Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"My mom found a mole on my head when she was washing my hair on Friday."

"Your mom still washes your hair?" Puck wasn't going to say a word about how yes, his mom still insisted on washing him. 

    "She started crying about sunblock and how she’s always telling me to wear a hat when I’m cleaning pools. So she made me go see Dr. Friedlander, the dermatologist. He said he had to shave my head to get a closer look at it." Puck hated this, losing his status because his Ma lost her head, as though she hadn't already taken everything from him. "It was nothing! They maimed me over a freaking freckle. I feel like that guy that lost all his hair, then lost all his strength."

Puck didn't care much about his conquests; they just helped him feel more in control, when it wasn't just women (or perverted male teachers) twice his age asking for a piece of him. Mercedes leaving Puck at the end of the week over a geek in a dumpster was fine. Puck barely even missed Quinn after she too abandoned him for Mercedes, angry that a Jewish household didn't serve bacon and seemingly ignorant to the 'favors' that were regularly exchanged between mother and son. 

    Quinn and Puck had something else in common, a thread that ran through their perfect reputations by linking them to Mr Schuester - both Quinn and Puck were failing Spanish, after all. So the blonde teenager's many an afternoon tutoring session spent in Mr. Schuester's office at the beginning of sophomore year was not exactly suspicious, not in any way anyone could prove (if there was a way to prove Quinn was being treated unfairly, Sue Sylvester would have sniffed it out. Sue Sylvester was rarely ever caught unaware).

    Puck's detentions were similarly easily explained away, after all, Mr. Schuester had a problem with propping up hopeless jocks with ego issues. And when the teenage pregnancy became impossible to hide, well, the school slut and the celibacy club president made a great cover story; while the real father was busy divorcing his own high school sweetheart and flirting with a colleague his own age. Quinn lied and then lied over her lies, layering them so the first lies were covered by secondary lies - first Finn was the baby’s father, then Puck was the baby’s father. 

    Mr. Schuester was not going anywhere near Quinn’s baby. Mr. Schuester may have continued to find ways to get close to Quinn herself, but she hadn’t had more than simply being twirled around the choir room, which Quinn hated herself for being relieved by. Mr. Schuester was a creep, and Quinn had proof that could take him away forever, but she also had some pathetic part of herself that still craved his respect. 

    Quinn found a suitable adoptive mother, and for her everything seemed like it could return to life as it had been. The sexual assault was far enough in her past she pretended to be unable to remember she had even had a baby, nevermind the acts that led to said baby’s creation.

    Puck had wanted to keep his daughter. He didn’t want to have a child who grew up with no memories of her father, who’s success or failure was dependent upon the whims of a woman he didn’t really know. Puck knew the choice wasn’t his to make, though, so all he had to offer was a name. Puck was angry. Puck was angry, and at home all summer babysitting his sister who wasn’t actually his sister. Puck didn’t want to be alive, didn’t want to be living in a society, so he did the stupidest thing he could think of - rammed Ma’s car into an ATM. Puck was locked up, and had enough bullshit to deal with after juvie, getting caught up on classes and actually finding community service to do, that he no longer had any room in his schedule for Spanish. Puck still attended Glee club, but he didn’t spend time alone with Mr. Schuester anymore.

    Quinn, well Quinn was as she had always been - alone. Sure, she had somewhere to live, and a place on the Cheerios after selling out Santana, but she was very much alone. Sam, the New Direction's newest recruit, was cute enough to distract her for a while, but he was also willing to think about a teacher when making out with her. 

“Say my name, Sam. I said, say my name.”

Sam’s mind slipped, and the wrong name came out. “Beiste,”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah I could do this for hours.”

“That wasn’t my name.”

“Wh?” Sam wanted to keep kissing, he hadn’t really been listening to Quinn, simply trying to keep his libido from taking over, and Quinn sort of realized they needed to talk about this and stopped their make out session.

 “You said Beiste. Just be honest with me. I won't get mad at you if you tell me the truth, I'll be relieved.”

“Really. Because it looks like you're gonna be mad no matter what I say.”

“You said another woman's name while you were kissing me. Look, I get it. She's in a position of power over you, which can be exciting and you clearly like women who give you a hard time.”

“I'm not cheating on you with my football coach!”

“Then what just happened, Sam?” Sam explained the trick to Quinn, how he was trying to keep himself from becoming too horny and going further than she wanted. Quinn actually began crying from relief.

“Quinn, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, we could just stop making out entirely if that would be less painful-”

“No, I’m just grateful there’s at least one teacher at McKinley who isn’t a pervert.”

“Coach Beiste isn’t; she didn’t encourage this or anything; I came up with it on my own.”

“That’s super fucked up but it’s better than the alternative.”

“You seriously thought our thirty-something year old football coach would be having sex with me?”

“It’s not an unreasonable assumption to make when you’re moaning her name!”

“Alright, well, it’s not true - now hold on a second… who else at McKinley is a pervert?”

“Well Coach Sylvester literally calls Santana Sandbags now, and I don’t think forcing teenage girls to wear these uniforms becomes suddenly acceptable just because a woman is requiring it…”

“I don’t think I realized how fucked McKinley High School was when I enrolled here… Mr. Schuester is a good guy though, right? …right?”

Quinn hesitated. Was Mr. Schuester a good guy? He hadn’t physically hurt her; he made her feel like she was special, like she was chosen and important and recently he had kept his perverse desires restricted to glances and dances, so he wasn’t actively hurting Quinn anymore.

