A/N: Title from Mtn Tune by Trails and Ways.

Rachel tugs her jacket a little closer and rubs her mitten covered hands to try and keep warm as she walks carefully towards the bar where she's planned on meeting the boys. Mike of course is working, so she doesn't expect to socialize with him much, but Puck is there and hopefully he doesn't have yet another new girl on his arm so she won't be forced into being a third-wheel. It will more than likely happen, but she decides not to let it bother her.

She smiles at Danny, the homeless man who's claimed the alleyway between the bar and the Chinese place, and chirps an excited hello before hurrying into the warm well lit bar. It's surprisingly busy for a Thursday evening, and she has a difficulty finding an open hook for her coat, but for the most part she manages.

As she walks through the establishment, she can't help but feel a little self conscious in her dress. The V dips a little lower than she had remembered, it's a little tighter than she thought, and she doesn't like the way some of the men follow her with their eyes. Holding a hand over her chest, she slowly makes her way towards the bar, where she hopes she can get a lot of alcohol into her system quickly.

It was a rather tough day and she needs anything to get her mind off it.

Mike, wonderfully reliable Mike, is waiting for her with a charming smile and a shot of tequila. "I saw you wander in," he explains when she looks at it curiously.

"Bless you," she breathes, pushing herself up onto the bar stool in front of him. "You are an angel sent from above."

"Bad day?"

She knocks the shot back before grimacing. "Painful day." Mike bobs his head, motioning for her to continue. "Jesse finally came to get the last of his things," she explains.

"Shit, Rachel. I'm sorry." A frown pulls at his lips and his hand comes up to clutch at her own in a comforting gesture.

Rachel makes a noise of thanks in her throat before pushing the empty shot glass towards him. "It's his loss really. If he doesn't know an absolutely talented brilliant young woman when he's got one, then screw him, he's stupid," she says indignantly as she picks at the bowl of peanuts.

"Preach," Mike hums in response.

She knows her words are true, and she does believe them, she does, but that doesn't stop her from sighing mournfully. "I just- I thought he loved me."

"He did. Of course he did." She props her head in her hand and stares at Mike hopefully. "I mean who wouldn't love you? Besides, sometimes I would catch him watching you with this look on his face."

"Really?" Her voice is hopeful and small, and she hates it.

"Yeah."

Rachel sighs once again, and pushes herself up before accepting the newly filled shot. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to pick up where we left off," she jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

Mike grins. "I'd love to, but I don't think Tina would like that too much."

"Does that mean I have to resort to Noah?" Rachel giggles.

"God no," Mike chokes. "Don't ever, ever, get with Puck. That's just wrong on so many levels."

She can't help but nod. "Trust me when I say you never have to worry about any romantic relationships between Noah and myself."

"That's because you've already had one," he teases.

"We were seven. Seven, Mike. It's not fair you hold that above our heads for the rest of our lives."

Mike shrugs, "Well, I'm gonna."

She grins at him and tilts her shot towards him. "Well then, I'm going to hold the fact that you dumped me after being together for five years over your head for the rest of your life."

She can tell she's struck a nerve when he goes quiet and stares at the counter top wistfully. "Rachel," he starts.

"It's fine," she interrupts. "I was only teasing."

It's not necessarily the full truth, but for the most part she's over it. It being the horrible day when Mike sat her down and talked about how they've grown up, and how their relationship didn't necessarily fit into their new "grown up" lives.

Rachel always feels sad, and even slightly bitter she has to admit, whenever she stops to think about her relationship with Mike, so she shakes her head, downs her shot, and grabs a handful of peanuts to distract herself. "I think I'm going to go find Noah," she finally says and pops a few of the peanuts into her mouth. "Can you make me a Manhattan?"

"Sure," Mike grunts, turning away from her.

She takes the moment to pull her phone from her clutch and fire off a quick text to Puck, asking where he is in the crowded bar, while checking her call history to see if maybe the audition from this afternoon panned out well.

Mike startles her slightly when he sets the cocktail down suddenly, "Here you go."

"Thank you." She smiles gratefully and digs through her purse for her money.

He stops her. "It's on the house."

"And the shots?"

"I can take them from my pay check." He shrugs.

Her shoulders slump slightly and she watches him closely. "Mike - "

"It's fine," he promises, pushing the drink even closer. "Just take something when someone offers it, okay? It's the polite thing to do."

She can't help but beam as her fingers close around the stem of the glass. "Well, thank you then!"

Mike chuckles and is about to respond when his boss barks at him to get back to work. Shooting Rachel a grin, and a soft sorry, he quickly scrambles towards his horribly vile boss (at least in her opinion), leaving her alone to fend for just herself.

She begins preparing a long list of excuses when she notices a rather slimy looking man gazing at her before walking towards her location slowly. Luckily, her phone buzzes in her hand and she's never been more grateful for one of Pucks repulsive answers before in her life. Quickly scurrying from her spot, Rachel clutches her drink tightly as she attempts to maneuver through the crowded bar, following Puck's very vague directions.

