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Title: Fatherhood: A Guide (Or, How Noah Puckerman and Blaine Anderson Survive Being Husbands, Stay-at-home Dads, and Badass New Yorkers)
Author: eyesarmslove
Beta: The lovely Alex (xlessxthanx3x )
Type: Multipart
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Blaine/?, Finn/Mercedes, Puck/Blaine friendship (gasp!)
Genre: Futurefic
Warning: None
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Notes: Future kid!fic.

Thank you to my lovely beta, Alex (xlessxthanx3x). This story is dedicated to you for being an inspiration to me and all Puckurtsies! I love you!

Summary: Puck was digging the dad gig. That is, he was, until the new neighbors arrived.
Word Count: 13,500, this part (26,600 overall)



“What was the point of this again?”

Puck growled in frustration, “I told you, Anderson. Kurt’s birthday is in a week and I wanted to surprise him.”

“By destroying the backyard?”

Puck glared at the shorter man. The curly haired idiot merely grinned cheekily in response, eyes probably dancing behind the obnoxious pink-rimmed sunglasses he was sporting. “Those shades are fucking gay, dude.”

“Ziva likes them. And besides I’m ‘fucking gay’, dude.” He paused, “Well, not currently fucking, but I have been known to rock men’s worlds.”

Puck snorted, “I’m not going to touch that one.”

“That’s what he said!”

Puck shot a disbelieving look at Blaine before chuckling at the childishly pleased expression that graced the writer’s features. Puck shook his head and held out his palm. Blaine stared confusedly at the proffered appendage.

“Don’t leave me hangin’. Up top, hobbit.”

Understanding finally reached Blaine and he smacked his palm against Puck’s outstretched one. “Now that we’ve reached the ‘man’ quota, how about we reevaluate your plan to surprise Kurt? Because, as it is now, the only thanks you’re going to get for this mess is a bitch slap and divorce papers.”

Puck winced and surveyed the damage inflicted on the backyard. Concrete dust was everywhere and part of Kurt’s beloved rosebush was crushed under a box of tiles that Puck haphazardly threw on top of it in an effort to avoid hitting Blaine with the box. He sighed; all he wanted was to build the outdoor kitchen Kurt has always wanted.

The interior designer loved entertaining company in their small, but beautiful backyard. They had already put a lot of work into it. Kurt tiled over the dirt lot that existed when they first bought the house two years ago. Along the edge of the tiles was the garden Kurt took care of. Instead of tiling over the entire backyard, Kurt chose to frame the sitting area with a brick-bound garden filled with rosebushes, a small vegetable and herb garden, and even a massive wisteria vine that threatened to over take the back stone wall.

Kurt managed to create a small oasis in the concrete jungle and Puck was about to pave it all to hell with spilled mortar and good intentions. All he wanted to do was construct a small island for food preparation, a sink for clean up, and an outdoor brick oven for things that Kurt would cook on something other than their grill.

It really wasn’t a tall order. Not by a long shot. Kurt and Puck pulled off much more complicated home repairs and renovations when they first bought the hundred and two year old brownstone. However, in the past three hours, Puck found out that it was more of a Kurt skill than it was a Kurt and Puck skill. He was quickly losing faith in his and Blaine’s ability to pull this off before Kurt’s party next week, when they would be having an outdoor cookout to debut the new kitchen.

“Alright. This isn’t that bad. Certainly not as disastrous as the time half the Warblers thought that they could redirect the water from the boiler room to the pool to get a heated pool.”

“Seriously? Wasn’t that school supposed to be super-smart?”

“Hey. Super rich, yes. Super smart, not so guaranteed.” Blaine looked over to where they had already constructed the sink. “Speaking of water, want to make sure we assembled the pipes for the sink correctly?”

Puck surveyed the damage done to the rest of the backyard warily, “Might as well.”

Blaine turned the faucet for the cold water. The two men waited a beat, listening to the pipes groan and clang. When nothing happened after five seconds, Puck sighed.

“Grea—“ Puck’s sarcasm was cut off with the sounds of Ziva’s shrieking coming from inside the house.

“DADDY, THE BASEMENT HAS LOTS OF WATER AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!”

