A/N: A Mother's Day oneshot for our favorite highly neglected couple.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee

The sun is blinding as struggles to greet it with open eyes. She hasn't been unconscious for long. It's only been one or two hours since she last set her gaze on the alarm clock. The weight of the morning, the meaning of today, takes the breath from her lungs. Today shouldn't mean anything to her. If anything, it should mean something to the woman just one floor below her, who she knows has ordered some extravagant breakfast for the occasion. So why is it so hard to sit up? Why is it so hard to swing her legs around and let them touch her carpeted floor?

Mother's Day. At sixteen, this shouldn't mean anything. A girl her age has got at least four years to go before she's joined the universal holiday. All Quinn can do is, stare blankly at her ten foot ceiling. As she mindlessly runs a hand along her abdomen (the place where permanent reminders come in the form of prominent stretch marks) the last year comes in a whirlwind of memories.

Sex and wine coolers, the weight of Puck's body on her own, as he tells her repeatedly that she's not fat. The lies, the laughs, the chill of slushy facials. And then there's Puck himself. The one she pushed away repeatedly. In true form, he pushed back. He pushed back with every bit of hope and encouragement he had to offer. He should have won. He put up ten times the battle that she did. Instead, Quinn got exactly what she wanted. Puck backed off because that's exactly what she asked of him. In some weird, twisted way, he's always done what she wanted. Why, she wasn't entirely sure. So, she walked away. She gave her up. She did the right thing. Right?

Without even realizing what she's done, Quinn finds herself dialing a much too familiar number. Not because she's called it so much but because his name would show up at least three times a day the year before. Sometimes to check in, other times he'd just text and say goodnight. She'd never tell him how happy that makes her. To know that someone cares. Because that would mean he's winning. Most of the time though, he'd call to continue their on-going arguments. They did that a lot. Argue. Nothing ever runs smoothly for them. Even when the topic ends up in safe territory. She knows this won't end well, but she's doing it anyway. Even if they aren't exactly civil, there's one thing they can agree on. There's always one thing that only he could understand.

"Fabray," he mumbles. His lazy greeting (probably due to the fact that she's woken him up) sends subtle warmth to her cheeks.

"Hey Puck," she whispers. "I'm sorry I woke you…Just call me back later," she says.

"'s cool. I'm up now," he says, forcing himself to sound more awake than he actually is. He's not an idiot. He knows what today is. It might help that his own mom's been dropping hints all week. It's an understanding that they aren't supposed to talk. He's just supposed to leave her alone now. They have absolutely nothing in common anymore. Except for her. "What's up?" he grumbles.

"I…I can't move," she whispers. Puck raises his brow on his end, completely lost.

"What do ya mean?"

"I'm just kind of stuck…. Mom's usual breakfast just makes me sick. I…I can't go down there…" she finishes, a catch in her throat. "I can't look at her and not see her."

"How long?" he asks.

"Two hours," she says with a small smile. She knows he's asking how much she's been able to sleep. They've done this enough. Most nights he woke him up with nightmares and guilt. Today's no different.

"I got like three," he offers. He can't help the hint of guilt that washes over him when he realizes he managed an extra hour. He really doesn't know how. Maybe it's the fact that, over time he's learned to push it back. He's learned not to let it be the only thing he thinks about. He's learned to distract himself.

"Today's not supposed to mean anything…"

"It's always gonna mean something," he whispers. "Today, Father's Day, her birthday, the holidays. No matter how much we don't want them to, they're always going to mean something," he says, more awake now. Now that he's talking about it, Puck knows what she means. It's like he's kind of frozen, scared stiff.

"But I'm not…I'm not her…"

"Yeah you are," he says softly. Whether she's yours or not."

"Puck, I gave her up," she reminds him.

"Just because you gave her up doesn't mean you stop caring. Just because we gave her to Shelby, doesn't mean we don't love her, doesn't mean you're not a mom."

"That's just it. I shouldn't. She's not mine anymore."

"She is. Somehow, she'll always be yours."

"Ours," she corrected. Puck smiles, somewhat surprised that Quinn's identifying both of them now. She's only done that one other time. "I just feel like I…Like I let her down or something. She's going to grow up thinking we don't care, that her parents didn't want her."