Rachel swears a random hand cups her ass suddenly, and inappropriately, and when she turns to chew out the owner of said hand someone shouts her name over the music and she loses sight of the total jerk who fondled her.

"Berry!" Her head whips towards where the shouts only to roll her eyes when she realizes it's only Puck yelling for her. "Get your cute ass over here!"

"I do not appreciate your degrading comment," Rachel huffs once she nears him. "I am a strong independent woman, with a successful career, and an overwhelming talent, and you manage to reduce me to simply a 'cute ass' without any mention of any of the other wonderful aspects in my life."

"Jesus, who twisted your panties into a wad?" Puck questions, ignoring most of her rant.

She glares at him.

"You are infuriating."

He shrugs with a cocky smirk that makes her want to beat him over the head with her clutch. "You still love me."

Making a noise of protest, Rachel tightens her hold on her glass dangerously and scoffs. "I most certainly do not. I think I actually just might hate you."

"Think whatever the fuck you want, babe, I promise I'll do the same." Puck smiles, it's suggestive and secretive, and she's a afraid of what it just might mean.

Instead of answering, she simply cringes and walks away, ignoring his shouts for her to come back. He might be one of her best friends, but he is quite possibly the most disgusting male she's ever had the displeasure of meeting. If she didn't have such a sense of obligation to look after him (just as his mother asked, she might add) she would probably never speak with him again.

She knows that's not true, but she's annoyed with him, and any explanations as to why she's actually best friends with someone like Puck sounds wonderfully sane in her head.

By the time she finally realizes she has no one to socialize with after leaving Puck, he's already lost in the sea of people. With an annoyed sigh, she decides to toughen up and find him once more so she doesn't look like a complete loser all alone in the corner.

Rachel turns back towards where she saw him last, only to smack squarely into the broad chest of someone else.

Her mouth snaps shut on her tongue painfully before she makes a pained yelp, and she can feel her drink spill all over her. Large hands wrap around her forearm and a very tall man steady's her carefully.

"Shit, sorry! I'm so sorry!" The man looks nervous and panicked as he watches her dress slowly darken from the drink. His hands are warm and calloused and still wrapped around her arm tightly, so she is unable to try and wipe some of the spilled alcohol from her dress before it's completely ruined.

"Sorry!" he repeats, yet again, as he finally lets go of her to snatch a stray napkin and dab at the stain, not realizing he basically has his hands all over her breasts.

"Oh my god," she gasps in outrage, staring at his wandering hands.

"I know! I'm sorry!" he repeats as he wipes furiously.

"Oh my god," she repeats and shoves his hands away. "Get away from me you...you pervert!"

"Pervert?"

"You heard me; I said you were a pervert!"

The man recoils and she thinks she sees a hint of hurt, but she's too aggravated to feel at least a little sorry. "What? I'm not a pervert."

"Oh, really? So you weren't practically fondling me just a moment ago?" Her voice is louder than normal and from the corner of her eye she can see a few people turn to stare at them curiously.

His eyes wander to her chest questioningly before they widen, almost comically, and snap back to her face. "Fuck, I wasn't - I mean, I didn't - I wasn't fondling you!"

She scoffs in protest. Her hand holding the empty glass twitches dangerously, and the tiny dramatic part of her brain is scared she just might throw it at the man and make the entire situation even worse.

"I was trying to help," he insists.

"I don't appreciate your help," she screeches as she slams the glass on an empty table with more force than is needed. "Especially considering you haven't even apologized for your inappropriate behavior!"

He opens his mouth again, more than likely attempting to explain once again, but she's wet and sticky and humiliated, and she doesn't feel like listening to this illiterate jerk pull together some sort of apology. Rachel pushes past him, brushing off any and all of his words, and stalks towards the bathroom with her head held high, thank you very much.

She is Rachel Berry after all and Rachel Berry does not walk defeated.

When she finally exits the restroom, she's more than surprised to see the man leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for her. He's annoyingly handsome, she notes, but there's a little smudge of some unknown substance on his cheek that gives her a strange sort of satisfaction.

She's glad he's not totally perfect.

He straightens the moment he notices her, and raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I'm not a pervert," he blurts.

"Your previous actions say otherwise," she says, crossing her arms tightly.

He takes a hesitant step towards her, smiling slightly when she doesn't move. "Look, I'm a huge klutz, and a kind of an idiot, but not a perv," he insists. "I just saw your pretty dress getting ruined, and I wanted to try and save it somehow, and I didn't really think about what I was doing until you pointed it out."

She purses her lips and doesn't respond.

Taking it as a good sign, he continues, "It's totally not cool when guys do stuff to girls that they don't like, and I'm not like that, I swear."

His eyes are wide, and part of his hair is sticking up wildly, and it gives him an almost childish look, which she is helpless against. She believes him. God knows why, but she does, and she tells him this.

His smile is dimpled (and simply adorable, she begrudgingly notes) and he sighs in relief. "Let me get you a drink," he finally suggests carefully. "You know, considering I just spilled yours."

