This Doesn't Need To Get Complicated: Chapter One
Title: This Doesn't Need to Get Complicated
Fandom/Pairing: Glee - Puck and Rachel
Summary/Prompt: Rachel asks Puck to be her donor. Puck agrees as long as they do it the old fashioned way
Rating/Word Count: T/2,233 words
A/N: It was originally a prompt on the puckrachel drabble meme, but I'm slowly trying to turn into a multi-chap fic
Rachel cleared her throat, smoothing out imaginary creases in her jeans, as she felt the heavy gaze of Puck bearing down on her.
“Are we just gonna sit here, Rach?” He asked, sounding more amused than impatient at her obvious stalling. “You’re the one that wanted to talk.”
Rachel nodded, forcing herself to look up and meet his eyes. “I…I wanted to ask you a question.”
Despite the grandfather clock in the corner chiming the midnight hour, Rachel Berry was sitting curled up in her favorite arm chair, sipping at her recently brewed tea as she slowly went through the files that had been open on her laptop screen since she arrived home earlier that evening.
Pie charts, graphs, bullet points; it was all research for the latest path in life she was considering. She knew that deciding to have a baby wasn’t meant to be so impersonal or methodical, but she was Rachel Berry and it wasn’t a decision she couldn’t comfortably make without her typical extensive research.
She was still young, she had only just turned twenty five the month before, and she had a starring role in the most recent revival of Wicked on Broadway; this had been her dream, ever since she was in nursery school. She had her name in lights, and she wasn’t prepared to give it up lightly; but she couldn’t ignore the sudden urges that had taken control.
“I’ve…I’ve given this a lot of consideration,” she can’t explain the stutter she’s apparently developed; she was normally an overly annoying confident person. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m at that point in life where I’m ready to start a family. I want a baby.”
Puck’s eyebrow rose and an amused smirk crossed his face. She suspected that he knew how their conversation was going to end when she had started speaking rapidly and he could only catch words like family, baby, father, Jewish; but he wasn’t about to make this any easier for her to ask; he was enjoying watching her get all flustered as he forced her to slow down and repeat what she had just said.
“Do you want something to drink?” She backed away from the upcoming question.
“You’ve asked me three times already Rach. You’re stalling. Can we hurry this up at all?”
Rachel threw her head back, taking two deep breaths to calm herself down. “I want…I’m asking…Would you donate your sperm?” She asked it bluntly.
She knew that she had plenty of time to have a family, but the maternal switch in her body had been turned on, without any warning, and she couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. First it had been her high school friend Quinn Fabray telling her that she was with child; then it had been Marissa and Elise, two theatre friends. Tina Cohen-Chang had been the fourth friend in as many weeks to tell her that she was going to have a baby.
Everywhere the tiny brunette went, she saw pregnant women and strollers; she stopped to smile at babies in coffee shops and couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed anymore by the crying toddlers in Central Park.
Something was telling her that now was the time to be a mother; and all her research concurred with the decision.
She was an independent woman, it didn’t matter that she was making this decision despite not being in a relationship. She didn’t need to have a husband to raise this baby properly, her daddies had done just fine with her without a mother figure around.
“You want to have my kid?” Puck’s eyebrow rose even further. Rachel had gone extremely quiet, extremely un-Berry like, after managing to force out the question. Even though Puck had known this was coming once she had started talking about babies, he just wanted to clarify.
Rachel nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “As I was saying, I’ve given this a lot of consideration, and I believe that you’re the best man. Clearly you have superior physical attributes that are aesthetically attractive, and you have a healthy appreciation for music and our shared Jewish ancestry eliminates any possible future conflicts. You’re also the type of man who wants to be involved in their child’s life, and that is something that I would be ideal.”
She had taken the information she had collected at the sperm bank to the theatre with her the afternoon after she’d made her decision, planning to go through the information before the show started. The woman at the bank had been more than accommodating and she had more than enough information to work with.
It was incredible, how detailed the information on potential donors was; she could narrow her choices down by eye and hair color, their height, their ancestry, their education. It was overwhelming to know so much information about a stranger who was willing to give her half of their DNA.
She hadn’t been able to keep her confidence going for long though; her inner monologue flared as she slowly began to dress for the night’s show. But how do you know you’re choosing the best choice for the baby? What can you really tell about a man by looking at a single profile? What if the child wants to someday know who their father is; what are you going to tell them? That he had a political science degree and green eyes?
The truth was, growing up; she had always believed that she would be in a relationship before she started a family, that her baby would have a father-figure as they grew up. A donor (a piece of paper) couldn’t do that. She was going to make sure that her future included one of those things.
“Have you actually thought about this Rachel?” Gone was the amused tone in his voice, the playful smirk; he had leant forward in his chair; completely serious. “Have you seriously considered what you’re asking me?”
Rachel nodded again, words failing her for the first time since she had first learnt how to talk at the age of one. “I…I can’t think of anyone better.” She affirmed. “I can make an appointment down at the clinic for later this week and…”
“Rach, Rachel.” Puck cut her off, the smirk back in place. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this right.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you want my kid, we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
Rachel stalled. She was talking to Noah Puckerman; she was asking Noah Puckerman - the sex god from Lima, Ohio to help her father a child. Of course he was going to ask to do this the old-fashioned way, why go to the sterilized, impersonal clinic when they could just go into the bedroom? She should have suspected he’d insist on this to begin with.