Puck and Blaine scrambled to get into the house. Their panicked state wasn’t so efficient, however, as in their haste, Puck whacked Blaine in the head with the door by accident.

“FUCK!”

Puck winced, “Sorry, dude. That was my bad.”

Blaine waved him off, “Forget it. Just get inside!”

“DON’T WORRY, DADDY. XANDER CAN SWIM AND HE SAYS I CAN SIT ON HIS BACK! THIS IS GONNA BE SO MUCH FUN!”

Fuck this, Puck thought as he waded in four inches of water. I’m hiring a contractor. And buying Ziva swimming lessons.






Five days later, Puck was admiring the finished product as he waited for Blaine and the kids to arrive. The backyard was spotless and now fitted with a brand new kitchen. The basement was de-flooded and the water-damaged furniture was replaced. And, most importantly, Kurt did not know any of this, nor did he suspect a thing.

Puck could thank Kurt’s boss for this. The interior designer came home late every night this past week in an effort to do enough work to justify the week he was taking off for his birthday. Burt and Carol were flying in from Ohio and Finn and Mercedes were driving down from Connecticut with their three-year-old daughter. The house was going to be full, but both Puck and Kurt liked it that way.

Kurt’s birthday “extravaganza” was tradition at this point. Coming at the end of May, it was the perfect time for family gatherings. Mercedes was done for the semester and all Finn had was grading, which he could do easily anywhere. The New York weather was gorgeous, warm without any of the debilitating humidity that was characteristic of the late summer. So, the family would gather at Kurt and Puck’s for a week of fun and relaxation. Kurt would try his hardest to take off a week, and he usually managed to pull it off. Puck’s mother and sister would try and make it, but, unfortunately, this year his mother was hosting her sister and her husband for a visit and couldn’t leave. Sarah was still coming though, driving down with Mercedes and Finn.

Yup, it was business as usual. The only new factor was Blaine. And Xander. They would fit in nicely.

Speaking of which, where the hell are they? Puck wondered as he glanced at the clock. Blaine left over an hour ago to pick Xander and Ziva up from a friend’s house in Bay Ridge. He drove and, even factoring in the fifteen minutes he would have no doubt spent chatting with the parents, Puck figured Blaine should have been back by now. His thoughts were cut off with the sound of the phone ringing.

Without looking at the caller ID, Puck picked up the phone, “Hummel-Puckerman residence.”

An unfamiliar female voice replied, “I’m looking for Noah Puckerman.”

“You found him.”

“Hello, Mr. Puckerman. I’m a nurse in the Emergency Department of Lutheran Hospital—“ Puck stopped breathing. He could literally feel the blood draining from his face. He struggled to hear the rest of the sentence over the ringing in his ears.

“—you need to get down here as soon possible.”

“Ex—“ Puck paused, coughing. His throat was dry, cracking his voice. Puck tried swallowing against the panic and rehydrating his throat, “Excuse me, I didn’t catch all of that could you repeat it?” Puck prayed against all hope that this had nothing to do with Blaine being late; that this had nothing to do with his daughter.

“Mr. Puckerman, your daughter was involved in car accident—“

“Is she okay? Was she hurt? Is sh—“ Puck couldn’t feel his legs.

“Mr. Puckerman! Ziva is fine. She wasn’t harmed at all in the accident!”

Puck collapsed to the floor in relief. Thank God. ThankGodThankGodThankGod. A thought came to him in his haze of relief, however.

“Wait, what about Blaine? Blaine Anderson and his son Xander? They were involved too, right? Blaine was driving.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Puckerman, but I cannot divulge that information to non-family members over the phone.”

Puck swore under his breath. Louder, he said, “Alright, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He hung up the phone and, as he ran around gathering his wallet and car keys, he dialed Kurt’s number on his cell.

After two rings, Puck heard, “Hey, Noah. How’s your day going?

Puck closed his eyes and prepared himself, “Kurt, Ziva was in a car accident.”

WHAT?” Kurt’s voice was deafening in pitch and volume. He sounded as hysterical as Puck first felt, “Is she okay? Is she hurt? Noah, tell me she’s not d—

“NO!” The thought made him physically ill. “God, no, Kurt. She’s fine. She’s at Lutheran and the nurse who called said that she wasn’t injured at all.”

