, I told them first thing. They couldn't kick me out this time. And they couldn't be mad at me for dating a Jewish boy, since I didn't tell them who the father was. Did you tell them?"
A little smile touches his mouth, and Quinn feels her heart break wide open. She'd only gone to New York for this, for the baby she carried under her heart now, but she wanted--wants--so much more. With him standing in front of her, this horrible sense of hope fills her chest, but she quells it quickly. This could go either way, and more than likely it will go badly.
"No," he shakes his head. "Didn't feel like it was my place."
She takes a deep breath. Her chest still feels unbearably tight. Speechless again, she turns from him and pops open the trunk, just to give herself something to do. Slinging her bag into the back of her car, she's startled when he's right there, helping her close the lid. He's close, but not too close, and Quinn feels her legs start shaking. Or maybe they've been shaking the whole time, but she's only just noticed it.
"You did it on purpose, didn't you?"
There's no accusation in his voice. She's not sure what she hears there besides curiosity. It's almost like he's baffled by the whole idea. And perhaps he is, and that's why it's taken him more than two months to respond to her call.
"I--" she starts automatically to tell the truth, but when she hesitates, he steps closer to her. She glances at him, seeing that boy she once knew and a man that's mostly a stranger to her all at once. She can't decide if honesty is the best route.
"Dammit, Quinn," he growls, and there's a little bit more of what she's familiar with mixed in a flash of anger. "How could you do that? How could you just come in and wreck my life like that?"
She jerks her head back, stunned by that assessment. "I didn't wreck anything," she says. "I would never tell anyone, your life doesn't have to change at all--"
"Right, I'm just gonna let you give another of my kids away? Or maybe I'm just gonna let you have it, with no support? I didn't do that when I was 16, what the fuck makes you think I'd do it now?"
"I didn't ask you for anything!" she shouts.
"Then why did you call me to tell me? Why did you think I should know?" He grabs her arm then and she tries to escape, even though she knows his strength and that she could only ever get away from him if he allowed it. She wrenches herself back anyway and he yanks her into him harder. She gasps again when their bodies collide, and she can feel his breath hot on her face. She can smell the whiskey then, and the proximity takes her back to that evening in New York.
It's a little sickening that the smell of alcohol has somehow become a turn on for her.
She closes her eyes and steels herself, pushing those thoughts away. Gritting her teeth, she forces the words out, "You deserved to know."
He shakes her a little bit, but doesn't speak until she opens her eyes and looks at him. "I deserved to know beforehand, not after!" His voice goes up in volume for the first time when he adds, "Not when my baby was already inside you."
"Maybe you should have used some birth control," she snaps. "Oh, but that's right, you don't ever do that. You think pulling out will work as well as a condom."
"I didn't pull out that night, and you never once asked me about birth control!"
"I think you lost your right to have unprotected sex a long time ago!" She can't believe how angry she feels suddenly, and she pushes hard against his chest, catching him by surprise. He loses his grip on her arm and she backs away from him, circling around the end of her car to get to the driver's side.
"Just wait a fuckin' minute," he calls hotly and she can feel him coming after her.
Whirling, she throws her hands out, shoving him back again. "Leave me alone!" she cries. "I don't know what you came here for, but I don't need this. I don't need you. I didn't ask you for anything, and I don't want anything. Consider yourself off the hook. Go home to Maria and live your little life, and don't worry about the damn birth control with her!"
"Goddamn you, Quinn," he mutters and she feels his hand curl around her elbow again. "Maria kicked me out. And maybe you don't need me, but that kid's mine, and you aren't gonna fuckin' steal it from me. Do you understand?" He hauls her closer, pulling her up so that their faces are level. "You don't get to have everything while I've got nothing."
Quinn's mouth opens automatically, a response trembles on her tongue, something perfectly awful that would wound him and make him retreat. She knows what to do here, she'd perfected it when they'd been together in high school. He's never bested her during an argument. He could make her bend to him in bed, but never when they sparred with words.