She might believe him, but that doesn't stop her from wanting to stomp her foot and scream no at him; after all he did ruin her night, but then she remembers Mike telling her to be polite and just accept the stupid drink. "Fine."

Rachel struggles to fish her key from small clutch she brought, all while she's kissing him. It's difficult to do both at once, and so she regrettably pulls away from him to look down and find the damn keys. Once in hand, she leans back up to kiss him hungrily, but the key slides across the door, scratching the smooth surface, and she turns away once again with a huff to actually focus on the task at hand.

His breath is hot against her skin when he leans down to press open mouthed kisses all along her neck. It's hard for her to focus on getting the door open when he nips her periodically before soothing the area with his tongue. When he focuses on the juncture where her shoulder meets the smooth skin of her neck, she knows he's going to leave a large hickey.

"Got it," she breathes, the lock finally clicking open. They tumble into her apartment, awkwardly knocking heads, and tripping over her shoes. She can't help but giggle lightly, and he smiles, before they kiss again. She tries to steer them towards her room but doesn't get very far when he runs into the back of her couch.

He sways a little, about to fall over the back of her pristine couch, and she has to pull on his shirt to keep him upright. "I'm so drunk right now," he mumbles against her mouth.

His hands are pressed against her cheeks, and so when she says, "Mhm, me too." it comes out muffled and a little hard to understand.

"So, we probably shouldn't do this," Finn says, and pulls away to give her a pointed and slightly dazed look.

"Probably," she agrees even as her arm hooks around his neck. He smiles a little and easily responds when she leans onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

His tongue probes her lips more gently than he probably should, considering this is a random hook-up after all, but she opens her mouth all the same. Tongue sliding against tongue, his hot breathe on her face, Rachel can't help but moan a little and clutch his hair a little tighter and pull him even closer.

When air becomes somewhat of a necessity she manages to break away from him again and grab his hand to pull him away from her couch and past her kitchen to her room. The bright yellow walls hurt her eyes a little when she turns the light on, so she flicks it back off and pulls her top over her head. He groans a little behind her and she can't help but grin at his reaction.

Rachel hardly allows him the time to look around the small room before her fingers are quickly and nimbly undo the buttons of his shirt, his own fingers splayed across the warm skin of her back. Finn's fingers trace up her spine before gently toying with the clasp of her bra while she gets the last of his shirts buttons undone and starts pushing it off his shoulders. It gets stuck at his elbows when he continues to fiddle with her bra in frustration.

Biting her lip slightly, Rachel reaches behind her and unclasps her bra quickly. She giggles a little at his raised eyebrows and tosses her bra over his shoulder.

"You are so hot," he finally groans, quickly finishing for her and pulling his own shirt off.

Even in her drunken state, she can't help but pink a little. "Thank you."

"No problem."

His legs hit the back of his bed and he bounces slightly when he collapses against her mattress. She presses a knee to each side of his hips until she's straddled across him, her lips kissing the hallow of his throat insistently. He finally manages to survey his surroundings when she works on undoing his belt and tugging his jeans down.

Her Hello Kitty sheets crack him up and she falters, looking up at him curiously.

"What?"

He shakes his head, grinning. "Nothing."

The small cafe is in full swing by the time she arrives. Mike and Puck are waiting for her in the small booth in the corner they always pick, a mocha with her name on it waiting for her. She knows Mike was the one to get if for her because it s difficult for Puck to even remember when her birthday is, let alone something as mundane as her favorite caffeinated drink.

"Where did you go last night?" Mike asks, not even bothering to say hello. "You left me with Amy, and you know how awful that is. How could you leave me?"

"What do ya think? She was spreading her legs and slipping some pretty eye candy where the sun don't shine." Puck smirks.

She pushes her sunglasses a little further up her nose and grimaces when someone slams their mug down onto the table with too much force. "Please stop screaming at me. I have a headache literally from hell." She shakes her head, popping off the lid to her drink. "Besides what ever happened to manners? You know- 'hello Rachel. It's nice to see you. How are you this beautiful morning?' You don't just bombard people with questions and very crude comments."

"But then we wouldn't see you all hot and bothered." Puck smiles, tilting his head slightly. "And you know how we like that."

"Rude," she groans and rolls her eyes.

Puck waves his hand dismissively. "Was he good?" he asks.

"Who?"

Puck snorts. "The dude you left with, dumbass."

"I did not leave with anyone," she says, shaking her head and taking a small sip from her drink.

Mike rolls his eyes. "Yes, you did. Don't deny it. Practically the whole world saw you dragging him out by his underwear."

She help but blush lightly at his rather accurate description. She doesn't remember a whole lot, however she does remember grabbing Finn by his belt loops and pulling him into the coat closet. A lot after that is a bit blurry.

She winces a little at the way she was acting last night. Trying not to seem too flustered, she rolls her eyes and sighs a little. "Alright, fine. I left with him. But there really isn't much to tell. My libido was acting up and he was an attractive male. I simply did what most would do." She shrugs.