    But if Quinn didn’t warn Sam and he became the next to fall for Will Schuester’s stupid compliments and private rehearsals, moaning his name in make out sessions instead of Beiste’s name, could Quinn forgive herself?

    “Quinn?”

    “I think I’m getting tired; Cheerios rehearsal was exhausting today so I think I might just head home. Thank you for the amazing evening, Sam.” Quinn gave Sam a quick peck on the lips and left, avoiding the conversation entirely by simply leaving, as though if she never spoke she couldn’t be considered either way as a source of information. Sam was a smart guy, certainly smarter than Puck, Quinn thought to herself. Quinn couldn’t save anyone, and she didn’t have the energy to try.

    Quinn breaking Sam’s heart by cheating on him with Finn meant she didn’t ever have to continue that conversation with him. Sure, did it feel a bit like she was repeating sophomore year? Yes, but as it should have been - with the focus being on popularity and becoming Prom Queen, not detention and unexpected pregnancy. Quinn and Finn were still McKinley’s ‘it couple’, even with Sam and Santana maybe dating.

     Once Puck was back, he was suddenly competing against Quinn, or, well, his girlfriend was. Lauren wanted Prom Queen. Lauren also had a grudge against Santana, and violent women turned Puck on. Puck and Lauren were a perfect match for each other. 

“Oh, hey, Miss H.”

“Hey, can you help us out?”

 “Uh, yeah.”

“Lauren and I are gonna make a sex tape.”

“So I can get a recording contract.”

“Wow. Okay. Well, first, can I just say that I'm very impressed by not only your ambition, but by how comfortable you are with your own bodies.”

“It's easy to be comfortable when you look this good.”

“Agreed.”

“Uh, now for the downside. Are you aware that because you're under 18 years of age making and owning a sex tape could make you guilty of child porn?”

Puck chuckled a bit, not believing that she could be serious but she was.

“Listen, guys, don't take this too hard, all right? These things just- They never work out well. My sex tape with J. D. Salinger was a disaster.” Puck was confused. Back when he first began his pool cleaning business his Ma bought him a smartphone provided he filmed the goods, and he always thought she was on the right side of the law. Like sure, she was more physically affectionate than any parent ought to be with a child, but was Puck really creating child pornography? Puck was silent and sullen for the day, confused about how to feel about what he had just learned.

    Puck had thrown stupid amounts of effort into attempting to seduce Lauren, and he was rising up in the world, gaining back some of the street cred he had lost by being Quinn's baby daddy. Becoming prom king might gain him back more of what he lost.

Rachel asking Quinn for advice was a pleasant surprise.

“I'm surprised more girls haven't asked me. My nose is awesome. I can totally count on your vote, right?”

“Yeah. To... totally. So, what's it like? Looking like you look?”

    “I pretty much have a warped sense of the world. Being a hot 17-year-old, you can get away with or do anything you want, so I kind of always assume that people are always nice and accommodating.” 

    Quinn didn’t mention the downside… that looking like Rachel Berry meant even when she had a crush on Mr. Schuester, he rejected her . That looking like Quinn Fabray meant saying no required effort because being nice and accommodating back was something that little Lucy Fabray had learned to do as an outcast. Quinn didn’t tell Rachel that Quinn’s cruelty was in part due to the sheer unfair jealousy she harbored towards the star. 

    “Hey, Lucy.”

    “What did you just call me?”

“You moved to Lima after eighth grade, right?”

“I transferred from Fairbrook. That's not a secret.”

“Well, you must have had a pretty lousy attendance record because I called Fairbrook Middle School and they didn't have a record of anyone named Fabray, which makes sense, as you actually lived in an unincorporated part of Fairbrook Township, which would have meant you would have gone to Belleville Middle School, not Fairbrook. So I took a little field trip.”

“You didn't.”

“I did. And you know what? They didn't have a record of anyone named Quinn Fabray, either. They did, however, have someone named Lucy Fabray--Lucy Q. Fabray, to be exact, and she looked like this. You can kind of see the resemblance if you look past the nose job and subtract, eh, 70 pounds.”

“Stop, okay? That's me. My middle name is Quinn. I stopped going by Lucy because kids made up a mean nickname.”

“Juicy Lucy?”

“Lucy Caboosey. I hated the way I looked. I had zits. I was chubby. I felt terrible about myself. I didn't have friends. Nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner. And then I joined ballet, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was athletic, joined gymnastics, then cheerleading. Went on Proactiv for my acne. And when my dad got transferred and got a raise, I asked him if I could get a nose job. And he said yes. Then I asked them to call me Quinn.”

“So you hate yourself.”

“No, I love myself. And that's why I did all those things. I've been that girl, and I'm never going back. I was a miserable little girl. And now I'm going to be prom queen.”

    “Yeah. See, I wouldn't be so sure about that. You think everyone's going to vote for you because they want to be like you. Well, I don't know if they're going to want to be like you when they find out that you're a complete fraud.”

    That didn’t happen. Finn still liked Lucy ‘Quinn’ Fabray, and Quinn looked like she would be becoming Prom Queen because of Lauren, not in spite of her. Quinn didn’t like seeing the horribly unhappy little girl she once was in the hallways, but she wasn’t that person anymore. Only she still had questions.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lauren Zizes wants to be Prom Queen, that’s why she exposed me. Why’d you do it?”

“Okay, the word ‘expose’ is a little strong. I think we both know that I could have easily exposed you for something a lot more serious than a nose job.”

