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Puck holds up one finger, a signal to his bandmates to give him a minute. He digs his vibrating phone out of his back pocket as he makes his way out of the sound booth and into the studio’s control room.
“Rach, baby,” he starts as soon as he answers the phone after seeing her name, “ya know I love you, but this isn’t -,”
“Noah,” his name comes out as a sob and he’s not sure the last time he heard her sound so panicked. He stops moving in the middle of the control room because now she has his full attention. “Noah,” she whimpers again, “Jude … the school called … hospital …” and then he wants to scream because she just stops talking (okay, to be fair, he thinks she’s trying to say something, but all he’s getting is crying, and that is not helping him like at. all.) and right now all he can figure is that something happened at school that ended in his kid going to the hospital.
“Fuck,” he bites out, his free hand running over his head to grip a fistful of his own short hair, “what hospital?” And yeah, he really wants to know exactly what the fuck happened to Little Man, but, priorities.
Puck’s still standing stock-still in the middle of the studio, and now everyone else is too. The guys are still in the booth and can’t possibly know what’s going on, but Gary, their manager, is hovering over Puck’s shoulder like some kind of … some kind of fucked-up human helicopter or something, and the looks on both of their faces must be enough to let everyone know something big’s goin’ down.
Rachel says – cries – something, but he honestly can’t make out a word of it. He has no idea how Gary does, especially since the dude’s not actually even on the phone with her, just kinda listening in, but Puck vaguely hears him tell her to be careful and that he will make sure Puck gets there. Next thing he knows, the line’s dead and Gary’s got one arm around his shoulders tugging him out of the building and toward the Town Car just up the street. He doesn’t say thank you – doesn’t trust his brain or his mouth to say anything, actually – but he’s pretty sure Gary knows how awesome he is for always putting the guys’ families above everything else.
In the car, Gary barks directions at the driver, and honestly, Puck still doesn’t know where they’re going, just has to trust these guys to get him there. His mind’s moving a million miles a minute, trying not to go over all the possible reasons for his son to have to leave school in the middle of the day to go to the damn hospital, and there’s really not room for anything else. He closes his eyes and drops his head back onto the back of the seat and reminds himself that he’s in New Fucking York and screaming at the driver to stop driving like his Nana isn’t really gonna do anything for anybody.
Puck swears it’s been an hour by the time they pull to a stop in front of the emergency entrance of Presbyterian, but when he looks at his phone as he’s climbing out of the car to see if Rachel called back and he somehow missed it (he’s equal parts terrified and hopeful that happened, honestly), he sees that it’s only been eight minutes. It’s too bad he can’t really manage to feel happy or proud or whatever about that.
He actually ends up following Gary through the automatic doors, and he doesn’t know how or why it happened that way, but he recognizes that it’s probably a good thing, since his brain isn’t really functioning at the moment.
“Hello,” Gary’s saying to the receptionist before they even get to the counter, “we’re looking for a patient we believe you have here, Jude Puckerman. This is the boy’s father,” he gestures behind him toward Puck, who just feels completely lost, “and his mother may have already arrived.” The girl starts typing and Gary leans over the counter a little bit, and Puck just stands there wishing someone would tell him what the hell to do right now, ‘cause his boy’s in the hospital and Rachel’s either back there, probably losing her mind, or on her way, probably losing her mind, and he’s just standing there, totally useless to both of them.
“Noah!” Rachel’s voice is loud and broken coming from behind him and he has his arms open for her before he even spins to face her. “I came as fast as I could but the cab wouldn’t go any faster, and … and …” she’s kind of shaking in his arms and he’s pretty sure he’s the only thing keeping her upright right now, and suddenly she’s got her face completely buried in his shirt, which is soaked through already from her tears, and he barely catches the next words out of her mouth. “I’m so scared.”
And just like that, the fogginess, that confusion, that was there before – it’s gone. Because Rachel’s here and she needs him, and that just reminds him that Jude’s back there somewhere, and he needs him too, and he’s no good to either of them standing around like an idiot. He adjusts Rachel in his grasp so she’s tucked under one arm, that hand rubbing slowly up and down her arm and the other reaching across his body to land on her hip, and pulls her along with him as he steps up to the counter. Gary doesn’t say anything, just nods once then goes to stand beside the girl Puck now recognizes as one of the dancers from Rachel’s show.
“’M Noah Puckerman,” he tells the receptionist without letting go of Rachel, and it’s not like he’s trying to drop his own name or whatever, he just thinks it’s best if they get it settled from the start that it’s his son back there, “and this is my wife Rachel. Our son’s here, somewhere. His school sent him, or brought him, or something. His name’s Jude and he’s five, basically a three-foot-tall mini-me.”
