Lima Loser (1/?)
Title: Lima Loser (1/?)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Puck/Quinn, eventual Puck/Kurt, Beth Puckerman, Burt Hummel, probable appearances from the rest of the ensemble, a handful of OCs
Genre: angst, family, friendship, romance
Warnings: Non-descriptive heterosexual sex
Spoilers: Seasons 1 and 2, although I’m ignoring all of Puck’s Season 2 storylines. It will become clear why.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately, I don’t.
Author’s notes: This one is a slow burner, guys. I should be patient and wait to post until I have more of this written, but I can’t because I just want you all to read it. This idea mutated from one of my drabbles for the 30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles in June, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t.
Summary: Puck has always known he’d never be anything more than a Lima loser.
Word count: 2400ish
Today is the same as most of Puck’s days. He wakes to Beth jumping into the space between him and Quinn in their bed. He rolls out, grabs his daughter and gets her set up with some Cheerios before getting Dylan from his crib, changing his diaper and bringing him into the kitchen. Quinn leaves the house at eight for her nine AM class, and Puck has the kids out the door by eight-fifteen to drop them off at day care so he make it to Hummel Tires and Lube by quarter to nine. He changes oil, changes tires, changes brake pads and occasionally gets to answer the phone from nine to five. A few days a week Kurt is there, making some extra money, but today isn’t one of those days. It’s just Puck, Burt and John, the part-time kid just out of high school. He picks the kids up at day care by five-thirty and usually has dinner on the table by six-fifteen or six-thirty, just in time for Quinn to get home from class.
“Mama!” Beth cries happily, wiggling in her booster seat and reaching for Quinn as soon as she crosses the threshold into the kitchen, who smiles tightly at the almost-five-year-old before dropping a kiss on the top of Beth’s dark, curly-haired head.
“What’s for dinner?” She asks the kitchen table, rather than actually looking at Puck, who’s sitting in front of Dylan’s high chair and trying to coax a spoonful of mashed carrots into the baby’s mouth.
“Mac ‘n cheese. And green beans.” Beth says, clumsily scooping a few orange noodles into her mouth.
Quinn sighs and walks over to the stove, spooning out a bowlful of the macaroni for herself. Puck can’t help thinking that even with dark circles under her eyes and her hair in a sloppy ponytail, she’s still the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He just wishes he could feel something besides indifference when he looks at her.
They barely exchange two words with each other while they go through the usual bedtime routine. Quinn gives Dylan his bath while Puck reads Beth the five books she picks out and then they switch, Puck putting Dylan down in his crib while Quinn tucks Beth in. Puck cleans the kitchen while Quinn sits at the kitchen table, fighting her way through as much schoolwork as she can before her eyelids start to droop.
“My mom offered to take the kids this weekend.” Quinn says as they’re getting ready for bed.
Puck considers it for a moment. They haven’t had sex in months. The kids are a convenient excuse, but Puck knows the real reason, even if Quinn doesn’t.
“Up to you.” He shrugs.
Quinn sighs and crawls into bed, rolling onto her side, facing away from him. Puck flicks the light off and is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
* * *
“Morning Kurt,” Puck greets him as Kurt crosses the threshold of the employee entrance into the main garage. Kurt isn’t sure how Puck manages to get to work before him every morning when he’s trying to get out the door with two kids, but he always does.
Kurt doesn’t ever admit that his favourite days in the garage are the ones with Puck, but he also does an excellent job of timing his shifts when he knows the other man will be working. (Not that it’s particularly difficult. Puck is usually working, except on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. Beth has swim lessons on Wednesdays and Quinn works the first shift at the Lima Bean on Saturdays. Kurt also doesn’t admit that he absorbs these minute details about the Puckerman family like a sponge takes on water.)
He knows Puck thinks it was Finn who got him the job at Hummel Tires and Lube, but it was actually Kurt who suggested to his father that Puck might need a job when he dropped out of high school to take care of Beth. Kurt has never set the record straight, mostly because he’s afraid of what it might do to their growing friendship if Puck thought he somehow owed Kurt.
“Hello Puck,” Kurt smiles. “Coffee on yet?”
“Was just about to make some. Unless you want to…?” Puck shoots him a smile.
