Spring Break - a story I wrote about Quinn and Puck

Cecelia_Tallis

This is just something I wrote about Puck, Quinn and Baby Drizzle...

Gazing thoughtfully in the mirror, Quinn sighed dismally at the pale yellow cotton shirt that was strained visibly over her nine-month pronounced baby bump. Skimpy halter necks and string bikinis were now replaced by bulky maternity clothes, Quinn no longer able to fool herself that she resembled anything like her former self, head cheerleader and president of the celibacy club, so desired by every guy at school. The red of her cheerios uniform poked out tauntingly from the otherwise pastel explosion of clothes that was packed so tightly into the too small closet and seeing it Quinn couldn’t help but sigh wistfully. The Cheerios and Finn and parties and Glee. It all seemed so long ago.

Rigorously maintaining a perfect GPA and possessive of her vast array of extra curricular activities that she would boast of on her college applications, Quinn had always swore to herself that no matter what, she would escape the suffocating confines of Lima. A screaming, demanding baby didn’t fit in with those plans but then neither did getting pregnant with Noah Puckerman’s baby.

Having grown up with every luxury and comfort imaginable, it was now hard to have to suddenly imagine this bare, drab apartment as her home. The blue and silver papered walls were thin and damp, the wallpaper peeling away slightly at the edges and the faded carpet needed replacing, a number of red wine and make-up stains, scattered liberally over the cream surface. The four hundred dollar a month rent was paid for with blood money, a sum just over that figure, deposited into her account by her obviously guilty mother. Though not so guilty that she would dare defy her husband to visit her pregnant daughter, Quinn considered snidely, dragging a comb through her fine golden blonde hair.

Nobody knew that Quinn was living alone in this ancient, creaking building. At school she told everyone she’d been staying with her sister, not wanting to have to suffer the pitying, sympathetic looks from her friends or worse, the self-righteous, condescending smugness cast on her by most of the girls at schools, they only too delighted to see the former queen of the school fall so spectacularly from grace. None of the guys on the football team stared at her now and if they did, it was to leer at her daily expanding chest and the girls lining the hallways whispered cruelly behind her back. Not that she didn’t deserve it; Quinn herself having had the most viscous of tongues, back when it was easy to judge other people from her ivory tower as head of the celibacy club.

Running a hand thoughtfully over her swollen stomach, Quinn couldn’t help wondering if she would ever have that again.

Make-up brushes and various tubes and bottles of foundation were scattered untidily on the table that served as her dressing table, a cracked mirror perched precariously on top in an effort to recreate the comforts she had enjoyed at home. Reaching for her blusher, Quinn began to smooth the pale pink over her cheeks when a stabbing pain in her stomach made her recoil in shock.

Staggering back onto the bed, she struggled to catch her breath as the searing pain surged through her with agonizing resolve.


--

Gazing blankly into space, Puck tossed an empty beer bottle dejectedly onto the ground, the green grass smashing and scattering wildly all over the ground. The weather was unusually warm for spring, the sun beaming down from a radiant blue sky and enticing their fellow high-schoolers into wearing daringly skimpy clothes.

“Guys, you’ve got to check out this,” Mike leered openly, whistling appreciatively at a passing blonde, her halter top revealing acres of exposed skin.

“Puck, did you see the rack on her? She’s hot,” he continued excitedly, the guys proceeding to make lewd and knowing comments about the supposedly easy McKinley senior.

Puck hardly heard then. His eyes vaguely focused on the jagged shards of glass glistening brightly under the light of the sun. Giving the blonde a cursory glance, he realized that Mike was right; the blonde girl was hot but looking at her all Puck could think of was Quinn. Quinn’s hair was a touch more blonde, her eyes a shade bluer and although in her present state she wouldn’t be wearing be any skimpy halter tops, her newly acquired curves and the way her clothes hugged the perfectly formed baby bump, made her, in his eyes, all the more beautiful.

Not that he could ever tell the guys that. Caring about another a girl as opposed to just ****ing her, jarred horribly with Puck’s carefully cultivated image as bad boy man about town.

“What’s up with you lately, Puckerman,” the guys demanded of him disbelievingly, their eyes still following the blonde as strutted lightly along the path, the impossibly long hair bouncing in unison with her every step.

