Noah "Puck" Puckerman (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fullcommando) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} wariscoming,@ 2010-07-17 22:36:00 |
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WHAT: He's concerned. Babies can't be born in apocalypses!
WHEN: Afternoon.
WHERE: Just outside of the apartment complex.
RATING: PG-13 to start - mostly because Puck has a mouth.
The world was never supposed to be this way. Dramatic? Always. Filled with monsters, aliens, angels, demons, and who even knew what else? Never. Not outside of TV and some religion (which Puck never thought he'd see come to life), but never right before his very eyes. The last Puck could remember, his greatest concerns had been whether or not he was going to be a success out on the football field, scoring the hottest piece of ass in school, and not getting his chops busted for breaking the rules. Now he had to worry about not getting killed and, inevitably, whether or not the world was going to end because some crazy bitch demon was out there trying to let the friggin' Devil out of his cage. As far as Puck was concerned? That was some pretty fucked up shit. He wanted to go back to the way things were; Quinn glaring at him through the halls, Mr. Schue telling them all some lame crap about how they could be all they could be with their talent and youth or whatever, and even Coach Sylvester going right back behind his back (or mostly even to Mr. Schue's face) and telling him and his students that they would all amount to nothing one day. Hey, it was better to live a life where the head of the Cheerios squad was telling you that you were a big nothing than to wake up one day and realize that there was a very good chance that you were gonna die. Puck had never died before, nor did he ever want to die. He didn't want to suffer the torment, he didn't want to feel the pain, and he certainly didn't want to know what came after all this living stuff.
Besides, he was too attractive to die. What would the world do without his guns around to show it the way?
Puck was currently sitting along the steps that led up to the entrance of the apartment building. The guitar that he had finally managed to buy with some of his money from work (the money that wasn't going toward the baby fund) was currently propped up against the wall behind him, only just having retired from it's use that afternoon. Fingers scraping over the mohawk spread across his head, Puck looked down into the street and frowned. He had never really been all that deep or whatever, but he wasn't all that much of an idiot either. There were moments - kinda like this one - where he'd sometimes actually take the time to sit out and think. It wasn't deep or anything, it was just...thoughts. The kind of stuff any guy in his position should have worried about. Keeping his job, making sure that Quinn stayed safe 'cause of the carrying his baby thing, making sure that they had enough money to support said baby when it finally arrived...
If the baby actually arrived. The way people were talking about the literal end of the world made Puck wonder if they were ever going to see Baby Peach or Baby Mario or whoever it was that the baby would be called (okay, okay - fine - she) come along. There would be no children if they didn't survive this thing. There'd be nothing, right? That was how the story went? Bad guys win, the world crumbles into chaos. Not even the cool kind of chaos, like in the movies. This was just a pile of suckage that Puck did not want to ever have to deal with. He might have taken the claim to being a tough guy, but he was nowhere near capable enough to fight demons and stuff on his own. He wouldn't admit that though; Puck had his pride, after all. That didn't stop him from sitting around worrying about whether or not he was going to be able to keep his baby safe.
...which was actually very much what he was doing right now.