This is their usual morning bit. Kurt is the only one who can work the coffee maker at all. Puck, Burt and John go through the pretences of getting out the filters and the coffee can like they’re going to attempt to brew a pot, dawdling until Kurt arrives to make the coffee himself. Kurt isn’t sure what they do on the days he isn’t there. Probably send John to the Lima Bean.
“That Bio class treating you any better?” Puck asks, leaning against the hood of a Mazda that needs a new back bumper while they wait for the coffee.
Kurt frowns. “No. It’s awful. I hate core requirements. Why can’t I just take writing and theatre classes and be done with it?”
“Because you graduate with a degree like that and you’ll be qualified to live in a cardboard box.” Burt says, coming out of the office. “Morning, boys.”
“Hey, Burt.”
“Hey, Dad, is there any room on the schedule for me to pick up a few extra shifts?”
“Do you want Sundays?” Burt offers, getting out his coffee mug. Puck’s Darth Vader mug is already sitting on the counter, as is Kurt’s black and white striped mug.
Kurt frowns. “I thought you and Puck had Sundays.”
“We do.” Burt shrugs. “But Carole suggested I start taking another day off, and I think the two of you could manage being here without me.”
Kurt can’t help noticing the way Puck’s face lights up. “Okay,” he agrees. “Sundays sound good.” He doesn’t think it’s a bad idea for his dad to cut back on his hours anyway.
The coffee finishes brewing and Kurt pours coffee into the three mugs lined up on the counter, remembering to leave room for milk in Puck’s. Burt flicks through the appointment book, assigning Kurt the oil changes and letting Puck deal with the brakes and the tires. Burt usually deals with the walk-ins and anything that needs more than a quick fix.
Kurt pulls a face at his father’s back as Burt returns to the office. “Oil changes are boring.”
Puck snorts. “You think all of it is boring.”
“That’s not true. I love everything else that isn’t changing oil. Except brakes. Brakes are boring too.”
“So all the things you’re not certified to do.” Puck teases.
“Neither are you.” Kurt shoots back good-naturedly.
“Not yet, but I’m starting the tests next month.”
“Really?”
Puck nods. “Yeah. Your dad’s been letting me stay late on Fridays to practice.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m gonna need the pay raise.” Puck admits. “Day care is killing me.”
Kurt is never sure what he’s supposed to say, when Puck mentions things like day care or new shoes for kids that grow too fast. It’s so far outside Kurt’s scope of understanding that he feels like anything he could say would somehow be patronising. He thinks asking about Beth and Dylan would be a good enough transition, but before he his first oil change of the day arrives.
Puck likes working with Kurt. It’s never awkward the way it can be with John, and he doesn’t feel nervous the way he sometimes does when it’s just him and Burt. Kurt sings along to the radio while he’s working. His voice is a little deeper than it was in high school, but it still gives Puck chills, listening to Kurt sing. Kurt usually brings his school stuff with him to work on during the lulls and Puck likes watching him study out of the corner of his eye. He looks so focused, determined in a way that Puck hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s not the way Kurt looks when he’s working on cars. He’s relaxed then-the work comes as naturally to him as breathing, almost. Not that it surprises Puck. He’s learned enough about Kurt over the past few years to know that he practically grew up in the shop.
Kurt’s studying now, his head bent over a thick textbook and his forehead wrinkled in conversation. He’s making frustrated noises and he keeps ripping pages out of his notebook, crumpling them up and shooting them with perfect aim into the garbage can.
“You should have played basketball.” Puck grins.
Kurt pulls a face. “No thank you. The football uniform I could tolerate. You’d never get me into a basketball uniform.”
“Bio?” Puck asks, nodding at the notebook.
“Stats. Decided I’d better fill my math requirement this semester.” Kurt’s face lights up. “You’re good at math, right?”
“Er. Yeah. Sort of.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “I know you balance the books, Puck, so it’s obviously better than sort of. C’mere.”
Puck crosses to where Kurt’s sitting behind the counter.
“Is this algebra-based or calc-based stats?” Puck asks, frowning. “Because I never got around to taking calc.”
“Neither did I,” Kurt says. “So I’m assuming there’s no calculus here. Although it might explain things if there was.”