“But you wouldn’t, because then you’d be a hypocrite.”

“Because then we wouldn’t have a choir director! We both know why you came home with me that evening and drank all my wine coolers.”

“I still can’t believe that you - you, Mr. Throw Hummel in the Dumpsters - ended up in his detentions.”

“My reputation precedes me, we both knew that. You might be President Celibacy, but before juvie I was just a regular whore. You lived at my house, Quinn, don’t be stupid.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You’re doing a great job raising Sarah, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you a real chance to be a father to Beth.”

“This conversation is over. Too much honesty and I start developing a rash.”

Quinn never stopped going to church, not even when she was pregnant. This meant she was among one of the only people who knew that the Evans family had been foreclosed upon, and she offered to help in any way possible.

Quinn never expected the sheer amount of drama that decision to help, to be kind, would create. Rachel Berry couldn’t leave Finn well enough alone. Still, Quinn continued visiting the motel.

“Thank you so much. You know, even though we didn’t work out, you’re a pretty great friend, Quinn.”

“It’s fine. I - I’ve been in a similar situation.”

“No way. I’ve seen your house-”

“Last year, I was pregnant and my parents kicked me out. I may not have lived in a motel, but I was homeless and had everyone around me believing something that wasn’t true.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, half of Lima thinks I’m a bisexual two-timer. Honestly I don’t know if I’m going to tell anyone at school the truth…”

“You don’t have to. You don’t owe them anything.”

“I wish Mr. Schuester would shut up the gossip. He talks a big game about the Glee club being a family but he doesn’t discipline anyone.”

“Mr. Schuester and discipline don’t belong in the same sentence. He let Finn essentially beat up Puck after Finn found out he wasn’t my baby’s daddy even though Mr. Schuester of all people knew that the violence was unjustified.”

“What do you mean he knew the violence was unjustified? Was Finn actually the father?” Sam was confused. A quick look at his siblings showed they were both thoroughly engrossed in the motel’s TV. Quinn shook her head.

“Mr. Schuester… Mr. Schuester was. That’s why it was so easy for me to believe Coach Beiste might’ve been assaulting you. I understood how impossible it is to reject a teacher.”

“That’s so much worse than I expected…”

“You can’t tell anyone; just like I’m not telling anyone why you’re really at this motel.”

“Of course not.”

Meanwhile Brittany interviewed Mr. Schuester.

“How many students have you had affairs with?”

 “Wait- There's a rumor about that?” 

“There probably will be since you didn't answer the question.”

“None!”

“Is that the truth, or are you lying?”

    Mr. Schuester was beginning to fear rumors. April Rhodes was extremely talented, and she offered him a role working with her. Mr. Schuester, after that bizarre interview with Brittany and witnessing the ever-growing chaos of the choir room, considered leaving Lima, Ohio. By the time Sam Evan’s rumor was cleared up in Glee club, Mr. Schuester’s news was in The Muckraker , and so he could leave without feeling guilty. Sue was the one who disappointed the kids really, not Will.

Chapter Text

The New Directions disbanded after being abandoned by Mr. Schuester, for the remainder of the year. Sue Sylvester was insufferable in her gloating, and everyone was relieved when summer meant they no longer had to walk through the halls of McKinley they once sang and danced through. Quinn fell into something of a depression. She missed Mr. Schuester. She missed her Daddy. Quinn just felt empty and lost. Then she found her people. 

Shelby, Beth’s adoptive mother, had been hired to replace Mr. Schuester. 

“Since the day that I gave Rachel up for adoption, I have been walking through life searching for her face everywhere I go. Imagining what she's doing, what she may be like… I don't want you to go through what I went through. Part of me is-is back here because… because I want you to get to know Beth. I want you to be a part of her life.”

“When do I get to see her?”

“Are you okay? What's going on with you? Are you even in Glee anymore?”

No. Quinn wasn’t joining Glee again. “Did you come here just to torment me with the idea of seeing my child?”

 “Look. I want you to be a part of Beth's life. But not like this. If you're really serious about Beth, clean up your act.”

Shelby sounded just like Quinn’s mom, who had abandoned her and was now pretending she could relate to her. Quinn wasn’t going to be a part of Beth’s life; she wanted it to be all or nothing. Quinn was angry.“You think you can tell me what to do? Just cause you signed a couple of papers? You're not her mom! I'm her mom!”

“Quinn…”

“Me! So… You can pretend all you want, but that is something you are never going to be.” Quinn was wrong about that - giving birth hadn’t made Shelby a good mother, and wouldn’t necessarily mean Quinn would be either. Quinn definitely wasn’t in a state to be a mother, or anything else for that matter. Shelby was the one changing Beth’s diapers and waking up at night.

Quinn wasn’t willing to put the work in. Noah Puckerman was.

“Noah, I told you, I want you to be a part of Beth's life, but on my terms. You can't just barge in on me like this.”

“Here's a drug test. See? Totally clean. I also haven't had a drink since we talked-- besides beer. I even did some homework.”

Noah met Beth. Shelby saw Quinn around school, and tried to reach out to her.

“Yeah, well, I'm not going back to being that girl. Little Miss blonde perfect.” Quinn was lying to herself back then that Mr. Schuester loved her, that she enjoyed the stares and whispers, that her parents were happily married, and part of Quinn preferred the world she came home to now. 

