Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel, with a little Brittana and Puck thrown in.
Spoilers: I take liberties with timelines and relationships that deviate from canon so I guess I'd call this AU. But not massively so.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: Quinn takes a very drunk Rachel home from a party...encounters the Berrys…and herself.
Typical Puck party, Quinn thought as she entered the house. And she was late—really late actually because she hadn't wanted to come and had only forced herself to make an appearance after Puck, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes and Kurt had texted her. Multiple times.
It was cold as fuck outside yet crazily humid and warm inside as soon as she opened the door. Yeah. Typical. Blasting music, people dancing and everyone else screaming dumbass whatevers at each other. Plus the smell of sweat, alcohol and whatever lame perfumes and body sprays opposite sexes used to attract or impress each other.
"YO YO! BABY MAMA!"
Quinn glared at him until he got into actual audio range, "Puckerman? I've told you too many times and this is the last." Her voice was icy, "Never call me that again. I'm not your anything."
In a flash that felt like a punch to the gut, Puck remembered his encounter with the obstetrician, Dr. Jameson, who'd delivered Beth. He seemed sort of young for a doctor, super intense and was a really big burly guy, bigger than Karofsky even, with bright blue eyes. But Puck had been really impressed that such a giant could be so gentle with Quinn over the last hours of her hard delivery.
After delivering the baby and giving him the all-clear, the doctor had later cornered him in the waiting room and whispered, "I know all about you, you got me? I've been following Quinn's pregnancy for six months, which you wouldn't know since you haven't cared enough to come."
"Dude! She didn't want me there! What else could I do?"
The doctor stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, I don't know. Insist? Put your life on hold and insist that you cared about the girl carrying your child more than you cared about getting laid and playing COD?"
"The hell? She told you that?"
The doctor smiled. "No, actually. She didn't. But you just did. She only told me it was her fault she was pregnant. She said she got stupid on wine coolers on a fat day and got knocked up by the school man-whore. The rest I can see for myself. I know guys like you, dude. You know what? The most important part of being a father to a child in the womb is taking care of the mother—and that includes emotionally. Mama's happy and secure? So's baby. Or maybe you never learned that, huh, because you sure didn't do it for her, did you?"
Puck felt tears welling in his eyes and a weight like someone had driven his truck onto his chest. No. His dad had never taken care of his mom. Or him or his sister.
"Upshot, dude? Your child is healthy, little thanks to you. Tomorrow your child's mother, a 16 year old child, will be returning to her latest home away from home since she's basically homeless. But even though she doesn't have a home and you're giving up the baby? She does get the consolation prize of 27 stitches in her vagina. How about that? She won't be able to move or sit without pain for the next six to eight weeks. You spent maybe 15 seconds giving life to this baby—she's given nine months of her life, lost her family and home, gone through an eight hour drug-free labor that tore her vagina, has 27 stitches to show for it and has a baby daddy who's as much a child as his daughter. Think about that every time you speak to her. Ask yourself whether your 15-second orgasm was worth all her pain and suffering."
Puck didn't even wipe the tears he felt on his face. "I didn't—I don't…I…my father left us when I was little."
The doctor stared at him for a few seconds, nodded and put a large hand on his shoulder. "One day, Puck? When the time is right? In life you get two chances at the parent-child relationship. Maybe you didn't get to be a son—but you can be a father." He clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "Until then, grow up and buy some condoms, dude. And show some respect to Quinn. You're a baby daddy but she is not a baby mama—she's carried and created your first child under tremendous stress. She's a mother. One day you'll be a father. But not yet."
The doctor surprised him by pulling him into a quick man-hug. "Now go see your little girl." He lowered his eyes, "Sorry, Quinn."
They smiled at each other and she gently bumped his shoulder. He pinched the space between his eyes because he wasn't going to be a wuss even though just looking at her sometimes made him feel like crying. It was still so weird between them and why not? That doctor had made it so clear. He'd hurt her and failed her and yet here she was, just as beautiful as before but different somehow. She wasn't the same girl and he knew she never would be. Which was on him. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, took a sip of his beer and bumped her shoulder back as they looked out at the party—all the usual players plus a hell of a lot more—this was a huge party and he was damned proud.
"I don't even know what to say. It's like a teenage Babylon."
"I know," Puck grinned, "Thank you."
Quinn's looked at the dance floor and did a double take, "Okay. The fuck, Puckerman?"
Puck looked to the spot in the room where Quinn was pointing and his eyes popped.
Rachel was between two boys who were strangers to Quinn and all of them were grinding on each other. Clumsily. Very drunkenly.
He glanced at Quinn who asked, "Who are those douchebags?"
"I think they're two of those Dalton guys Kurt invited."
"Oh? You think? And invited to what? Slip our dwarf a roofie? Who's she here with?"
"Kurt and Mercedes picked her up. Said it was their charity contribution for Christmas."
"So they drop her—her—in the middle of this sort of party and leave her?"
"Hey! I'm not morality cop, Quinn. It's not my—"
"Wait!" Quinn turned and stepped squarely into his space, "Let me guess. Not your responsibility? Why does that sound familiar? You know what though, Puck? Legally, how every single one of these underage drinkers gets home is your responsibility. Did you know that? And because you're a minor, it becomes your mom's responsibility. So if any one of these idiots wraps a car around a tree on the way home—your mom could go to jail for it. Think about that, rock star."