How did this happen?” Puck could hear Kurt getting up and scrambling around, putting his things into his bag.

“Ziva and Xander were at a playdate and Blaine went to pick them up. That’s all I know.”

“Oh my, God. Are Blaine and Xander okay? Noah, tell me they’re okay!”

“Babe, I wish I could tell you, but the nurse couldn’t tell me anything over the phone. I’m driving over to Lutheran right now. Are you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming, Noah Puckerman!” Puck winced. Stupid question. “I’m taking a cab and should be there in forty minutes. Half and hour if there’s no traffic and I get the right cab. You better not be talking on the phone while driving, Puckerman!”

“I’m getting into the car now. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Noah.”

Tears welled up in Puck’s eyes, “I love you, too.”




Never had Puck wanted to run red lights and speed as much as he did that trip to the hospital. He had more sense, however, considering the circumstances. Thirteen torturous minutes later, he was running into the Emergency Department after haphazardly parking the car a block away.

He ran up to the desk, making his way past the crowd of people that were milling about. The waiting room was packed, not an uncommon sight for a New York City emergency room. It never bothered Puck, until now when he was vying for the receptionist’s attention. Once he got it, he frantically tried to explain, “Excuse me, I’m lo—“

“DADDY!”

God bless Ziva’s enormous lungs. Puck turned quickly in the direction of Ziva’s voice. There she was, running toward him, her green sequined Converse slapping the linoleum floor. Her curls were bouncing and she looked fine. Behind her, Puck could see Xander sitting with a nurse.

Puck ran to meet her halfway and when he reached her, he bent down, allowing her to throw herself at him. Her arms tightened around his neck and he hugged her small body against his chest.

“Thank God, thank God, thank God.” Puck was shaking with adrenaline.

Ziva’s voice was muffled, her face buried in Puck’s shoulder, “I was so scared, Daddy. Everything was so loud and the glass broke and Xander’s hand was cut and—“

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” Puck ran his hand up and down Ziva’s back, hoping to calm her down. When she pulled away, he knew she was okay.

“Daddy, come meet Nurse Kathy! She stayed with us and she’s really nice!” Ziva grabbed his hand and lead Puck to where Xander was sitting next to a young brunette woman in purple scrubs.

Xander, who had been watching the two of them walk over, looked up to Puck with red-rimmed eyes. His hazel orbs were filled with fear and it occurred to Puck right then that Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

Puck bent down on one knee so that he and Xander were face to face, “How are you doing, buddy?”

The floodgates burst and Xander threw himself at Puck, not unlike how Ziva did five minutes prior. His tiny frame shook against Puck as he sobbed. Puck wound his arms around him, running one hand up and down his back and the other through his short curls.

“It’s going to be okay, buddy.” Puck couldn’t know that for sure, but Xander needed him to strong right now.

“Daddy was hurt and his head was bleeding and I tried to wake him up, but he wouldn’t wake up! Daddy always wakes up for me!”

Puck looked over Xander’s head to the nurse, who looked back sympathetically. Puck straightened, standing up. He picked up Xander and held him against his right hip as he asked, “Can you tell me anything?”

Nurse Kathy nodded, “All I know is that Mr. Anderson was taken in for emergency surgery to place a pin in his left arm. The arm was broken on impact and the pin was necessary to set it. The head injury isn’t serious. He regained consciousness in the ambulance and it was determined that he did not have a concussion. There was a small cut that required some stitches, but other than that, Mr. Anderson should be fine.”

Puck released his thousandth sigh of relief of the day. He looked at Xander, whose head was resting on Puck’s shoulder, “Hear that, Xan-man. Your dad is going to be fine!”

Xander relaxed, his little body going limp against Puck. Ziva, who was standing next to Puck, climbed and stood on the chair that was next to them. At her elevated height, she reached over and patted Xander on the back in what was supposed to be a comforting way. “Yeah, Xander! Mr. Blaine is okay!”

Puck chuckled and placed Xander on the floor. He picked Ziva off the chair and also placed her on the floor. Puck gave Ziva his iPhone, “Here, baby. Take this and go play with Xander while I find out more about Mr. Blaine, okay?”

