Title: Anything But Ordinary
Rating: T (Puck has a potty mouth)
Pairing: Rachel/Puck, Rachel/OC, Rachel/Santana (friendship)
Disclaimer: I wish. Really. I wish so much.
Author's Notes: Uhh. Hey there, everybody...soooo. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I know it's been a while since I last updated, and to be honest with you it wasn't for lack of reasons. I could sit here and type up everything that's gone wrong in the past few weeks (the culmination of which was a death in the family this previous Friday) but I'm fairly certain only a handful of you ever actually read these things. I know I usually scroll right on by ANs, personally. This is the last chapter of this fanfiction, and I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and favorited and even just looked at it. It means a lot to me! I was kind of nervous to venture into Glee FF because I know how brutal some of the ship communities can be, but all of you have been amazing!

AUTHOR'S NOTE 11/17/2011: This chapter, and therefore fic, have been edited to include Klaine. I really have no idea what inspired me to kill Blaine off but I have rectified the situation.

He pukes. It's not his best moment.

The minute the words fall from her lips, he stares at her for a solid thirty seconds, before he stands and turns towards the front door. He can hear Quinn muttering to Rachel behind his back, but the second he's outside and fresh air hits his face, he grips the railing that goes around the porch, leans over calmly, and empties the contents of his stomach into the bushes.

"Noah!" he hears Rachel cry out in concern. He wipes his mouth on the back of one hand and presses the other against his toned abdomen. Nervousness has set in, and it's making him feel nauseated. He's always had this problem – if he gets too stressed out, he barfs. It's gotten better since he was a kid, pretty much because he's the shit now and doesn't have too much to stress out over. The knowledge that Rachel's son is coming into the world sends him hurling into a dizzy spiral, and he sits down on the porch swing with a loud 'thump.'

He can vaguely hear the hustle and bustle of everyone inside as they run around, grabbing their coats and purses and car keys. He can hear the sound of Rachel groaning and Quinn's attempts at settling the other girl's nerves. He can hear the footsteps creaking against the wood as someone approaches him where he sits, and he sees the hand held out in front of him that's holding a box of Altoids.

His eyes drift up the arm that the hand belongs to, and sees Blaine looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Take one," he urges, tossing the mints into Noah's lap. "You smell like vomit."

"Thanks," Noah scowls.

Blaine grins at him and just shrugs. "Not a problem." Then, he gestures over his shoulder towards the door to the house. "You might want to get back in there. Rachel's kind of freaking out."

That, more than anything, brings Noah to his feet. He pops open the metal tin and tosses three mints into his mouth, crunching them with his teeth almost immediately. He hands the Altoids back to Blaine as he passes him, rushing to get back to where Rachel's crying on the stairs. He kneels in front of her and grips her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Where's your bag?" he asks her, firmly.

She licks her lips once and then her face contorts in pain. "It's um…It's under my…under my bed."

Noah looks up at Santana, who's already halfway up the stairs. "I got it," she tells him over her shoulder.

"Thanks."

Brittany, for her part, looks like Christmas has come early. Her eyes are wide and bright with excitement as she kneels down next to Rachel. "I can't wait to meet your baby!" she cries out, giving the uncomfortable girl a tight hug. "He's going to be so cute!" She beams at Artie over her shoulder. "I want one!"

Artie's face pales dramatically, and he seems to choke on air. He and Brittany have been together for a long time, but he really doesn't want to talk about this with her right now. Noah would laugh if he weren't about to literally shit his pants. He rubs his large hand up and down Rachel's back when she hunches forward to put her head as far between her knees as best she can. "It's too early," Rachel moans into her hands. "He's not due for another month! I don't even have a name picked out, yet!" She lifts her head and stares at Noah with red and tearful eyes. "How can I have a baby when I don't even know what I'm going to name him?" she sobs, pressing her forehead into his shoulder.

He presses a kiss against her temple and shuts his eyes. The whole fucking world is spinning around him and he doesn't know what to tell her. He's not ready for this, either.

Something falls down to the ground behind him when Santana drops the bag down from the landing between bedrooms. "Uh, dude," she says, addressing Noah. "Don't you think you should, I don't know, get her to a god damn hospital?"

Oh, shit. That's right. She needs to go to one of those.

"Fuck," he mutters, before ducking his head underneath one of Rachel's arms. He pulls her into her arms and stands, lifting her off the stairs and into his arms bridal style. "Can someone get her bag?" he barks out, before moving towards the front door. "Where are my fucking keys?"

"Noah," Rachel whimpers from his grasp. "Language."

