Author's Notes: Written for hc_bingo, the prompt: "mpreg - regular." Which is ironic, because this is about as far out from your normal mpreg as it gets. This happened because I have difficulty writing what's biologically impossible, so I went a bit out of my way finding something that was. *shrug*
Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, transexuality, (sort of) mpreg, het, slash, abortion issues. Oh, and very flimsy hand-waving to make it fit with canon.
In The Belly of the Whale
"So," she says, running her hands through her hair.
"So," he mindlessly parrots. She? Fuck if Santana knows. "Are you... freaking out?"
She shrugs. "It's cool. You could have warned me, though."
He looks uncomfortable. "I know, I just... I thought you'd snap, and like, I'd be so screwed, so I was putting off you finding out as long as possible."
She frowns in confusion. "Then, uh... why'd you agree to sleep with me in the first place?"
He shrugs. "I dunno. I was horny and sick of being the only virgin guy in this town. Plus, Rachel and Jesse... I wanted to make her jealous, okay?"
"You didn't think this through, did you?"
She laughs. "Hopefully any other chick – like Berry, for example – will handle it with my grace. Though I really kind of doubt it."
Finn nods. "Yeah. I was expecting you to run as soon as you saw... uh..."
She shrugs. "Relax. Me and Britt do shit like this all the time."
He gapes at her, and she rolls her eyes. "For Christ's sake, Finn."
"Hey, I'm a guy!" he defends himself.
Which gets them back to the topic at hand.
"Does anyone else know? Other than me and you?" she asks, and he thinks about it for awhile.
"Uh... well, my mom does, but duh. Quinn found out, even though I was trying really hard not to let her. And Puck, because, like, I don't know; he just always knew."
Santana frowns. "Okay, wait, now I'm confused. You knew you were a girl–"
"I'm not a girl!"
"Okay, PC fail. You knew you were biologically a girl. Quinn knew you were biologically a girl too. Even Puck knew it. So how the hell did she manage to fool you into thinking you'd knocked her up?"
Finn looks embarrassed. "Well, uh, you saw..." he indicates a wet patch on the bed. Santana blinks.
"You're a squirter. So?"
Finn blushes. "Well, I am a dude, and that comes out, so I just sort of thought... it would be the same as, um..."
Santana sighs and shakes her head. "And this is why I'm opposed to abstinence only sex education. Finn, you're an idiot."
"I know," he says.
"But wait, didn't your mom tell you...?"
"Uh, turned out she had sort of assumed it was someone else's kid and I had agreed to take care of Quinn anyway; that maybe she had been raped or something, she didn't know. She swore she had talked to me about it. But she hadn't. So..."
Santana looks at him skeptically. "You serious? Because seriously, how can one family be that dumb?"
He glares at her. "Thanks a lot, Lopez."
She raises her arms in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying."
He sighs and looks away. "Thanks, though. For not acting like I'm..."
She shrugs. "Don't worry about it," she says. "Wait, you're on the football team and the like. How the hell did you manage to avoid...?"
"Oh, uh, just like, hiding stuff. Wouldn't shower when anyone else was there. Hiding behind towels. Stuff like that. Puck always used to cover for me."
Santana nods. "Makes sense, I guess. Hey, you to never..."
He blinks at her. "Never what?"
She rolls her eyes. "You know."
He's dumb, but he's not that dumb. His eyes go wide in realization. "What? No! I'm straight, Santana."
She shrugs. "Okay. Just thought you'd be curious, that's all."
He scowls at her. "Well, I wasn't, okay? Leave it alone, okay?"
Uh, do the words 'protesting to much' mean anything to you? She thinks. But she doesn't say it. "Okay, Jesus."
She looks at him carefully, studying his body.
"I still do not understand how you can be... I mean, you're like six foot five, your boobs are small enough that you can barely identify them as boobs, and you just generally look nothing like a chick."
He shrugs. "Guess I'm lucky," he says. "I still get massively fucking scared of people finding out; you know, what they'd do–"
"I know," she says. She doesn't really know, but she can imagine and it seems fucking scary. Hummel gets more than his fair share of shit from this town; if everyone found out about Finn they'd–
"You know, if you're not dealing – for whatever reason, I don't know – I'll like, be here. You can call, and I'll help as best I can."
He stares. "Who are you and what did you know with Santana Lopez?"
