{Part three}

…

"a million suns that shine upon me, a million eyes you are the brightest blue."

…

They have this whole thing figured out.

When he goes on tour with his company, she works on her second album, which you can do practically anywhere (even on the back of a tour bus, he found out). And when she goes on tour he takes as much time off as possible (it cost him to miss out on a lot of birthday parties, premieres and other awesome shit and it takes major discipline but it beats not seeing Marley for months at a time).

So yeah, him and Marley are doing great. She's awesome and they're awesome together and he really loves her still, longer than he has ever loved anyone besides his mom— but it's not like he could or would want to (ever) get himself to stop.

…

He wakes up early (he knows this because it's still dark and he has a sixth sense— and an allergy— for early) with Marley trying to remove his arm from her torso. He knows she has to get up to work on tour rehearsal, and to pull her even tighter against his chest would be a selfish thing to do, but he does it anyway because she's Marley, and she's soft and really pretty and he likes laying in bed with her.

She's only wearing his t-shirt and that's kind of a thing since they live together. They share about everything and there's no personal space whatsoever but if he had sacrifice anything for anyone, it would be Marley.

"Please stay," he whispers against her hair, voice hoarse because it's early and he hates early but he loves waking up with Marley. He nuzzles his face in her neck and plants a few lazy kisses there because he knows her and he knows she's about to give in when she says his name, a little whine in her voice.

She ends up calling in sick though, after he convinces her everyone deserves a free day and she works so hard and babe, you're never sick— and they stay in bed the whole day. Just as he likes it.

...

He falls during a performance and it fucking hurts and he hears it. The actual snapping of bone, or the end of his career whatever you prefer.

His foot is bandaged and the doctor assures him he's healing and his foot might be, but he isn't. He stays in bed for days, refuses to come out to shower or eat or do anything remotely normal. The doctor told him to continue his everyday routine— without the dancing— but he can't. What's the point?

A few friends and co-workers leave him messages and send him flowers and cards and one of them even comes to visit, but he can't bare looking at them.

He knows the odds. Not many professional dancers who got injured ever got back in the field, at least not like they used to. Especially not when surgery is necessary.

And the odds have never been in his favor to begin with. Hence the broken foot and the ruptured achilles tendon.

Marley finally manages to get him out of his room after six days but he can't look at her and he can't walk without wanting to burst into fucking tears and he feels her (and everything else he's ever touched) slipping through his fingers. He hates himself.

She makes him eat and she's so sweet and comforting— and comfortable because around her he feels slightly less hurt. (It's the way she runs a hand over his head when he starts to eat and the way she rests her hand on his shoulder when she leans over to put a glass of water on the table and the way she smiles at him and kisses his cheek and doesn't make him feel like he's just lost everything— because he still has her.)

She's much better at this fixing thing, he realizes, because at the end of the day she's got him smiling, and that's progress.

…

She gets everyone who comes to visit him to sign his cast and she puts her name on the middle in big cursive letters and he's kind of sad when they take it off, but not really. Just a little. He's fucking fine with the fact he doesn't need those damn crutches any more and he doesn't feel like a complete waste of space, which is good— great.

He still can't do much because his foot wasn't even the biggest problem, it was his heel. But Marley has this way of doing things and saying things— the right ones— like all the time, she's really positive about everything— his foot, his career, but him mainly (he's afraid that maybe she's thinking too highly off him) and it kind of makes him not want to be so ungrateful.

The cast was kind of safe, you know? Everyone knew he was hurt, they could see. Now he had to get back in the field, now he had to become as good as he used to be, now there were no excuses.

To say he was scared sounded like an awfully dumb thing, but fuck, he was scared shitless. He wasn't a stranger to failure but something about already having accomplished something only to lose it and then having to regain it all over again was even worse.

…

She brings home a puppy and lets him name it as long as he promises to walk it three times a day. He falls in love with the puppy, calls him Baylor, and he knows she's luring him in to start walking properly again but he goes along with it anyway.

(He manages to remind himself the odds have always been in his favor. He has Marley.)

