How To Deal With Pregnancy (When You're The Man): Puck/Rachel, R
Title: How To Deal With Pregnancy (When You're The Man)
Author: marliskelsey
Pairing,Character(s): Puck/Rachel
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,985
Spoilers: Through 1x13, Sectionals, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I can only dream.
Summary: In which there are parenting books, sour cream and onion chips and a softer side of Puck.
A/N: Part of my P/R series, so takes place in the future. AU. Hope you enjoy!
A/N2: Edited the last part to address the issue of timing. Sorry, it's fixed now.
Previous Chapters:
Part 1: This Reluctant Love
Part 2: Bruce Lee Ain't Got Nothing On Me
Part 3: We Go Together Like Little Girls And Chainsaws
Part 4: We're Going Down, Down
So, maybe Puck’s read a few parenting books.
A lot, actually. He got weird looks at the bookstore when he cleared half the shelf into his basket and then proceeded to add a dirty magazine. He’s going to be dad, but he’s also a dude.
Rachel’s nearing the ninth month.
He just wants to be prepared.
Because, Puck’s going to love his daughter no matter what, but he doesn’t know if he could handle a kid who’s exactly like Rachel. He adores the chick, but damn, two is too much.
Rachel cracks a smirk when she finds him reading one in the closet by the light of a lamp.
“Uh . . . this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Right, Noah. And I’m not a gigantic, pregnant whale.”
* * *
He finds himself calling her while getting food.
“Okay. List to me everything you think you’re going to crave this week, because if I wake up to a beating because I didn’t buy sour cream and onion potato chips again, I’m going to go live at the studio.”
He hears her huff. “Please, Noah, I’m not that bad. Every woman experiences cravings. It’s not like I can predict them.”
“I thought you were psychic!”
She laughs.
He stalks the aisles until he spots an employee. Puck grabs the kid by the scruff of the neck.
“You work here. Do you know what pregnant women crave?”
He snickers. A piece of the Puckerone, he answers in his head.
Meanwhile, the kid is looking about two seconds away from wetting himself. “Sir, I’m sixteen. I don’t have any kids!”
“Right, right. Carry on.”
He drops the kid, who scampers away.
Puck grabs three bags of sour cream and onion chips, two jars of pickles and a box of fruit loops and splits before that kid can tell his manager.
* * *
“Noah? Do I look fat in this?”
“You’re pregnant, Rach. You’re not going to look skinny.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He doesn’t even know why he bothers with this honesty shit.
That night, he searches his parenting books for tips to deal with a bat-shit crazy, hormonal wife.
He finds nothing.
* * *
At the next ultrasound, Puck finally gets a close-up of his daughter’s face.
He falls off his chair. “Mother fuck.”
Rachel scowls. “Language, Noah, we’re in the presence of our child.”
Puck grunts. But fuck, the face on the screen is lumpy and orange and not at all like the pictures of babies he sees in his parenting books, because those baby look like babies and not some weird, cheese-like sculpture of one.
“She’s gonna come out cute, right?”
The technician laughs.
Rachel pats his hand. “She’ll be beautiful, Noah. Covered in amniotic fluid and blood, but she’ll be beautiful. She has very beautiful parents, after all.”
Oh yeah. The badass Puckerman genes.
Puck subconsciously flexes his muscles.
* * *
“Babe?”
They’re lying in bed together, but Puck can’t sleep.
“Yes, Noah?”
He sighs. “I’m a little bit nervous.”
Rachel rolls over in his arms, so that her dark eyes are boring straight into his. They’re shining and she’s smiling her million-watt smile.
“Oh, Noah. I know you’re nervous, but you are going to make a great father to our little girl, I just know it. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
She kisses him and he smiles against her mouth.
Rachel rolls over again, patting his arm. His hand floats to her huge stomach.
“Rach?”
“Mhm?”
“If I find out that you told Finn or anybody else about what I just said, I swear on my life that I will personally pawn each and every piece of your Broadway memorabilia that I know you hide in your closet. Okay?”
Rachel grumbles a little bit but agrees pretty quickly.
* * *
The next day, Finn calls him up.
“Puck, I never knew you had such a soft side to you. And to think, all these years you’ve been calling me a girl-scout.”
“Finn, I swear, I will cut your balls off if you repeat anything that Rachel told you.”
“Whatever, bro. Kiss kiss, hug hug. Call me and we can go get our nails done.”
“Fuck you.”
When he goes to get Rachel’s stuff, he finds it all gone, with only a receipt for a safety deposit box in its place.
* * *
Everybody knows that Saturday night is Puck’s Ultimate Fighting night.
He’s in the middle of watching Randy Couture smash the shit out of this Brock dude when he hears her call his name.
“Noah?”
He turns down the TV. “Babe, I’m watching Ultimate Fighting.”
She scoffs. “And while I appreciate your love of that violent sport and support the fact that Saturday nights are your TV nights, I would like it if you would appreciate and support the fact that your wife needs you.”
Puck sighs and gets up, quickly turning the corner to their room.
“Babe, did you . . . did you wet the bed?”
Rachel’s look is scathing. “Really, Noah? My water just broke, and I need you to drive me to the hospital.”
“She’s coming?”
Rachel nods, her face screwing up in pain.
He panics. “Uh, just . . . just cross your legs or something. I’ll get the bag.”
* * *
So, Puck’s not afraid to admit that he calls Finn, because Finn’s all “in touch with his feminine side” and is probably more equipped to deal with this shit than Puck is.
