Kurt Hummel had come a long way since he left Dalton and returned to McKinley. Him and Blaine were still going strong, but he had taken the initiative to meet other people who were gay by joining a support group for bullying based on sexual orientation.

They had gone out bowling.

Granted, bowling wasn't Kurt's thing, but he was up for anything that required buying new shoes. Every meeting, they learned something new about each other, brought each other further into their lives. A family that understood. The New Directions were great, but sharing gay fantasies was not really what they were there for. And granted, Blaine was AMAZING, but he was his boyfriend now, and some things are better left unsaid to your significant other, especially about Johnny Depp's delicious ass.

Then his phone rang.

"Hello," Kurt answered, "Hummel speaking."

"Hey PRINCESSS! Hehe- I –I need a favor, dude."

And that's how they ended up here. After begging, Kurt had managed to get the guys to drive him to a secluded bar in the middle of nowhere to pick up a friend, who he told them was name Noah Puckerman, a member of the New Directions, and as he walked over to said friend, sitting alone on a bar stool, Kurt knew exactly why he was there.

"It's been a year." Puck slurred. Kurt wavered, he knew this was the reason; he had just hoped Puck would pass out before it came up. He attempted to take the glass out of Pucks hand. He failed.

"Kurt what are we doing here?" John demanded. Obviously picking up a new member's friend in a drunken stupor was not on the itinerary, and the way these guys were looking at Puck, it was like they saw in him every bully that ever laid a hand on them.

"I would have gotten balloons." Puck whispered, his head between his crossed arms laid on the counter. "Pink ones, and a clown."

"Oh, Puck…" Kurt felt like crying. "Come on, let's go." He tried to get Puck to stand up, laying a hand on his shoulder only to have it pushed away.

"Kurt, were leaving. He's drunk." Ben said with menace. Kurt looked at him, they were looking at Puck, well built, mowhaked Puck. He really was the epitome of a bull. If only they knew.

"One year dude." Puck slurred again. Head up now starring at the rows of alcohol in front of him. The others turned to leave.

"I know." Kurt said again. They could run off a fucking bridge for all he cared. Puck needed to get home before he ended up in jail.

"I would have made a great fucking dad, I really would." The others stopped walking. "A cake. I would have gotten her a huge fucking cake. You could bake it. You're awesome at that shit. And streamers, and one of those-those… uh- bouncy things, you know. That kids go in and bounce." Puck laid his head forward onto the counter, forehead touching it.

"Kurt what is he talking about," the others were back, and they stared at Puck.

"I'm an ass. But I would have made a good fucking dad." Puck slurred. He picked his head up suddenly and looked at the antique mirror behind the bar, and rubbed his 5-oclock shadow. "You know, I saw on the web. She'd have my eyes by now. Babies always resemble their father the most in the first year. And Quinn's hair. She was so small man." Puck looked down at his hands, spread out as if he were holding something. The others looked on in shock.

"Puck, you need to go home." I cooed.

"You could have painted her nails, you and Quinn. I can imagine- I imagine you in this frilly costume, handing-just… handing out goody bags, and painting little girls nails. Like- zebra stripes and shit." Puck looked up at him, not really seeing the group of gay high schoolers behind Kurt. "You would have made a great fucking uncle Hummel."

Puck was crying. Not hard, and he probably didn't notice it, but there were tears in his eyes. Kurt felt the group shift behind him.

"And you would have make a great fucking dad." Kurt told him.

"Damn right I would have." Puck slammed his fist on the counter at this and stood up, swaying slightly. Kurt wrapped Pucks arm around his own shoulders, and put one of his around the boy's waist.

"Could I have some help?" Kurt asked. Ben came up and took Puck's other arm, doing the same. They start moving towards the exit, and Kurt finally took a look at the bar-goers around him. They looked at Puck, with sad, knowing eyes. They saw a shit-face kid, celebrating his kids first birthday alone. A kid he didn't get to keep.

"She was perfect." Puck leaned his head to rest on Kurt's shoulder as he was dragged along. "So perfect, the only perfect thing I ever saw, dude… just-just so perfect." Kurt's shirt was getting wet. He sensed the others behind them, and once they make it to the parking lot, he searched for his car.

Suddenly Pucks head was off his shoulder, and he sounded excited. "We could kidnap her! I mean she's still mine right. She won't notice. It'll be-be like the face… the face on the milk carton. She won't ever-ever…she won't ever have to know Quinn gave her up. She's still mine right? Princess? You're like a ninja, we could. We could get her back. She's still mine, right?" Puck looked at him for confirmation.

Kurt stopped walking, and looked to the best of his abilities at the boy to his side.

"No Puck, she's not yours anymore."

