Lima Loser (2/?)
Title: Lima Loser 2/?
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Puck/Quinn, eventual Puck/Kurt, Beth Puckerman, Burt Hummel, probable appearances from the rest of the ensemble, a handful of OCs
Genre: angst, family, friendship, romance
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Seasons 1 and 2, although I’m ignoring all of Puck’s Season 2 storylines.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately, I don’t.
Summary: Puck has always known he’d never be more than a Lima loser.
Word count: 2300ish
Puck gets a text on his way to the garage on Sunday morning from Kurt, saying he’s running late. Puck doesn’t mind opening alone; he does it most days of the week now anyway. He has the routine down, and it only takes him five and a half minutes. After which he plants himself on the stool behind the counter and waits. He hopes Kurt arrives before any customers; Puck needs his coffee. Almost as if on cue, Puck watches Kurt’s Navigator turn (a little sharply) into the lot and loop around to the back of the building. He hears the car door slam and seconds later Kurt hurries through the employee door.
“I’m so sorry,” Kurt says, trying to stuff his arms into his coveralls while still holding two paper Starbucks cups. “I was up all night working on a paper, and then my alarm didn’t go off this morning.”
“It’s okay. You’re only like ten minutes late.” Puck says, taking the coffees out of Kurt’s hands.
“I hate oversleeping,” Kurt grumbles, tugging the zipper on his coveralls the rest of the way up. “It makes me feel totally unbalanced for the rest of the day.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s not even anybody here yet.”
“I know, but it’s our first day doing this. I kept thinking the whole way up here that my dad will probably drop in to check on us and if I’m not here…”
“You are here.” Puck shrugs. “No big deal. Is one of these for me?”
“Of course,” Kurt grins.
“Awesome. Thanks.” Puck takes his coffee, wrapping his hands around the paper cup gratefully. The mornings are starting to get cold, and the garage isn’t exactly the warmest place to work.
Puck isn’t really that surprised that Burt is cool with letting them work unsupervised on Sundays from now on. It’s definitely the quietest day of the week, and he and Kurt mostly spend the morning tidying up. Around lunchtime they have a walk-in who wants snow tires put on, which takes barely any time at all with two of them working on it.
They order a pizza for lunch and Puck helps Kurt out with more Stats work while they eat.
“You’re saving my life, Puck,” Kurt grins when his problem set is finished. “Seriously.”
Puck shrugs. “No problem.”
“So do you think you’ll go to college once Quinn’s done?”
Puck knows it’s an innocent question, but a part of him can’t help feeling a little bit frustrated with Kurt for not understanding why Puck won’t be able to go to college.
“I could never make enough money to do that; not without feeling like I was taking something from my kids.” He sighs heavily. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I never finished high school.”
Kurt frowns. “You’d definitely qualify for financial aid, Puck. And didn’t you get your GED?”
Puck shakes his head, “In all of my free time, you mean?”
“You could do it.” Kurt insists. “You’re so smart.”
Puck scowls, surprised at how angry he suddenly feels. “Jesus, Kurt, stop fucking patronising me. I’ve got two kids; I don’t have time to re-learn all the shit I need to for my GED. I like working for your dad, and I don’t need you waltzing in here and telling me how much potential I’ve got or whatever when you don’t know shit about my life.”
Kurt lifts his chin stubbornly. “I wasn’t patronising you. I’m just being honest. I think it’s unfair how much you’ve sacrificed, that’s all.”
“We chose it, Quinn and me. We chose to keep Beth and I don’t regret it and I never will. Doesn’t matter how much I have to give up.”
“And what about Quinn?” This question isn’t nearly as innocent as the first. Puck can hear the slight accusation in Kurt’s tone, and he wonders when Kurt picked sides. Or why he even cares.
“No offense, dude, but my marriage isn’t really any of your business.”