He's about to say something to her in response to that, but Kurt flies by and beats them to it. He's got the pillow from Rachel's bedroom shoved under one arm, a digital camera dangling from one wrist, and a camcorder clasped firmly in one hand. "Fuck his language!" he cries out, rushing out to Noah's truck and throwing the passenger door open, then stands there, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You're having a baby! Get in the car!"

Rachel lifts her head up off of Noah's chest and gapes at overly excited young man. Blaine passes by next, holding the keys to his convertible in one hand and Kurt's jacket in the other. "I wouldn't be surprised," he tells them as he walks out the front door. "He's been waiting for this for months. I think he's convinced that if he pampers you, you'll make him godfather."

Rachel looks like she's considering it, and Noah just growls into her ear, "Oh hell no. Not my kid."

She's almost reminds him that it's not really even his baby, but a sudden contraction keeps her from making that mistake. "Hospital," she murmurs.

He finally leaves the Berry household, cradling Rachel in his arms like a child, and the stomping footsteps belonging to the other glee members follow him out onto the sidewalk. "I guess we've got company," he says, loud enough for them to hear.

"Uh, of fucking course," Santana snaps, throwing her purse into her Lexus. Quinn climbs into the passenger seat and Sam and Tina get into the back. "You really think my best friend goes into labor in front of everybody, and I'm not gonna be there? I don't know what these losers are so interested in, but they aren't about to miss it either."

The word 'losers' is spoken with affection. Or, about as much affection as Santana can infuse into a word.

Brittany and Eugene are helping Artie into Brittany's wheel-chair compatible SUV when Rachel buckles herself into Noah's car, and he takes off immediately, heading for the hospital where Eugene works. He would have thought that, in this situation, he'd be ignoring every single traffic law imposed in Lima and speeding along, but he can't seem to bring himself to go faster than the speed limit. He's suddenly terrified that he's going to hit a bump and she'll get jostled around and what if it hurts the baby?

When he goes over one of the worse potholes in the city, the glove box pops open and a couple of things spill out of it. "Damn it," he growls, glaring at the compartment briefly. "Fucking thing's been doing that lately."

Rachel leans down as best she can to gather up the loose papers and various items that have fallen to the seat of the car, when her attention is grabbed by a small box covered in navy velvet. Noah sees her pick it up when he stops at a red light, and groans to himself.

"What's this?" she asks him, voice all breathy and eyes wider than ever.

He runs his hand over his hair, nervously. He can feel his stomach churning. "It's uh…well, fuck, Rach. I bought it like a month ago, and I was gonna ask you before the baby was born only now…well, the damn kid's coming today and I haven't asked you." The light turns green and he presses down on the accelerator, still babbling as he drives. "And it's not like I'd want to, you know…right away. But I figured I'd lost you once, I'm not fucking losing you again. And even though this kid's not mine, I wanna be in his life."

She opens up the box, hands shaking with pain and nerves, and gasps at the contents. An oval shaped pink diamond sits on a silver band, with two small triangular diamonds on either side. It's simple (and pink, she notes again happily) and the sight of it fills her eyes with tears. "Oh," she whispers, the words on the tail end of a small sob. "Noah."

"It's not because you're pregnant," he interjects loudly, looking over at her for a second before redirecting his gaze to the road ahead of him. "I've had that ring for…"

He stops speaking, abruptly. Rachel reaches over and pokes him in the thigh. "How long?" she asks him tone as gentle as she can make it through the blinding contraction about to rip through her body. "How long have you had the ring, sweetheart?"

She hears his breath catch in his throat, and she almost smiles. During their relationship, she had very rarely called him anything other than 'Noah' or occasionally even 'baby,' but each and every time she ventured to call him anything different, he would get this goofy grin on his face. She makes a mental note, around all the pain she's in, to call him 'sweetheart' more often.

Noah's hands flex around the steering wheel and he licks his lips when they pull up to another stoplight. "My dad's parents were like, filthy fucking rich. I can't remember them…something about a plane crash when I was three? I dunno. But they had this whole trust fund or inheritance or some shit set up for my dad but they cut him out when he…you know."

The words 'beat the shit out of my mom and broke my two-year-old arm' go unspoken, but Rachel knows the story. It had been divulged to her late one July night, when they had been lying down on a couple of blankets in the bed of his truck and staring at the stars.

Noah clears his throat. "Anyway. When he bailed, the inheritance or whatever it is got transferred to me and Hannah since we were their only grandkids. When I turned twenty-one I got half of my share, and when Hannah turns twenty-one we'll both get all the money." He shrugs, trying to act like it isn't a big deal. "Got a savings account and threw most of it in there. But some I kept for, you know. Helping my mom out, getting my own place…"

"Buying me a ring," Rachel supplies helpfully.