“Yes, Mr. Puckerman,” the woman talks in a soft voice he knows is supposed to be soothing, “I do have record of your son being checked in about 30 minutes ago. If you’ll just go down that hall right there, then take a right at the end, you’ll be in the right area and someone will be able to help you.”
Puck nods once and sort of considers turning around to tell Gary and Rachel’s cast mate where they’re going, but he can tell Rachel just had that slapped-in-the-face thing he had a couple minutes ago and now she’s got a death grip on his hand as she takes off in the direction indicated by the receptionist.
The first person Puck sees when they get into the emergency room waiting area is Jude’s kindergarten teacher. She’s sitting in one of those shitty metal and plastic chairs, her eyes red and puffy and her hands wringing in front of her, but when she sees Puck and Rachel come in she jumps up and rushes toward them.
“I’m so sorry,” she cries.
Miss Kelly is a tiny thing, almost as small as Rachel and younger than them, and she’s a good teacher. Jude loves her and, even more importantly, Puck can tell she loves him and the rest of her kids. He’s sure whatever happened wasn’t her fault, and he’s not mad at her or whatever, but making her feel better isn’t his first priority at the moment, so he stops walking when she’s right in front of them but he doesn’t say anything to her. He’s busy scanning the room over her head trying to figure out the best game plan to find someone who can tell him what the hell’s up with Little Man.
“I tried to stop him,” she’s saying shakily. “I called to him across the playground but I guess he didn’t hear me, and I was on my way over to get him when he just fell.”
Rachel’s nails dig into his hand, and yeah, he heard that too. Fell? What the hell does ‘fell’ mean? Okay, yeah, he knows what the word means, but what does it mean right now, in relation to Jude? He’s just about to ask her that when a doctor comes out from behind the curtain separating the waiting room from the patients. “We’ll be back,” he tells her quickly, then squeezes Rachel’s hand two times before taking off toward the doctor. He can hear her shoes clicking on the floor and he doesn’t even have to pull for her to keep up with him.
“Jude Puckerman,” he almost barks when they stop in front of the doctor, who just looks back at him a little quizzically.
“We’re his parents,” Rachel supplies, and he leans down to kiss the top of her head because he just realizes he hasn’t done that at all since she got there and she probably needs it. (He needs it.)
The doctor nods and gives them a little smile – it’s the same smile the receptionist gave him before and he’s really sick of that smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman. Just who I wanted to see.”
“Where’s my son? Is he okay? What happened?” Rachel sounds frantic again, and to the doctor’s credit he’s still wearing that smile and not looking at her like she’s crazy or something, but Puck pulls his hand from hers and wraps his arm around her to pull her close anyway, because the doctor may not be familiar with that voice, but he is.
“He’s fine, Mrs. Puckerman,” the man reaches out to rest one hand on Rachel’s forearm and she just kind of stares at it. “There was a minor accident at school. I’m sorry I can’t give you all the details on that, but I believe his teacher’s here somewhere. She came in with him. It really wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked; head wounds always bleed a lot.”
“Head … head wound?” Rachel stutters, and Puck looks around for the nearest trash can because he’s pretty sure he’s about to puke.
“Yes ma’am,” the doctor nods, “but like I said, he’s fine. It was just a small cut. We did have to shave his head for the stitches, so I hope you weren’t too attached to those curls.”
“Wait,” Puck breaks in, because he heard the word ‘stitches’ and actually felt Rachel’s knees go out on her a little, and he needs to step in now. “Stitches? How many? Was there a plastic surgeon involved? I mean, no offense or whatever doc, but I wanna make sure this gets done right.”
The doctor just nods again. “I understand Mr. Puckerman, and no offense taken. However, no, there was not a plastic surgeon involved. With it being a head wound,” Puck really wishes he’d stop saying that word, because Rachel just shuddered and a little whimpering sound came out of her throat, and it doesn’t make him feel too hot either, “and especially without having either of you here to consult with, we decided to take the quickest course of action to stop the bleeding and make sure there wasn’t any other damage.” Puck guesses he can appreciate that, he just doesn’t want his kid scarred for life ‘cause some hack who couldn’t even pass home ec sewed him up. “And really, with the position of the wound, there’s not much else that could have been done. It’s basically skin over bone. There probably will be a scar, but it will be small – he only needed three stitches – and it will be very inconspicuous.”