Shelby chuckled. “Quinn… were you ever really that girl? I mean, would that kind of girl even get pregnant in the first place? Do you seriously expect me to think that this is the real you?” Quinn didn’t care what Shelby thought about her. Quinn found something that made her feel slightly less numb and she was taking it.

“Yeah. Yeah sure, something like this.” Quinn thought to herself the lump in her throat was from smoking, that was all that was happening.

“You're 18. You're graduating high school. This is the time, this is the time when you should find yourself. First step to becoming an adult: stop punishing yourself for things you did when you were a child."

“Can I see her? I know Puck got to.” Shelby showed Quinn a picture of Beth and Puck, rubbing salt in the wound that Puck had gotten to see Beth. Nevermind he broke the law in order to do it; he was considered the better role model.

“You want to know who you really are? Look at that sweet, special little face. She looks just like you. You can be a part of this family, too, Quinn. I really want you to be. It's all up to you.” Quinn couldn’t help but cry. She didn’t even know if Puck was Beth’s father, especially since Beth resembled Quinn so strongly, but Puck had been the only guy before Jim (the forty year old skater Quinn was sleeping with) that Quinn had chosen to have sex with. 

Quinn rejoined the Glee club, once she snooped around and discovered Will Schuester was actually still no longer a faculty member at McKinley. She dyed her hair blonde again. She wanted to be in Beth’s life. Jim was still inviting Quinn out for sex at abandoned houses they’d break into with some other Skanks, but Quinn was slowly responding to fewer and fewer of his texts. She spent more time with her mom. Quinn wanted to reconnect with her baby, and Puck, well Puck was expressing similar feelings. 

Puck’s feelings were more complicated than Quinn’s when it came to Beth. He was probably never going to be sure if he was Beth’s biological father and Puck was okay with that. Puck just didn’t want to be a deadbeat like his own father. And if he was able to get some sex with a hot older woman that couldn’t get pregnant, he wanted that too. Shelby was frustratingly convinced his feelings were simply a crush. Maybe they were, but what would be so bad about acting on them anyway? 

Quinn’s idea to set Shelby up as abusive was stupid and guaranteed for failure - she ensured that by telling Puck about it while they were babysitting Beth. Puck didn’t know if Quinn was trying to destroy her only chance at a relationship with her baby, but he wanted no part in that. He wanted to be a father, a real one. Sarah grew up assuming Puck was her brother. Shelby was actually treating Puck somewhat like an adult, booking him pool-cleaning gigs and confiding in him.

Puck’s intentions were obvious when he sang “Hot for Teacher” at Glee Club. He ratted Quinn out to Shelby. Then Shelby broke every rule imaginable by having sex with Puck, right before immediately rejecting him. Puck was angry, and Quinn was insane enough to think becoming pregnant again might solve her problems. Puck tried to trust Quinn, to talk her into seeing sense, and she seemed like someone Puck could trust with his new relationship.

“Look, you've done a lot of really bad things, Quinn, but if you tell people about this Puck-and-Shelby thing, you'll be ruining this little girl's life, and then you'll have really hit rock bottom.” Rachel Berry, Shelby’s biological daughter, thought Shelby would be a good mom to Beth when Shelby was having sex with a highschool student. Quinn researched the law in Ohio, and what Rachel claimed was wrong. Would Quinn get custody? Probably not. Did she really want to parent an infant? No. Quinn realized, after her mom finally was able to get their health insurance to cover therapy, all Quinn really wanted was unconditional love. Perhaps Puck wanted that too, and was using Shelby to get it. Quinn couldn’t claim to understand the boy, but that was what Puck was, a boy , not a man on an equal playing field with a thirty-something teacher, even an extremely attractive one he wanted. Quinn knew logically the Puck-and-Shelby case was completely unrelated to her own entanglements with Will Schuester, but seeing the two interact in Glee club now felt nauseatingly similar to how Quinn had felt watching Mr. Schuester as he gyrated around the choir room while she was pregnant with what may have been his baby. Quinn made a call to the local police, unsure who else she ought to report this to.

Puck was called to the office a few days later, alongside Ms. Cocoran, Ms. Pillsbury, Ms. Puckerman and Puck’s parole officer. Puck could tell Ma had been drinking, and did not like the look of the situation.

“Noah,” Ms. Pillsbury began gently, “Principal Figgins and I were informed that you and Ms. Cocoran had sexual intercourse. Is this true?” Puck looked at Shelby, who was avoiding eye contact. 

Ma was irritated and Puck wished she simply hadn’t shown up. “Why’d you people call me up just to tell me Noah’s been sleeping around? You think I don’t know my boy’s good-lookin’?”

“Because, Mrs. Puckerman, Noah is a student, and as a teacher, Mrs. Cocoran having sex with your son is illegal.”

“So will Noah be sent back to juvie?”

“No, Noah is the victim in this situation.” Ma laughed at that, amused by the very thought of her good-for-nothing whore of a son being victimized by anyone, let alone an attractive woman.

Puck had other questions, although he was pretty sure lying wouldn’t help him much. Ms. Cocoran looked guilty, like perhaps she had confessed before Figgins called Puck to the office. “What happens to Beth?”

“Beth is safe and will be staying elsewhere for the time being.”

“What?! So Quinn’s getting everything she wants because she lied about me?! How is this fair?”

“Noah, we both know she didn’t lie.”