“Fine, okay.” Rachel nodded; it really wasn’t such an outrageous request. If she listened to any of the gossip of the women at the bar where he sometimes played, he was a great lover. Except for the fleeting week back in sophomore year when they did nothing more except make out, she hadn’t seen his sexual prowess (not for lack of trying on his behalf). Why should she turn that down?
“Now?”
“If we want this to work properly, I’ve strategized a timeline that shows exactly when I have the highest chance…”
“It’s late Rach, I have work early in the morning; I don’t really care about how you planned this. When are we doing it?” He didn’t mean to make it sound like he was brushing her off, he wasn’t; but he didn’t need to hear about how she came to the conclusion of when the best time to conceive was.
“Next week?”
Puck nodded, “I’ll see ya then, babe.”
After she had walked Puck to the door of her fifth floor apartment, she poured herself a large glass of her favorite red wine and relaxed back into the armchair; turning on the West Side Story soundtrack. She closed her eyes, imaging what her life would be like as a mother, giving all her energy and devotion to someone who depended on her entirely on her. She thought of her two-bedroom Upper West Side apartment covered with toys, with a little girl crawling around on the floor; exploring and discovering.
She knew that she would be a great mother.
((XX))
“What?” Puck held his cell phone away from his ear as he finished work for the day, the voice on the other end startling him before they burst out in uncontrollable laughter. “Rachel Berry wants your kid? Was she drunk when she asked?”
“Hilarious San,” Puck grumbled; wondering why he had even mentioned anything to Santana Lopez in the first place. Of course she would find the situation hilarious. “She was serious, and completely sober.”
The laughing continued, though it slowed down as the Latina started to struggle for air. “It’s just…” She trailed off from her thoughts, unable to voice them.
“Yeah,” It didn’t matter. He understood completely, “It kinda surprised me as well.”
“Are you going through with it?” It took Santana a couple of minutes to completely settle down enough to be able to carry a conversation again, and then the law student got completely serious.
“Of course I am.”
Santana went completely silent and Puck thought it was possibly worse than the laughter; he didn’t know that was possible.
“Good luck,” Santana finally responded. “If you’ve volunteered for the job of giving Berry a kid, you’re going to need all the luck you can get when she goes all crazy hormonal and she blames you.”
That was followed with the sound of the dial tone as she ended the call before he could even comprehend what she had just said.
((XX))
“ Puck, diva? What made you choose Noah Puckerman of all the people you know?”
Rachel was sitting in the local Starbucks, sipping at her decaf latte, staring at Kurt Hummel while he considered her closely; a confused expression slowly crossing his boyish face.
“Noah is a perfectly suitable man for the job; he’s musical, he’s athletic, he’s driven and his Jewish…” She listed off his attributes.
“He’s absolutely gorgeous and manly,” Kurt agreed succinctly, “But this is the man that slushied you basically every day for the first two years of high school. He made everyone’s lives hell.”
“He’s changed.” Rachel insisted; this wasn’t up for debate. “I’m seeing next week.” She flashed a bright smile.
The fashion designer gave her a knowing smirk as he sipped at his own drink, wondering what their former Glee clubbers were going to think of what Rachel and Puck were getting themselves into.
((XX))
Rachel Berry does not get nervous.
She won her first dancing competition when she was only three months old; she brought her high school Glee club to National’s victory, twice. She managed to land the starring role as Elphaba on Wicked at the age of twenty three.
She was sitting at the bar of a local, crowded bar; watching as Noah sat up on the stage; serenading the surprisingly large female population with just his voice and his guitar. It wasn’t his everyday job; it was what he did to blow off steam a couple of times a week.
“So, you two are really doing it tonight.” The seat next to her vacated and almost immediately someone slid into it, grabbing the bar tender’s attention. Santana glanced at Rachel and her smirk grew even wider. “Are you nervous Berry?”
Rachel vehemently shook her head, her raven hair that had been left loose for the night spreading out around her. Then she squeaked, an uncommon sound coming out of the performer’s mouth. “A little,” She conceded quietly. “It’s just, it’s Noah.” She gestured to the stage. “Look at how everyone is fawning over him, I can’t help but feel a little bit intimidated.”
Santana pushed one beer bottle over to the now-panicking woman. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She promised.
They sat in silence while Santana chugged the drink back, and Rachel sipped at the drink not used to the bitter aftertaste it left in her throat.
“Listen,” Santana sighed after she finished the bottle, sounding like she’d just finished an internal fight. “There’s nothing to be intimidated about. It’s Puck. If he didn’t want to do this, he would have said no. He wouldn’t have agreed if he was serious.”
“Thanks, Santana.” Rachel smiled, slightly surprised at the other woman’s kind words and encouragement.
She shrugged, the Santana that Rachel knew sliding back into place. “Whatever, I think you’re both crazy for doing this.”
((XX))
“Are you ready Rachel?” Puck had fought his way through the crowds of women to stand behind Rachel. He rested one hand on her shoulder as he spoke, and he felt her jump. “You've been terrorizing her Santana?” He glanced at his old lover.
“Who me?” Santana smiled, sweet innocence flooding into her expression. Puck’s eyes narrowed, it was always the worst when Lopez played the innocent card.
“Don’t listen to her babe,” Puck guided Rachel out of her seat. “Let’s get out of here.”
Rachel’s smooth, petite hand slid into Puck’s larger calloused one as they exited the bar into the night. It’s just Noah, Rachel breathed to herself as she glanced quickly up at him again. There’s absolutely nothing to be nervous about.
Chapter Two