"Quinn, you gave her up because you love her. Being a mom means making some of the hardest decisions. You've done that. And when she's older, when she wants to know who we are, we'll tell her why. We'll tell her that we loved her enough to give her to someone that could give her everything we couldn't."

"I…I...It's hard to breathe. This guilt, it's just too much."

"Nice big breath. It's gonna be okay."

"No, Puck. No it's not going to be okay. I'm afraid to leave my room…I've been seeing her everywhere for the last week…" He hears a change of tone and feels a piece of himself fall away. She's crying. It's quiet but he knows she's crying. Just like everything else that's happened to Quinn in the last year, this is his fault.

"Argh, please don't cry," he sighed. "I'm really bad with crying." She stops for a minute, not even aware of the moisture on her cheeks until he's pointed it out. "You know what? I'll be over in five. You're gonna have to get outta your room at some point. Get dressed, we're going out."

"We…we are?" she asks, completely caught off guard.

"Yes, we are. You got five minutes, Fabray. Oh and, if you can, wear somethin' blue," he smirks.

"Why blue?" she asks curiously.

"Just do it," he says impatiently.

"Fine, whatever, I'll find something blue."

"Good. I'll see you soon." His last phrase is met with the dial tone. They never actually said goodbye anymore. They never even really said hello. It was a silent agreement that they just launch into whatever it is they chose to talk about.

From somewhere, Quinn's found the energy to make it to her closet. She frowns when she realizes that despite Puck's one request; blue is nowhere to be found. Giving up, she settles for pink blouse instead. He'll just have to deal with it. Somehow, the blouse has made it to the very depths of her walk in closet, hidden in a stack of carelessly thrown clothes. As she ruffles through, she finds a single blue dress. It's hidden behind a stack of her rotated wardrobe. How does he always get what he wants? Not really caring, she throws it on, pulling her hair back.

XXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes have passed and he still hasn't shown. She rolls her eyes. Typical Puck. He's never on time for anything. She drums her fingers impatiently, watching out the window for his truck to pull in. Eventually, when she's decided to try and take a small nap, (not that lack of sleep gives her much choice) the roar of the engine startles her. Finally. Before he can ring the doorbell, she swings the door open, a solid line of frustration on her face.

"Morning," he mumbles. She offers him a small smile, taking in a face that's much like her own. Signs of sleep deprivation are more than evident. He's got a hand behind his back and she can't help but raise a curious brow. "I couldn't find lilies so you're gonna have to settle for sunflowers," he says apologetically.

"How do you…? I never told you…"

"I've got my sources," he smirked.

"Thank you," she smiles. He can tell that it doesn't reach her eyes. He just nods. "So, where are you dragging me off to?" she asks, quickly filling a vase with fresh water.

"Gee, you make it sound like I'm kidnapping you or something," he laughed.

"Well, you really didn't give me room to say no," she pointed out.

"But you agreed," he countered.

"True. So, where are you taking me then?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," he smirked. Quinn just rolls her eyes.

"You're making this sound like some kind of date," she laughed.

"Not a date. It's more of a…me bailing you out type of thing." Of course he has to make some kind of jail reference.

"Just tell me where we're going," she sighed impatiently.

"Nope."

"Stubborn," she mumbled.

"Takes one to know one." She offers a small smile, letting him lead her to his truck. Quinn's a little surprised that he's actually opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she whispers. He pulls around to the driver's side, turning on the radio. She sighs when she takes in his less than tidy floors. While he's not looking, she picks up a discarded bag and throws it in a small trash bag. Before she does, she notices the logo of a small bakery down the street. Without thinking, she finds her hand has wandered to her stomach. "Why do you always have to be such a pack rat?" she sighs.

"I stopped for breakfast this morning. I knew you'd be pissed if I was late so I ate and drove."

"You were still late," she reminds him.

"Blame the florist chick," he mumbled. She notices him unwrapping a Hershey's bar with one hand and takes it from him. "Hey!"

"Eyes on the road." Quinn peels back the wrapping, taking a fairly big piece for herself before giving it back to him.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted some when I opened it. You didn't have to like…steal it."

