New Directions

Regionals were that weekend, so New Directions was rehearsing like mad.

Puck thought they had a real chance of moving on to Nationals, even though they were going up against one team that had beat them last year and another that was the love child of a barbershop quartet and a boy band. Aural Intensity beat them only because New Directions had gotten screwed out of the W, and Dalton was going down because their mascot had died (and he, Noah Puckerman, had absolutely nothing to do with that). New Directions' songs were so awesome that if they didn't get the win that was rightfully theirs, he was going to take a flamethrower to the auditorium.

With that confidence, however, came a lot of nervous energy and Puck needed to blow off some steam. In a previous life, he might have done it by nailing one of the Cheerios under the bleachers or throwing a couple of kids into Dumpsters, but this time his only option, really, was to pump some iron.

There were a couple of hockey meatheads in the weight room when he got there, but with Karofsky gone and a bunch of halfway decent dudes from the basketball team present for backup, they didn't pick on Puck, not even when he "cordially" invited them to watch the Glee Club compete at Regionals.

((OOC: Of course, the mod post went up on Saturday, Philippine time, so I thought Regionals was this coming weekend. Thank you, International Date Line. Nevertheless, Puck refuses to think of any other activity for the week so you're all stuck with this :-p))

Football was over and they didn't have basketball practice that day, so Puck decided to hang out in the choir room and play some tunes, partly to psyche himself up for Regionals (Aural Intensity, and Blaine and the Boys Dalton were going DOWN) and also practice for American Idiot. (Thanks to the show, Psychic Cousin was adding a lot more Green Day to its repertoire.)

It was just one of those days when he didn't have anything better or more important to do, and if anyone else showed up to hang out, he guessed that was cool.

Apart from the time he spent with Santana (which Quinn totally knew about), Puck had been an attentive boyfriend all night. Dances, compliments, cups of probably-not-spiked punch, pigs-in-a-blanket... Quinn hadn't wanted for anything that evening. He knew he had messed up, not just with the way he had asked her to the dance, and he wanted to make up for it in a big way. He was pretty sure Quinn had welcomed the attention, and either he had done things just right or she was too polite to tell him to simmer down.

If Puck had overdone things, it was because he was nervous. Quinn once complained that he hadn't made a move on her since Sarah was born, so all night he had wrestled with the question of whether or not to invite her to park on Makeout Mountain.

If he suggested that they go, then there was the chance that she would say no. He decided to surprise her, and if she wanted to go home, then he would be a gentleman and do so. They didn't have to do anything she wasn't ready for (even though he, with the boxful of rubbers courtesy of Carmel stashed under the back seat, was ready for anything).

Puck willed himself to remain calm as they drove out of the McKinley parking lot. "Did you have a nice time at the dance?" he asked, hoping to distract her with some conversation.

The McKinley High gym has been nicely decorated for the evening, the Valentine's Day committee having spent the intervening hours between school and the start of the dance wielding streamers and balloons and setting up tables. The very center of the gym has been cleared out for the dance floor, and circular tables surround that for people to sit at, eat and talk between dances. A long table at the back of the gym has been set up for the DJ, and one other table to the side is for the basketball team's fund raising table, selling roses and other Valentine's Day goodies. The usual gym concession stand is now stocked with punch and snacks.

The teachers who have been enlisted to serve as chaperons are keeping a watchful eye on the activities on the dance floor...though they're not really keeping a close eye on the doors leading into the rest of the school. They might want to keep an eye on that.

There is a red carpet leading from the outside into the dance...let's get this party started!

It was always a tough job, picking up Sarah to take her to his house for the weekend. Even though she had her own bed and supplies at the Puckerman home, there was always a boatload of extra stuff that the kid needed, like some newfangled organic stuff that her Grandma Fabray thought she should try, and a bunch of new favorite toys that of course had to be brought over along with her old favorite toys. Puck was always preoccupied with figuring out how to cram it all in the truck, and bundle up Sarah properly, and remember Mrs. Fabray's latest instructions.

He was pretty sure he managed to remember it all this time, even though he had a niggling feeling that he had forgotten something.

Puck finally remembered what it was after he and Sarah had arrived. While his mom and Becky fussed over the baby and got her settled in, he picked up the phone to call Quinn and let her know that they got home safely.

"Hey," he said when she answered. "We're here."

The Titans' first game was that weekend, and Coaches Black and Beiste had been working hard whipping the new lineup into shape.

This year, of course, they had lost a couple of key players to graduation, and Matt Rutherford and the Brunelli brothers had moved away. However, the Titans still had the core of last year's lineup, whatever that was worth; and a couple of new players like Sam Evans, who was probably one of the best conditioned on the team, and Noah Puckerman, who was returning to the lineup mostly as an enforcer, after sitting out last year.

"I don't know how well we're going to do this year," Coach Black murmured to his new assistant, "but I hope this season will at least be better than the last one."

"We'll do our best to make sure that happens," Coach Beiste replied.

The head coach nodded briefly and blew his whistle, signaling the start of practice. The players quickly came together to warm up, and soon the gym came alive with the sound of squeaking sneakers and the thump of basketballs.