She socks him on the arm. He laughs.
"Seriously, though," he says. "Thanks for coping. I just expected – you know. No-one wants to fuck the trannie," he practically spits out that last word, and she flinches. Yeah, she's thrown around shit like that, when she was making a crude joke or insulting someone. She never felt guilty about it. But now... Christ.
"It's cool," she says. "I'm awesome."
She's lounging around at home, reading a magazine. It a Saturday, about a year after the time she fucked Finn Hudson. Her phone rings, and she groans while picking it up.
"Santana, hey," says Finn on the other side of the line. His voice sounds a little bit broken – like he might cry – and she frowns. "Could you do me a favor? I kind of need you to pick me up from somewhere."
She grimaces. "Do I have to do it?"
"I... I..." he stammers, and she starts to feel guilty. "I just... I could call other people... But with you it'll be... Could you just come, please?"
She sighs. One of these days, she's going to analyze Finn Hudson's curious ability to sound like a beaten puppy whenever he talks, even though beaten puppies themselves don't talk.
"Fine," she says. "Where are you, then?"
"Uh... corner of Stewart Street and Driver Drive."
"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. You owe me."
When she finds him, he's sitting on the curb, head in his hands. "Finn?" she asks, and he looks up.
"Santana, hey." His eyes are red like he's been crying. He opens the door and hops in without explaining himself. "Thanks for this."
"You're welcome," she says, turning the key in the ignition. "You owe me, Hudson."
He doesn't reply, and he goes quiet as they start to drive. She frowns in concern, but doesn't say anything. He sniffles, and that's it.
"Okay, Finn. What's going on?"
He looks up at her confused. "What?"
She rolls her eyes, although she's still trying to look at the road, so maybe it doesn't have the effect it could. "Why did you need me to come out and pick you up anyway?"
"I... I just... It's complicated."
She sighs and pulls over.
"We're not moving until you tell me what's going on."
He scowls and looks away. "Bitch."
She rolls her eyes again. "What else is new?"
"How is it any of your business?" he asks.
"Because I'm worried," she says. "Especially because, after all, it had to be me to come pick you up. We're not all that close, so I don't see why... and you look like you could burst into tears at any second, so I'm generally kind of freaking."
Once she's finished, there's an awkward pause. "I went to my doctor today," he says eventually. He's still not looking her in the eye. "I've been sick for a while, so..."
He looks up.
She gapes. "Oh my..."
"I don't – I don't understand; I mean, I'm a guy, I–"
"Finn," she cuts him off. "No offense, but biologically, you're kind of not. This was... always possible."
"But I – I always thought... Because I am a guy, I couldn't get pregnant."
She rolls her eyes. "Christ, why did no-one ever explain this to you? Okay, I'll admit – you act like a guy. You think like a guy. You look like a guy. But the rules of nature do not care about that, because you have a fucking vagina. Didn't you ever worry about this."
He crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm... I'm sorry. But no."
She sighs. "So you didn't think of protection or anything like that?"
He shakes his head.
They pause. "How far along are you?" she eventually asks.
Finn frowns in confusion. "Uh... the guy said, like, twelve to fourteen weeks... I don't know how long that is in normal people terms."
"Hold on," she takes a couple of seconds to do the math in her head, "Twelve to fourteen weeks... about three months."
She sighs. "Who's the father?" she asks.
He doesn't answer.
"I want to point out," he says, "At the point you asked me about this, I was telling the truth. So don't accuse me of like, lying to you, because I didn't."
She frowns, and it takes a moment for her to remember what he could be referring to. It snaps into place pretty fast, though. "Oh my – Puck?"
He just nods. She sighs.
"Fuck," she says. "Why does he keep doing this?"
Finn shrugs. "Don't think it's on purpose."
"I know that, Finn," she says. "So... what are you gonna do?"
He looks up, eyes wide with panic. "I don't – I don't know! I can't have a kid; I'm a dude! If I – I mean, you saw what happened to Quinn, right? How she swelled up like that? If that happens to me – I mean, how the hell will I keep everything secret anymore? Everyone would know, my life would be over."
"And even if I was a chick, I'm seventeen! How the hell am I meant to have a kid? I just – I can't – and I'm not sure I can do what Quinn and Puck did; give it up, either."
"So... are you going to... you know..."
From the look on his face, he pretty clearly doesn't know.