Ziva took the phone in one hand and grabbed Xander with the other. She dragged him to the corner, where she plopped down. “Xander, you can take the first turn on Mario. Just make sure not to hit the Koopas! You’ll die and then it’ll be my turn!”

Puck smiled at the sight of his daughter proudly watching her friend play the game for what was apparently his first time.

“She’s a great friend and a beautiful little girl, sir.”

Puck turned to Kathy, “Thank you. And it’s Puck, please.”

“Kathy.” She reached out a hand and Puck shook it.

“Do you know what the hell happened?”

Kathy’s pretty face clouded over, “Yes.” Her voice was tight with what seemed like anger. Puck’s stomach clenched in anticipation. “It seems that Mr. Anderson was driving through an intersection when someone ran through a red light and hit Mr. Anderson’s car at the driver’s seat door.”

Puck sucked in a sharp breath, “So he was hit directly?”

Kathy nodded, “At fifty miles an hour.”

What?” That couldn’t be right. Blaine was taking a local route home. The speed limit within the Brooklyn city limits was thirty miles per hour.

Kathy’s voice was scathing, “The driver of the other car was drunk.”

The blood drained from Puck’s face again, “No. Tell me that’s not true.”

“He’s being treated for minor injuries right now. My friend did his blood work. His BAC was well above the legal limit. The police are holding him in a room down the hall.”

“Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me that unless you want me marching down there and beating him to a bloody pulp and there won’t be any need for a trial.”

Kathy placed a gentle hand on his arm, “Don’t think about that, okay? Focus on the fact that your daughter and friends are okay and that it could have been so much worse.”

Puck nodded, “Thank you so much for looking after Ziva and Xander. And for telling me what was going on.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll leave you with the kids, now.” She reached back to the chair she was occupying and picked up a clipboard off the seat. She handed it to Puck, along with a pen that she pulled out of her top pocket. “I just need you to fill out this information. Since Ziva wasn’t treated for anything, we don’t need any of her information, but it will be helpful for the police report. Once Mr. Anderson is out of surgery, he can fill out his and Xander’s.”

Puck thanked her and after she left, sat in the chair heavily. He sat there with the clipboard in his lap, watching Ziva and Xander play, unmoving. Puck sat there for an undetermined amount of time until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, his eyes caught the blue-green gaze that could only belong to one person.

“Kurt.” The name was breathed out in a reverent prayer. So much could be heard in that one syllable. Relief, gratitude, exhaustion, awe were layered into Puck’s whisper. The name rested on his lips, heavy with history. History of them, of their love, of this day.

Kurt pressed his lips to Puck’s in a gentle kiss. Breaking away, he rested his forehead on Puck’s, both their eyes closed.

“I talked to Kathy.” Puck felt Kurt’s words on his face. “She says Blaine will be out of surgery in an hour.”

Puck nodded, eyes still closed. He felt the loss of Kurt’s head on top of his, but also felt the replacement of Kurt’s hand running along his shaved head.

“I see from her badgering of Xander that Ziva is completely okay.”

Puck opened his eyes and looked into Kurt’s mirth-filled gaze, “And you can see by how Xander is letting her do it, that he’s completely fine as well.”

“Except for his left hand.”

Puck whirled around to inspect Xander from his seat. Sure enough, his left hand was bandaged. Puck walked over to them, aware of Kurt at his heels.

Ziva and Xander looked up at the sight of Puck’s feet before them. Ziva’s eyes widened at the sight of Kurt, “Papa! You’re here!”

Kurt knelt down to give Ziva a hug, “Yes, I am. Now let’s have a look at you.” He leaned back, scrutinizing Ziva with hilarious exaggeration. “Let’s see. Still have both eyes.” Kurt placed a small kiss on each of Ziva’s lidded eyes. “Both cheeks.” He kissed each of those at well, Ziva giggling furiously. “One nose!” Kurt rubbed his nose against Ziva’s, his Eskimo kiss going awry as both parties giggled too hard.

Puck smiled at the sight and turned to Xander, who was also watching Kurt and Ziva’s antics. “Hey, Xan-man. What happened to your hand?”

Xander shrugged, “I cut it on some glass when I tried shaking Daddy awake.” The image of a hysterical Xander shaking a prone, bleeding Blaine struck Puck in the heart and his stomach bottomed out.