…

"Jake," she groans, burying her head in his shoulder, covering her face with her hair, "No."

"What?" He smiles knowingly as he squeezes her waist, turning the volume of the TV louder with the remote control in his other hand. He normally didn't really enjoy shows like The Voice, but he liked a particular guest judge in this episode.

"You know what," he hears her murmur as he laughs, moving her hair out of her face as she looks up at him.

"You don't like this show?" He asks innocently as she sits up and shoots him a weak glare.

"Turn it off."

"No." He raises his eyebrows to let her know he isn't back down.

She sighs, crossing her arms, "Jake, I don't want to watch myself. It's embarrassing."

"It's kind of adorable," he counters and it's her turn to raise her eyebrows as she looks up at him.

"Adorable, huh?"

"Look, that girl is almost crying because you told her she sounded great," he points towards the TV, ignoring her statement as he fixes his attention on the show.

Suddenly he feels her starting to kiss his cheek, then his jaw before moving on to his neck.

"Marley," he warns as he hears her voice invading the room but she's not talking. Not even a little.

Her hand slowly runs up his chest under his shirt as she lets out a small, "Hmm?" He finally caves in and leans down to kiss her as he feels her smile against his lips in victory.

They don't watch The Voice, or any show for that matter, but he guesses Marley always gets her way around him and that's just the way it is.

...

In they year they both turn twenty-five a lot happens. He finds out he gets his first solo in a new piece by some Russian guy who's apparently the new big deal, she finds out she's won three grammys and the title of best selling artist of the year and they both find out something entirely different.

…

She lets go of his hand for a second to throw away the stick of her cotton candy, licking her fingers before wiping them off on her jeans.

"I love Disney World, it makes me feel like I'm a kid again," she exclaims happily as she swings their hands together. He genuinely hasn't seen her this happy in a while, because of work and stress and useless fights. (There's even a little skip in her step.)

"Even with all these people creeping on us?" He asks, readjusting the black ray bans on his nose, as he spots another girl with her phone out ready to take a picture.

She shrugs, holding up his hand to her mouth as she places a kiss on it, "Relax, take it easy.."

"I swear to God if you're about to burst into a song I'm going back to the hotel room."

A laugh bubbles up her throat, as she runs her other hand up and down the inside of his arm, "It was Mika!"

"I don't care who it is, the last time we were a trending topic for like a wee— Are you okay?" He frowns as he watches her expression change from happy to ghostlike in less than two seconds.

"I don't—" she lets go of his hand, rushing towards the bathroom area. He quickly rushes after her, barging into the girls' bathroom without hesitation. He gets a few weird looks from women who were just about to leave but he doesn't really give a shit.

"Marley?" He questions worriedly as he hears an all too familiar noise he didn't ever want to hear from her again.

"I'm fine."

Soon enough, she comes out of one of the stalls, wiping her mouth before taking a bottle of water from her bag and taking a swig from it. She quickly washes her hands as she looks up at him in the mirror. He's looking rather upset, his eyebrows raised and she sends him a comforting smile. "Don't worry, Jake. I ate so much food before we went in the teacups, it must've made me sick."

"You sure?" He asks as she swings her bag over her shoulder and puts her arm around his waist.

She looks up at him and smiles, "I'm perfect."

…

"I need to pee," she tells him, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Are you kidding me? You just peed," he turns his head to glance at her before turning his eyes back onto the road, "Literally a minute ago."

"I need to go again, Jake,"

"We're almost there."

"If I pee my pants I will kill you,"

"I think if you pee your pants you won't have to kill me I think I'll just take a shot myself, since I'll be dating a grown-up girl who pees her pants," he shakes his head and she reaches out to bump her fist into his shoulder.

She shimmies in her seat, shaking her leg lightly, "Come on, Jake. Please."

He sighs, pulling over at a reststop restaurant. It's full of greasy racist truckers and skimpy dressed fifty year old woman who aren't afraid of 'no'. He finds this out the hard way while leaning against the toilet building waiting for his girlfriend to come out. She's fucking lucky he loves her so much.

...