"...get rid of it?" she winces as she says it.
"I... I dunno. I'm not sure I could, you know? I mean, I don't think I like, morally object, but – I've never really thought about it. I never knew... God, I don't know. I'm so scared."
She nods. "Understandable."
"What would you do?"
Her mouths goes dry. "I don't... I don't know," she says. She thinks about it. "I mean... I think... I mean, I'd probably abort it. I don't think I could deal with it all, and you have a hell of a lot more reason than me to not deal. But I don't honestly know what I'd do; it hasn't happen, and no offense but I'm hoping it's not going to. So... I don't know what you should do either."
He smiles. "Uh... that was sweet... but not very helpful."
"Shut up," she says. She is not sweet. "Are you... going to tell Puck?"
"I... I don't know. I guess... do I have to?"
She shrugs. "I don't really know. It seems like the nice option. I think... I'm not sure he'd be okay with you getting rid of it, or giving it up. He seemed pretty depressed after everything with baby Beth."
"Yeah, but he's not mad at her," he says. "And... that shouldn't be a reason for making a decision, should it?"
Santana shrugs. "I don't know. You're the pregnant one. And you're a guy to boot. I don't think any of us can judge you for the decisions you make."
He nods as of this makes a lot of sense. "Okay," he says. "You know, I really should get home."
She nods and turns her key in the ignition again. "You know, I'm still here when you need me," she says.
Yeah, it's sappy and stupid, but she's not a total bitch.
"Thanks," he says. "I think that might be a lot."
She spends a lot of time thinking about the whole mess. Probably more than she should. Still, Finn's her friend, and she is probably the only person who knows the truth about him other than himself, and one of the only people who knows that truth is even possible. So it's up to her to take care of him. Not really that fair, but what can you do?
Maybe asking Quinn for advice might not be the smartest thing she's ever done – hey, Quinn knows about the not-a-boy aspect of the boy too – but Quinn's still the only teen mom Santana's ever known, so she's probably the best source of advice.
"Hey Q," she says. Quinn blinks.
"Hey, Santana," Quinn says, sounding confused. They haven't talked much for like, over a year. Santana guesses they got distant when Quinn fell from grace, although she said to herself at the time that she didn't give a fuck. Now Quinn's back on the Cheerios, they still haven't really gotten anything back.
"So, uh, I need some advice," Santana says. She knows this will probably make Quinn think she's talking about herself, but whatever, she can deal. Quinn's not the kind to spread rumors (anymore, anyway). Better her than Finn. "I have this friend. And they're... she's pregnant," Santana feels bad for saying that – she doesn't get the whole transgender thing really, but she knows it pisses Finn off when she calls him a girl – but she's trying to distract Quinn from who this could possibly be. And saying 'they' would be suspicious. "She told me. She's freaking and really doesn't know what to do, because this? Would destroy. Ruin h-her whole life. Worse than what happened to you; you have no idea. She's panicking and doesn't know what to do, and is asking me for advice, but I don't know what she should do either. So, I'm going to you."
Quinn nods. "Okay," she says. "Do know, uh, what... this girl... is planning to do?"
Santana sighs. "Undecided. Again, panicking. Does think she can do anything."
"What about the father?"
"Doesn't know you. I don't know if he's going – if he'll be told."
"Your friend's being pretty vague about things, yeah?"
Santana nods. "Hell yes," she says. "What would you do?"
Quinn looks uncomfortable. "You know what I did."
"Do you know what... the father would think?"
Santana bites her lip. "He'd... probably want to keep the baby. But there's... kind of a complicated thing behind that. I'm not sure anyone's doing anything for the right reasons."
Finn goes to Quinn too, in the end. She might guess, but whatever. He needs advice, and she actually knows stuff. He gets her alone in the choir room after Glee.
"Hey Quinn," he says.
She looks really confused and a bit anxious – they haven't really talked at all since, well, the obvious. He's still a little bit mad at her, honestly. But whatever. "Hi Finn," she says.
"So, uh... I need advice."
"I have this friend, okay? And... she's pregnant."
"And doesn't know what to do about it. Advice?"
Quinn thinks this over for a few seconds. "You know, Santana came to me a few days ago asking about this. It's not her, is it?"
"What?" Finn's voice hitches slightly. Then he relaxes. Quinn thinks the baby's Santana's.