Puck can’t tell if the doctor’s being completely honest with him or just feeding him a line of crap so he doesn’t lose his shit, but whatever. He really just needs to see his son at this point. “We wanna see him now.”
“Of course. My associate was just finishing up the stitches when I came out to find you. I’m sure Jude is just as anxious to see you as you are to see him at this point.”
“Wait, you didn’t work on him?”
“No, Mr. Puckerman. I’m actually a neurologist. I was just here to make sure there didn’t seem to be any damage other than the external wound. I leave the stitching to someone else. Your son is in very talented hands, I assure you.” The doctor moves back toward the curtain he had come out from behind, Puck and Rachel on his heels, but stops just before opening it. “I do want to warn you,” he’s looking at Rachel as he speaks and Puck holds her a little tighter because he knows she’s dying a little inside. (He is too.) “He’s rather pale, from the blood loss. And he will probably be a bit woozy. That’s from the pain medication; there was no concussion.”
He pulls back the curtain and Rachel and Puck follow him through and the first, and only, really, thing Puck sees is his son sitting on a hospital bed looking pale, like the doctor had warned them about, and so, so tiny.
“Momma! Daddy!” Jude calls out to them with this megawatt, Rachel-Berry-smile.
“Oh my God!” Rachel gasps, and she slips out from under his arm and practically sprints the five feet to the bed. She’s got her hands all over him – arms, legs, stomach, face – and nearly every touch is followed by a kiss to his nose, cheek, forehead, even his ears. Jude is giggling like a little maniac and every so often he lets out this startled little ‘Momma!’ like she’s tickling him or something.
Puck follows her most of the way over, but hangs back just a little. He thinks she needs to have this moment. Besides, he got this feeling when the curtain opened and he saw his boy sitting there, a little under the weather maybe, but basically fine, and he needs to let that ease off just a little before he says or does anything.
“He’s been in great spirits since he arrived,” the doctor says from just to Puck’s right, and honestly, he’d forgotten the man was even there. “You’ve got a great kid there.” Yeah, he knows. “Oh,” the doctor chuckles a little, “he made me promise to tell you that he didn’t even cry a little.”
Puck smirks over at the doctor, and the man smiles and seems to take that as his cue to leave. Pride cuts through that other feeling and Puck steps forward, closing the gap between himself and his wife and son. Rachel’s pushed herself up onto the bed to sit next to Jude, so he stops right in front of them and leans forward, pressing his fists into the mattress so he’s boxing them both in.
“Hey Little Man.”
“Hey Daddy,” his boy beams up at him and he really has no choice but to smile back.
“How ya feelin’?”
“Good.”
“Yeah?” Jude nods and starts picking at a patch of grass stain on his pants. “Hit your head?”
“Mmhmm.” He looks over at Rachel a little, and Puck can tell he’s really worried about that stain right now. He’s 110% positive Rachel doesn’t give a shit.
“Let’s see.” Jude ducks his head and leans forward so that his head is practically between his knees. Rachel reaches over to wrap one arm around his back and rest the other hand on his knee. Normally he’d make fun of her for being so protective, but, ya know.
There, on the back of his head, just below the crown, is a small, square bandage. There’s a large area around it that’s been shaved down with clippers, and Rachel slides her hand up to twist a curl at the base of his neck around her fingers. It’s funny, because she’s the one that’s been wantin’ to cut it for a few weeks now, but he knows she’ll probably cry later when they trim the rest of it down to match what the nurse did.
Puck pats Jude’s hip a couple times with his hand. “Alright buddy, up.” He figures that position can’t be the best for him at the moment. “Ya wanna tell your ma and me what happened?”
“I fell.” He says it all matter-of-fact, and it reminds Puck so much of Rachel he almost laughs. Almost.
“Yeah? How’d that happen?” Rachel’s moved her hand out of Jude’s hair now and is rubbing circles over his back, and he’s about to tell her to stop chewing her lip before she bites a hole in it. He can tell how hard she’s working to keep it together, and he loves her for it. He also knows that if she opens her mouth she’s either gonna start bawling (again) or gushing over the kid and swearing she’s gonna, like, home school him or something so she never has to let him out of her sight again, so he tries to keep the conversation moving.
“Well …” Jude trails off a little and Puck knows that means he was probably doing something that would get him into trouble under any other circumstances. “I was on the top of the monkey bars -,”
“You mean the ones Miss Kelly told you not to go to the top of?” They had this conversation at kindergarten orientation. Instead of just telling the younger kids that certain big playground equipment was totally off-limits, they give them guidelines on how to play on it. It’s supposed to teach respect for boundaries or self-discipline or something like that. Rachel ate it up. He knows the teachers and parent volunteers watch them like hawks, so he’s surprised Jude made it to the top in the first place.