Puck smiles suddenly. "My baby," he coos, pressing a hand to his chest. "All grown up and luring unsuspecting men into her bed." He sniffles dramatically and wipes at his eyes. "I'm so proud."

"Shut up," she huffs. She rolls her eyes like she's annoyed, but it's difficult for her not to crack a small smile, and from the way they're grinning at her they both know she's amused. "At least I didn't have my tongue in his mouth all night in front of a crowd of people," she counters pointedly towards Puck. "Don't think I didn't see that little show you decided to put on with that blonde for everyone in the corner last night."

"No," he says slowly, a smirk pulling at his features. "But later you had his - "

"Okay, I think I'm going to go get something to eat," Mike interrupts and his voice is slightly higher than normal. "You want something Rachie?"

"Oh, I could tell you want she wants."

"Shut up, Noah!"

He laughs, loud and booming, and clutches at his stomach, but he finally drops it.

She finds Finn's number when the boys somehow manage to get her to agree to a night full of boozes and dancing. It's in one of her clutches that she faintly remembers bringing to the bar, but she's not able to recall when he scratched his number onto one of the wrinkled bar napkins. Between the alcohol and the sex, there isn't much she remembered from that night.

She tucks it in the drawer of her nightstand, deciding she can figure out what to do with it later, but by the time Mike helps her stumble into her room late that night, she's completely forgotten about it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Puck barks. His eyes are worried but his stance is hostile with his arms crossed tightly. She tilts her head a little to look at him and winces when it makes her skull throb with pain.

Rachel wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and sits so her back is against the cool wall. "I'm fine. It's just a stomach bug."

Puck glares at her and clenches his hands tightly. "You're not, Rachel. You've been sick for a couple weeks now."

"I said I'm fine," she says between clenched teeth.

"Well, I don't believe you."

"Great! Good for you! I don't really care." She stands quickly, ignoring the way her stomach rolls, and stalks past him.

"You should really see a doctor," he says, once they reach the kitchen. His voice is softer than before, but still commanding, and it aggravates her. She doesn't need Puck, or anyone for that matter, to tell her what to do and to not do.

She slams the cabinet door closed, clutching her glass tightly. "I think I know my body better than you," she spits.

His eyes narrow and she glares back at him, focusing on his eyebrows instead of directly at his eyes. They continue the little staring contest with each other until the front door slams closed, startling them both. "I come bearing gifts." Mike's voice rings out

"We're in here," she shouts. Puck glares at her viciously one more time but turns with his usual cocky smirk when Mike walks in.

Mike falters a little and hugs the box in his hands a little tighter to his chest."What's going on in here?" Mike asks, picking up on the tense atmosphere.

She forces a smile. From the way Mike relaxes, she's sure it was quite convincing. "Nothing. Noah was just being an ass, per usual. What did you bring?"

He shrugs, grinning, while opening a small white box. "I brought donuts."

The very though of donuts makes her green, but it's when the scent finally reaches her does her stomach finally heave, and she has to sprint to the bathroom, just barely making it in time.

"Mike?" Her voice is shaky and she sniffles loudly, just barely suppressing the tears threatening to escape.

"Rachie? What's wrong?"

She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her pajama shirt and grimaces a little. "Can-can you come over?"

"Of course," he assures. She can hear murmuring on the other end of the line, and she faintly hopes she isn't getting him into any trouble with Tina. She'd feel even more awful if Mike was having relationship troubles because of her. "I'll be right over."

"I..."

"Rachel?"

"I need you to pick something up for me first."

"It's not tampons, is it?" he jokes weakly.

That just causes her eyes to water.

"No," she says, her lip trembling. "I don't think I need those anymore."

"What?"

"Can you pick me up a few pregnancy tests? Please," she adds as an afterthought.

Mike is silent for a long time before he finally quietly assures her that he can.

Her hands shake so violently she can barely even end the call.

She doesn't ask why Puck is here, along with Mike, and instead snatches the plastic bag and retreats to the bathroom before they can even mutter a single hello. Luckily, she thought ahead, and drank nearly an entire cartoon of orange juice, so she doesn't need to wait until her bladder decides to cooperate with her.

As she begins what she expects to be the longest three minutes of her life, she wonders if a baby would really be as bad as she's built up in her mind.

From all the babies she's interacted with (which, sadly, is not many) she knows they can be the most darling things. With cute little gummy smiles, millions of freckles everywhere, and adorable chubby hands.

And she knows any child of hers would be the absolute definition for adorable.

But on the other hand, they cry and poop and vomit nearly everywhere and at times they can be horrifically nasty.

Besides, is she really ready for that kind of commitment? This is for the rest of her life after all, and there is no turning back when things get rough.

She feels a headache coming on.

Burying her head in her hands, Rachel can't help but speculate what everyone else is going to think of her when, possibly if, they find out. But she is twenty-seven after all, so it's not that big of a deal, right? She has a steady job, a relatively nice, but small, apartment, and what else could she need? Being a single mother in today's society is nothing abnormal (more the opposite, she believes), and there is certainly worse in the world.