Although Quinn already knows about, uh, his condition, so what exactly is he hiding from her?
"Oh, uh, no," Finn continues. "Mutual friend. Anyway..."
Quinn sighs. "Look, Finn, I really don't have any advice to give. Because it's not my baby this time. I'm more or less happy with what I did in the end, but that was me. I don't have magical formerly-pregnant girl solutions."
"But... you always had magical pregnant girl solutions," Finn says. Quinn laughs.
"Look, Santana said... Whoever this girl is, she'd be ruined if anyone ever found out."
"She will be," Finn mumbles.
"Santana said it would be worse than me. That stung a little, actually, but now I'm just left wondering what the hell could be so bad–"
"Are you crazy?" Finn snaps. "Of course it'd be horrible! I mean, it became pretty obvious about you in the end and normal guys can't – so if I started looking like that, everyone'd know–"
He cuts himself off when he realizes what he's saying.
Quinn gapes at him. "Finn–"
"Don't," he says. "God, just... don't. You know about... that anyway, so I'm not sure why I was bothering."
Quinn looks sympathetic. "Finn... I'm sorry."
He shrugs. She walks closer to him. "You really don't know what to do, do you?"
"If I did, would I be here right now?"
Quinn sighs. "How did it even happen?"
"How do you think?"
"So... after all this time defending yourself against the accusations everyone made and kind of crushing Kurt's heart in the process, you're not straight after all?"
Finn sighs. "No, I guess not. What a surprise, huh?"
"Sorry, I'm being irrationally bitter at everyone right now," he says. He closes his eyes. "Fuck."
"Do you... know who the father is."
He grips the edge of his chair. "Yeah."
There's an uncomfortable silence.
"You're not going to tell me who he is, are you?"
Finn shrugs. "If I can avoid it, I'd rather not. Although I told Santana so I'm not sure why I'm bothering. Except you might kill me. Except she almost killed Mercedes that one time so why am I more scared of you?"
"What?" it takes Quinn a few moments to piece it together. Then she remembers the thing with Mercedes. "Wait – Puck?"
"Would you keep it down?" he says. She tries to remain calm, and he starts avoiding her eyes. "Yeah, it was Puck. Guess he has a tendency toward this, huh?"
"Guess so. I'd rather not recount the adventures of Noah Puckerman's plucky sperm," Quinn says. "God, I thought he'd be smarter than this. After what happened with me he'd have to think protection is important."
Finn blushes. "I, uh, kind of told him it wasn't necessary."
Quinn blinks. "What?"
"Well, I'm a dude. I didn't think I could actually get knocked up, you know?" he defends himself. She continues to stare at him skeptically. "I was drunk!"
Quinn sighs. "Finn, your complete ignorance of all things relating to reproductive health was useful when I was using it to manipulate you, but this is just terrible. I hate to bring it up, but you have the female system – vagina, uterus, et cetera. Why did you not realize this was a risk? Why didn't anyone tell you?"
"I don't know!" Finn yells. He looks close to tears. "I'm just fucking stupid, okay? I'm fucking stupid and I totally had this coming."
"Finn, I didn't mean..."
He sighs. "I know," he says. "This sucks."
"I've been there," she says, and she threads her hand through his. "So... what are you going to do?"
"Kind of expected that, really," she says with a small smile. "You know I'm here if you need me."
"I'm not sure how much I can go to you for help," he says, "but thanks."
This is going to be the awkwardest conversation ever. And Finn's had some awkward conversations in his time.
"Puck!" Finn says. "Can we talk?"
Puck looks confused, but follows Finn into empty classroom anyway. Finn shuts the door and looks around like he's expecting ninjas to jump out or something.
Puck stares at him. "Dude, what's going on?"
"Please don't be mad," Finn blurts out. "Really. I'm freaking out. I'm sorry, but please don't be mad at me for this."
That... really doesn't make Puck feel any better. "Uh. Sure. Now I'm freaking out; seriously, what's up?"
Finn sighs and sits on one of the tables. Puck follows him. "You remember that thing, a few months ago? You know, when we..."
Puck scowls and looks away. He was trying to forget about that whole incident and its general gender-and-sexuality-fuckery. Yeah, he'd known about about Finn's issue for years, and he was mostly cool with it, but that was because it didn't really directly affect him. Fucking the guy screwed that up, and Puck's still not sure whether or not it makes him not-straight. Probably yes, if he's going to go with the belief system Finn holds about the whole thing (which is the one he usually tries to follow, because when he doesn't Finn punches him).