Puck shut his mouth. Shelby was read her rights, had her teaching license terminated, and was escorted out of the building. Mrs. Puckerman was allowed to take Puck home for the day, which she did, using the entire incident as another reminder of why Puck would never amount to anything more than a Lima Loser, “pumping out babies outta all sorts of women the way you trapped me with Sarah! Nothing but sperm, that’s all you’re good for!” Puck didn’t care. Puck couldn’t care. He had lost his daughter, lost two relationships he thought he could trust, and Puck had no desire to stay in his ugly room getting yelled at. Puck climbed out the window. He figured he would wait around the Hudson-Hummel house until school ended - Carole had always been the closest Puck had to a mother, realistically speaking, and maybe she knew a way Puck could see his daughter again now that her mother was possibly in jail for no reason.

Chapter Text

Puck rang the doorbell to the Hudson-Hummel house, somewhat already regretting his decision to walk over. Finn’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but school was over and Carole answered.

“Noah! It’s been a while!”

“Yeah, hi. Is Finn home?”

“No, he went with Rachel to try and convince Sam to return to McKinley.” Kurt answered from the other room. Carole led Noah into the house, offering him a beverage. Noah drank a Coke that would have otherwise been rotting Finn’s teeth, and caught up with Carole.

“So, what brings you back? You and Finn haven't spent much time together in the new house.”

“Just needed a change of scenery.”

“How’s Sarah doing?”

“Fine. She lost her last tooth a few weeks ago and has decided she’s going to become an animator. The goddamn Fairly Odd Parents Shiny Teeth Song plays whenever she’s home.” Carole chuckled. Kurt asked an obvious question.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Carole answered “Puck’s sister.” And Puck could see Kurt trying to do the math in his head, and knew the equation wouldn’t add up, so Puck aimed for distraction.

“So where’s Sam going to live when he comes back, anyway?”

“Here, I guess. Or with Rachel.”

“If Sam’s anything like Quinn I hope he stays here. Quinn never shut up about Ma keeping kosher.” Puck hated that he immediately thought about Quinn. Puck wanted to hate Quinn. 

“Would you want to play Mario Kart or something?” Kurt offered, and Puck had nothing better to do. Finn, Rachel, and Sam came home to Kurt and Puck racing in the living room.

“Dude, what’re you doing here? Did you guys kidnap Puck too?” Sam asked, utterly bewildered by the past few hours. 

“Nah,  nobody kidnaps the Puckster; I go where I want. I probably should go now.” Puck then made a hasty exit. Puck skipped school for a few days following the firing of Ms. Corcoran, knowing his name would be thrown around and having no desire to be there to hear it. Puck showed up for Glee though, which was now run by Ms. Pillsbury.

Blaine went nuts, Sam wanted the club to try sexifying things, which Puck was down for, but few of the other members were. Kurt watched Puck with curiosity, having learnt more in the past few days than he had in the previous few years.

“So you have a younger sister?” Kurt asked, pretending like talking to Puck was a casual occurrence, like he didn’t still remember the same arms throwing him in a dumpster two years prior. “How does that work? I remember your dad skipped town when you were like four. He bought a car from my dad before he left.”

“Look Hummel, I know you’re not the greatest with heterosexual-”

“You know what I’m asking, Noah!”

“And I don’t owe you shit. Goodbye.” Noah stormed out. Finn caught up to Kurt, unimpressed.

“What did you say to get Puck pissed at you?”

“Asked him how he had a sister?”

“What, Sarah? You don’t talk about Sarah. She just exists, like, like how Brittany thinks babies are delivered.” That was how Finn explained it to Kurt.

“So you don’t know who the father is either? Even though you and Puck have been inseparable since Little League?”

“The closest to a father Sarah has is Puck.” Finn didn’t elaborate. “Anyway, why are you asking all these questions?”

Kurt thought and realized he didn’t even know why he cared. "I… don't know. I guess I just have a hard time imagining Puck with a little sister."

"Well he gets a lot of free babysitting through his pool cleaning services, and Sarah mostly spends time with her own friends anyway."

Puck's life returned to a boring monotony without Beth or Shelby to break up the days of working, school, watching Sarah, Glee club, and Ma's needs. School did have one new aspect to it - Puck had mandatory meetings with Ms. Pillsbury now. She wasn't all that helpful due to her utter innocence surrounding sexuality compared to Puck's own boastful promiscuity. Puck mostly tried to see how grossed out he could make her before she demanded he leave the office. 

    Puck kinda floated through the remainder of his senior year, angry that the adults in his life thought something was wrong with him when the truth was just Puck was what he was - a failure.

“You've got a record! You could get arrested for assault!”

“I don't care!”

“Well, you damn well should care!”

    Puck threw over the rack of whatever in the locker room, furious that he was yet again being yelled at by someone who claimed to give a damn but was just saying stupid words. “I'm nothing! Don't you get it?! I'm nothing! I'm the school joke! A failure! You don't know what it's like to be worthless, where nothing you do matters! I feel that way every day of my life! Every damn day! You know how many football games or concerts my mom's been to in the last four years? None. Not one. My dad's been AWOL since I was ten years old, which is fine because all he ever did was tell me I was garbage! And he must be really proud of himself 'cause that's exactly how I turned out!” Puck was crying. He didn’t know what to do. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

    “Come here.”  Coach Beiste hugged Puck. Puck couldn’t remember the last time an adult hugged him without an ulterior motive, without expecting him to give back. Coach Beiste didn’t talk about their problems, but they could relate to Puck’s feelings of worthlessness - every damn day they put on their lipstick and pretended they weren’t failing at womanhood, their first kiss hadn’t been by a colleague out of pity, they weren’t staying in an abusive marriage because Beiste didn’t know who they were and if someone else had expectations Beiste didn’t have to try to figure themself out. Beiste knew all about feeling worthless, but Puck was the one in need of comfort just then.