The stage was bare but for a few chairs , a couple of microphones, and some instruments (a piano, some drums, electric guitars, that sort of thing) and Fenton was perched on the edge. As the kids filtered in, he gave them a little wave and waited until everyone was settled into the auditorium seats.
( Once everyone was seated, he cleared his throat and spoke. )

It turned out that Quinn knew her way around the Fabrays' kitchen pretty well, because as she had said, all they really needed was chocolate chips. On the way to see her and Sarah, Puck had stopped by the store to pick some up, as well as some chopped walnuts in case she felt like adding those (his mom always had to have nuts in her cookies).

He couldn't help smiling as he got out of his truck and made his way to the front door. OK, maybe he had rediscovered his badassery while he and Quinn were apart and he was in juvie, but doing stuff like this with Quinn and the baby was nice, too.

Shifting the grocery bag to his other hand, he reached out and rang the doorbell.

The former strip club has changed a lot since the production of RENT. The stripper poles were gone, for one, and for another, there's a proper stage now. And regular theater seats, and nice stage curtains.

The set is decorated in generic winter holiday colors, red, green, blue, white. There's a few snowmen on the stage, and some trees, and some fake snow scattered on the stage.

It looks terribly festive. Mr. Schuester has enlisted some of the other more sympathetic teachers to help out with ushering people to seats and he's terribly excited to see what the kids put on.

The day of Sectionals had finally come. Three show choirs from mid-state Ohio were gathered to compete for the honor to compete some more! Regionals loomed in their futures, and after that, Nationals. In New York. It was a very big deal, and anyone who doubted that fact had never competed for anything in their lives.

Puck was not having a good day.

First, there weren't any waffles at breakfast that morning. Wednesday was Waffle Day at the Puckerman household, but his mom had been so busy at work (why were so many kids getting sick these days?!) that she had forgotten to get some at the store. So Cold Cereal Day got bumped up in the schedule and all they had was shredded wheat, and it wasn't even the frosted kind.

Second, school was boring. It was always boring, but that was why it was school and not fun.

Third, there weren't any waffles at lunch. They never had waffles in the McKinley cafeteria, but Puck wanted his waffles, dammit.

Finally - and this was the granddaddy of them all, even bigger than the absence of waffles - Puck had tried to scare convince some of the jocks to come and watch New Directions at Sectionals that weekend. It hadn't gone over too well, which was why he was now stuck inside one of the portable toilets under the bleachers at the football field.

He knew from his own toilet-stuffing days that he was stuck in a place where people hardly ever went. There was no football practice that day, which meant that there was even less chance of someone coming to get him.

Good thing these things weren't airtight; and the toilet hadn't been used, so he hadn't had anything spilled on him when the other guys had tipped it over. Still, it didn't exactly smell like roses in here.

After a long while of twiddling his thumbs and thinking of a way to get out (which centered mainly around hoping that Sue scheduled Cheerios practice outdoors that day), Puck remembered that he had his phone with him, and thank God there was a signal. Deciding not to pin all his hopes on one person, he texted everyone in his address book. Hopefully, one of them would come get him.

Something was definitely up with Karofsky. Puck wasn't completely sure because the other boy hadn't been on the football team last year, but he had been getting worse all semester.

Anyway, even if he was like this all the time, it had to stop. Not only was Karofsky terrorizing Kurt (which was totally Puck's job), he was picking on the other Glee guys, too. Now that Sam T. had mentioned it, Puck noticed that Karofsky was bugging him as well, and just a while ago, the stocky boy had pushed Mike Chang into a bank of lockers.

Puck wondered whether he should wait for Karofsky to start picking on him and then just rip the other guy's arm off.

Nah.

He threw down his pads and, catching the other Glee guys' eyes, strode over to where Karofsky was accusing Mike of being a "homo, just like Hummel, here." "Hey," he said, tapping Karofsky hard on the shoulder. "Lay off of him, and lay off of Kurt and the others, too. What did they ever do to you?"

"What did they do to me?" the other boy repeated, snorting. "They're wrecking this school, that's what. Everywhere you look, there's a homo. Even the football team isn't safe, and you Glee kids are the worst. No wonder McKinley sucks so bad at everything."

"Maybe McKinley sucks because no one cares," Puck retorted. "It's not their fault you're a lousy football player."

He wasn't no 98-pound weakling, but Karofsky was bigger, so the hard shove that Puck received sent him sprawling against the guy who had been standing behind him.

The Emergency Room at the hospital was busy; after all, it was Saturday night. People get into fights on Saturday night. People get drunk and fall down and sometimes get hurt.

And little babies sometimes get ear infections.

Puck and Quinn carried their crying baby into the Emergency Room and went up to the front desk, where Quinn was handed forms to fill out and they sat and waited. And waited, taking turns comforting their child, who was still tugging on her ear and weeping. Quinn didn't even flinch when Sarah started pulling on her braids.

She didn't care, she just wanted her baby to feel better.

"Great to have you back, Puck," Chris said as the members of Psychic Cousin hung out backstage at Murphy's, waiting to go on.