He pulled Xander into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, buddy. Does it hurt?”

Xander’s response was weak, “A little. But Kathy gave me some medicine. She says it’ll stop hurting soon.”

Kurt reached over and kissed Xander’s cheek, “Well, we’ll have to make you feel better with something else.”

“Excellent idea. Who wants ice cream?” Xander and Ziva lit up at Puck’s words and Kurt and Puck burst into laughter.

“Ice cream. The magical cure for everything that ails ya’,” Kurt stood up and reached out both his hands to the kids. Xander took one while Ziva took the other. “Ready, Noah?”

Puck shook his head, “I’ve got to fill these sheets out and I wanted to wait around in case the doctor has any updates on Blaine.”

“I can stay here and you can go with the kids. You look tired, Noah,” Kurt said.

“Go ahead, babe. I don’t mind. Just bring me back coffee if you can.” Kurt nodded and kissed Puck quickly on the lips.

“Call me if anything changes. I have my cell and we’ll be right across the street, okay?”

“Will do, princess.” Puck watched as his husband walked toward the elevator, two kids on either side of him. He sunk into the chair again, this time actually working on the paperwork.





Half an hour later, Kathy came over to where Puck was rechecking the information he wrote down for the fifth time. With her was a black woman in green scrubs and a white lab coat.

“Puck, this is Doctor Davis. She’s the surgeon that took care of Mr. Anderson.”

Puck held out a hand, which the doctor shook, “Thank you so much. Really, I can’t say thanks enough.”

Doctor Davis smiled, “It’s my job. Glad to do it. Now, I understand you aren’t a blood relative of Mr. Anderson's.”

“No, ma’am. But his husband is overseas, his parents are in Ohio, and his sister is in Colorado. My husband and I are the closest thing Blaine’s got to family here in New York. I swear we go way back. Actually, he dated my husband. Before he was my husband, that is.”

Kathy snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough. It was unconvincing. Puck winced.

Doctor Davis smirked, “Because the prognosis doesn’t require any decisions to be made and he is going to need someone to look after him for the time being, I will inform you of the extent of Mr. Anderson’s injuries and allow you to see him.”

At Puck’s nod, she continued, “His left ulna and radius were broken. It was a clean break, however, with no pieces floating around anywhere. That was lucky. Unfortunately, with breaks like these, we need to make sure the bone will heal correctly. Putting in the pin was the only way we can keep the pieces in the right orientation so the break can heal cleanly. The only other injury he sustained was a cut to his forehead, but that only required thirteen stitches. We checked for concussion and found no sign of one.”

“Anderson always did have a thick skull,” Puck’s jab was softened by the obvious relief he felt at the news. “So he’s going to be completely fine?”

“In eight weeks, yes. The cast we have him on now is plaster and heavy. In about four weeks, I’ll take it off and replace it with a lighter one. In eight to ten weeks, his arm will be completely healed. Do you know when his husband will be back?”

Puck shook his head, “I don’t think it’s definite yet. I think the last estimate was the first week of July.”

Doctor Davis nodded in understanding, “He’ll need someone to help out at first. It takes some time to adjust oneself around with one arm out of commission. It’s not necessary, but—“

“No worries, Doc. Pretty Boy will have me and Kurt. We’re his next door neighbors and he’ll spend tonight at our place.”

The doctor smiled, “Excellent. Okay, I’ll give you his prescription for his pain meds. You can fill this out at any pharmacy. The restrictions will be made clear by the pharmacist. Mr. Anderson will be discharged as soon as he wakes up, provided the police get his statement. It shouldn’t be long now.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course. Kathy, will you escort Mr. Puckerman to Mr. Anderson’s room. 3103.”

“Will do, Samantha.”

Puck shook the doctor’s hand again, “Thank you so much, Doc.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Puckerman. Tell Mr. Anderson I’ll see him in four weeks.”

Kathy led Puck down the hall and to the elevator. As they waited for the next lift, Puck typed out a quick text to Kurt. Blaine’s in Room 3103. Come when you’re done. I don’t think he’s awake yet.

Five seconds later, his phone beeped with Kurt’s response.