“Nothing,” he lied sullenly, the dark expression on his face challenging anybody to disagree with him.

Quinn wanted nothing to do with him. She refused to answer his calls and any initiation of conversation on his part was met with steely silence.

Reaching for another beer, Noah pulled open the cap, the bottle expelling a dismal hiss before he pressed it determinedly to his lips.

--

Her baby clutched close to her chest, Quinn reveled in the feel of her velvet soft skin pressed lightly against her cheek. The tiny fists curled in tight little balls by her face, her still-blue eyes gazed up adoringly at her mother.

“Hello, baby,” Quinn murmured softly, completely unable to take her eyes off her daughter, such was her wonderment with the tiny bundle of soft fuzzy hair and rosebud lips wrapped protectively in her arms.

Baby was the name temporarily bestowed by Quinn on the tiny bundle in front of her, in the absence of any formally made decision regarding her baby’s future. Quinn had made tentative inquiries into the possibility of adoption but now staring at her daughter, her tiny chest heaving and falling as she drifted drowsily off to sleep, she wondered how she could bear to give her up.

Elaborate displays of flowers and congratulatory cards graced the bedside of the woman occupying the bed beside her. An adoring husband and matching golden-haired children spilled into the room constantly, cooing and gushing over the newborn baby girl, arms outstretched as they competed against one another to gain possession of the wriggling pink-clad newborn. No silver-and pink balloons festooned Quinn’s side of the room; no one even knew she had given birth. Screaming and terrified she had almost broken her strict resolve not to speak to her mother; such was her desperation in seeking solace from someone other than the pale-faced nurse who’d gripped her hand tightly as Quinn had pushed her baby into the world. Afterwards, drugged and weary from labour, Quinn had felt nothing. Now, with her baby clutched close to her chest, she realized how alone she really was.

“Here Honey, let me take her,” a dark haired nurse smiled at her, her arms reaching out carefully to take the peacefully slumbering baby when she sensed Quinn reluctance.

“You need to eat,” the older woman chided her gently, smiling indulgently as a green uniformed orderly slid a tray of thoroughly unappetizing food in front of her. “You will need to keep your strength up, if you want to be able to keep up with this little one when you get home.”

Picking up the fork slowly, Quinn took a hesitant bite of the chicken salad, the nurse smiling approvingly as she carefully spooned another mouthful of the bland food into her mouth.

“Good girl. I’ll bring her back to you in an hour or so,” she urged her on encouragingly, glancing briefly at the medical chart clipped on loosely to the end of the hospital bed.

Dropping the fork dejectedly onto the plastic tray, Quinn felt a sudden stab of longing as she watch the nurse sweep out of the room, murmuring softly to the tiny baby wrapped carefully in her arms. Her baby. Rejected by her family and treated as almost a total recluse in high school, loneliness wasn’t a notion totally foreign to Quinn but even so, she still hadn’t thought it possible to feel as alone and empty as she did then, lying forlornly in the narrow hospital bed.

Instinctively reaching for the cell phone lying carelessly on the bedside locker, Quinn only deliberated for a second before hastily punching in the number.

--


The curtains drawn tightly in his room, not allowing even the narrowest beam of light trespass into the sanctuary of the darkened bedroom, Puck lay dejectedly on his bed his head throbbing furiously with the last remains of a hangover.

His mother would be home soon, screaming at him to mow the lawn so Puck turned over in the bed wearily, determined to make the most of the few hours remaining peace.

Quinn wouldn’t think much of the room, Puck considered ruefully casting his eye around the posters plastering over every free space on the once-cream walls and the scattering of socks and worn sweaters that littered the carpeted floor. When Puck had first learned of the cheerleader’s predicament, he would have been lying if he didn’t admit that a small part of him, relished the prospect of having Quinn and the baby all to himself.

Puck mightn’t have been the most obvious choice for a father. Finn may have been kinder, more sensitive but damn it, Puck was determined and strong and willing and those were qualities that shouldn’t have been overlooked either. He had already earned a thick bundle of ten and twenty dollars bills through scouring the neighborhood for various jobs and that money now lay nestled beneath layers of shirts and sweaters, kept safe for Quinn and the baby and for whatever they might need.