"Jake," she giggles a little as he presses her against the wall as soon as they enter their apartment. He would stop because she asks him, but her hands— which are unbuttoning his shirt very, very quickly— tell him otherwise.

"Mhmm?" He doesn't even bother looking up as he kisses her neck while all the while taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes.

"Jake," she says, this time more serious as she puts her hands on top of his. He freezes and she bites down on her lip, trying not to smile.

This time he does look up at her, like a puppy who's just been kicked and she laughs.

"Can we at least make sure we make it to the bedroom this time?"

"Maybe."

He places a kiss on her mouth with a smile before slowly running his hand up to stomach as she moves her hands to his back. She winces slightly as he reaches her chest.

He pulls back, alarmed. "Are you okay? Did I do something?"

She laughs quietly, putting his hand back on her chest. "No, I think I'm just a little sore from my new yoga exercises."

"I'll be gentle, I promise."

She raises an eyebrow and he cracks a smile.

"Gentle-er."

She raises both of her eyebrows this time and he chuckles, moving her hair off her shoulder.

"I'll be careful, you know I will."

She breaks out in a smile and runs a hand over his head before pulling him back and kissing him.

…

"I've never seen so many creepy ass toilets, dude. One was gold with pink like a throne, and some other one was decorated like it was some sort of candy cane. It was insane."

"You go to Disneyworld and you tell me about the fucking bathrooms? You are sick, man."

"I'm not even kidding. One looked like a rat."

"That's Mickey Mouse, you dumbass. Why the hell did you sightsee all of the bathrooms? Running from your girlfriend?" Puck snickered as he pressed the phone in between his shoulder and ear, flipping through the newest edition of one of Quinn's shitty magazines. Some of it actually came in handy now and then.

"More like running after," Jake sighed, zapping through the channels. Nothing good was on. Not even a sport game he could pretend he cared about.

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise, little bro?" He shifts a little before putting the phone down next to him, putting it on speaker.

"No man, she just had to pee like literally every fucking five seconds and one time she got sick from the teacups and I basically had to barge down the door of the fairy princess ladies' room."

"Weird," Puck answers as he sits up throwing the magazine under the couch as he sees his wife in the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, and get this," he lowers his voice a little, even though Marley isn't home, "The other night when we were about to.. you know, I touched her boob and she got all like weird and shit. Like she was in pain. When I asked her about it she was all like 'I got some new yoga shit from my personal trainer who pretends he's gay but really isn't'."

"Still not over it?" Puck chuckles, referring to the time Jake wanted to surprise Marley with a coffee after her workout and she introduced him to her new personal trainer. His name was Cooper Anderson and he was everything Jake was not.

"Never."

"Well, sounds to me like she has someone on the side, brother from another colored mother. Maybe someone a little rough or one of those freaks who's into s&m and shit," Puck laughs, finding himself rather funny, "Maybe he injured her bladder or something while they were at it."

"Fuck you," Jake spits as he clenches his phone in hand so tightly, he's afraid he's going to break it. Just thinking about Marley with another guy makes his head spin. It took him two years to get used to Marley even touching other guys in her music videos, let alone her actually being with another fucking dude. He knows his brother is just kidding around but it still angers him like no fucking tomorrow.

"Are you sure it's not just something else?" Quinn's amused voice sounds distant but becomes louder with every word as she sits down next to Puck on the couch.

"Dude, I'm on speaker?" Jake groans as he leans back on the couch, closing his eyes in annoyance.

"Sorry, ever since I said no to sex a few nights ago Quinn's convinced I'm doing another chick."

"What the hell? That's not like you." Baylor jumps on the couch and Jake smiles, ruffling the hairs on his head before moving his hand to his back and petting him.

"I know, man, I know. It was a temporary short circuit in my brain. I was watching football and I was like half asleep. Now, every time she's in the room I'm obligated to put it on speaker. She's controlling like that. Ouch."

"I'm not apologizing for hitting you."

"I'm not apologizing for calling you controlling. You are. It's what you do. It's your thing. You're like, Quinn Controlling Fabray. I still love you, even though you're controlling. So, you should still love me even though in a haze I refused sex. I promise I won't ever do it again."