But nothing comes out. She doesn't say anything, she just sort of gapes at him as what he said registers in her brain. Does he really think she has everything? If she had everything, would she have flown to New York City to steal his baby? The only thing she has is his child; the rest of it is meaningless to her, no matter how hard she works at it. That's been the problem all these years, the only two things that had ever mattered to her were far away from her, all because of the choices she made.
So she tells the truth, and cringes as she does it. "Yes. Yes, I did it on purpose."
His eyes search hers, and then he pushes her up against the car with his body. His hands surround her face, and his mouth covers hers. She gasps again, and he takes the opportunity to stroke his tongue over hers. It's an oddly sweet kiss considering the angry current between them at the moment and Quinn finds her fingers gripping the leather over his upper arms, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He tastes like Jack Daniel's, the flavor that's been in her head since May.
He ends it too quickly, disengaging their mouths, but his forehead comes to rest against hers and he whispers, "Why?" so poignantly that she barely has time to register that she's crying because his thumbs are already wiping at her cheeks and his lips keep glancing off of hers. He's not kissing her, but they're sharing oxygen, and their open mouths keep rubbing and bumping clumsily. She can feel everything, his muscled body hot against her front and her car cold and hard behind her.
She pushes him back, only so she can get clean air. She won't be able to answer him if she stays so close to him, because if all she can smell and touch and taste is him, she'll forget that words are even important.
Not angry words of defense and protection, but the truth, the things he needs to hear so he can stop hating her for what she's done to him.
"It's hard to explain," she starts.
He interrupts with "Try," that's mostly a plea, but partly a command. She nods, reaching a hand up to touch his face. He stares at her as she smoothes her fingers over the curve of his jaw. There are so many things to say in that moment, but she leads with why she went to New York. (Maybe later there will be time for everything else.)
"I've been empty, for so long. Broken, like something inside me was missing. I've always just assumed it was her, and you, and the fact that I didn't have either of you. But then I started to think about how if I had a child now, maybe that would help. Fill up the holes--make it better. So I started really thinking about making it happen, and then it was--her birthday was coming up. And I'd seen your mother the last time I was in Lima. I knew you were still in New York, and I had this crazy idea. I know it makes no sense, but it could only have been yours. Ours. If I was going to do it, it had to be that way.
"But then I got there, and you were happy. You had someone. So what was I going to say? I hadn't really intended to ask you anyway, but obviously I wasn't going to when I knew you wouldn't want to be with me."
She pauses, because she doesn't think she can lay herself anymore bare than that. Then she feels the tears descend even further down her cheeks, so she covers her face with her hands to wipe away some of it. He backs up a little, putting more space between their bodies. Using the sleeve of her sweater to mop up the excess, she knows she must look terrible, but when she hazards a glance at him, he's not looking at her face. Instead his hands lower carefully until they cover the small mound of her stomach, and she hiccups, the residual tears still shuddering through her chest.
Enthralled by his expression, she finds the nerve to ask, "Maria threw you out because you told her about m--the baby?"
*
She's small right now, only 20 weeks along (yes, he did the math, he's been keeping track all along, unable to pass by a calendar without mentally calculating it), and his hands cover the bump easily.
She's wearing a frilly white shirt, a lot like the ones he remembers her wearing when she was pregnant in high school, and there's so much about all of it that's like fucking déjà vu, but this Quinn--this woman telling him how empty and sad she's been isn't the same girl who'd verbally castrated him on a regular basis and then made it up to him with sexual favors.
He makes a noise, something that sounds sort of negative as his response to her question about Maria, then flips up her shirt and puts his hands directly on her skin.
"Puck!" she exclaims, and he wants her so much, so quickly. All the irritation and anger funnel into a hard-on that his jeans don't have much room for. Quinn's hands automatically land on his forearms, but she hesitates just long enough that when she doesn't push him away he takes more liberties. Sliding the last two fingers of each hand under the waistband of her skirt, his palms cover her entirely, and she arches into him.