For a moment, Kurt looks determined like he wants to keep arguing, but then his shoulders slump. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
They slip into an awkward silence, which totally sucks because Puck is used to things with Kurt being easy and relaxed, not awkward. The last time things felt like this between them was back when Puck had started working at the garage, when they barely knew anything about each other except the labels they’d each hauled around McKinley.
“Can I ask you something?” Puck ventures. There’s something he’s always wondered about, and he figures if today is a day for questions, he might as well ask.
Kurt nods, “I suppose I owe you one.”
“Why did you come back?” Puck remembers how shocked he was when Burt told him Kurt was leaving FIT and transferring to Ohio State.
“I wasn’t happy.” Kurt says flatly. It’s blatantly obvious that there’s more to the story, but Puck can tell from the shuttered expression on Kurt’s face that he isn’t going to tell him anything more. Part of him wants to push harder, to force an answer with more honesty, especially since Kurt hadn’t exactly been pulling any punches a minute ago. He wants to know if Kurt is happier in Columbus than he was in New York, and he wants to know exactly why Kurt wasn’t happy there to begin with. But before he can find a way to ask, the phone starts ringing and Kurt jumps up immediately to answer it.
“Hummel Tires and Lube, this is Kurt…Oh, hey Quinn.”
Puck twists to look at Kurt. He’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times Quinn’s called the garage in the past four years. He waits for Kurt to pass the phone to him, but he doesn’t.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him.” Kurt says, setting the phone back in the cradle. When he turns back to Puck, he looks a little bit uncomfortable, like maybe he doesn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever’s about to happen. “Quinn wanted to tell you to pick the kids up from your mom’s this afternoon.”
Puck huffs out a sigh. He hates treating his mom like a free babysitter when he knows she’s usually struggling just as much as he is to make ends meet.
“I guess she has a paper to work on.”
“Sounds about right,” Puck nods, and tries not to feel too bitter. Quinn had suggested putting off college until Beth started school, but Puck and her parents convinced her not to. He’d known when he’d agreed to it that it would be difficult, and it would mean a lot of nights like this one-parenting alone while Quinn studied-but as much as it sucks, complaining about it will get him nowhere.
The rest of the afternoon is quiet, with only two more walk-ins and one tow, before it’s time to close at five.
“You headed back down to Columbus tonight?” Puck asks as he locks up.
“I don’t have classes on Monday, so I was figuring I’d stay at home tonight. Eat a real dinner that doesn’t include any kind of noodle. Do some laundry.”
“Bet your parents always figured it would be Finn pulling stuff like that.”
“Probably,” Kurt agrees. “I’m sure he would, too, if he weren’t six hours away.”
They climb into their separate cars. Kurt turns left out of the lot, and Puck goes right before remembering the kids are at his mom’s, and he should be heading the other way. He feels a small pang of regret, knowing he won’t see Kurt again until Wednesday. He pushes the thought away - he’s not doing himself any favours by dwelling on the situation.
He parks in the driveway behind his mother’s battered Volvo station wagon, one of the last remnants of their pre-divorce upper-middle class life. Frankly, he’s amazed the thing is still running.
He lets himself into his childhood home to find his sister sitting on the floor in the living room, stacking up towers of blocks with Dylan and laughing with the toddler as he knocks them all down. Beth is stretched out on the floor by the window, colouring book open in front of her and crayons spilled out on the floor all around her.
“Dada!” Dylan shrieks as soon as he sees him, running on still-unsteady legs to greet him. Puck scoops him up easily.
“Hey, Noh,” Sarah greets him with a grin. She’s fourteen, just out of her awkward phase and starting to look more and more like their mom. She joined glee club this September, and Puck hopes desperately it gives her the kind of support he and Quinn could have used their first year of high school. Sarah deserves a safe place where she can learn that it’s okay to be herself, and Puck knows New Directions is still that place at McKinley. He has a secret fear that Coach Sylvester will recruit his sister for the Cheerios and teach her how to hate herself the way she’d done to Quinn and Santana and, briefly, Mercedes.