"I love you, too, egghead."

He hears some noises he doesn't want to define as he rolls his eyes, they're so annoying— even over the damn phone.

"Hanging up now."

"No, wait, Jake!" Quinn calls out and he hears Puck protest loudly. He ignores the latter as he responds to his sister-in-law with a sigh. "Yes?"

"Are you sure Marley's not just pregnant?"

He laughs. He laughs really hard because he's not even old enough. He doesn't even know if he wants kids! He loves Jayden, sure, but that kid's not his. He doesn't have all this responsibility for a human being, a little, tiny, small person. It's fucking insane.

"Yeah man, when I think about it it makes sense. During Quinn's first pregnancy she was constantly running out of classrooms to pee."

"I was throwing up, asshole."

"Well, excuse me for not remembering every little detail about our life sixty thousand years ago."

"Ugh, he's dumb, Jake," she assures him before continuing, "But, excessive peeing is a sign of pregnancy. So is throwing up, as you're probably aware. Uhm, I didn't have spotting but some girls do and oh yeah, tiredness, backache, headache, foodcravings, tender breasts—"

"This sounds like a terminal disease," Puck interrupts her and Jake hears a loud and clear wince from said brother only seconds later.

"Well, shit, I need to hang up and sort this shit out before—"

"Before what?" Quinn sounds worried. He wants to say, before he breaks out in tears or goes insane or accidentally breaks his hand again.

"Bye."

…

Marley's pregnant. No, she is actually expecting a baby. A baby that's his. And hers, of course. But, it's his and hers and it's like, in her.

They went to the doctor's and they showed him this, this it.

He didn't know what it was— hearing the heartbeat maybe, or seeing this little, little bean on the screen and being told that it was something living and theirs— he just kind of feels really happy all of a sudden.

He knows he should be scared and all, considering he's so young and he's no way near ready for this (and he'll probably never will be) and Marley's father is probably going to vile him alive but it's theirs, you know?

Marley grabs his hand, tears in her eyes and she doesn't have to speak to tell him what's on her mind.

This is the best thing that ever happened to him, to them.

...

"You're getting huge!" Quinn exclaims excitedly as she puts both of her hands on Marley's stomach. Jake stiffens, tightening his jaw as he puts his arm around her shoulders, resting it on the couch.

She turns her head a little, giving him a small but comforting smile.

She's only a few months along, just starting to show but there's like this round bump that's like a daily reminder that she can't drink or eat raw meat and that they're going to have a baby. And Marley's been totally happy, already talking about names and baby rooms and about how excited she is. But he knows it's a touchy subject— especially when Quinn calls her huge in this stadium of the pregnancy.

"You're glowing!" Quinn shifts her head so she's looking at Puck— her green eyes huge and a small pout on her lips— as she adds, "Isn't she glowing Puck? C'mon, Puck. Tell her she's glowing. Look at her cute belly, doesn't she have a cute belly?"

"No," he crosses his arms sternly as his lips form a tight line. "No fucking way, Q."

"So you don't want me to be happy? And glow while I'm being happy?" Quinn takes her hands off Marley's stomach as she purses her lips, imitating Puck's posture.

"Fuck no. Were you even there the first two times you were pregnant? I'm happy I'm still alive to remind you because you almost killed me for like eighty percent of the time during the pregnancies. It was hell," he retorts, a frown on his face.

Jake snickers as he watches the exchange between his brother and sister-in-law before turning his head to look at Jayden. (He doesn't really want to see his brother get slaughtered for his remarks.)

He's playing a game on his DS, not seeming surprised or appalled by any of this as Jake nudges him, "I don't know how you manage to live with them."

"Mom's been begging for a new baby every since I learned to walk."

Marley rests her head on Jake's shoulder and he gives her a small smile, pulling her closer, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiles widely, leaning up to kiss his cheek. She nudges towards Jayden, "Do you think he still wants to hold the baby when it comes?"

"I don't know he seems pretty attached to that DS, I don't think he'll let it go," Jake clears his throat, raising his voice purposely.