Noah scowls over at her. "Yeah, well. You weren't supposed to get it like this. Didn't want you to think I was asking you just cos of the baby."

"Why are you asking me, Noah?"

Kurt leans over across the front seat of Blaine's car and presses the heel of his hand against the horn, blaring it loudly at Noah and Rachel. The former looks up and sees that the light is green, curses, and continues driving Rachel to the hospital. He doesn't respond, and he hopes that the horn was enough to distract Rachel from her question.

"Noah. Why did you buy me the ring."

Of fucking course it wasn't. This is Rachel Berry he's talking about, how did he think he could possibly distract her from shiny jewelry?

"Cos," he says, and the rest of his words are an indistinguishable mumble. She cocks an eyebrow at him and he almost growls, banging his head back against he headrest. "It's because I fucking love you, alright? So…so just put the god damn thing on your finger and marry me."

He doesn't look over at her and he doesn't say another word. It isn't until he's pulled into the hospital parking lot and she slides her hand over his that he even knows she's got the ring on her finger.

The slightly warmed silver presses against the back of his hand. He looks at Rachel's hand, adorned now with the ring he bought her, and then moves his gaze towards her face. "Noah," she tells him gently. "I love this ring. I love you. But if you don't get me inside that hospital right now, I will have this baby in your truck."

He's never moved faster. No way is he getting placenta in his seats. Plus, you know. He's kind of excited to meet this kid.

"Besides," Rachel grits out, and her hand constricts around his own. "You can ask me properly when I'm not in labor."

OOOOO

In a blur of action, they soon have Rachel inside the hospital and in a bed, and she looks even more dwarfed than usual by the enormous hospital gown they've put her into. She's struggling through another contraction and gripping three of his fingers (the doctor had given him very strict instructions not to let Rachel hold his whole hand, since he was more likely to wind up with broken fingers that way) and all Noah can do is sit there and watch and feed her ice chips.

Quinn and Kurt are sitting in fold out chairs near the bed, and while Kurt flips lazily through a fashion magazine, Quinn leans forward and whispers something into Rachel's ear. The dark haired girl nods tiredly, and whispers, "I know."

Noah frowns. "What's up?"

Rachel's head lolls towards him. "She told me," she pants, still trying to catch her breath from thelast contraction. "To take the damn epidural."

Kurt blanches and the magazine shakes a little in his hands. "Does…does that mean a big needle?" he whimpers.

Quinn and Rachel (and Santana, who's perched on the arm of the recliner Noah's sitting in) seem to sense an opportunity to temporarily get rid of Kurt, and all three look at him with identical expressions. "Huge," Quinn tells him, laying a comforting hand on his thigh. He shoots to his feet almost immediately.

"I, um. I think I'm going to go find Blaine and see if he needs…things."

He scurries out of the room, and Rachel breathes out a little chuckle. Noah leans forward and presses a firm kiss against her sweaty forehead. "You're doin' so good, baby."

"Doing well."

"Really? You correct his grammar now?" Santana shakes her head. "Berry. You are crazy."

"Fuck off, San," Noah says, pulling his hand out of Rachel's death grip and flexing his fingers. He watches as they regain color, blood circulating to the digits for the first time in about half an hour.

The doctor sweeps into the room a few minutes later, and Rachel very loudly demands the drugs to numb her system. Noah holds her hand throughout the entire process of inserting the epidural, and tries his hardest not to laugh when Kurt chooses that moment to come back into the room. He takes one look at the needle approaching Rachel, and turns on his heels and walks swiftly out of the room once more. Puck can hear his horrified babbling to the rest of the waiting room, and it makes him smirk.

When the drugs kick in, Rachel gets a hazy, happy smile on her face. "Oh," she murmurs, settling against the pillows. "This is much, much better."

Noah kisses the backs of her fingers, and she feels his lips curve against her skin. He's gonna go ahead and take this time with drugged Rachel and cherish it, because he knows that soon enough, she's going to want to kill him.

OOOOO

She's in labor for thirteen hours before her son decides it's finally time to make his entrance.

Labor hurts, even with the epidural. Crowning hurts even more. She's screaming and sweaty and has one hand firmly wound up in the fabric of Noah's shirt. There are at least four different doctors in the room with her right now, two of which are kneeling between her legs. "Oh, God!" she cries out, lolling her head to the side and making panicked eye contact with Noah. "M-Make it stop!" she pleads with him, before her eyes roll back into her head and she lets loose another guttural scream. "Get this baby out of me!"