"Yeah, it's a pain in the ass auditioning replacements," Sam added. He smirked. "Thanks for saving us the trouble."

Puck smirked back. "Glad to be of service."

More than that, he was glad to be back in the band (but he wasn't going to say so out loud). Playing guitar and performing was one thing that he really loved to do, and while he was in juvie, he had been worried about losing his place. Good thing he had kept the guys posted on what was going on, and they had believed him when he said he was getting out. Now, he was back and ready to kick ass.

Just then, one of the managers at Murphy's approached. "Psychic Cousin?" she asked. "You're on next. You can set up after John's done with his set."

Eric gave the girl a charming grin. "Thanks for letting us know."

"Okay, kids, the challenge this week is 'Your Favorite Childhood Song'," Will said, once all the kids were gathered in the room. The band and Brad were there, ready to back people up.

"Let's see what you've got."

Quinn had said she was coming by with the baby at noon.

No big deal, Puck told himself as he rushed home from picking up garbage in the park, showered and dressed in clean clothes.

He had hurried home because he didn't want anyone he knew to see him on garbage detail (even though he did have a pointy stick to stab people with if they laughed), and he had to clean up because being near Sarah with garbage germs all over him was not a good idea. Certain people thought he was dumb enough already.

Brushing and flossing his teeth, combing his eyebrows and putting on some cologne had also been necessary.

Nope, not a big deal at all.

Puck had only spent a couple of weeks in juvie, and it more boring in there than anything else, but he guessed that the idea that he had actually done time in there was enough to up his badass quotient at McKinley.

As he left Figgins' office to go to his locker, people scrambled to get out of his way. He heard hushed whispers of "Puckerman" and "permanent record," and saw people bow their heads, perhaps to avoid looking him accidentally in the eye, as he walked by.

He smirked. Cool.

Of course, there was always at least one ant in the picnic. Some idiot had written "Jailbird!" on the door of his locker - in pansy-ass ballpoint pen. What a wuss.

Reaching out, Puck collared a passing geek who turned out to be Jacob ben Israel. Briefly, he was tempted to throw Jacob back, just because he was a fellow Jew, but the fact that the word was written in ballpoint pen instead of proper black marker was bothering him. "Clean that up."

"Yes, sir."

He smiled tightly as the Jewfro'd kid promptly started scrubbing at the locker door. He was starting to feel normal again. They were all afraid of him again, just like in the old days, and their fear tasted like the finest boxed wine.

Maybe getting thrown in juvie had been for the best after all.

The visiting hall in the Allen County Juvenile Treatment & Detention Center is a large room with tables and benches for the residents and their guests. It looked a lot like the cafeteria where they ate their meals, except the tables were shorter and there were more of them so that groups wouldn't have to sit together.

Visiting hours were Wednesdays, 4-8 PM and weekends, 9 AM-5 PM.

It was funny how easily you could slip back into your old routine. It was like the whole thing with Quinn, and Sarah being born, and him trying to straighten up and fly right never happened.

(But it did. He had a baby girl to help take care of now, and he shouldn't forget that.)

That night, Puck was hanging out outside the 7-Eleven with Mark, Angelo and some of the other guys who hung out in back of the school instead of actually going to class. Just like old times. Mark had boosted some dip and Fred, the biggest and oldest-looking of all of them, had scored a couple of beers, so there was some for everyone.

"You're lucky the old ball and chain let you out on a school night, Puckerman," Fred snickered as he passed Puck the can of beer.

He mustered a smile. "She's busy with the kid," he answered. "Besides, she's not the old ball and chain anymore, remember?"

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"Sorry to hear it," Mark said, shooting Fred a warning look.

Puck shrugged and took a sip of the beer. "Don't worry about it. It happens."

---

Fred didn't get much beer, but it looked like it was enough to turn Puck and his friends into idiots.

After the beer was gone, Rott and Angelo decided to go back in for more. Angelo walked out with a couple of six-packs, and Rott with the ATM that stood just inside the entrance. An alarm was shrilling inside, but rather than make them take it back, Puck's buddies just cussed out the others and tried to help them make a run for it.

Of course, they couldn't get far lugging a friggin ATM. The cops caught up with them easy, and bundled the lot - including Puck - into the backs of their squad cars.

Puck sat, dazed, in the cramped back seat with Mark and Rott. First, he'd lost the girl, and now he'd gotten caught when he hadn't before. He was seriously short on luck these days, wasn't he?

"Good to have you back, Puckerman," said one of Puck's buddies formerly from the football team as they hung out in the McKinley parking lot after school, checking out chicks and other people's rides. "For a while there, I was starting to think that you were seriously whipped."

"Hey, I'm still a dad," he answered, "but I learned that doesn't mean I can't be a badass."

It had been almost a week since the fight with Quinn. Sometimes, when he was alone, Puck thought whether not telling her about the moms had been the right thing to do - maybe she wouldn't have gotten so mad if he had come clean; on the other hand, if he had, maybe the end would have come sooner.

Most of the time, though, he just tried to forget.