Jayden's head snaps up, his eyebrows knitting together, "I will! I'll let it go, I promise. I'll go see gamers anonymous if you want me to."

They both laugh, the small boy's fascination with babies was pretty adorable.

"Of course," Marley assures him with a smile.

"If you're not an orphan by then," Jake adds, raising his voice so Quinn and Puck— who were still bickering like two three year olds over whose drawing was better— could hear.

Quinn's eyes soften as she leans down and kisses Jayden's head, "You know I'll love you, right? I won't kill your father for your sake, baby."

Puck lets out a sigh of relieve a little too soon as Quinn adds, muttering that 'she might just cut off his genitals in his sleep'.

"That's not even funny, Q. That's fucked up."

"Language!"

...

Puck finds Jake in the living room with a glass of scotch in front of the window at 2am, he snickers a little, sitting down on the back of chair.

"Having a pity party all by yourself, Jake? I thought you were done with those after you met your little miss sunshine," Puck smirks as he grabs the glass from Jake and takes a swig himself.

"She's asleep and I just.. Needed a little time to think. About everything."

Puck nods, looking out the window himself.

Jake remains silent for a moment before blurting out, "Were you ever scared you were going to end up like dad? I mean, fuck, I already feel like packing my bags and running away and the kid's not even here yet."

"You're not worried you're gonna end up like that lowlife asshole, are you? I sure as hell did everything I could to not end up like that piece of shit," he lowers his voice, not wanting to wake up Marley or Jayden, or worse— Quinn. He would never live it down if he disturbed her sleep. "And as long as you keep doing what you're doing, you won't end up like him either."

"I guess, I just— I don't know man. I just, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, I'm not even sure if I'm ready for this or if I'll ever be but it's not like I can tell Marley that and I just— I just, don't know," Jake gets up from his seat, grabbing the glass from Puck and walking over to the booze cabinet to pour himself another glass. He swallows it down in one gulp before starting to pace up and down the livingroom.

"Calm your tits, man. We're not some chicks who talk about their insecurities and fears and periods," Puck reminds him. It's not them. They don't do this shit. "Matter of fact I think this is the most you've said to me since I know you. What happened to broody one liner Jake?"

"His girlfriend got fucking pregnant," he sighs. He sits back down, running his hands over his head.

"Listen, it's not that hard. You're the dude, she has to do all the work anyway. Just give her whatever she wants for nine months— even if it's something disgusting or not kosher like bacon with peanut butter or oreos with fucking toothpaste," he licks his dry lips, running over the mental list in his head with things he picked up over the years.

"Offer to rub her feet or to help with stupid stuff like doing the dishes so she feels like you're making an effort unless of course you wanna lose your balls. Don't tell her things like calm down or it'll be fine, especially not during labor because she will break your hand. I'm not kidding. Also, if you ever wanna have sex again without having disturbing mental images of a bloody melon being pushed out of Marley's vajayjay— don't look under the hospital gown. For gods sake, do not look under the hospital gown." Puck's eyes get large and warning, like he's seen a dead body under the dress or something and Jake grimaces.

"I think that was part of the reason me and Quinn broke up after having Beth," Puck sinks back in the chair, resting his hands on his stomach. He sighs, "Man, I wish I hadn't looked under that damn gown."

"Thanks for making me feel not even slightly better," Jake groans, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"No problem," Puck tells him, ready to move onto a slightly less intimate subject. He spots the same scared expression on his face he knows all too well and lets out a deep breath.

"Look, you love Marley, she loves you and al though this might not have been what you wanted right now, this will be the greatest thing that'll ever happen to you. Kids are annoying and they smell and do gross stuff you don't even wanna know about and they're the biggest cockblockers around— but they're also the greatest little people," he runs a hand over his mohawk, frowning, "And God, I think I just grew a vagina."

Jake laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks man."

…

"We should get married," he tells her in bed one day, her head on his chest as she watches some stupid romcom and his hand resting on her stomach. She's seven months along now and it's getting scarier with the day but it's a good scared. Like, when you're in a haunted house and you don't know when or what is going to jump out but you feel safe because you're with your mom and nothing can happen, and it's fun.