Of course, a child would definitely throw a large wrench in Rachel's big Broadway dreams. First staring role by twenty-three, at least one Tony by twenty-five, and an original solo album at thirty has always been her plan, but here she is at twenty-seven with no staring roles and no Tonys to speak of. Her plan is already ruined, so how can a child change it?

She supposes she can create a new plan, a better plan, that will allow her to shine just as bright as she would if she were to have been successful with her ideal plan.

Besides, this time will undoubtedly be a fabulous chapter in her life memoir. She expects it to be a trying tale of heartbreak and rejection before she finally overcomes all -

The timer finally goes off.

Rachel flinches violently, and her tongue peaks out to wet her lips, but her mouth is like sandpaper and she's rather unsuccessful.

This is it.

Her stomach is alive with butterflies and she holds her breath as she slowly reaches for the pregnancy test, turning it over in her hands.

It's a plus.

A blue plus.

Which means she's pregnant.

She's pregnant.

She drops the first stick on the lid of the toilet and quickly grabs the next one. It's a plus. And the next: it's a plus.

She feels a little faint.

"Rachel?" She hears a murmur. "Rachel what does it say?"

"I - " she can't find the words and continues to stare at the three little blue pluses.

"Rachel?"

She can hear an aggravated sigh before Puck finally grunts, "Fuck this."

There's shifting and Mike makes a noise of protest before her door flies open suddenly, slamming against the wall with a loud boom.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mike yells.

Puck ignores him and limps over to Rachel, sitting still on the lid of the toilet. "Rachel."

She lifts her eyes from her broken door to his face. "You kicked down my door."

"I'll pay you back," Puck waves his hand in dismissively. "It was a piece of shit anyways. It went with only one blow."

"You kicked down my door," she repeats, slowly. The pregnancy test clatters to the floor nosily when she drops it and stands quickly. "You kicked down my door!" she exclaims, shoving him roughly.

"You weren't answering us," he says defensively.

"So you kicked it down?" she screeches, shoving him again.

Puck stumbles into her towel rack. "Fuck off, I'm just concerned for you and shit."

"Fuck off?" she repeats and her voice breaks dangerously.

"Holy shit, you're scary," Puck says, wide eyed.

"Dude," Mike barks. He has the pregnancy test she abandoned in his hand, and his face is whiter than normal.

"Give me that," she snaps and reaches for the white stick.

He raises it above his head. "Rachel-"

"Give it to me," she says again, leaning onto her tip toes to try and snatch it from him. "Give it." The words leave her in a sob and she reaches for the test more insistently.

"Rachel." He pulls her against him with one arm, trapping her arms between his chest and her own body, and the test clatters to the floor once again when he drops it to hug her tightly. "Rachel," he repeats against her forehead.

"Stop saying my name," she commands, struggling to escape his grip while keeping the sobs from leaving her. "Just - just stop. Go away."

"No."

She sucks in a shuttering breath. "Please, just...just - " she struggles to find the strength and words to just get them to understand.

She feels Pucks arms wrap around her from behind, his hand slides across her stomach (she wonders how long it will still be flat) until it rests just underneath her breast while his other hand clutches her hip tightly. Normally she would shove his hands away, but now she knows it's purely innocent, and purely for her comfort.

And that's what brings her to tears.

They don't say anything as she sobs; they only hold her clutch her tighter instead. Puck traces soothing patterns across her skin and Mike doesn't even bat an eye when she rubs her snotty nose across his shirt.

Her knees feel weak, like she might collapse, but she doesn't.

Her boys keep her up, just as they always have.

Puck holds out a beer before he finally realizes his mistake with a wince. "Shit, sorry."

"It's fine," she sniffles, watching him give the drink to Mike instead. Instead of opening it and drinking it like she expects he would, Mike sets it on the end table instead, watching her carefully as he does so.

He might not think she notices his staring, but she does.

"You both know you don't need to be here, right?" she finally questions after a short silence. "I am perfectly capable of handling this on my own."

"I wanna be here," Puck shrugs, tilting his beer can back and forth. "I got nowhere better to be."

"You have nowhere better to be," she corrects.

"Shit, I already feel sorry for your kid. Having an anal mother like you is gonna suck."

"Puck," Mike warns through clenched teeth.

She giggles, but it's slightly crazed.

Puck gives her the side eye, obviously confused, and speaks more to Mike than her. "Can you imagine her in a few weeks, though? When she's bat-shit crazy with all those hormones?"

"Just because I'm pregnant does not mean I'm crazy, Noah."

It's almost as if a switch flicks on in her and it's only when she admits it out loud for the first time, does it finally and fully sink in.

Her mood sobers pretty quickly after that.

"You know you might not be," Mike says quietly. "Those test things aren't always accurate, right? They could be totally wrong."

"Yeah, what he said," Puck agrees.