Be there in ten. Ziva made friends with a Doberman. I’m having trouble getting her away. Why is it our daughter who looks at a killer attack dog that is twice her size and says CUTE? I thought it was going to eat her, but it only licked ice cream off her hand and face.

Puck laughed out loud. What the fuck was he going to do when Ziva was a teenager?





Walking into Blaine’s hospital room was a challenge. Puck was not looking forward to see a friend of his in a hospital bed, but it needed to be done. The sight wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Blaine looked so small in the white bed, but he was a hobbit. His sleeping face was bruised, slightly, and the stitches stood out, stark against his pale forehead. His arm was cradled against his body, enveloped in a large, white cast and a sling. Other than the obvious, Puck couldn’t see much of a difference in Blaine, which would be a welcome relief to Xander, he was sure.

Five minutes passed with Puck sitting silently in the chair beside Blaine’s bed. After a moment, Puck could have sworn he heard something shift. He got up to take a closer look at Blaine and, sure enough, his (ridiculously long) eyelashes were fluttering open.

“Ugh, did anyone get the license plate of that truck?”

“We did you one better, Anderson. We got the driver of the Camry.”

Blaine’s expression was groggy, clearly fighting off the anesthesia. A couple of seconds later, his face lit up in what had to be clarity. He started, sitting up quickly.

Puck gently pushed him down by the shoulders, “Shhhh, relax. Xander’s fine. Ziva’s fine. Everyone is fine, except for you, okay? You need to take—“

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him, I swear. Maybe I was going too fast. Puck, I am SO sorry.” Blaine’s eyes were filling up with tears, his voice weak.

Puck expected this. “No, Blaine. Don’t be sorry.” The tears spilled over and were coursing down Blaine’s face now. “It was not your fault.” Puck grabbed Blaine’s shoulders, mindful of his arm. He waited until Blaine looked up at him.

Puck bore his gaze into Blaine’s, trying as hard as possible to convey his feelings, “It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. You did nothing wrong. The accident happened because some asshole got drunk, got into a car, and blew a red light. You couldn’t have known, Blaine.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in shock, “What?”

“Drunk driver. You couldn’t have avoided it. And Ziva and Xander were in their booster seats, safe. Your arm is broken and is going to take two months to heal, but you’re fine otherwise. Sore as hell, I’d bet.”

“We were hit by a drunk driver?” Blaine’s face transformed from one of contrition to one of rage. “Xander and Ziva could have died because of a drunk driver?” He sat up again, ripping off his covers with his good hand. “Where is he? Is he in this hospital? I’ll kill him!

Puck held him back, “Hold on, Rambo. You’re not going anywhere. The police caught the guy. He’s going to jail and that’s the end of it. We don’t need you going to prison for murder.”

Blaine’s rage wasn’t so easily dismissed, “Don’t you understand, Puck?” His eyes were blazing. “Ziva, your daughter, could have died because of this asshole.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Puck’s voice was louder than he intended it to be, but he couldn’t help it. “You think that thought didn’t cross my mind?” Blaine’s glare didn’t soften, but Puck quieted down anyway. “But she didn’t. She and Xander are fine. You’re going to be fine. Everyone’s okay and the asshole will never get a chance to do this to anyone else ever again. I can’t ask for more than that.”

Blaine locked gazes with Puck, breathing heavily. Suddenly, his anger melted away to something like quiet disbelief. Puck was confused.

“You sure grew up, didn’t you, Puck?”

Puck laughed, shocked, “Fuck you, Anderson. Just because I wasn’t a fucking old man at age eighteen doesn’t mean I wasn’t mature.”

“No, the fact that your mother still washed your hair at age eighteen means you weren’t mature.”

“I knew Kurt told you that!”

“I told him what now?” Blaine and Puck whipped their heads around to see Kurt, Ziva, and Xander standing in the doorway of the room.

“DAD!” Xander let go of Kurt’s hand and ran to his father’s bed. Blaine got off the bed and knelt down to wrap his arm around Xander, who hugged his father’s neck desperately.

“I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.” Blaine was crying openly into Xander’s curls.

Xander tightened his hold on his father, “It’s okay now that you’re awake.”