He was trying to pay attention to the stupid show but his mind kept wandering to the future. Like how he hoped the baby would look exactly like her and how he hoped he wouldn't screw this up like he does with everything he's ever touched (like his dancing career— sure, he was a successful choreographer right now and he danced, even after his accident, but never the same and never at his best) and how he hoped he was giving Marley everything she wanted, you know? He wanted to give her everything she wanted and ever hoped for and deserved, but shit, he's never done this before. He's clueless about basically everything and he still can't forget the look her father gave him when they were over for dinner and they told them Marley was pregnant. It haunted him in his fucking sleep. Even now. Months later.

But he figures it's the next logical step, right? Marriage. Commitment. It's strange. It's in his nature to run away as soon as words like that even get mentioned, but he's not really scared anymore. Not with Marley. With her, he's kind of fearless.

She shifts her head, looking up at him, "Sure."

"I don't have a ring."

"You can get me one later," she puts her hand on his cheek and caresses it, and he leans down for a kiss before she turns her head back to the tv and continues watching the bang big theory or whatever.

So that's that. They're getting married.

Shit.

…

In the Torah it totally says that a Jew can't marry a Christian but what is he supposed to do? Her father is kind of like a pope or something and besides being kosher (now and then) and accompanying his mom to the synagogue every once in a lightyear, he's not that religious.

So they have a total Christian wedding in a church and everything with her dad as minister and she pretended this wasn't a big deal and everything— but she's totally loving it. She's almost nine months along and it was crazy planning a wedding in such a short period of time but she looks so beautiful in that white dress he kind of just wants to skip the whole ceremony and just go straight back to their house in Lima— because they're kind of so rich they have houses everywhere and it's insane.

He knows Marley's totally one of those girls whose dreamt about her wedding since she was a little girl. And he totally loved seeing her so happy.

And it's okay and not like he's used to because it's not his style (or religion for that matter) at all and he had to undergo this baptizing ritual, but it beats having to wear one of those itchy caps the entire day. And Marley's happy, and glowing and really, really happy— and that's all that really matters anyway.

…

"Well, my first reaction was— Wow... I really don't care," Puck tells him, crossing his arms as he leans back onto his chair, "Then I proceeded not to care for the rest of my life."

"C'mon, Puck, you're my best man. The lead singer is sick. All you have to do is sing one song after that we'll just hook up Marley's iPhone."

"Just hook her iPhone up now because there's no way in hell I'm singing."

"One song or I'll tell Quinn about the stash of playboys in the bathroom cabinet."

"You wouldn't. She's still on my tail for that folder of that new strip club that I accidentally didn't throw away the second we got it in the mail, and that was months ago."

"Test me. This is important to Marley and you know how I feel about Marley."

"Yeah, I know, I just experienced an hour and a half ceremony because you guys couldn't stop talking about how much you loved each other and how blessed you were and how many babies you were going to have and blah blah blah before you proceeded to make out for half an hour. She's already pregnant, give it up, man."

"One song or I might just ask my lovely sister-in-law to dance," Jake smirks and Puck rolls his eyes.

"You play a harsh game, bro."

He pats his back with a chuckle, "Have fun up there."

He spots Marley sitting by herself at the main table. Her curly hair is down now and her cheeks are slightly red and she looks so beautiful and he just kind of really loves her so much?

"Ready for our first dance?"

"Definitely," she takes his hand with a smile and he just, really just has to kiss her, so he does.

They hear Puck clear his throat as he taps his finger down onto the microphone, "I'm here to sing one song. No requests, no encores— one song. For my fantastic new half-sister-in-law and her idiot of a husband— here's a thousand years, or whatever," he adds the last part muttering as the music starts.

He puts his hand on her waist and she puts hers on his shoulder and her stomach is kind of separating them, but it's alright. It's a pretty damn good separator.

"My feet hurt," she moans a little, just as Puck starts the first chorus, and she looks down at their feet. Although she's wearing flats the pregnancy is still taking its toll on her.

He takes one of her hands and spins her around, "You want to sit down?'

