Follows Quinn's Point of View. Set in the Future. Not much characters are involved besides Puck and Quinn. Oh, and major 'Beth' references.

stop smiling at me like that

i.

The first time he calls after almost three years of being apart (but a longer time since they've been together), it's not to say how much he misses her, or that he loves her, or how sorry he is.

"She's been in a car accident." He says clearly through the phone. She's twenty-one years old now, and in her second year in college. She doesn't ask how he got her number, but hisses out a breath. She knows who 'she' is.

"Is, um," She pauses. "- the woman still taking care of her?"

"Seriously?" He shouts into the phone. "You forgot who is taking care of our daughter?"

She should probably say that she does. (Her name's Shelby, isn't it?)

It's been three years, and all she can do is hang up, like he hadn't breathed a word.

ii.

Still, she's all the way back down in Ohio in her small neighborhood hometown. He's still living there. She's not surprised though, she always knew he'd be stuck in this city. She was just glad to find that he didn't live with his mom.

She told him this when he answered the door for her, and she slides in uninvited.

"I may have been a fuck-up, but it's not that severe." He says, and it seemed like for a moment he was trying to be humorous. Something they both hadn't been in a long time. That's why it fails.

She trails off to his couch, sitting politely and uncomfortably on it because it was too damn soft and it had her body sinking.

"Is she okay?" She asks.

He nods.

She wants to rage, and almost does. "Then why did you call?" Instead it's soft, just like each of their words have to be otherwise they lose it completely.

"Just thought you should know." He says, honestly brewing in his soft brown eyes.

iii.

She stays in town for a week before heading back to the campus.

She catches up with her old popular friends who were probably surprised that a screw-up like her could manage to get into the University of Chicago.

It's only because she left out, 'pregnant at sixteen' out of her resume.

iv.

She catches up with her mother, who had left the 'cheating scumbag' out of her life. Her mom's words. Not hers.

She knows her father had every right to be ashamed of her.

v.

She's back in her dorm room, where she finally feels safe and secure (bored) again.

They all thought she wouldn't be able to do it.

They didn't think that she would be able to give up the baby without a second thought, (but she did have them, oh she did).

They didn't think that a top cheerleader like her would have ambitions because the only thing that mattered at that time was being at the top. (Lies. She did.)

They didn't think that she and the impregnator would get together. (But they did. Two months. In the summer. He leaves for football camp without a goodbye. And she's glad, she didn't want one.)

They didn't think she would get back on the squad, and act like her pregnancy never happened.

They didn't think she would go out with the new guy, and they would be the new power couple. (They did, but did she want?)

vi.

He calls her a second time when she's in the middle of a mid-exam. He doesn't call often, so she stands up, and picks up her books, leaving the test behind and walking out the door to answer the phone.

"Yes?" She answers. She's had this same number and same contact info in her phone since the tenth grade.

"Come back." It's not assertive, or demanding, or even broken and soft.

It's just… him.

vii.

She does.

It's not really automatic, or even the first answer that comes to mind. She did have to debate it.

It's two weeks after his call, and she's standing by that same front door. (She's lived in here once.)

She's surprised when no one answers, and so she sits on his front steps with a duffel bag by her side.

Her plain silver Corolla car parked messily in his driveway. (She just thought she was going to run in his arms.)

She waits for a while, looking at the empty street with the diverse ethnics spread across the road. She finally sees a navy blue 90's Chevy pull up in his driveway. He notices the car and steps out confused a little a first. He's wearing a suit, and she would laugh if she saw him in one back then. (He's only been formal for the performances.) But instead it stings. It reminds her how they're damn adults now.

Once he sees her on his doorstep, he gives her a smirk.

And it says, 'I knew you'd come back.'

She returns a smirk too.

'I knew you'd ask.'

viii.

They sit awkwardly across from each other once he carries her duffel bag into the guest bedroom. She shifts her body, an annoyed feature playing across her face, because she's on the couch she fucking hates.

So she tells him that.

"I hate this couch." She mutters.

He smiles with a half-amused smirk on his face.

"I know. I noticed back in tenth." He says replying, and referring back to their high school years.

She feels the tears coming on. He notices.

"Do you think about her at all? Are you that ashamed?" He asks her, angrily but sincere because he's trying to understand it. He's through respecting it.

"Of course I do. And of course I am." She says whispering it, looking at the ground.

She shouldn't have done this.

She shouldn't have come here.

ix.

"And me?" He asks, for the first time sounding like the high school boy she knew.

She wears a small bittersweet smile when she answers. "Yeah."

He smiles shyly too.

She stands up rapidly and moves to her kitchen to let some tears drop.