"It's only stealing when the person who owns it isn't looking," she clarified. "Not to mention that I got less sleep than you. If anything, this chocolate bar should be mine."

"Sharing is caring," he mumbled.

"Says the one who failed Kindergarten," she laughed. "I don't even know how someone's able to do that."

"I told you. I hated nap time."

"So you played drums instead."

"A kid has to keep himself entertained and all they had were pots and pans."

"You're impossible," she mumbled. Puck just smirks, opening the arm rest.

"There's a bag of chocolate in there for you, you know. You didn't have to take mine." She turns to see him offering her a bag of Hershey's kisses. She smiles. Another favorite. She's beginning to wonder how exactly he knows all of this. Given her inability to keep her eyes open, she takes them without questions. Instead, she just smiles. That's three now she thinks. "I say you gotta gimme at least three," he says, an open palm ready to accept what's his.

"No."

"An eye for an eye, Fabray. You take mine, I take yours."

"Not happening."

"Bitch."

"Mutt."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Yes it does."

"Just eat your damn chocolate," he mumbled.

"Gladly," she smirks. As she pops another one into her mouth, she flips through his iPod. She isn't surprised to see that ninety percent of it is Rock. As she scrolls, she miraculously finds the only Alternative he seems to have. Surprisingly, it's a song she actually likes. "You listen to Parachute?"

"Just the one song," he says. She smiles, settling for the one track, laying her head back.

Should've kissed you there

I should've held your face

I should've watched those eyes

Instead of run in place

I should've called you out

I should've said your name

I should've turned around

I should've looked again

Quinn blinks several times, taking in Puck's rugged features as he's staring straight ahead. She can't help noticing how the sun plays on his face, revealing his defined jaw. It reminds her how sold, how determined Puck himself is.

I should've spoken up

I should've proudly claimed

That oh my head's to blame

For all my hearts mistakes

Her hand shoots out to turn it off before the song can get any further. She knows what's coming next. She knows what it means. She knows who it's for.

"I wasn't lying," he whispered. "I meant what I said."

"I know," she says softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never gave you the chance you deserved. I'm sorry I ever called you a loser."

"'s'alright," she shrugged. "I kind of am," he admits.

"No, you're not. I was just too stubborn, too scared to see it."

"I'm confused."

"We both know how much alcohol we had that night."

"Barely anything. Those things are like juice."

"So, in a way, we were perfectly sober," she whispered.

"Yup. I told you the day she was born, too."

"I…"

"I know you don't feel the same way. I'm just bein' honest with you," he said quietly. Quinn honestly had no idea what she felt. She sighed, finally letting the lyrics fade as she watched life pass by through her window. She blinked, now completely lost. She'd never been in this part of town before.

"Puck, I think we're lost."

"Not lost," he said.

"Where are we going? I've never been this far out before."

"Still not telling. You'll just have to wait and see."

"I hate you," she growled.

"I know," he smirked. After a few minutes, they finally pull into an unfamiliar neighborhood. For some reason, Quinn can't breathe again. Her heart's racing much faster than it should. There's only one reason they'd be….

"Puck….What are you doing?" He just continues driving, quietly pulling into a steep driveway.

"Come on," he says when he's finally pulled around to her side of the truck.

"We're trespassing!" she hissed. "Now you're really going to have to bail me out of jail!"

"Just calm the hell down, Quinn. Get outta the car or I'm gonna be forced to carry you out." She groans, slowly stepping down.

"Whose house is this? Why are we here? How many illegal things are we doing at one time?"

"Quinn, shut up and keep walking."

"Well I'm sorry if I don't wanna get arrested!"

"You're not gonna get arrested," he laughed. "Just trust me." She sighs, knowing where that line got them once before. She gulps as he leads her up the walk way.

"Puck, take me home!" she practically shouts. They're close enough that she knows whose house they've come to. "Noah Puckerman, take me home!" He ignores her, almost ready to carry her the rest of the way. Both because she's getting extremely annoying and she can't seem to move anymore. He rings the doorbell, stepping back. Why…?" Doesn't he know that this hurts too much already? Being here just makes it worse, not better. Puck quietly opens the unlocked door, taking Quinn with him as he steps inside. "You're just gonna walk inside?" she hissed. "This isn't even your house!" He just shrugs, guiding her into the foyer.