Why the fuck he lets Finn drive, though, is beyond him.
“Fuck, man, can you go any faster? Rachel is about to pop a kid out of her lady-cave and you’re driving like my nana.”
Finn giggles. “You said lady-cave.”
Rachel shoots them both a look. “I’ll thank you to refer to my body parts using the correct anatomical terms.”
Puck just pats her knee.
* * *
By the time they get to the hospital, Rachel is so fed up with the two men that she gets out of the car herself and strides purposefully to the entrance.
“Noah, get the bag. Finn, park the car. I’ll be inside, having a baby.”
* * *
It doesn’t take long for Puck and Finn to realize that Rachel in labour is less like the Rachel they know and love, and more like a screeching, wild jungle-cat.
Puck’s never been so terrified in his life.
“I swear, Noah Puckerman, we are never going to have sex from this day forward. We are never going to conceive another child, and I am never going through this again. And Finn, if you try to sneak a peak at the baby coming out one more time, I will burn your comic books one by one.”
“What the fuck, bro? Trying to sneak peaks?”
Finn helplessly shields his face as Puck whales on him with a stray food tray.
“I just wanted to know what it looks like.”
Rachel’s eyes are blazing. “Out! Both of you.”
* * *
They decide to call Quinn.
When she arrives, Quinn just shakes her head. “She kicked you out? Really?”
Finn shrugs. Puck braces himself for the verbal beat-down he’s about to receive.
But Quinn just laughs again and strolls into the room.
“She threatened to burn my comic books!” Finn cries after her.
Puck gives him a look. “You’re not helping, bro.”
* * *
After twelve long hours of pacing the hallway and listening to the screaming from inside the hospital room, Quinn steps out with her hair plastered to her forehead and cradling her right hand.
She narrows her eyes and glares at Puck.
“I blame you for this.” She holds up her hand, which is red and bruised from Rachel’s squeezing.
Puck widens his eyes innocently. “Why are you blaming me?”
Quinn snorts. “Because you are the one who decided to marry and procreate with a woman who has a vice grip and vocal chords that could strangle a mountain cat.”
* * *
Rachel’s holding the baby in her arms when Puck goes in.
It’s like déjà-vu, and there’s a pang when he thinks of the daughter he never got to know. The daughter who’s living a life he couldn’t dream of giving her, the daughter who’s got Quinn’s eyes and a piece of him forever.
But then he sees his Hannah.
It’s like the hole in his heart is partially filled, so that the pain is still there, but dulled and distant, and the feeling that replaces it is love and joy
This time he gets to keep his baby girl.
* * *
It’s a strangely out-of-body experience, seeing Rachel and their baby girl all curled up on the hospital bed. Like Puck can see himself as he climbs into the bed and touches the fine baby hairs and can see himself as he gives Rachel a kiss on her sweaty forehead.
It’s like he can finally see a family.
“She’s got your lips,” he notes.
Rachel smiles, wistfully stroking Hannah’s head. “And she’s got your nose, and your badass Puckerman genes.” He chuckles. “They are pretty dominant.”
If this were any other day, he would have made a douchey comment about Rachel’s appearance, and she would have snapped right back with one of her own.
Today is different.
He grins and takes his daughter carefully into his arms.
* * *
He stays with Rachel in the hospital until it’s time for them to go home.
There’s a ton of visitors. The parents, of course. Puck’s mom weeps with joy and Rachel’s dads are busy finding different, artsy angles to take the pictures for the baby album. Kurt and Mercedes, bearing designer baby clothes. Mike, Matt, Brittany and Santana, bronzed and beautiful from living in California. Artie rolls in with a little guitar and Tina follows with a Tegan and Sara CD that she claims will sooth the baby.
“We’re not turning her into a little emo Asian girl, Tina.”
“I can try.”
Quinn and Finn are last, as the godparents. Finn comes bounding in like a puppy, demanding to hold his god-daughter, and gets scolded by Rachel for trying to teach her dirty words.
Quinn’s reserved, and she and Puck share a meaningful look. He knows that this is hard for her, being in a hospital and seeing this baby.
Rachel smiles at her friend, squeezes her (good) hand.
Then she hands Hannah over.
At first, Quinn doesn’t quite know what to do. But she settles into it quickly, rocking and cooing and smiling at the baby in her arms. Hannah gurgles and flails her arms wildly.
“Hey, little girl. If you didn’t know, I’m your god-mother. So I’m here, if you ever need me, and I promise to protect you, no matter what. I’ll always be here for you. Okay?”
She kisses the baby’s forehead softly.
Rachel’s tearing up and Quinn’s tearing up and Puck’s still not good at dealing with crying chicks.
And then it’s time to go home.
* * *
A week later, Puck’s getting desperate.
He hasn’t had sex for exactly five months, three days, four hours and twelve minutes. He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane.
It doesn’t help that Rachel’s breast-feeding, and that her boobs are huge now.
They’re sitting on the couch one day when he brings it up.
“Babe? Did you mean what you said, about never having sex again?”
Rachel looks at him incredulously.
“Of course not, Noah. I’m just not ready at the moment.”
He pouts, bats his eyelashes. Rachel rolls her eyes.
“The doctor said at least two months.”
Fuck his life.
“Whatever, Rachel. If you want to be responsible for my death.”
Rachel laughs. Puck stalks to his closet to read his parenting books.
They have pictures of boobs in there. It’s the most action he’s going to get.