Puck had plans for when he left high school. Big plans. He didn’t plan on languishing in a university for four years exercising his brain when he could be exercising his muscles, working on one the of the numerous construction sites in town where the pay was rumored to be more than generous. Quinn could have her perfect, white picket fenced house and the accompanying fancy car in the driveway because he’d provide it for her. Provider. It gave him a powerful feel.

The familiar blare of Kings of Leon spilling from his cell phone roused Puck from his thoughts. Reaching for the phone, the sight of Quinn’s name highlighted on the display made him feel sick.

--

Her daughter restored to her rightful place, nestled in snugly against her breast, Quinn glanced at the infant curiously, deciding it was time she was bestowed with a name other than baby. Quinn had already toyed with a number of baby names, having retrieved a few possibilities from a tattered baby book she had found squeezed in among her father’s collection of World War Two memorabilia in the library. None seemed quite right though and Quinn had been loath to rush into making such an important decision when she hadn’t even been sure if she would keep her baby.

The television sounded dully in the background but Quinn hardly heard it. Running her finger lightly over her daughter’s tiny, dimpled hand, her stomach clenched worriedly at the thought of seeing Puck for what would be the first time in days.

In her glory days as head cheerleader and most popular girl in the school, Quinn had been fiercely possessive of her sunny, blonde good looks and tanned, lean figure. A year ago, meeting an ex-boyfriend, would have meant having perfectly styled hair and perfectly coordinated make-up but now, Quinn couldn’t care less. Pregnancy had been cruel in it’s determination to stamp out any vanity Quinn might once have had. The once tanned and taut stomach was now lined with silvery-grey stretch marks and perfectly chosen and coordinated outfits were replaced by anything she could manage to stretch over the newly expanded stomach. Out of habit, she ran a comb hastily through the pale blonde hair tossing the cheap plastic into the locker beside her just as Puck wandered tentatively into the room, his brown eyes, as she knew they would be, locked onto the tiny figure clasped protectively in her mother’s arms.

“This is her?” Puck murmured in awe, not affording Quinn a single moments notice as he gazed wondrously at the baby lying drowsily in her mother’s arms. “Can I hold her?”

It was unlike Puck to ask permission for anything, but evidently a different set of values had suddenly come into existence when it came to his daughter. Nodding slowly, Quinn carefully extending her arms, shifting the baby’s slight weight into her father’s arms.

“She has your eyes,” he remarked softly, in a voice that was so unlike Puck, the adoration in his voice making Quinn’s heart melt.

“No mohawk, though,” Quinn teased lightly, gratified when she saw a small smile spread slowly across his face.

“She’s perfect,” Puck uttered in a reverent tone, his eyes never once leaving the tiny bundle gathered so carefully in his arms. Their daughter was fussy, Quinn knew, remembering her angry protesting shrieks when she had been handled by a doctor and then a weary-faced nurse only a few hours previously. And yet in Pucks arms, their daughter slumbered easily, her blue eyes blinking open occasionally and focusing vaguely on her father’s face as though sensing he was of some major significance to her life. “What are you going to call her?” he whispered softly, finally dragging his gaze away from his daughter and bringing his brown eyes to meet Quinn’s blue ones.

“I haven’t really decided,” Quinn shrugged lightly, her blonde hair falling loosely around her shoulder and spilling over the pale green of the hospital gown. “I didn’t want to think about anything like that until I was sure I was going to keep her,”

“And now?” Puck cut in worriedly, struck by the sudden, undeniable fear that he might actually lose his daughter before he ever got the chance to know her.

“I was thinking, maybe Ella,” Quinn suggested hesitantly, her cheeks reddening slightly as she met Puck’s panic stricken eyes. It wasn’t the choice of name, more than what that signified that worried Quinn most. But then, when the doctor had first placed the squirming, screaming baby into her arms, Quinn knew that that choice had already been made and it would take a lot more than money worries and family issues to separate her from her precious daughter.

“Ella,” Puck murmured faintly to himself as though considering the suitability of the name as he glanced at his daughter softly. “I like it,” he concluded after a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s face before passing her back into Quinn’s waiting arms.