"It's right...and I think I've know it for awhile now, I've just been trying to deny it."

Mike and Puck share a glance, but she's too preoccupied by staring determinedly at her knee, where her yoga pants scrunch together, to notice.

"But what about your...thing. Your monthly thing," Puck says uncomfortably. "You said you had one just a few weeks ago.

"My period, Puck," she snaps. "And there is something called spotting, which originally I assumed had meant I was having a light period, abnormally light, but a period none the less." She rubs her fingertips against the ridges of the fabric and curls a hand into a fist in the front pocket of her sweatshirt, directly in front of her stomach.

Puck opens his mouth, and before he even asks, she knows exactly what he's going to say. "So, like, I hate to ask this already, but who's the dad?"

"You don't know him," she says stiffly. "Besides, even if you did, I still wouldn't tell you. I wouldn't want you to go beat him up, or something worse, over some sort of misplaced protectiveness."

"It was that guy, wasn't it?" Mike asks quietly. "That guy from the bar."

When she's silent, he has his answer.

"Rachel? Are you gonna keep it?"

Her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palm. "I don't know."

"You're not going to get a...you're not going to get rid of it, right?"

She flinches. "No."

The thought of getting an abortion makes her stomach flip uncomfortably, like she might be sick, but the thought of someone else raising her baby also makes her ill. But on the other hand, the very idea of raising a child herself is one that makes her want to run away screaming in terror.

She's confused.

"I-I'm going to get something to eat," she informs as she uncurls her fists to push herself from the worn couch. "Do you want anything?"

Puck follows her with his eyes, and mutters, "Rach, we can-"

"Do you want anything?" she insists, ignoring their soft eyes.

Mike finally shakes his head. "No."

Rachel nods once and turns to her kitchen, ignoring the way her eyes burn from suppressed tears. She's cried enough today.

After one whiff of her refrigerator, she slams it closed and decides on cheese and crackers. Of course the cheese is in the fridge, but she can worry about that in a few minutes.

Already on edge, she opens the cabinet to grab a Ritz box she knows she bought a few weeks ago, only to see it on the highest shelf. She assumes Puck or Mike were the last to eat them and then placed them up high, not realizing her short stature would not be able to reach. She huffs in annoyance, and as she leans up onto her tiptoes, Rachel curses her height.

A broad warm chest presses against her back suddenly and an arm easily snatches the Ritz box from the to shelf. When she turns, Puck smiles reassuringly at her, instead of his usually horny smirk he would be wearing whenever he presses up against her. The fact that he's being so nice infuriates her.

Rachel pushes him away from her with her fingertips, and grabs the crackers more violently than needed. "What are you doing here?" her question comes out more hostile than she intended, but he pays it no mind.

"Thought you could use some help." He shrugs.

She clenches the box tightly in her hands. "It's just cheese and crackers."

Puck shrugs again, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and glances down at his shoes. She thinks he looks like a sad child, which she really does not want to think about right now. "Get the cheese, would you?" she commands, trying to soften her voice.

He nods obediently and reaches into the fridge as she grabs a plate to spread the crackers on and knife to cut the cheese. Placing the square of cheese on the counter next to her, Puck steals the knife and begins cutting it as she arranges the crackers carefully.

"Rachel, how are you?" he asks, watching her closely out of the corner of his eye. "I mean how are you really?"

Her hand clutches the edge of the counter top and a cracker crumbles a little in her grasp. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

Rachel whirls around to glare at Puck as he gently sets the knife down and turns towards her. "If you're not going to believe my answer then don't ask the question."

"Then stop being a fucking coward, and just answer the stupid question." Puck commands simply.

"How dare you?" she gasps in outrage. "You have no right to say I'm a coward when you have no idea how I'm feeling!"

"That's because you wont tell us!" Puck bites back.

"I've already said I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. You're scared shitless, anyone can see it. Look, I know you Rachel, okay? I've known you since we were like four. Which means I know what you're thinkin'. It's obvious to anyone that you wanna keep your kid, but you're terrified you just might do something wrong. So, you pretend you're okay, 'cause you can't deal with the fact that you're gonna be a mom. You don't want to look after anyone but yourself, because you're being a selfish bitch. But you know what? No matter what, you are going to be a mom. So, untwist your panties and get the fuck over it."

Her hand connects to his cheek loudly, echoing throughout the tiny kitchen, and she ignores the way her hand tingles in pain, instead focusing on the way he grits his teeth as his fingers trace over his rapidly growing red skin. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

He turns to stare at her, his hand cupping his cheek. "Actually, I do."

"Get out."

She expects him to refuse, to cross his arms childishly and plop on her couch and not move until Mike has to intervene, but he turns on his heel and walks out as she commanded.

When her front door slams, her heart can't help but plummet.

"Wait! Hear me out!" Puck pleads when she begins to close the door in his face once she realizes who it is. He jams his foot between the door frame and the door, wincing when it bounces off his foot. "Please, Rach, just listen."