She can't keep doing this.

She can't keep giving in to anything he says.

x.

He comes in the kitchen behind her; not saying anything but puts both of his rough calloused hands on her shoulders and motions her to come with him.

Her feet betray her.

xi.

They lie on the bed next to each other.

They're not thinking about having sex.

They're not naked.

They're not making out.

They're not even fucking talking.

They're just… lying on the bed next to each other.

He plays with her blonde hair, to notice that she had some kind of coloring done. That pisses him off, but he doesn't say anything. (Blonde hair was hard to pull off. And her hair was naturally that way.)

He also notices that she's looking at the ceiling that has glow-in-the-dark stars on them. They're really fake, and she doesn't know necessarily if they work or not, but she's reminded of her baby. Of their baby.

"I almost couldn't let her go." She whispers, tears falling out of her eyes.

He bites his lip hard, as his eyes well in tears too. "I know." He says cracking on the words.

And that's all they say for the night and he continues to play with her hair, not being able to look at her hazel eyes anymore.

xii.

"I know you thought I probably never cared—"

"You did." She interrupts the next day when they're in a coffee shop. He's taken the week off from work. She was surprised to hear that he was working in the high school they know so well. He was a physical education teacher. Gym.

"We would have messed it up." She says, trying to explain her reasons.

He nods, and looks down at his coffee. 'I know.'

"But still," He lets out a breath and looks at her. "I want what I can't have."

It's the first time she feels like they're not talking about the baby.

xiii.

"Why'd you name her Beth?" She questions when they're in her guest room watching reruns of NCIS. It was the only thing they could compromise on. "And give me a reason besides the song." Beth by the band Kiss was one of his all-time favorites. He sang it to her once, with those own rough calloused hands playing the guitar, and then suggested they should name her 'Beth'.

"Well, when I first saw you… I didn't know who you were. And the blond hair ponytail cheerleader and everything, I bet on the fact that you could've been named 'Beth'. But it was mainly for the song." He admits sheepishly towards the end.

She smiles him and nods, accepting his answer.

They're thirty minutes in the show, before he speaks up.

"And I was right. She looked just like you."

xiv.

She's really tired. Of everything.

Of hearing all about the baby from him an endless amount of times.

She loses it first.

"Well, what do you want to do, Puck?" She shouts at him standing up. "She's not ours anymore!"

He's about to cry, but instead he calms down. Knowing there was no easy way out of this.

He nonchalantly replies. "I considered trying to get you pregnant again while you were here."

She can't help it; she breaks out into a small laugh that feels exhilarating and fresh.

He smiles at her too.

It stings that he's bringing all of her old feelings out, especially with that damn smile of his.

It doesn't take her long to realize he was kind of serious.

xv.

She's packing up her duffel bag alone in the guest room, the tears rushing down her face. She was leaving here tomorrow, knowing that the end of the week had come.

She never knows that he was standing in the doorway, with his heart breaking also.

xvi.

They're standing by her car, which didn't really move since she first parked it there.

The duffel bag goes in her trunk and now all that's left is goodbye.

(She still doesn't want it.)

"This trip was pretty pointless, huh?" He asks her, wondering if he should have made that call for her to come back.

"Yeah," She laughs again. Laughing with him had gotten so much easier. (So had crying.) "But I still enjoyed it." 'More than you'll ever know.'

He's brave, and pulls her tightly in for a hug. She lets her tears brush against his shirt, which smells like his masculine self.

They pull away, and he pats her car hood, looking really serious and deep in thought. (Or deep in pain.)

She just looks after him as he walks away, before getting in her car to drive while she cries.

xvii.

Three months later and she's back in her routine.

Three months and they come in contact again.

Her roommate was out with her boyfriend, and she's working on the five page essay that is due in three days.

She hears three raps from the door, and looks through the peephole, and is extremely surprised to see Puck standing there with his hands in his pockets, and him swallowing his throat deep in thought again.

She just thought they were going to go back to their lives.

She presses her back against the door, not answering it.

He knocks again.

"Quinn, are you in there?" He raps the door harder with his fists, and groans loudly. "Fine, I'll call your phone, and I swear if I hear it…"

He doesn't finish his sentence and nor does she listen to it. She sprints up from the door to get her phone, and turn it off as fast as possible.

She mutters to herself, telling her phone to turn off faster.

She walks back to the door again, and presses her back to the door, so she can hear him better.

"I guess I'll just wait 'til you come back!" He shouts into the door.

Shit. She hadn't thought of that.

She stands up abruptly and swings the door open roughly.

"What do you want?" She asks rudely. (And she's not even sure why…)

"Really?" He smirks, but she can see the underlying pain. "That's how we're going to greet each other?"