"Quinn, do a guy a favor and shut your freakin' trap. I warned her ahead of time. She knows it's us."

"Oh….Well, it's still rude to just walk into somebody else's house." Puck had warned Shelby. For some reason, that makes her even angrier. It makes her feel like she and Puck have these secrets, little things they do, that she hasn't been a part of. That she's not allowed to be involved in.

"In the kitchen," Shelby calls. Puck releases the hold he's had on her waist. As subtle as it is, she can't help missing it, now that it's gone. After several steps, Puck turns to face her.

"You coming?" he asked. Taking a deep breathe, she forces herself forward. "Just breathe," he whispered. She nods, trying to do as he's suggested. Timidly, she makes her way into the kitchen. Almost immediately, there are hints of her everywhere. Forgotten bottles, a highchair, plastic spoons sitting on the counter.

The weight is back, twice as heavy now. As hard as she tries, the tears just won't stop. It's just a kitchen. It's no different than any other home. Except for the fact, that it is. Blinking furiously, she finds a chair and throws the weight of her body into it.

"I'm sorry the kitchen's such a mess. I've been running around trying to get some kind of organization going and it really just never seems to stay that way." Puck just shrugs, taking an open seat next to Quinn. Taking her shaking hand, he offers her a squeeze, a quick glance to make sure she's okay. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the question in his eyes. All she can do is shake her head, not exactly sure if she is or isn't okay. "How have you been, Puck?" Shelby asks, pulling out three glasses and filling them with water. Quinn can't help throwing him a glance. They're talking like he's been here before. She made a quick note to ask about that on their way home.

"I've been…good," he says, taking an obvious pause.

"That's good. I hope school's going alright for the two of you," she smiles. Noticing that she's made the question plural, Quinn wonders if that's a cue for her to finally open her mouth and say something.

"Same as always," she shrugs. Except, it's not. If it's made her sound rude, Shelby shows no sign of being offended. The conversation between the three of them is obviously forced. It's not hard to notice how awkwardly everything has been said and asked.

"She's up in the nursery if you'd like to go see her," she offers.

"Thanks," Puck says, already getting up from his place at the table. Quinn glances between the two of them, not exactly sure what's going on. Okay, she knows what's going on, the whole thing just seems so….easy. She'd expect Shelby to be defensive, forcefully accepting that they've come to see Beth. She almost seems….okay with why they're here. Quinn can't help wondering why that is. Hesitantly, she follows him out, taking careful steps, like she's now on forbidden territory. Which, she has to admit, she kind of is. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be intruding on a day that's meant for Shelby. Beth's real mother. She can't help but envy Puck. He doesn't have to compete with anyone. Beth's only ever going to have one father. Whether he's raising her or not, that's always going to be his place. Quinn gave that up. Now, she's here, acting like she should be allowed to take it back. She's not. She's not allowed to erase the choices she's made.

As they make it to her nursery (the one room with a carefully sculpted Beth carving on the door), nerves completely consume her. What is she even doing here? Beth has no idea who she is. She has no idea that the woman downstairs isn't her actual mother. Yet, that's all she does know. That's all she's ever going to know. The truth of that statement hits Quinn like a solid brick. She can't help feeling deprived. Deprived. The one feeling, along with so many others, that she's not allowed to feel. She chose this. She's going to have to live with it. Yet the idea of her daughter calling someone else her mama. That hasn't settled. That's not okay yet. But again, it's a consequence of her ultimate decision.

Puck quietly opens the door, stepping inside. Quinn follows close behind, letting the tears build again as she takes in the smiling little girl keeping herself entertained. Finally alerted to company, she looks up at them. A set of eyes, identical to Quinn's looking right at them, a wide smile on her face.

"Hey you," Puck smiles as they both watch her crawl over to him. "How's my girl?" A raging fire fills Quinn's chest. The envy is back worse than before. She knows him.

"How does she recognize you?" she asks, jealously more than obvious in her question.