He kneels down in front of her. "You never let me touch you then," he says, his mouth against her belly. She'd lived with him through much of her first pregnancy, but they hadn't really been together then, so they weren't having sex and she'd never let him see her belly. Who knows, maybe back then he hadn't been interested in it, but he sure as hell is interested now.
"I know," she whispers.
Puck takes a deep breath and reminds himself that they're in a public parking lot, and stripping her down out here isn't what he came to do anyway.
Not that he'd really had a plan. He's been in Columbus for three hours already and all he'd managed to do is locate the Motel 6 and rent a room. Then he found a bar a few doors down from that where he had a couple drinks to give him the balls to do whatever he was going to do.
He isn't going to sex her up against her car, for sure, but now it's all muddled, and he really doesn't know what he intended. Maybe with Quinn, the fucking is always implied. He can't do anything without wanting the other, no matter how pissed she gets him.
He'd never had a plan with her, he'd just always led with how he felt.
It had obviously been a dumb way to do everything.
Her fingers tentatively slide through the hair on the back of his head, and she asks, "Why did Maria throw you out?"
He rests his cheek against her soft skin for a moment, calming himself, and then he gets back on his feet. Carefully he lowers her shirt so she's covered, removing his hands from her skirt before looking into her eyes. "She didn't throw me out," he says. "I left."
That's the truth. Of course, if he'd told her he knocked up some other chick, she would have thrown him out for sure, but it's all semantics now. He hadn't come here because Maria tossed his ass out, and he didn't go to the city that night to get Quinn pregnant. But that's how things had turned out, and some crazy part of him thinks maybe this is how it's supposed to be.
But he's not ready, or even capable, of saying that to her right now. He just stares at her, looking for some kind of cue.
"Why did you leave?" Quinn asks.
He shakes his head. "I never shoulda been there."
For a million reasons: he hadn't ever told her the whole story; it was a fantasy; she was in love with the idea of him, not who he really was; he would never love anyone or want anyone or need anyone the way he did Quinn Fabray; he didn't think he would ever have what other people considered a normal life, and faking it with Maria wasn't going to last forever anyway. Better to get out before it got worse.
A million reasons. Not one of them escapes his lips, though. "Don't make me beg to be this baby's daddy," he says, and maybe that's the heart of it right there.
A sob erupts from her mouth and she starts crying some more (still? maybe she'd been crying the whole time, he doesn't know) and she whispers, "No, I won't," and then they're hugging, and Puck buries his face in the curve of her neck. They are so fucked up, but when she whispers that she has an ultrasound in the morning, and asks him if he wants to go, he's afraid he's going to start crying, too.
He agrees, and she writes down directions from the Motel 6 to her doctor's office.
"9:30?" he asks, even though he heard her quite clearly.
"9:30," she reconfirms.
He wishes she'd invite him to her house, but he knows it's probably better that they don't blur it up anymore with sex.
But man, does he want to blur it up. He settles for kissing her mouth (with no tongue) and palming her belly again (over her shirt) before helping her into her car. Watching her drive away, he longs for things he never even knew he wanted.
*
Quinn arrives at the doctor's office a little early--closer to nine, and she hopes Lyndon will be his normal fifteen minutes early is really five minutes late self so she can explain it to him. She'd tried calling him the night before, but he hadn't returned her call, and she didn't want to leave a message, or send a text about Puck.
Of course, Lyndon knows everything about Puck, and he doesn't like him on principle alone, mostly because Quinn seems to cry whenever she speaks of him. It isn't Puck's fault, but she knows her friend well enough to know he might get pretty mouthy, given the chance. The other thing she knows is that if provoked, Puck could do serious damage to Lyndon.
When she sees his car pull into the parking lot just a few spaces down from hers, she jumps out and rushes to tell him.