“I'm sorry!”

“You know, you and me, we're badasses. Nobody thinks anything hurts us, but it does. It does. It's okay.”

“I talked to Mrs. Doosenberry. She's gonna let you have another go at that test.”

“Why? She hates me.”

“Hated your attitude. But I told her how you wiggled into a skirt for the good of your team.”

“She's into that? Oh, should've known Doosenberry was a lady-lover when she didn't climb aboard the Puck wagon.” 

“No, when you did that, you showed that you cared about something. Something way bigger than just you. That's all she ever wanted from you. That's all any of us teachers ever wanted. So, you're gonna retake the exam next week, and I'm gonna help you through it.”

“Why? What do you want from me? You want aboard the Puck express?” Puck stepped closer, having never thought about Beiste like that before but literally unable to comprehend any other reason for someone to help him.

“No! No, pumpkin, no, I don’t want that from you; nobody at this school is supposed to be asking for that from you! I just like helping out fellow badasses, and you deserve better than you’ve gotten.”

Puck was able to graduate high school. He didn’t have any idea what happened next, but he made it past the finish line.

Chapter Text

Time has a way of moving wildly differently in university compared to high school. One day you’re simply thrilled to be on the East Coast, making new friends, and the next you’re crying over midterms, trying desperately not to give in to the urge to call her mom. At least, that was how Quinn felt like time was moving. She had essays piling up. She needed help, and thought attending office hours might be a way to get some.

Quinn had liked Professor Finkle. He was teaching her beginner’s sociology class, and she had gone to discuss the topic for her essay. She was considering writing about the subject of Christian celibacy, in part basing her essay on her own experiences with the extreme cognitive dissonance Christian teenagers (including herself at one point) dealt with due to cultural expectations. Professor Finkle asked questions, and listened to her. Quinn became excited the more she thought about the paper. Professor Finkle suggested she return the next time he had office hours, and she did. Quinn attended class, unlike many of her friends who sometimes skipped, insisting they already knew basic sociology and could pass the course without attending. Quinn couldn’t - she had only gotten a C on her midterm exam, so she returned to Professor Finkle’s office for office hours.

“Ms. Fabray, I was rather disappointed when I graded your exam. I was expecting more from you. You’re a very bright young woman.”

Quinn didn’t know what to say. “I - I know it wasn’t my best work.”

“You’re not like your peers, Lucy. Sociology isn’t simply regurgitating the facts that I’m required to teach first years. It also involves understanding the theory, which you have demonstrated well.”

“T-thank you.” His eyes were piercing her, almost like he could see her thoughts. The door was closed. Why was the door closed? In office hours, shouldn’t the door be open?

“There is one way I would be willing to raise your grade, without extra credit work.”

“Really? I’ll do it.” She wasn’t expecting him to stand up, move away from the desk. This was disturbingly familiar. Quinn felt that hand on her shoulder, unseated herself from her chair and before she could fully comprehend that history was repeating itself, she was on her knees with Professor Finkle’s penis in her mouth. She had never been forced into this specific act before, she thought, her mind removing itself from the present.

Quinn had to return home for Thanksgiving. She lied about her life back at Yale, fabricated that she and Professor Finkle were dating, that this time she had made a choice. She hadn’t, but she had - she could always stop attending office hours, report him, be that girl who was gossiped about and made fun of because everyone knew Professor Finkle was a prude. Quinn was fine, except when Santana slapped her across the face due to Quinn’s choice to mentor a girl who was surprisingly similar to her, Kitty. 

Quinn had stayed in contact with Rachel, but she hadn’t visited. She was ashamed, knew Rachel would likely see through her lies, and so her train pass remained unused until - until mid-December. Only a week prior, when Quinn had gone to turn her essay in, she had been coerced into full-on penetrative sex with Professor Finkle. She skipped his class, skipped meals, spent her time in bed wondering where she had gone wrong. She was in that dorm room bed when Kurt called. Her train pass would get some use after all.

Rachel Berry’s face was just as surprised as Quinn hoped it would be.

“Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

“Lady Hummel called, begging us to do an emergency intervention.”

“On who?”

Quinn was always the one to state the obvious when it needed stating. “You.”

“You guys came all the way to New York just to talk to me because Kurt called you?” Quinn couldn’t help but notice New York had treated Rachel far better than Lima had, both fashion-wise and generally. 

“We're also here to shop.”

Quinn was not about to let Santana off the hook for Thanksgiving. “And we're here to apologize to Quinn for slapping her across the face very, very hard.”

“In theory. We’ll just see if that happens.” Quinn saw Rachel was suppressing a smile, and she had missed that. 

“Rachel, you cannot do a nude scene.”

“It's not a nude scene, it's just a topless scene.”

‘It’s just a blow job, he didn’t actually rape me’ was how Quinn justified her professor’s actions, only allowing the first act led to the second.

“Same thing. Topless is as nude as anyone is ever gonna want to see you.” Okay, Quinn didn’t come all the way to New York to watch Santana skewer Rachel as if they were still in high school. 

“Let's say you do it. Think about the 2-2-2 rule. In two weeks, how are you gonna feel about the nude scene?”

“You'd probably feel pretty great.”

“Yeah.”

