"FUCK," came the alarmed scream from the bathroom. Quinn looked up in panic. She was seven months pregnant, and on her bed in Puck's house, with her iPod turned right up. Puck's piercing scream had cut through her music. If she didn't know better, she'd have said it was fear in his voice. She didn't think he was actually afraid of anything. It was an effort to move herself down the hallway, but she figured she'd better, just in case he'd lit the shower curtain on fire or something.
When she arrived, she found Puck standing on the toilet, wearing only a towel.
"What on earth?"
"There's a motherfucking spider in the shower." She'd been right. It was fear in his voice. She couldn't help but smile. "Take that smirk off your face. It's a motherfucking huntsman or something, and it's bigger than a motherfucking dinner plate."
"You really shouldn't use that word, you know, Puck," she said slyly, taking off her shoe. "Considering the bulk of your sexual partners." With that she went to rip the shower curtain open, but he stopped her with another pained yell.
"NO!" he shouted, jumping off the toilet now.
"What now?" she asked.
"No. Not happening. You're not taking my kid into that death trap. What if the spider fucking eats her or something?" Sweating, he took her shoe off her.
"Puck, it's not going to-" she started to protest. He was quite pale, but silenced her anyway, gently pushing her (or rather, her who was carrying his child) out of harm's way. He braced himself for what he was about to do, took a deep breath.
He screamed, ripped open the shower curtain with malice, and started smashing her flip flop into the corner of the shower.
After his frenzied bashing of the offending arachnid, Quinn saw that it was large for a spider, but not nearly close to a dinner plate. She supposed it was about the size of her fist.
A little bit of her was touched he'd braved his fear to save her (and their unborn baby) from it.
But a whole lot of her was looking forward to holding this over his head for a very long time.