"I come and see her every couple weeks," he says, letting Beth play with his fingers.

"You're here every couple of weeks and never even bothered to tell me?" she glares.

"Quinn, it's not like that," he sighs.

"Enlighten me," she bites back. "Tell me why our daughter knows you and has no idea who I am."

"You were the one who said we shouldn't talk anymore. You were the one who said you wanted to be left alone. I know how sore a subject this is for you. I knew that bringing it up would get you mad. So I just…didn't."

"So very kind of you," she growls.

"Hey, I was only doing what you told me to do. I left you alone. Leaving you alone means conversations are slim to none."

"You could have at least let me know," she whispered.

"Kinda hard to do when you don't even look at me," he pointed out. Quinn sighs, not wanting to argue.

"I'm sorry, okay. I know I haven't exactly been the easiest person to deal with."

"Are you ever?" he smirked.

"I really don't want to start a pointless argument, Puck. Not today," she whispers. She looks up to see that he's not even paying attention to her anymore. The two of them are sharing a secret that she can't even make out. She just rolls her eyes, until finally, she notices Beth slowly making her way over to her. When she settles in front of her, curious eyes wandering her face, Quinn has no idea what she's supposed to do. Beth's just…staring at her. "Hi," Quinn whispers, a small smile on her face. Beth small hand traces her palm and Quinn can feel tears once again gathering in her eyes. The action is so simple, so innocent.

Beth's small hands come up to trace her face now, stopping for a second at the gathering moisture. Her small lips begin a tremor as her own eyes well with tears.

"Crap, now I've made her cry," she sighs. Instinct takes over as she takes the baby into her lap, running her hand quietly through her hair. She smiles, finally able to notice that it's all Puck. Puck can't help noticing the interaction. Quinn seems so natural. "Shh,"she whispers.

"She tends to be really empathetic," he offers.

"Oh my gosh. You actually know what that means?" she gasped.

"Quinn, I'm not a moron."

"Could've fooled me," she laughed. "How often do you see her?" she whispered.

"I come by after games and stuff. We never win so therefore, we never celebrate. Gives me an excuse to see her."

"Shelby doesn't mind?"

"Well, we're not exactly best friends or anything but she's kinda come to accept it."

"You're lucky," she whispered. "You have the guts to come in and be a part of her life. I….I don't know if I can…"

"All you have to do is ask," he says.

"I don't think you get it, Puck. You don't have to compete with anyone. You're always going to be the only father in her life. Over time, she's going to look at you as exactly that. If I step in I'm just going to confuse her." Puck just smirked as he pulled out his wallet. Raising her brow in curiosity, Quinn watches him put it on the floor next to Beth. Small fingers dance across the image in wander. It's a candid of her, in a light blue blouse, much like the dress she's wearing now.

"How did you…How did you get that picture?" Much like he's been doing the entire day, he ignores her question, now focusing his attention on Beth.

"Beth, who's this?" he whispers. Wide eyes turn to Puck and back to Quinn several times, the little girl's brow knit in concentration. "Beth, who's that in the picture?" The little girl turns to her father in honest concentration. Her mouth opens and closes several times before she makes a first attempt.

"A…Am." Quinn can feel her tears spilling over again as she watches Beth's struggle.

"Almost," he says quietly. Little fingers trace the face in the picture before coming up to the one in front of her. "You got it," he whispered. Quinn watches as he mutely mouths the word to her and resists the urge to cry openly now. "Who's she?"

"Ma…" It's quiet and almost inaudible but she's heard it. "Ma…" she says again. By now any composure she's kept is gone. The tears are flowing openly; Beth's small hand coming to gently absorb what her tiny hand can of the tears.

"How…?" she asks, incapable of uttering anything else.

"We've worked with this picture for the last few months," he says. "Took her a while but a couple of weeks or so ago, she started identifying you."

"Shelby's gonna kill you," she whispered. Puck just shrugged.

"I'm still breathing, aren't I?" he smirked.

"As sweet as this is, you know it's only gonna confuse her more, right?"

"Don't know. I think she puts to syllables on Shelby's name. She might mix and match them every now and again but after a while, I think she'll start identifying more clearly."