"Yeah. I remember," Puck says. "What about it?"
Finn bites his lip. "And remember how I told you we didn't need protection, because after all, I was a guy?"
Puck nods and feels a certain dread settling in his stomach. "Yeah, and...?"
Finn winces. "I was wrong. About the protection thing," he sighs deeply. "I'm pregnant."
Puck stares at him.
"That about sums it up."
Worst case of deja vu ever.
Puck immediately starts panicking, jumping up off the table. "Dude, what are we going to do? I've already done this once. This is all your fault, you asshole; you said we didn't need to do anything, you said this couldn't happen–"
"You said you wouldn't be mad!" Finn yells. Puck snaps back to reality.
"Oh... yeah," he says, sitting back on the table. "Sorry dude. I'm just... I'm freaking, okay?"
Finn snorts. "You're freaking? What about me? I'm the one knocked up over here! What do you think is gonna happen as it goes on? You saw the way Quinn swelled out; everyone will know, Puck. And I hate to bring it up, but dudes can't have kids. How exactly do you expect me to be keeping my secret by the time the kid is due?"
Puck stares. He hadn't thought about that bit yet. "I don't... I don't know," he says. "Wow, this really sucks."
"Don't I know it."
"So... what are you going to do?"
Finn shrugs. "I really do not know. I mean, I don't think I... I'm seventeen. I'm not ready for a kid. And I don't think I could cope with getting, like, big and having everyone know who – what I am. But I'm not sure I could just get rid of it; snip, like nothing ever happened, you know?"
Puck nods. "Sucks."
"What do you want me to do?"
Puck's stomach immediately leaps up his throat when he thinks of Beth. He wants to keep the baby. He knows how much it sucked when Quinn didn't keep the baby. He'd be a good dad, either to Beth or this kid Finn's having (although Quinn once said Finn wanted to name the baby that would be Beth 'Drizzle', and Puck's going to have to talk to him about that, because no). He's pretty sure Finn would be too – the guy is kind of an idiot (hence how they wound up here, but Puck didn't catch that one either), but whatever, Puck'll show him the ropes.
Puck's head snaps back into place then. He's not having the baby. Finn is. And like with Quinn, he doesn't get a fucking bit of the control.
"I don't... I don't know," he lies. "I guess... I guess it's your choice, you know? Bodily integrity and all that feminist shit my mom's always going off at me about."
Puck thinks. Fuck, Mom. She'd kill him for letting this happen again.
Finn nods. "Okay," he says. He sounds so broken and pathetic and Puck kind of wants to hug him. But he won't. Because it would be really gay.
(Yes, gayer than actually fucking the guy).
In the end, it's still her he calls when he needs her.
"Hello?" Santana says into her phone.
"Santana, hey," it's Finn's voice. "So, uh... I made my decision."
"About the baby."
"Oh," she says. She bites her lip. "And?"
He breathes deeply on the other side of the line. "I can't... I can't do this. I'm a dude, for Christ's sake. I can't have a kid, and I can't have everyone... so, I, uh, made an appointment. It's a clinic, in a different town. Don't want to take chances."
She swallows. "So... you are aborting it?"
"Have you told Puck?"
"Yeah. He seems pissed at me, but like he's trying really hard not to be pissed at me, so it's pretty uncomfortable..."
Santana nods mindlessly, although he can't see her. "So, uh, why are you calling..."
"I..." he trails off. "I don't want to go alone. You, Quinn and Puck are the only people who know. I can't ask either of those two; especially not Puck. I just... You said you were here if I needed you, right? Well, I need you."
Santana sighs. "When's your appointment?"
"Next Thursday. 4:30."
She winces. "You know I have the Cheerios after school on Thursday; Coach Sylvester will kill me if I don't show up and what the hell am I saying? Of course I'll go with you?"
"You will?" She can hear the confusion in his voice.
"Well, you don't have anyone else to go with, do you? Like you said, right now, you need me. I'm trying not to be a total bitch about it."
"Thanks," Finn says. They become uncomfortably quiet, and Santana can sense something hanging in the air between them. Phone line. Whatever.
"Do you think you can go through with it?"
Finn sighs. "I think so. But I don't really know. Guess we'll find out."