She can't find the words to respond with.

"See…" He trails. "I had a much better way of how we could greet each other." He takes a step closer so that he's under the doorway, and closer to her.

She doesn't move, and is breathing slowly and giving him that goddamn look in her eyes that sends him over the edge.

He brushes her hair behind her ear, and she's never been so hopeful. She almost wants to scold herself, and tell herself that he's going to walk away.

"It goes something like…this…" He draws out slowly, his head close to her.

He kisses her that night.

xviii.

She keeps trying to tell herself it was wrong, but it has no affect on her. She looks over her shoulder, where he was lying beside her.

They had sex, for the second time. And they're both completely sober, and it's only ten thirty in the night.

"I don't regret it at all." He says, knowing he should have prepared the fact that she would think it's the worst thing to do.

"Of course you don't, Puck." She smiles at him, suddenly realizing she doesn't either.

They don't talk after that.

xix.

It's two thirty in the morning, and he's still not sleeping. He looks over at the blonde in his arms, who is sleeping softly.

He wants to cry, he had for a long time since she left.

Why did their relationship have to be so complicated?

"I love you." He whispers brokenly, before standing up and getting dressed again.

She turns over to lay flat on her stomach, her eyes still closed, but her right one pressed against the bed, a tear dropping from it as she heard the door open and shut.

xx.

It's four in the morning, and she's still crying. Her roommate must have been at her boyfriends doing the wild parties she usually does.

But she doesn't think about that.

She should've have known she was right from the beginning. He was going to leave her side.

xxi.

She doesn't care anymore. She really doesn't care anymore.

And it's his entire fault.

She doesn't care that they're relationship is probably the weirdest fucking one ever.

She doesn't care that she gave up the best thing she probably could have gotten.

But this time she wasn't going to lose another great thing in her life.

She finds that he was just in the hallway of the apartment, hugging his knees tightly to himself, silently crying.

"I love you too." She says, tears streaming down her face.

His eyes widen, because he thought she hadn't heard it.

He stands up, and looks around the hallway helplessly. "I—" He cracks on the word.

"I don't know what to do." He finally says, even more broken than when he told her he loved her.

She's never seen him so vulnerable. She nods, knowing that this relationship (whatever it was) was killing her slowly too.

"I know." She says, crying hardly. She puts her arms around him nonetheless.

She leads him back into her apartment room, and pulls his hand leading him back to her bed.

"Stay with me. At least tonight." She whispers as she lies back down on the bed, pulling him with her.

He obliges, and holds her tightly as they try their best to sleep, and cherish the moment at the same time.

xxii.

She wakes up, glad to find that he's still holding her asleep.

She wriggles herself around so that she can face him.

"Mm?" He questions a noise groggily, as he flutters his eyelids open.

His eyes are browner but softer than she can remember them. They're also a little red, due to the lack of sleep and crying.

"Hey," He says smiling at her, forgetting that they weren't in a simple relationship.

"Hi," She smiles back anyways, despite her doubts that he would be here only for a short amount of time.

He takes a glance at the clock on her nightstand, and sees that it's almost ten thirty in the morning. He scolds himself mentally for checking the clock. It not like he actually cared what the hell the time was.

His arms are still wrapped around her, and he looks at her and sees her eyebrows fixed in thought. She's wondering why he hasn't left yet.

"I'm not moving until you do." He speaks softly and alluring, answering her thoughts.

"I don't want to move." She says looking up to his eyes, that almost feel like they're going to sparkle.

"Me neither." He grins.

They don't until they get hungry.

xxiii.

She and him both walk into her kitchen, and he browses her cabinets looking for food.

She smiles when she sees flour in one of the cabinets.

"Remember that day we were baking?" She questions, a smile forming at the memory.

He laughs in joy at the memory as well.

He remembers a lot of things he shouldn't have.

xxiv.

They decide to go out for breakfast, because she discovers she owns no edible food at the moment, and that the roommate would be back soon and she told him she hates her.

They walk side by side to his car, instead. Her heart beats fast, because this might mean he'll leave right after they have breakfast.

"Shit." He mutters to himself as he puts his hands in his pockets. "I forgot my keys." He says, responding to her questioning look.

She looks in her purse, and grabs hers, trying her best to hide the relief when she heard him say that.

"We'll take my car." She says, and he nods back at her.

He puts his hands in his pockets feeling the cold metal keys that are pulling the weight in his left pocket.

The more time he had with her, the better.

xxv.

They arrive at a downtown Chicago parking garage, deciding they should just roam the streets and find a place to eat then. She pays for the parking, and soon they're on the busy street of Chicago, and they smell food of all kinds everywhere.