"I'm sorry I didn't get your message until just now," he starts explaining as he climbs out of the driver's seat. "My phone died last night, so by the time it was rechar--"
"Lyndon, shut up! Puck's here. He showed up last night, so I invited him to come this morning, and you, you have to be nice, because--"
"What?" he demands, slamming his car door hard behind him. He reaches out, grasping her shoulders to hold her steady in front of him. "He just showed up, now, after all this time? And you're just letting him come to the ultrasound and play daddy like it's been the plan all along? Quinn, no. No. You have got to be reasonable about this, we agreed--"
"He is the father, Lyndon. And if he wants to be involved, I'm going to let him."
"Quinn--"
"Listen to me," she pleads.
He shakes his head at her, his eyes flashing. "You've been living with this ridiculous fantasy all these years, sweetie. And even though you somehow managed to make this happen," he gestures at her pregnant belly, "--it's still a fantasy. Quinn, seriously! What do you think some guy who knocked you up in high school has to offer you now--"
Quinn puts her hand over Lyndon's mouth to get him to stop talking. "You know," she whispers. "You know. I never got over him. And maybe this is as crazy as we've talked about it being, but I have to try. I have to see. I have to know, for sure. And he's here. He came, and he--wants the baby, just as much as I do."
Lyndon reaches up and pulls her hand gently away from his mouth. "That's not the same as wanting you," he says, his voice soft, as though anything he does with his voice could take the reality out of those words.
"I know," she whispers, and she starts shaking, the inner quaking of her heart trembling out through her muscles. "But maybe...maybe he will want me." She straightens her spine and lifts her chin. "And if he doesn't, then at least this baby will have two parents who love it. That's the least I owe my child."
Lyndon looks at her for a long moment without saying anything. When he pulls her into an embrace, he says, "Am I just an enabler? Have I done nothing all these years to show you the hopelessness of it?"
Quinn shakes her head against his shoulder. "I'm not stupid," she says. "I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid. I know it could all blow up in my face." She lifts her head and looks into his eyes. "But what if it works out? What if..."
Lyndon stiffens in her arms, and she realizes the subject of their conversation must have arrived. She turns just in time to see his truck come to a stop on the far side of Lyndon's car. The New York plates give him away. As Puck gets out of the car, she turns her head and whispers, "Be nice."
"Hey," he says, giving her a questioning smirk as his eyes wander over to Lyndon.
"Hi," she says, and she can feel the smile on her face threatening to crack her skin. She tries to control it, but she can't. She's been feeling the small flutters of her child for a couple of weeks now, but this morning, she felt it more strongly than ever before, and she can't help but think it's tied to Puck's presence. All three of them move up onto the sidewalk that leads to the door of the office building, and Quinn says, "Puck, this is Lyndon McNeil, my best friend and business partner. Lyndon, this is Noah Puckerman, my..."
She falters and is about to say ex-boyfriend no matter how juvenile it sounds when Puck steps forward and sticks his hand out for the introduction. "Baby Daddy. I'm the baby daddy."
Lyndon shakes his hand, only because he doesn't know what else to do, and Quinn laughs because it's all so very awkward. "Lyndon had planned to be here with me for this, so I hope you don't mind," she says, inclining her head towards Puck. She doesn't really care if it bothers Puck, and she wouldn't send Lyndon away even if he made a big stink, but he doesn't, he just flashes that winning smile and says, "No problem!" before they all head into the building.
As they're waiting in the lobby, it's painfully silent, and when Quinn's eyes meet Lyndon's, he's screaming at her, but when she looks at Puck, there's some kind of wonderful joy simmering between them. She almost wishes she could ask her friend to leave, but she knows Lyndon can be a drama queen, so she doesn't start anything.