Quinn charged through the room toward Kurt and pulled him by his jacket toward her so that her face was inches from his as he fumed, "I'll have you know you're mauling an Alexander McQueen and that I may very well—"
"Be on your way to having your nose broken and bleeding all over it, Hummel. You brought Berry, right?"
Even as he felt Mercedes join him, his eyelashes fluttered. Quinn looked as ferocious as he'd ever seen her and that was saying something. "Mercedes and I brought her, yes."
She didn't loosen the hold on his jacket, "And you think it's okay to let her get drunk and offer her up to two of your Dalton horn-dogs?"
Kurt put a firm hand on Quinn's wrist, "We gave her a ride to the party, Quinn. And she may be short but she's our age and we didn't think babysitting was part of the agreement."
Quinn looked from Kurt to Mercedes and shook her head in amazement, "Seriously? You see what she's doing?"
They all looked to the dance floor where Rachel was making an abysmal spectacle of herself.
Quinn released Kurt's shirt and glared at him and Mercedes, "You should be ashamed of yourselves. And before you go off on me about what a bitch I am? If you guys had my power, blood would be running in the halls in McKinley, not slushies. You're no better than I am and actually you're a lot worse. Because I'm taking Berry home before she gets hurt and or knocked up tonight. Oh and also so she can knock you out of all the solos she deserves and you don't until we graduate. Which is part of the reason you aren't helping her when she obviously needs it, right?"
She turned and made her way toward Rachel only to be stopped by Santana and Brittany who were clearly a few sheets to the wind and hanging all over each other. "Hey Q!"
Quinn took a deep breath because she was always nice to Brittany, "Hi, B." She nodded at Santana who smirked, "Oh shit, Q. Are you getting a load of manhands out there? It's on tonight—I can hear the time-clock on that V-card running out as we speak."
She had never wanted to punch Santana more in her life, "Really? You think that's funny?"
"High-larious—and I mean high. Look at her."
They all looked at Rachel and Quinn noticed that Brittany shifted in place and frowned. Finally, someone else with a brain.
"It's not funny."
Brittany looked at Quinn hopefully and nodded vigorously. "Q's right, San. Rach needs to go home."
Santana scoffed, "What the fuck, B. Let her live a little. Might loosen her up."
Quinn pulled Santana close to her and hissed in her ear. "Look at her. Think about our B all alone at a party and being that fucked up and guys crawling all over her and nobody to help her. Would that be funny to you?"
As Santana watched the two boys groping a dopey faced Rachel and her allowing it because she was trashed and just didn't know any better, it stung the shit out of her to admit that it could easily, easily be Brittany if not for her.
She shrugged away from Quinn, "You know what, B? You're right. Fuck that. Let's get the midget outta here."
Brittany shot Quinn a smile as they following Santana to where Rachel and the two boys were dancing.
When she tapped Boy One on the shoulder, he turned to her and smiled and looked beyond her to a frowning pair of blondes. Whatever. More hot chicas. "Ssup?"
"Just wanted to give you the heads up that the dwarf's had enough party and she's going home."
It took Rachel a few seconds to register that the boys had stopped dancing with her and when she had, she squinted to focus on the interruption. She smiled hazily. "Sssantana!"
"Yeah, Berry. Time to go home."
Rachel shook her head. "Party started."
"Nope. The party just ended."
"No. Just got here—having fun with…" she glanced between the boys and shrugged, "whoever these…are."
Boy Two smiled and put his hand on Rachel's hip, "Yeah. Get lost, cockblockers."
Brittany immediately grabbed Santana's arms and, with effort, kept her from hitting the boy.
Quinn stepped around them to address Boy One and Two, "You don't have to leave the party but Berry's going home. That's not a request. It's what's going to happen."
"Yeah? And who the fuck are you?"
Quinn smiled, "Your worst nightmare if you keep talking. Ask anyone in the room."
Rachel shook her head, then nodded and scratched her nose as she slurred, "S'true. Former dance partners, run! She's Armageddon. Except forever."
Rachel pointed her finger at her chest then at Quinn, "Truth to power!"
As Quinn rolled her eyes, Brittany released Santana who snarled, "So? Got that? Nothing to see here, douches. Definitely no one to do here."
The boys glared but backed down. "Whatever—there are plenty of hotter bitches here."
Brittany grinned, "Uh…like where? We're the four hottest girls in the room."
Santana high-fived Brittany and as the boys departed, Rachel waved after them. The taller blonde took one look at Rachel, who was obviously about to pass out and said, "Rach?"
"I'm carrying you to Quinn's car."
Rachel didn't seem to think it odd that Brittany wrapped an arm around her to support her as she answered, "Really? Where…if it's a trick…she leaves me outside…I'll freeze…manslaughter…no college for her!"
"She's taking you home, Rach."
Rachel smiled and tried to focus, "Why?"
"Because you need to go to sleep and I'm carrying you because you're so little and cute. It'll be fun."
Santana felt a surge of irritation and Quinn smiled as Rachel stared at her, "Quinn?"
"You know where I live?"
"Of course I do. I'm obsessed with you. Haven't you noticed?"
"Making fun of me?"
"When isn't she, Rupaul?"
Brittany said, "San, be nice and no, Rach, Quinn's not making fun," before she quite easily tipped Rachel into her open arms and carried her through the room like a groom carrying a bride across the threshold.
The tiny girl accepted this treatment without comment, rested her head on Brittany's shoulder and closed her eyes.