She's getting restless.

She's always been slight, so once she gets to about four months pregnant, and starts to have a noticeable bump, she gets uncomfortable.

Five months, and she's only growing further, and she can't stand up for long without putting her hand on her back to steady herself.

Six months, she can't sleep the night.

She paces around his room as quietly as she can so as not to wake him, with an agitated sigh and a hand on her back. She rubs her bump, she sits, she lies, she stands, and nothing settles her.

"Okay," he announces himself. She's caught off guard, thinking he was asleep. He throws himself ungainly from bed, not bothering to find a shirt, and grabs his keys from the nightstand. "We're going for a drive."

"What?" she asks, because it's two o'clock in the morning, and there's nowhere to drive to. She half thinks he might be sleepwalking.

"That's the only time your eye ever stops doing that twitchy thing. In the car," he explains. "I wouldn't have noticed, but my dad used to drive my mom around when she was pregnant with the monster." He never uses his sister's name. "Papa needs his sleep, but he can't do that unless momma gets her sleep, and she can't do that until baby goes to sleep. So the baby is going to sleep."

"Oh," she says, standing at his window.

"Let's go," he says at the open door, irritated.

They pile into his truck, because it's fucking-freezing-Fabray, get in the fucking car and close the fucking door already and he still hasn't bothered with a shirt, or pants, or shoes, or anything beyond a pair of boxer shorts, and he turns on the AC to heat.

And it's two o'clock on a Wednesday morning, but they're driving their baby to sleep.

He's not into 'driving tired' because those ads the Government always have on tv about tired drivers killing their families really creep him out, so they make sure to talk so he can stay awake.

"Alright, baby," she says, gently rubbing her stomach after a couple of minutes. "It's sleeping time now, honey."

"Yeah," Puck agrees, with a rough two-o'clock-in-the-morning gear change. "You can't tell cause you don't have windows or anything, but it's dark time, now."

"Mommy and Daddy have Glee tomorrow afternoon, and then Daddy has to work. And we've got school, so we're going to need some sleep."

He's caught off-guard. She does it a fair bit these days, but it still hurts him a bit every time she refers to them as 'Mommy and Daddy'.

She fiddles with the radio, and finds a song he likes. His mouth turns up at the corners, and she adjusts herself uncomfortably in the seat. She was reading one of her pregnancy books once and found it helps if you sing – something about the steady song or the vibrations or something. She doesn't know this song, but he sure does, so he sings along, and soon, he realises her eyelids have begun to droop, and she's falling asleep on him. He knows the next song, too, and by the end of it, she's out like a light.

He sighs when he pulls up at his house a half hour after they left. He takes a deep breath because it's still fucking freezing out there, but he gets out anyway, and pulls his sleeping girls out of the truck, cradling Quinn in his arms.

He lays her back down in his bed, and they sleep blissfully solid next to him until their alarm.