Kurt and Puck shared at look, before Puck picked up Ziva and held her against him, “Amen to that.” Kurt smiled.

“Who wants coffee?”




Blaine’s discharge was a long process, from dealing with the police to filling out the necessary paperwork for the hospital. It was nearly midnight by the time Puck and Blaine got into Puck’s car, Kurt having left with the kids hours ago.

“I’m exhausted, hungry, and in pain. This day blows.”

Puck helped him with the seat belt, did his own, and started the car. “Truth, man,” he concurred as he pulled out of the parking spot. “But Kurt just ordered us Chinese and we’re going to stop by the 24-hour CVS to pick up your pain meds. In an hour, you’ll be fed, doped up on drugs, and in the guest bedroom, nary a worry in the world.”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay in your guest room? It’ll only be tonight, I’ll be out before Burt, Carol, Finn and Mercedes get here, I promise.”

Puck glared at him, “It’s fine, Anderson. Calm your tits, okay? You’ll stay at ours until you can manage yourself without help. Worst case scenario, the guests can check into a hotel.”

Blaine blanched, “Are you out of your mind? Why on Earth would they stay in a hotel when there is a nearly empty house next door?”

Puck couldn’t believe he didn’t think of that, “That’s perfect! Burt and Carol can stay with us and Finn and Mercedes can stay with you. Or whatever you prefer. Either way, Mercedes doesn’t need to sleep on the couch!”

Blaine snorted, “As if I’d allow Mercedes Jones to sleep on a couch. Hell, I’d sleep outside before that happened.”

“Aw, you dapper gentleman, you.”

“Seriously, however this works out, everyone gets to sleep in a bed for the next week.”

Puck held out his fist, which Blaine bumped with his own. “Baller, dude. We’re the best fucking hosts ever.”




True enough, an hour later, Blaine was sprawled out in the guest bedroom, dead to the world. Kurt and Puck were laying on the couch in the living room, a mug of chamomile tea shared between them.

“Next time I ask you if you want a cup of tea, Noah, just say yes! Don’t steal half of mine!”

Puck told a deliberately long sip of tea before handing the mug back to Kurt, who was sprawled on top of him, “But it tastes better with your saliva in it.”

“Gross, Noah! How did I marry someone so gross?”

“Beats me. I still wonder how I married someone who has ninety one pairs of shoes,” Puck smirked.

“I only had eighty when you married me. And besides, you don’t complain when I wear the thigh high lace-up boots to bed.”

Puck groaned, arousal stirring in his lower body at the memory of Kurt wearing those stilettos and only those stilettos, “Don’t do this to me, babe. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m too tired for a fuck right now.”

Kurt chuckled, “My, how the mighty have fallen!”

“Spending seven hours in a hospital isn’t my idea of foreplay, so sue me.”

Kurt’s mirth sobered, “You did good today, Noah. Hell, you do fabulously everyday.”

Puck bathed in Kurt’s praise. He knew his husband appreciated him, but it felt awesome to hear it said out loud. “So do you, babe. You’re amazing.”

Kurt hummed, resting his head back on Puck’s chest, “It was nice spending time with Ziva and Xander today. They crack me up. Mercedes is going to have a field day.”

Puck smiled at the thought, “Speaking of which, where did you put Xander? Did you break out the air mattress?”

Kurt sent him an incredulous look, “Are you insane? I put him in Ziva’s bed!”

Puck sat up in shock, knocking Kurt off the couch. “Ow! What the hell, Noah? You are so lucky I finished my tea!” Kurt squawked.

“Ziva is sleeping with a boy in her bed!

“They’re five, Noah!”

“He’s six!”

“You’ve got to be joking!” Kurt glared and Puck knew that was the end of it.

“Fine, but this is the last time until she’s married!”

Kurt’s eyebrow rose in challenge, “Really? And what if she’s gay? Will you let a girl sleep in her bed?”

“If she’s anything like Santana, fuck no.”

Kurt got off the floor, grabbed his mug, and walked out of the room shaking his head, “I’m going to bed, you hypocrite.”

Puck raced after him, “If you want Ziva to end up with someone like me, then please, continue doing what you’re doing!”

He wasn’t surprised when Kurt smacked him upside the head.

Next part


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