Puck shot off the two boys, stumbling around wildly. "FUCK YOU." He screamed at Kurt, wiping the tears off his face.

"Puck, she's not yours anymore!" Kurt yelled at him.

"You fucking faggot, I HATE you. She- you. FUCK YOU." Puck screams. "She wouldn't-" Puck stumbled and fell to the ground, getting back up quickly. "She would've hated a faggot like you ANYWAYS. You'll never see her, you FUCKING HOMO, you'll never see her once I get her!"

"She's not coming back, Puck! She IS NOT coming BACK!" Kurt yelled. Then it was silent.

Puck fell on his ass, leaning back on the edge of his arms, sitting in the middle on the parking lot, legs out under him. He looked at Kurt and whispered, "Why not?"

"Puck…"

"Everything else in my life-shitty. It's all-just… She was the best thing dude. For two fucking minutes. She was the best fucking thing." Kurt looked to the others for help, they didn't seem too interested in helping now, but Ben helped again anyways. Moving along again, they attempted to locate his car.

"You could have been Danny. You're so clean. I would have been Jesse, Finn…-Finn would be- be Joey. Beth would be Michelle." Puck slurred slightly. Where the hell was their car. "You and Blaine could adopt two girls for-for… you know the other two. Uh- DJ, and um-"

"Stephanie." One of the guys from the group spoke up. Puck pushed off the two, pointed his finger at the guy and said smiling like an idiot, "Yeah, Stephanie. The spunky one." He laughed. Then his face turned sullen. "I don't get it- I –I just don't'-" Puck stopped abruptly, then pushed off his elbows, sat up, then with the help of two boys from Kurt's group, who pulled him up from under the arms, Puck was standing.

As they walked along, Puck stayed quite. His head tilted onto one of the guys' shoulders every now and then, but that was the only indication they had of him being ALIVE. When they reached the car, a large mini-van, they all climbed in. Puck was laid on the strip of carpet in the back seat, while the others sat criss-cross in there own seats to give the boy room.

They drove for a long time.

[please go to youtube and lookup .com/watch?v=nV-F_UyXvSk

and listen to the song as you read. It's really pretty, and I just thought of the melody while they would be in the car.]

Fountain, fountain

We are the same

Fountain, fountain

We are the same

Puck had started to sing. It was a sad song, the melody made Kurt want to cry.

You with the water, and me with the pain

Turning it over again and again

His voice was scratchy from drinking, and he sounded awful, but it was the melody that really got to him. Kurt knew the song well, it was on the album for Puck's favorite show "Bones," in which half the time spent talking about it all he really discussed was how the chick that played Bones was totally fuckable. Of course, he doubted this was what Puck was thinking about as he sang the song.

Don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?

Don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?

Back at them

At them

Fountain, Fountain

We are the same

Fountain, Fountain

We are the same

All that anyone ever has for you

Are the things you reflect back to them

Don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?

Don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?

Back at them

At them

Fountain, fountain

We are the same

Fountain, fountain

We are the same

It is so beautiful how you remain

"That was nice Puck" Kurt told him, he was sitting in the back seat as well.

"What was?" Puck murmured into the car's rug.

"The song, dude." One of the boys said.

"What the hell you talking about?" Puck drove out. Of course, puck didn't realize he had been singing. They let it go.

"I'm sorry." Puck told the ceiling as he turned over on his back. "She would have liked you Princess, she really would have like you. All your glittery shit- and-an… that pink crap. The tiaras too, 'cause dude, its no secret you gotta box of 'em under you bed. Yeah" he sighed dreamily. "With you around, she would have been the best dressed kid in Lima, man." Puck pronounced.

Kurt Hummel started to cry.

The rest of the car ride was quite.

When they reached Pucks house, he had passed out, and Kurt and two of the others hauled his ass inside, using the spare key under the mat. No one was home.

"Where do we put him?" Ben struggled to get out as he help up Puck's feet while the others had him from under the arms.

"On the couch is fine." Kurt told them. When placed there, Kurt carefully took off the boy's shoes, and his jacket, wiped off some drool from the side of his mouth, put a pillow under his dead, and a blanket over his body.

"She was so beautiful." Puck mumbled to Kurt.

"I know, man. I know." Kurt patted his head, and squeezed the drunk's hand. While walking out of the house, the other two looked back for a moment, then turned back towards the car.

Driving home, the mood was dark. When they reached Kurt's house, and Kurt stepped outside the car, he didn't really know what to say. At the end of each meeting, they'd usually share something they learned about another member.

"I know what I learned." Bryan said, legs hanging out the mini-vans open door, eyes locked with the stars just now coming out from behind the night clouds.

"Noah Puckerman would have made a great fucking dad."

And he really would have.