She's just thankful the men aren't really looking at each other or trying to engage in any conversation. They're only waiting a few minutes before the nurse comes and calls Quinn's name. They follow her back to the exam rooms, and the nurse directs Puck and Lyndon to the ultrasound room to wait so she can take Quinn's vitals. As she's getting weighed, the nurse asks her, "Now you drank at least 32 ounces of water before you came, right?"
Quinn nods, and suddenly becomes aware of how much she needs to use the bathroom. "Yes," she murmurs. "It's kind of mean to do that to a pregnant woman, you know. Like I don't have to pee every five minutes anyway."
The nurse laughs as she leads Quinn into a changing room. "Oh, honey, I know. But as soon as you've seen your little one, you can hop right into the restroom. There's one in the tech room." She hands Quinn a smock to change into. "You can leave your underwear on," she says, smiling as she backs out of the room. "Just stick your head out the door when you're ready and I'll take you where you need to go."
"Thank you," Quinn says. As she unbuttons her top, she notices her hands are shaking. She's about to find out if she's got a son or a daughter growing inside her, and she's understandably conflicted about the whole thing. She pulls off her pants and tugs the hospital gown up over her shoulders.
She remembers another ultrasound, and how foreign it had felt. Her biggest concern then had been about the gel they used to locate the baby ruining her Cheerios uniform. Maybe this time, she'd get another little girl, one she could make all that up too, one that had been wanted from before she was even conceived; one that would never be taken for granted.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door to find the nurse waiting for her.
*
Sitting in the ultrasound room, Puck rests his left ankle on his right knee and taps his fingers against his leg. He glances over at Lyndon, who is quietly observing the machinery in the room from the chair right next to Puck's. He can't explain how he feels right now, the anticipation of seeing his baby on the little TV that sits in the corner makes him feel both nervous as hell and sort of horny.
Or maybe that's just Quinn. There's no telling really, because when he saw her standing there in the bright sunshine, he felt a lot of different things, but one look at the joker next to her had given him pause. For about five seconds, really.
"So," he says now, drawing Lyndon's attention to him. "You gay?"
Quinn's business partner arches a brow at him and smiles in a way that isn't friendly. "As a matter of fact, I am. But that doesn't mean I don't have any say in what's going on here."
Puck snorts, a reaction he's unable to muffle. "You don't have any say when it comes to the kid. It's half mine, by law."
Lyndon shifts in his chair so that he's facing Puck a bit more. "If you think my primary concern is the child, you're greatly mistaken."
Puck holds his gaze, and replies, "Ditto."
"If you hurt her, in anyway, I'll make sure it's virtually impossible for you to see your child."
Puck scoffs. "If I hurt her? You do know how all this happened, right? I mean, she fucking seduced me for my sperm."
"If you think all she wants is your sperm, you're as stupid as I've always suspected."
Puck's right hand curls into a fist, and he's about to lose what little patience he has for this guy when the door opens and Quinn and the technician ("Hi, I'm Marcie," she says) come in. Quinn looks at him first, which he counts as a victory and he stands up automatically, like royalty has just entered the room. She smiles, a beam of light practically shooting out of her face at him.
He glances back at Lyndon, who's watching him, not Quinn, and Puck thinks maybe he likes him. Maybe he's just who Quinn needs in her life to make sure she doesn't get involved with a douchebag like him.
But it's too late for that. About eleven years too late, actually. She's involved. He's involved. They're all merrily fucking involved, and as Quinn settles on the examination table, Puck steps forward until he's standing beside her. He threads his fingers through hers and she squeezes his hand tightly, her green eyes brilliant under the fluorescent lights.
She laughs nervously and covers her mouth with her free hand. It's endearing, and he can't help but think he's never met this girl before--the one who so joyfully carries his baby. "You ready?" he asks, his stomach knotting up in a familiar acidic ache.
"So ready," she answers.
Lyndon comes to stand beside him and Marcie says, "This is probably going to feel a little cold." Quinn's gasp confirms that truth and Puck closes his eyes as the rollercoaster goes through a corkscrew.
PART TWO