She points to a breakfast parlor a little bit further down the street.

He's not really paying attention, and doesn't care so much about where they eat. They could be scraping up from the dump (although he doesn't prefer it) for all he cares, as long as he's with her.

While she points to it, and asks him, she notices he's giving her that look.

He doesn't saying anything, but he's stopped walking.

"What's wrong?" She gulps, trying again to pretend she wasn't nervous.

He takes her hand into his to hold it, and resumes walking.

It's the first time he's held her hand.

xxvi.

They finish eating and they drive back up to her apartment. He steps out of the car, and she swears she heard keys jingle.

"You lied." She states, slightly upset.

He looks at her confused. If anything, he's been the most honest he's been in years.

"You do have your keys." She says looking at his pocket bulge.

xxvii.

"I don't have to leave." He blurts out, scared.

She turns around as she just finished opening her apartment, and looks at him with tears welling up in her eyes.

"But you do." She answers for him.

"I'm twenty-two. I can find another job." He defends.

"But you don't want to." She says, thinking of how selfish it was of her to want him say this at first.

"Actually, I do." He says. He takes her hands, and squeezes them tightly. "I want to be with you."

She doesn't get a chance to respond, because he kisses her softly but with need for only a few seconds.

She looks at him, and cries out a few tears.

He continues, trying to do anything he can to savor this. "I—I can be a fucking construction worker for all I care. I'm just… I'm not leaving you."

It takes her a long time to speak.

"Where would you live?" She questions, technically saying she's close to saying yes.

"I'll sell the house back in Ohio, and—and buy us our own apartment. The house is vintage, and made of lots of stone. People would pay well for it." He says, cleverly thinking of what to do.

She knows they're skipping steps. They've truly only been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school for two months. They skipped a step when they weren't married before they had a kid together.

Finally, she sighs.

"Okay."

He slides his arms smoothly around her waist into a hug.

She doesn't know how that word meant the whole world to him right now.

xxviii.

Its two months later, and he calls her phone again.

"It's sold." He says simply.

He can almost feel her smiling on the other line.

"Gr—great!" She exclaims laughing. "When are you going to get here?"

"I'm one—scratch that, two steps ahead of you, babe." He says happily.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"First, I need you to go one floor up in your apartment." He tells her.

She walks out of her door, and walks to the elevator where she motions to go one floor up like he had instructed.

"And?" She asks, warily.

"And go down to your left. You'll know when you get there." He says before hanging up.

She looks around and saunters through the hallway, before seeing a bunch of boxes in front of an apartment door. The door opens, and he comes out grinning.

She stopped walking, and shakes her head in disbelief.

There was no way this was real. There's no way that her impregnator from high school was her prince charming in disguise.

"I can't believe you." She whispers, as he moves towards her instead.

"I know." He says, and wraps his arms around her, when it takes her a moment to wrap hers around him.

xxix.

She stares at the white stick in her hand. Not sure if her reaction is a good one or not. Mostly she just finds it ironic.

He got her pregnant again. And they weren't even trying, they were fully protected, and everything.

He walks in through the apartment door, and sees her in the living room.

She looks confused, and not shocked or scared, because she's already been through it all before, at a time that was purely terrible.

"Quinn?" He questions, confused at her confusedness.

"I'm pregnant." She says simply, standing up, and waiting for his expression.

"For real?" He asks with wide eyes, setting his suitcase down.

She scoffs in disbelief. "No, I'm faking it!" She exclaims sarcastically.

"Well excuse me Miss Moody." His eyes widen right after he says that. "Holy shit! You really are pregnant!"

"I'm pretty sure I said that, sweetie." She says, rolling her eyes but can't help the smile that comes onto her face.

"You're not…?" He questions her.

She shakes her head firmly 'no' with widened eyes. "No way. I'm never doing that again."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and smiles at her.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" He asks, curiously.

"How the hell should I know? I just found out!" She shouts, like it's obvious.

"Jeesh, even more demanding than the last time." He mutters out.

"Shut up." She says softly crossing her arms together, ignoring the gaze she can feel that's on her.

She turns to him.

"What are you doing?" She asks as he starts walking towards her with a grin on his face. "Stop smiling at me like that." She says laughing.

He kisses her to shut her up, and she still smiles as his lips are on hers.

They pull away. And she tells him softly and nice, "You can name it."

"Thanks." He says honestly.

He holds her tightly as they both sit on the couch (a freaking good one), and he still has his arms around her.

"But I swear if the name Jack Daniels even pops into your little head…"

He laughs in response, and she smiles, realizing that she excited for it all.

fin.