“You'll get to feel a nice, cool breeze on them skeeter bites, you'll feel refreshed, even.”

“Then, how are you gonna feel about it two months from now?”

Rachel followed Quinn through the 2-2-2 exercise, and then Rachel baited Santana by essentially calling them hypocrites for advising her against what Santana didn’t even get mad at Brittany for (releasing her sex tape).

Quinn didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want Rachel to feel the regret Quinn felt far too often when she thought about the two adult men who had seen her topless or bottomless. Rachel would be publicizing her body for anyone to consume. 

“Look, we care about you.”

“And for once, Rachel, we actually have your best interests in mind.”

“Please don't do it.”

Rachel made the right decision. The three women then sang their hearts out before going out to dinner and then back to Rachel’s apartment. Santana had brought her fake identification card with her and used it on the waiter when Rachel was in the bathroom, so by the time the three returned to Bushwick she was ready to pass out, having gotten drunk on mixed drinks that looked like sodas. She passed out on the couch.

“So…”

“So… other than the movie, how is NYADA treating you?”

“My dance instructor is this old washed out ex-Broadway star who is clearly jealous of my talent and has it out for me…” Rachel complained a bit more about that and then discussed classes she actually liked. Quinn could watch Berry talk forever if it meant she could turn her own brain off for a while, but Rachel eventually realized that she was monopolizing the conversation. “So what about Yale? What are you majoring in again?”

“Sociology, although all first year students have to take courses in writing, quantitative reasoning, and literature, so I’m only taking one sociology course this semester. I’m writing a paper on the sociological implications of Christian celibacy culture, partially through interviewing current members of McKinley’s Celibacy club.”

“That sounds interesting, especially considering your experience. Do - do the people there know why you picked the topic?”

“I was president of the celibacy club, yeah I don’t exactly hide that.”

“Quinn,” Rachel stated emphatically, that not having been what she meant.

“I don’t even know where in the world Beth is currently, after Ms. Corcoran was arrested, her sister from California was the next of kin since I signed away my legal rights. So no, I don’t exactly shout around town that I have a daughter, although who knows, with the way things are going I could easily have another soon anyway!” Quinn didn’t know why she said that. She was angry, she didn’t have any true friends back at Yale, and now Rachel Berry knew something was wrong with her.

“Quinn… What does that mean?”

“I - I- a week ago, I had - unprotected - I’m on birth control; I don’t actually think it would happen again.”

“Why would you take such a huge risk like that though?”

“I didn’t exactly have much choice in the matter.”

“Are you okay?”

“I… don’t know. In some ways I feel like I’m a freshman at McKinley again rather than Yale.”

“What? Why? You’ve grown so much since then.”

“Mr. Schuester… My new professor is a lot like Mr. Schuester.” Quinn’s tone suggested that was important somehow, but Rachel didn’t understand.

“Like Mr. Schuester how? Playing favorites?”

“Yeah, you could say that. You wouldn’t have believed me back then, but I was jealous of you in sophomore year.”

“You? Jealous of me? Explain.”

“You had a crush on Mr. Schuester for like a week, and he… he rejected you. You were throwing yourself at him and he rejected you. I - I thought my popularity, my reputation, my ability to part the halls with a simple glare meant I was powerful, but put me alone in a room with Will Schuester and that power meant I - I was irresistible. And I still fucking am. I’m at one of the most prestigious universities in existence and I still find myself unable to say no, to do anything other than freeze and retreat inside my head as I let my Sociology 101 professor take a huge risk with my body.”

“Quinn? Can I hug you?” Quinn nodded, and Rachel hugged her. Quinn hadn’t realized how giant a burden she was carrying around but now it was off of her. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she fell asleep still in Rachel Berry’s embrace.

Chapter Text

They say you can never go home again, but that doesn’t entirely fit when you never left in the first place. Puck talked a big game - he was going to move to L.A. and run his pool-cleaning business year-round. He tried, but he took the first excuse he was given to go home.

“Jake Puckerman, I'd like to introduce you to your brother, Noah. I'll leave you two alone.”

“You look more like Dad than I do.”

"He never told me about you when I was a kid, but I do remember my mom and dad arguing about a baby and some slut waitress.”

“That would be my mom. Pillsbury called you to come and straighten me out? You're wasting your time; I'm fine. And you are not my brother.”

“You think you're a badass? Nailing a bunch of chicks, beating up some punks in the cafeteria? I'm the original badass. I had my first threesome at seven, and once, I beat up a police horse.”

“So what, are you gonna kick my ass if I don't get myself together?”

“I know what it feels like to be scared that you're not important or smart or worth anything. We had the same dad, bro. I know what it feels like to spend all day trying to prove something to someone who's never going to give two craps about you. I rode my motorcycle, I played my axe, I banged every chick in this place twice, and you know what, none of it made me a man. What made me a man was sitting here in this room, singing songs I hated next to the biggest collection of losers you've ever seen. And if you come in here, it'll make you one, too. Think about it for a couple days. I got to get back to L.A. I got a date with the chick who was third runner-up on The Bachelor. One thing. Whether you join Glee Club or not, you're my brother.” Puck left. His date turned out to be a dud. Nothing in L.A. was how Puck wanted it, and Ma continually called him begging him to come back home. 

Eventually the begging turned to threats. Noah mostly decided to return to Lima for Thanksgiving because Ma threatened to start having Sarah “clean pools” if he didn’t. Puck returned to that house he hated, got wrapped up in McKinley High School Glee Club bullshit, and fucked his Ma while ensuring Sarah spent as much time at other people’s houses as possible. Puck found it weird he apparently had a half-brother in Lima he had never met before. Not bad, just weird.