“Hey, kiddo,” Puck smiles back at her. “Where’s Ma?”
“Kitchen. There’s been pot roast in the Crockpot all day. You guys should stay.”
Dylan squirms to be set down, so Puck leaves him with Sarah and goes into the kitchen to see his mother.
“Hey, Ma.” He greets her with a hug and kiss on her cheek. “Sorry about Quinn just dropping the kids on you.”
His mother rolls her eyes. “Honestly, you act like I don’t love seeing those babies.”
Puck resists the urge to remind her Beth and Dylan aren’t exactly babies anymore. Before he can say anything, Beth comes barrelling into the kitchen, colliding with the back of his legs.
“What’s up Ladybug?”
“Dylie’s eating my crayons.”
Puck turns to go take care of it, but his mother stops him. “Sit,” she orders. “You look dead on your feet.”
He doesn’t argue, because he is exhausted. Exhausted is pretty much his default setting these days, so he’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate a break now and then. He sits and Beth takes the opportunity to scramble up into his lap. Her hair is curling free of the pigtails Quinn must have done this morning, and there’s a smudge of something that looks suspiciously like peanut butter on her cheek. They never have peanut butter in their house because Dylan is allergic, so Beth takes every opportunity to get it elsewhere.
She snuggles her face against his chest, and Puck curls himself around her. There will be a time when she’s too old for this, and acknowledging it kills him a little bit.
“You’re stinky, Daddy.” She lifts her face to look at him, wrinkling up her nose.
“You’re pretty stinky too, Buggy.”
“Am not.” Beth protests. “Can Mama and me watch the Dalmatians tonight?”
“Mama won’t be home til after bedtime.”
Beth pouts. “But she said we could soon.”
“Do you want to watch it with me?”
“No.” Beth says, her face set in stubborn determination. For the most part, she’s a total daddy’s girl (and how could she not be, really, considering the amount of time they’ve spent together over the past four years) and Puck tries hard not to take it personally when she campaigns for some mommy-daughter time.
His mother returns to the kitchen, carrying Dylan on her hip. The toddler starts leaning towards Puck, his arms outstretched. Dylan’s eyelids are drooping tiredly, and Puck would guess he probably didn’t nap today.
“Ladybug, can you go get your shoes on?”
“Aren’t you staying for dinner?” Sarah asks as she crosses the threshold into the kitchen and Beth runs past her.
“Can’t,” Puck says, getting to his feet and taking Dylan from his mother. “This one looks about ready to hit the wall.” Dylan snuggles closer to Puck’s chest, tucking his face against Puck’s sweatshirt.
His mother protests feebly, but Puck knows she understands. His life thrives on a routine, and breaking the schedule usually ends in some kind of meltdown.
It takes three hours to get the kids fed, bathed and tucked in bed. There are dishes that need to be done and the living room hasn’t been vacuumed in weeks, but Puck is too tired to do anything but stagger into the shower and wash of the day’s layer of grease and grime. He drags on a relatively clean t-shirt and boxers before collapsing into bed. He’s half asleep when he hears Quinn’s keys in the front door. He stays awake listening to her move through the house, kicking off her shoes and hanging her coat up, dropping her bag somewhere in the living room and padding quietly down the carpeted hallway. She slips through the half-open door and in the light from the hallway he can see her eyes are bright and she looks happier than he’s seen in a long time.
“You awake?” She whispers.
“Sort of.” He nods. “Paper done?”
“Yeah. It took less time than I thought.”
Puck frowns. “Where’ve you been then?”
“I managed to pick up an extra shift at work.”
She disappears into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she slides under the covers next to him, she curls up close. He drapes his arm over her and she pillows her head on his chest.
“Night babe,” she whispers, tipping her face up to kiss his chin softly.
“Night, Q.”
She falls asleep almost immediately, but despite his exhaustion he lies awake, wishing this didn’t feel like a lie and wondering why, if she was working, her hair doesn’t smell like coffee.