“But Daddy, I had to.” Puck quirks one eyebrow at him, and he can tell Jude is deciding exactly how much of this story he wants to tell. After a couple seconds, though, he sits up as straight and tall as he can and Puck knows he’s gonna tell the truth because he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he did. (And also a little because of the pain medication.) “Yesterday for art we went outside to make stuff with clay,” he turns his big hazel eyes on Rachel and lowers his voice to what he thinks is a whisper, “I made you a jewelry dish Momma, but shh, don’t tell, it’s a s’prize.” Rachel’s eyes widen and Puck holds back a chuckle. He wonders what kind of drugs they gave him for the pain. Just like that, though, Jude’s attention is back on him, and he doesn’t really get a chance to think about it. “And the big kids were havin’ recess, and Abby said some big boy was cool ‘cause he was on the top of the monkey bars. So today at our recess I had to show everybody I could get to the top too.”
Puck smirks. “Had to show everybody, or had to show Abby?” Rachel glares at him a little, but oh well. This isn’t the first time he’s heard that name, and he honestly thinks this little crush is pretty hilarious. Besides, Jude won’t talk about it much, clamming up every time he realizes he’s let the little girl’s name slip, so Puck figures he’ll take advantage of the fact that Little Man’s probably not completely in control of what’s coming out of his mouth right now.
Jude drops his head to stare into his lap, “Abby was there,” he mumbles. This time Puck can’t help but laugh a little bit.
“Alright, so you got to the top and showed everybody how cool you are, then what happened?”
“It was real easy gettin’ up there.” Jude’s eyes are all big as he stares up at his dad. “But it wasn’t so easy gettin’ down. I heard Miss Kelly yellin’ at me, and I wasn’t trying not to listen to her, I swear! But, I just didn’t know how to get down.” He drops his head and just sits there like that for a minute, until Puck finally cups his chin and gently lifts his head.
“Keep goin’.”
“I saw Miss Kelly coming over, and she looked scared, and that made me feel bad, so I figured I should try really hard. Only when I tried, I just fell down.”
“Did it scare you when you fell?” Puck asks, and Jude dips his head and draws his bottom lip between his teeth. Everyone always talks about how he looks just like Puck, his ma’s even got this thing about hangin’ pictures of the two of them at the same age side-by-side goin’ up the stairs, but there are times, like that moment, when Puck swears the boy’s 100% Rachel. Not like he’d complain about that ever, but he does know it means he’s in trouble, ‘cause he can’t say no to either of them when they look like that. (He’s pretty sure he’s the only person who’s not surprised when he’s the softie with Jude and Rachel’s the hard ass.)
“It’s okay, ya know, to be scared sometimes.” He rests his palm over Jude’s shoulder and brushes his thumb over his collarbone through the cotton of his shirt. Jude nods, and Puck knows he’s not just agreeing, but admitting to being afraid. “That’s what I thought. So now – hey, look at me,” he stops until Jude lifts his head, looks him in the eye, “now do you know why Miss Kelly told you not to go up there?” Jude nods again.
“Noah,” Rachel’s all quiet when she says his name, and it’s not like he’s forgotten she was there, by any means, but it’s been so long since she said anything that it startles him. He turns his head a little to look at her, and she sets one hand on the wrist that’s still right beside her hip, lifts the other to point over his shoulder. “I think the nurse needs to talk to us.”
Puck turns his head to look in the direction she’s pointing, and there’s an older nurse standing behind him, smiling gently at the three of them.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman,” the nurse begins, “but I just wanted to let you know that there’s some paperwork to take care of, since we admitted your son on the authority of a third party, but other than that you’re free to go. You should watch him closely over the next 24 hours, though there have been no signs of a concussion, and we’ve put in a prescription for a child-safe, liquid pain reliever. He’ll probably need that for a couple days. Would you, um,” she looks a little uncomfortable and Puck just wants her to spit it out, “would you like us to take care of his hair here, or …”
Puck glances over at Rachel and she’s just kind of staring pleadingly back up at him. He knows what she wants, and that’s just to get their boy the hell out of the hospital as fast as possible. “Nah, s’okay. We’ll take care of it at home.”
“Okay then,” she nods, “well, one of you just come find me at the nurses’ station when you’re ready to get that paperwork taken care of.”