"No, I'm fine," she smiles, moving a stray of hair out of her face. "This is all pretty amazing, Jake. I can't believe you did all of this for me."

"Well, you deserve it, Lee," he replies without missing a beat as he kisses her cheek. He winces as she steps down on his toes.

"Hey, you're the dancer, not me," she teases him as more people join them on the dancefloor.

"So any other Christian marriage traditions I should know about?"

"Well, for one, the husband is prohibited from refusing any of the wife's requests, the wife has first choice privileges about everything and we can only have sex on the third thursday of the month."

His eyes widen a little as he casually nods his head. Now he knew why Puck insisted on having a Jewish wedding, Christians were fucking insane. "Oh.. That sounds like fun."

She laughs, squeezing his hand, "You're that gullible, really, Jake?"

"Well Mrs. Puckerman," he starts, smiling, as he twirls her around another time, "I don't care about any of that as long as I have you. All I need is you."

"And our daughter."

"And our son," he repeats without a beat.

She narrows her eyes a little, "Daughter."

"Son."

"Funny thing, I think the bible actually says the third thursday of the year."

"Our daughter, fine," he gives in and she smiles widely, leaning forward to kiss him.

…

He pets Baylor as he jumps on the bed and lays down next to Marley's feet. She smiles, trying to sit up and pet him but eventually giving up and sighing as she leans back against the headboard.

"I can't wait for this to be over. I can't do anything."

He chuckles, helping her sit up and placing a kiss on her temple. "You're doing great. I could've never done it."

"Yeah, I can't really imagine you pregnant," she laughs, kissing his bare shoulder before resting her head there.

"You know what I mean, I really love you."

She looks up at him, her eyes softening, "I love you back—" she interrupts herself by letting out a small gasp.

"Do I need to get the bag? Is it coming? Did your water break?"

"No," she laughs, but he's already halfway to the door. She waves him over and takes his hand and puts it on her stomach, "She's kicking."

Fuck. He kind of can't wait for this to be over either.

…

"I can't believe you did this to me!"

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, shut up! Just shut up! I hate you so much!"

"Push, come on, just one more push," a nurse tries to encourage her by patting her arm.

"You push yourself, woman! Jesus Christ! Where is my mom? I want my mom," Marley's voice changes from angry to sad to desperate within two seconds and to be honest, he's kind of scared of what'll come next.

"One more push, Mrs. Puckerman," the gynecologist tells her and she responds by letting out a loud scream. She's crying and her face is sweaty and red and he feels really bad because he kind of did this to her, and he fucking hates seeing her in so much pain.

"You're doing great, baby, come on," he states, managing to repress the urge to throw up or run away or break out in tears.

"Don't," she warns him, putting up a finger while trying to cause permanent damage to his hand. At least she hasn't threatened to kill him— like he heard about in Puck's horror stories. He guesses he's kind of lucky.

After a moment the cries of an baby invade the room and it kind of sounds really weird and new and exciting and he knows he's lucky. He had tried not thinking about labor because that shit was weird, all right. There's like a full grown baby coming out of Marley that's partly his and it's scary.

But she did it all by herself and he's really proud of her in a non-demeaning way— not that he thought she couldn't do it, he just never knew it would be this fucking hard and the fact she still did so, so amazing— and of himself, kind of, too.

And there she is (Marley's always right), their little baby. He's kind of never fell in love this fast with anything, he realizes as they hand the baby to Marley and congratulate them again.

"She's so pretty," Marley cries, tears rolling down her cheeks and he kisses her and then their baby because she is really pretty, so pretty and he loves her so much, already and it's still scary— maybe even scarier than he thought— but it's okay because he can pretty much handle anything if he has Marley by his side.

...

"say everything you've always wanted,

be not afraid of who you really are,

'cause in the end we have each other,

and that's at least one thing worth living for,

and i would give the world to you."

…

a/n: thank you for all the reviews and follows and favorites! song is this is the new year by ian axel. jake and marley are so cute and ryder i love you and your puppy dog eyes but go away :) pleassssee review? it'd mean the world

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