She digs her heel into his toes, getting a strange satisfaction when he yelps, and slams the door effectively when he pulls his foot back. She slides the chain into place as his hand thumps against the wood.

"Rachel, come on," he groans, leaning on one leg to clutch bruised toes. "Please, open up."

She ignores his pleading and turns the lock.

"Fine. I'm sorry, okay?" Puck says through the door. "I shouldn't have attacked you like that yesterday. It was a dick move."

"That's because you are a dick."

He winces a little. "Okay, I deserve that. I get that you're pissed, I would be too, but I can explain."

She crosses her arms tightly, but stays in place, waiting for his explanation.

"I...I was scared too. I know it's your kid and shit, but I was really freaked too. Like, you've been my best friend since I was four and now your gonna have your own kid who's gonna get it's own best friend and it's just - it's fucking scary."

"You don't think I know that? I am terrified right now," she admits.

"I know, I know, and I was thinking about myself, instead of you, which is what I should have been doin'. I was asking you all this shit you shouldn't have had to worry about yet." Her apartment number digs into his forehead when he leans against it with a sigh. "I know it's a shitty apology, but it's all I got 'cause I'm a pretty shitty best friend."

"You really are."

"Do you think you can forgive me?"

She silently purses her lips and stares at the chipped paint on her apartment door. She should make Puck repaint it.

"Maybe."

He perks up. "Seriously? Tell me what I gotta do, and I swear I'll do it."

"What do you have to do," she corrects automatically.

"Yeah, that." He rolls his eyes, thankful she can't see him through the door. "Please, Rachel."

She sighs and rubs a hand across her forehead tiredly before slowly pulling the chain back and unlocking the door. Rachel opens the door slowly and can't help but smile a little at his cute pout. His pout quickly morphs into a full blown smile when he see's her grinning.

His head dips down to the floor to try and hide his smile before he raises his hand. "Here." He holds a pretty daisy in his fist, but a few of its petals are missing and its steam is twisted at an odd angle. "I got this for you."

She accepts it, oddly touched, and another petal flutters to the floor. "Who's garden did you steal this from?"

Puck just laughs a little at her comment and walks into her apartment. "Ms. Hanson, but the bitch deserves it and she's not gonna miss one stupid flower, so you can't yell at me."

As she presses the destroyed flower to her nose, Rachel can't help but giggle. "I suppose I can't."

Puck laughs a little and nudges her foot with his. "I knew my badass lessons were rubbing off on you."

"Right," she scoffs. He doesn't see her roll her eyes when she turns and walks further into her apartment. "Because learning how to hotwire a car is really going to get me far in life."

"Hey, you never know. And come on, you gotta admit it's a pretty sick skill to know. I bet none of the other prissy douches on Broadway know how to do it."

She hides her smile behind the cabinet door as she looks for a glass to put the flower into. "I suppose not."

"See? I'm helping you out, babe," Puck says as he opens the fridge and grabs a beer. He also grabs a Coke for her and walks into the other room and collapses on her couch.

"As misguided your lessons are, I really do appreciate them," Rachel says earnestly. "It's actually been quite useful knowing how to pick a lock."

Puck tilts his beer can towards her, and says, "Told you it would. You better not doubt me now."

"I'll always doubt you," Rachel snorts as she sits next to him.

He clutches his chest and mocks pain. "That hurts."

She giggles but doesn't respond, instead grabbing her drink from him. Puck turns the television on and they fall silent as they watch a rerun of some hospital show together.

Rachel figures it's just her luck when one of the patients happens to be a couple having a baby together. Sometimes she honestly believes the world is out to get her. They look happy and in love, and a part of her wishes for that. She wonders if it's a bad thing that her mind flickers to the man from that night weeks ago and imagines a happy life together like the couple on screen. She runs a hand across her stomach almost unconsciously and releases the smallest of sighs.

Puck notices.

"You gonna tell the guy," he asks quietly between his sips of beer.

She stares at the water ring on her coffee table as she responds, "I don't know."

Puck makes a noise at the back of his throat before grinning slightly. "Well, if you're gonna then I call telling him. I want to be the one to tell the fucker his pretty perfect life is ruined."

"Noah."

She stares at the messy chicken scrawl on the old napkin, her cell phone resting next to her on the bed, and she tries to find the steel nerves she usually posses. This should not be so difficult. It's a simple phone number followed by a simple relay of information, but she knows it's a whole lot more than a relay of information.

How is she supposed to tell someone their one-night stand resulted in child out of wedlock?

Rachel sighs heavily, a hand raising absentmindedly to fix her bangs, and she stares at the phone number again, but no new surge of confidence comes.

If anything, she more terrified than before, if that's even possible.

She realizes she's clutching the napkin so tightly it's threatening to tear, and so she drops it like it's on fire with a harsh gasp. She's crying. Again.

Before she breaks down into hysterics, she quickly stuffs his number back into her nightstand and closes it with a loud thump.

She figures maybe he just doesn't need to know.

(He does, but she doesn't know how to tell him.)