The nurse walks away and Puck flips his hand over so that he can lace his fingers with his wife’s. He takes a step back from the bed and tugs lightly so Rachel will come with him.
“Well little man, you heard the woman. Time to get you outta here. We got a haircut to tend to.”
Rachel sighs and lifts her free hand to run through just the very front of Jude’s hair, right over his forehead. “I know what I’ve been saying about him needing a haircut, but I’m going to miss his precious curls.”
Puck grins and bends down to kiss Rachel’s own hair, right above her ear. He knew she’d do this.
“Ya hear that, Little Man?” he smirks at his son, “No more curls, no more long hair. It’s gonna be even shorter than mine. Like Uncle Jake’s.”
Jude looks up at him with giant eyes for a second, and for a kid who didn’t cry when he fell off the monkey bars onto his head or when he had to get stitched up, Puck seriously thinks he might cry now. But then this giant smile is takin’ over half his face. “Yeah, but I’m gonna have a scar like you Daddy. The doctor said so.”
Puck doesn’t mean to reach up and finger the little scar on the back of his head he got in a dirt bike accident when he was a teenager, doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, honestly, but either way, the tips of his fingers are running over that little spot where the hair doesn’t quite grow in right and Jude’s looking at him like he’s never been so proud of anything in his entire life.
Rachel tenses a little beside him then pulls her hand from his and clears her throat so he looks over at her. “I’m going to go take care of that paperwork. You go find Gary and take your son home.” She leans down and presses a kiss to Jude’s cheek, then pushes herself up onto her toes to do the same to Puck. “I’ll see you boys there.”
He’s still staring after her, confused as fuck, when Jude asks about Miss Kelly.
“Yeah buddy, she’s here, you wanna talk to her?”
“Yeah, she was really sad.” He clasps his hands in his lap and kicks his feet a little. “I feel bad.”
“Alright. You stay here and I’ll go get her.” Jude nods and Puck grabs his leg. “I mean it Jude,” he says seriously, “don’t move.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“K.” Puck squeezes his leg, for good measure, then turns and heads for the curtain separating him and Jude from the waiting room. He doesn’t actually leave until Miss Kelly reaches him, but as soon as she’s there, he tells her that Jude wants to talk to her then takes off down the hall after Rachel.
“Oh, so he’s my son, is he?” Puck asks when he catches up to her, his hand on the small of her back.
Rachel huffs a little then spins on her heel to face him. “When he lands himself in the hospital trying to show off for a girl, then brags about his scar, yes, he’s your son.”
“C’mere, baby,” he pulls her into his chest and rests his chin on top of her head. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
Puck scoffs at that.
“I’m not.” She wraps her arms around his waist and turns her head so that her cheek rests on his chest, just over his heart. “I was scared. I’m still scared. That phone call, it was … it was the most terrifying moment of my life.”
“I know baby. Me too.”
“But I’m not mad. I’m just going to go take care of that paperwork, then swing by the pharmacy. You take Little Man home and get him cleaned up, take care of his hair, please. Oh, and Noah,” she untangles her arms from his and rests her hands on his stomach to push herself back a little and look up at him. “Call your mother and apologize. I don’t even want to think about how many times you put her through this.”
Puck rolls his eyes at her, but he knows she can see the little smile he’s trying to hide. He was just thinking the same thing.
Rachel turns to keep walking toward the nurses’ station but before she makes it more than a step or two, he grabs her wrist and tugs her back. His other hand comes up to cradle her jaw and he leans down to kiss her slowly, his thumb brushing over her cheek and his tongue barely brushing across her lips as his lips move over hers. They try to avoid PDA most of the time, especially since Jude’s come along, just because of each of their statuses, but it’s basically been the day from hell and he needs to kiss his wife. And she kisses back, so yeah.
When he pulls back a few seconds later she looks dazed, but he also actually sees her smiling for the first time since she left that morning for rehearsal, so he figures he did good.
“I’ll bring home pizza,” she says softly. “And a movie.” She leans up and kisses him again, just a quick peck, then turns to leave, and this time he lets her go.
“Get Toy Story 3,” he calls after her before she can get so far he has to actually raise his voice, “that’s Little Man’s favorite.”
“You mean it’s your favorite,” she calls back.
“Hey,” he growls, but she just keeps walking, so he knows she can tell he doesn’t really mean it. “Can you watch it with that? I’ve got a rep to uphold here!” She keeps walking, just throws one hand up in the air and wiggles her fingers at him, and as hard as he tries not to, he’s grinning as he turns to walk back to get Jude.