What was also not bad but weird was Kitty, who Puck dated to keep away from Jake. She was very blatantly overcompensating, just like he and Quinn had, only Puck didn’t know what about. Schuester was gone. That didn’t really matter though - she was happy to let Puck touch her and make out. Puckasaurus was back in action!

Puck lost contact with most of the McKinley people when he moved in with Finn to try to fake his way into college without paying. Puck barely remembered what had happened. Looking back, those two months would feel like a dream, like nothing had been real until Puck found Finn passed out at a party and couldn’t wake him. Puck tried over and over, he tried desperately. He wasn’t even the one who called authorities, he was trapped in the shock of why isn’t Finn waking up? 

Finn died. Finn Hudson, Puck’s best friend since before his dad had even left, since Little League, the only person who knew the entire truth about Sarah’s parentage, was never again going to ask a dumb question or set off a smoke detector by burning grilled cheese. Puck would again have to return to Lima; again have to pay his rent with his body. He didn’t care about anything. Finn was gone, and Puck wished he had died instead. His life was worth less than Finn’s, everyone knew that.

Chapter Text

“Hey, give me that jacket. Seriously, I'll pay you for it. I'm sure you have a whole room full of mementos. I got nothing to remember him by.”

“Well, you can't have this.”

Puck was pissed. Drunk and angry. Finn was dead and Kurt was acting like he had some kind of right when four years prior, Kurt wasn’t even a person to Finn. Puck wanted Finn back. “That jacket is reserved for people who earned it. I'm not gonna let you bedazzle it with glitter and turn it into some Project Runway shawl.”

“So what are you gonna do, beat me up and take it from me? Throw me in a Dumpster? You can't have it.”

"You're drunk."

"You're beautiful."

"You puke in my locker room, you're cleaning it up."

"Come on… what's the big deal?"

“I get needing something to get through the first few days, but it's been a month. You don't have to be scared to have feelings.”

“That's crap! Of course, I do!”

“Why? We’re all having 'em!”

“Not like mine! No one understands!”

“Understands what? Tell me!” Puck didn’t want to talk about his feelings, so he did the second closest thing - he talked about why he was suppressing them.

“That if I start crying, I don't think I'll ever stop!” Puck punched a locker before tipping over a towel rack. Beiste just let him.

“Finn would've kicked over one of my chairs.”

“Yeah. That was his specialty.”

Beiste sat down. Beckoned Puck over. “Sit down. Come here.”

Puck finally cried. He’d been out of it for the past month, living with his Ma. Beiste was like a real mother, like Carole - with her a hug was just a hug, so Puck gave in to his human need for comfort.

“I can't take it… What chance do I have of not being an idiot and hurting people without him around to remind me who I really am?”

“You just got to do that for yourself now… and see yourself how he saw you.”

“It's not good enough for me! It's not like when he was alive.”

“You got to make it good enough, because it's all we got left. And I'm telling you this straight, 'cause that's how you and I talk. He's dead...and all we've got left is his voice in our head. I'm sorry, but it's time you… you got to be your own quarterback.

“Do you think we could… retire his number? Kurt has his letterman jacket. Maybe... maybe we could frame it or something, and put it up in here. Other kids should know who he was. Years from now.”

“Yeah. I can get that done. But you got to promise to put the tree back.”

“I didn't take the tree. Fine, I took the tree. It was a garbage tree, though. It wasn't big enough.”

“They grow, you know.” Puck knew. Puck remembered when Finn was just a boy, when they would climb trees and fences, when high school seemed like the coolest place in the world. Puck would return the tree. 

Puck forgot how much he hated Glee club. They all thought he stole Finn’s jacket, like he was dumb enough to be that predictable. Puck didn’t care. He had one person at that school that gave a damn about him, and they weren’t in that choir room.

“It's root beer.” Puck tossed Coach Beiste a bottle.

“So, what do you think? 50 years from now, when this tree 30 feet tall and the kids come to make out under it, will they know who it was planted for?”

“Probably not.”

“You know what's tripping me out is this line between the two years. It's his whole life. Everything that happened is in that line.”

“What are you gonna do with your line now, Puckerman?”

Puck didn’t know. He had been researching, considering options, so he chose one that seemed like something he might do. He wanted to seem certain, to let Coach Beiste think when he disappeared they’d be able to imagine his life. “I'm gonna make a man of myself. Figured if I don't have Finn, I need an army to help me.”

“Are you serious? The army?”

“Air Force, actually. Thought maybe I could be a top gun.”

“I think they were actually Naval aviators in that movie.”

“You know, if Finn was around, I'd just keep letting him point me in the right direction. Now… it's up to me to figure it all out.”

“I'm proud of you. You know? Just don't get shot, okay?”

“Thanks, Coach. Keep watering that tree.”

“You got it. Have a good line.” Puck rode off on his motorcycle, always the badass. He wouldn’t actually go into the army. That would require him to leave Sarah to fend for herself, and Puck couldn’t do that in good conscience when Ma was hinting that she had already taken pictures of Sarah, pictures similar to the videos she had had Puck make. Sarah said she was fine, that yeah, Ma walked in on her in the bathroom with her phone but (to Sarah’s young mind) didn’t do anything overtly creepy. Puck needed to ensure that stayed true. He didn’t know how, though. He just didn't know.