"I'm not ready to be a mother. I'm going to be a terrible mother. I just - I can't. I'm going to screw something up, I know it. I mean, what if I do something wrong and the kid ends up being a cannibalistic serial killer? Or worse, what if the baby hates me? What if I ruin my own child's life? I can't do this," she shakes her head furiously and places her hands on the counter in order to keep herself standing. "I'm not ready to do this."

"Rachel," Mike says softly, his hands gently cupping her face. "Rachie, breathe. Okay? You need to breathe."

She tries taking a deep breath as instructed, but it rattles in her throat, and does nothing to help calm her growing hysteria. "I'm supposed to have a Tony and a record contract and millions of adoring fans, and - and this isn't how it's supposed to happen. Where are my fans, or my contract, or my Tonys? Where are my Tonys? You know I need them Mike. I need them."

"What you need is to calm the fuck down," Puck commands, pushing Mike aside in order to clutch her arms tight. "You are acting bat-shit crazy right now. Like Mrs. Berman on borscht day."

Her eyes widen a little and she clutches his shirt between her fingers. "Oh god."

He nods in agreement and shakes her a little. "Alright you need to breathe so your kid can breathe, or however the fuck that works, and you need to sit your ass in a chair and not move a single inch while Mike pampers you and shit."

"What? Why me?"

"You listening to me Rach?" Puck asks, ignoring Mike's whining.

"But my Tonys - "

He shakes his head as he steers her towards the couch and interrupts, "Can wait."

"But - " Puck shakes his head once again and pushes her onto the couch unceremoniously.

"Seriously. Shut up," he says forcefully before turning towards Mike. "What was it her dads would get to calm her down?"

"Water."

"Okay, I'll go get that. You deal with her."

"I can still hear you," Rachel says wildly. "I'm sitting right here."

Puck ignores her and motions at Mike to sit and talk. Mike does this little salute that makes her laugh, despite how panicked she is, which makes Mike wink and grin back at her. Puck just rolls his eyes.

Once Puck's disappeared into the kitchen, Mike turns to her with an unusually serious frown on his face. "What's wrong, Rachel?"

"Were you not just listening to me?" Rachel snaps more harshly than she'd intended. Luckily for her, Mike doesn't even bat an eyelash.

"Rachel. What is really wrong?" he repeats, his eyes staring at her intently. She avoids answering his question by accepting the cool glass of water Puck brings back and taking large greedy gulps. Puck and Mike share one of those stupid looks that they think she doesn't understand, but in reality she understands perfectly well.

It annoys her sometimes, when they think she needs so much protecting. That she can't take care of herself. The thought makes her want to laugh, considering she's practically been the one taking care of them for more than fifteen years. Ever since the two boys beat up Steven Monroe for calling her dress ugly and she had to lie to the teacher about their behavior.

She needs to take care of them far much more than they need to take care of her. Mike still calls her nearly every week with some question about his laundry, and Puck doesn't even know how to file his taxes properly without her help.

Puck interrupts her train of thought when he clears his throat, frowns, and says her name. "Rachel."

"What?"

"Please, let us help you."

She sighs, slightly sad, slightly in defeat, and licks her lips slowly. "This just...it - it isn't how I expected it was going to be. I'm supposed to be married, with a dog and a house that's lined with pictures of me at various different, but equally fabulous, events. But none of that is happening. I'm single, with a dead end job and a tiny apartment. I don't even have a cat because I don't know the first thing about how to take care of one. How am I supposed to be able to handle taking care of a baby if I don't even know how to take care of a cat?" She swirls the water a little, watching the way it splashes against the glass, before adding quietly, "I'm all by myself and it scares me."

"You're not alone, though," Mike says after a brief pause. She lifts her eyes from her glass to see him smiling at her. "You've got us."

Puck snorts a little and punches her lightly in the arm. "Fuck yeah, you do."

"Language," Rachel reprimands lightly, her throat tight with emotion for these two wonderfully stupid boys next to her.

"Sure thing, Rach. And fuck, we've gotten into so much shit together that a baby is going to be a piece of cake." Puck grins reassuringly and Mike pats her knee.

He talks like it's their baby, all three, and maybe it is, she realizes. Maybe it can be theirs and this doesn't need to ruin her life.

But no.

It's not really ruining it, she thinks. This just might be making her life better.

Mike's eyes are bright, and Puck's grin is infectious, and she knows she can do this by herself, as long as she has these dummies.

About two week after taking the pregnancy tests, she goes to the doctor where it is confirmed. Rachel Berry is with child. Just the thought makes her want to throw up, but she already does that enough. So, she swallows it down and smiles wide enough to nearly convince herself that she's ready for everything.

Later, she tearily confesses everything to her fathers over the phone, who surprisingly, are excited for a grandchild, never mind the situation.

She even updates her facebook status and everyone congratulates her with talk of due dates, and genders, and baby showers, and she honestly touched by all the love everyone is feeling for her.

In all, everything is relatively normal.

Until it's suddenly not.

tbc