"When do you find time to do this?" she smiled.

"I don't party too much anymore. Friday nights mostly."

"What's she gonna do to you when she finally catches you?"

"There's not much she can do. It's the truth. She says she wants to be as honest as she can with Beth. So she doesn't repeat the sh—stuff that went down with Berry. If it happens, it happens.

"But it's not fair," she sighed.

"It's as fair as we want it to be," he says.

"Shelby's her mom, Puck. In every way that counts, Shelby's her mama. It might take a while but I'm getting used to it. This is sweet, Noah but honestly, it's not fair. You have to earn labels like that. You have to live up to them.

"Do you want to be as big a part of her life as you can?"

"I don't know….It might end up hurting too much. To know that she's worked so hard, and to want to take that away from her? It isn't right."

"Up to you," he said. "You either find a way to be a part of her life or you let the guilt eat away at you."

"Now you're making me look like the bad guy," she sighed.

"I'm trying to help you, Quinn. Tell me honestly. How do you feel right now?"

"Free? Liberated? Like that weight has been taken off my chest? I don't know."

"How often have you let yourself smile in the last ten minutes?"

"Once, twice?"

"I think I counted four," he smirked. "Four of 'em and they all reached your eyes."

"That doesn't mean anything," she countered.

"Yeah, it does. Just being around her makes you feel better. I haven't seen you this happy since she was born. I've seen you angry, I've seen you upset, I've seen you down-right pissed at people. I've never seen you really happy."

"I think about it every day," she whispered.

"I know. I see it your face. I do it too."

"Puck, we have to learn to accept things the way they are."

"Doesn't mean we can't find some kind loophole. Come with me next time. See how you feel after and see if it's anything like how you feel right now."

"I don't know…"

"You don't know until you try," he pointed out. "Hey Beth." She turns her head quickly, focusing her attention on Puck. She smiles widely, crawling over to him and promptly settling herself in his lap. Her head settles on his chest, small hands grazing the stubble that's started to grow on his face. She laughs, running her hands along the prickly texture again. "I guess that tickles, huh?" he smiles. "Just like….this," he says letting his fingers dance across her chest. Her response is an open laugh that echoes through the room. As it carries on for the three minutes in which she's being "tortured", Quinn notices just how infectious it actually is. Without reason, she too is laughing. It takes her a minute to realize just how foreign a feeling it is. She hasn't let herself laugh like this in almost a year. It feels good.

"You're good with her," she observes.

"Thanks," he smiles. "I love you, Beth," he whispers. Quinn smiles, knowing he probably didn't intend for her to hear that. She watches Beth set her hand on his chest and just lets it sit there. It's nowhere near where it's supposed to be but the symbolism is enough. She's not the only one who does she thought. Admitting it to herself is scary enough. She doesn't even know if it's true. For now, she'll let the idea roll around in her head. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. She knows now that ruling out the idea entirely isn't an option anymore. They've shared too much for her to do that to him. "Hey, who's that over there?" She knows now that he's only doing it to please her. Or maybe he's not. Either way, the smile on her face is still as wide as the first time.

"Ma…"

"Atta girl," he grins.

"So that's why you made me wear blue," she laughed.

"That and the fact that I really, really like it on you. Makes you look hot," he smirked.

"Thank you," she smiles.

"No need to thank me for telling the truth," he shrugged.

"Not just for the compliment. I mean all of this. The flowers, the chocolate, Beth. You really didn't have to."

"Wanted to," he said.

"Thank you, Noah," she repeats offering him a flighty kiss on the cheek. He's a little shocked at what she's just done. She knows it by the way he's stiffened up a little.

"Welcome," he mumbles. He turns to her, selfishly wanting more than what she's given him. But that's just who is. He always wants more than what he can handle for one reason and one reason only. He's Noah Puckerman. He can pull whatever he wants from a girl without even trying. He's learned that Quinn's different. She gives people what she wants and nothing more than that. He's going to have to settle for what he's gotten and be grateful for it. Silently, he's hoping there's more to come but for now, he'll take what he can get. "Happy Mother's Day," he smiled.

A/N: Comments are always welcome :)