Puck leans over Kurt’s shoulder, fighting the urge to press his face against Kurt’s neck and just inhale. Kurt somehow smells citrusy even after being up to his elbows in grease all day. He stares down at the equations, which for a few seconds are nothing but a jumble of letters and numbers.
Then, “Standard deviation? Kurt, this is so easy.”
“For you, maybe.” Kurt grumbles.
“Yeah, and I didn’t even finish high school. C’mon, I’ll walk you through it.”
It takes a few problems before Kurt gets the hang of it, but when he does, he smiles wide at Puck, which sets Puck’s heart hammering in his chest. Kurt is totally oblivious to how beautiful he is, even in coveralls with grease smeared across his forehead.
Sometimes, when he’s feeling sorry for himself, he wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t been so afraid in high school; if he’d been the boy who’d held Kurt’s hand in the hallway instead of the one who threw him into dumpsters. If he’d had the balls to be honest about who he is, instead of desperately trying to fuck himself straight. Quinn wouldn’t have gotten pregnant-or at least, not by him. He wouldn’t have gotten married. He would have finished high school, maybe even gone to college.
He shoves the thought aside, because he can’t change the past. In spite of everything, he’s not sure he’d want to even if he could. That would mean giving up Beth and Dylan, which Puck could never do.
Kurt’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts. “Earth to Puckerman?”
“Sorry. What’s up?” Puck says, feeling his cheeks heat up when he realises he’s been standing and staring at Kurt.
“I was just saying it’s already two-thirty. Don’t you have to go pick the kids up? It’s Wednesday.”
“Fuck. You’re right. Thanks for that.”
“No problem,” Kurt smiles again.
“You here tomorrow?” Puck asks.
Kurt shakes his head. “No. Class all day tomorrow and Friday. I’m back Saturday.”
“All right. See you Saturday afternoon.”
“Bye. And thanks for the math help.”
* * *
Thursday and Friday pass slowly, the only break to their normal routine being Judy coming to pick up Beth and Dylan on Friday evening before dinner. Puck hates to see them go, because it leaves him and Quinn alone in a house with nothing but their silences. They have a stilted conversation over dinner, mostly about their children.
“I took tomorrow morning off.” Quinn says. Puck wants to protest, to tell her he wishes she hadn’t. They need the money, they’re always going to need the money, but it’s not worth arguing about. It’s already done, and he thinks he knows Quinn’s intentions.
“Relax.” She tells him after they finish eating and he starts to clear the table. “Go take a shower.”
When Puck emerges from the shower, he’s not remotely surprised to see Quinn stretched out on their bed in a lacy bra and matching underwear. He can tell she’s self-conscious about it from the tense set of her shoulders. He’s not surprised that she feels insecure. The last time they’d gone through this whole charade, he hadn’t even been able to get it up. He’d blamed exhaustion, but there were only so many times he could do that before she stopped believing him.
“We don’t have any condoms, Q.” He says, doing his best to keep the weary tone out of his voice.
“It’s fine. I’m on the pill.” She reminds him.
Puck snorts. “No way. The last time I heard that, we got Dylan.”
Her lower lip trembles, and Puck feels like shit. Their marriage isn’t great, but Puck never deliberately tries to hurt her.
“Please, Noah,” she whispers. “We don’t have to have sex. Can we just fool around a little?”
The irony is not lost on Puck, how many times he said those words in high school, never meaning it. Quinn doesn’t mean it now either. She’s hoping they’ll start fooling around and he’ll get carried away. He has a sudden, overwhelming urge to tell her. He imagines saying the words-Q, I’m gay-standing here still dripping from his shower while she sits there in her underwear. He can’t. He’s never told anyone and he doesn’t want his wife to be the first one he tells. Mostly because he’s afraid of her reaction.
So he joins her on the bed and leans in to kiss her. He doesn’t imagine how different (better) it would be, pressed up against a body of flat planes instead of soft curves. Imagining someone else isn’t fair to either of them. Instead he focuses on Quinn, distracting her with his mouth and his hands.
For a long time after Quinn falls asleep, Puck lays awake listening to her steady breathing and wondering if he’s ever going to find the courage to change.