"Sweetie," Nick pipes up from his spot against the wall. "Try and lower your voice a little. You might be upsetting other patients."

Rachel's head whips up and she glares at her father, a violent look on her face that was framed by matted and sweaty hair. "Are you KIDDING!" she shrieks, and the sheer volume of her voice makes everyone in the room wince. "I am giving BIRTH. YOU LOWER YOUR VOICE."

Nick, properly chastised, doesn't speak again. Eugene shoots him a look that clearly says 'Now, why did you do that?'

"Okay, Rachel," the doctor says, peering up at her from over the mask he has on his face. "I can see the baby's head. I just need you to give me a couple more big pushes, and then you get to meet your son."

Noah grins behind his own surgical mask. Seriously, he cannot fucking wait to see this kid.

Rachel, it seems, doesn't share the sentiment.

She lets out a noise that sounds like a sob and shuts her eyes firmly. Her entire body, previously clenched and slumped with pain and tension, slumps backwards against the pillows and hospital bed. She balls her free hand into a fist and presses it against her forehead, and begins to cry. "I can't," she tells them, sounding exhausted and terrified. "I can't do it, Noah. I'm…I'm so tired."

Noah scowls at her from where he stands. He jerks on her hand and tries to get her attention, and when that doesn't work he leans in close to her and grips her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Hey. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm tired," she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. "Noah…I can't do this. I'm not ready."

"Shut up," he tells her, eyes serious as they look down at her. "Are you kidding me? You're Rachel fucking Berry. You can do anything."

She smiles a little bit up at him. "Really?"

"Fuck yeah, babe." He pulls the mask down his face and tucks it under his chin so that he can free his lips. "Listen. You never took shit from anybody in high school. You made it out of Lima, made it on Broadway, and you didn't ever let anybody tell you no. You're really gonna let a baby bring you down?"

Rachel grins at him, eyes bright and happy once again. He presses a firm kiss to her sweat covered forehead. "Let's have this baby," she says, and pushes herself back up. She nods at the doctor. "Let's do it."

It takes about five great big heaving pushes, but finally the shrill cry of a newborn baby breaks into the room. Rachel lets out a relieved sob and finally relaxes against the pillow, and her knees feel entirely too weak. The doctor hands a pair of surgical scissors to Noah, and he's too busy staring at the screaming, bloody, weird looking creature in the nurse's hands to pay attention to a pair of fucking scissors. Eugene takes them instead, and cuts the umbilical cord with steady surgeon's hands.

Noah can't stop looking at Rachel, and she has her eyes cast in the direction of her crying son. He doesn't take his eyes off of her – he can't – until the baby's placed on her chest, and that bright red, distraught looking little face is turned towards him and he can't fucking breathe.

He extends a finger slowly, carefully, until he strokes the baby's cheek with his trembling touch. "Holy shit," Noah breathes. "He's…Jesusfuck, Rach. He's amazing."

"He is," she agrees, sounding breathless and exhausted and proud. "Noah…" she looks up at him, eyes shining. "I love you."

He nods, still staring at the baby. "You too," he agrees. "Love you so much." He tangles his other hand in her hair and pulls her temple against his pursed lips, kissing her firmly. He drags his finger over the baby's face again, and is honestly astonished when the child briefly quiets down, and peers up at them with the bright blue eyes of a newborn.

"What are you going to name him?" Nick asks, voice muffled and teary. He's been buried against Eugene's chest, sobbing in happiness, and has finally broken himself away long enough to hover over his grandson.

"We…hadn't really discussed it," Rachel says, and she sounds a hell of a lot more calm than she did earlier. "But I've had some thoughts."

Noah raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

She nods, cradling the baby against her. "Jonah," she says quietly, and the baby's eyes flicker towards her. "Jonah Abbot."

"Jonah Abbot Berry," Noah muses, brushing Rachel's hair back absently. "'S good name."

"Jonah Abbot Puckerman," Rachel corrects, tone bossy. "If you think I'm not taking your name when we get married, you have another think coming, Noah Elijah Puckerman."

He lets out a loud laugh, and barely notices when Nick and Eugene vacate the room to give the small new family their space. "So that's a yes then?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow and smirking at her. "I thought I was supposed to ask you again."

"I'm too tired," she says, frankly. "We're getting married, Noah. You're just going to have to learn to live with it."

Noah Puckerman, clad in a child-birth safe hospital gown, stares down at the girl he's been hopelessly in love with for years and the son that isn't really his, and smiles.

"Yeah," he murmurs, making sure he's got a hand touching both of the people in his family. "Sounds about perfect to me."

finis