124. you'll see your hero come running over and over tonight
Title | you'll see your hero come running over and over tonight
Chapter | 1/1
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Quinn Fabray. Mike/Quinn, Puck/Quinn, Finn/Quinn.
Summary | Wherein Mike Chang and Noah Puckerman are bros, Finn shows up unannounced, and Quinn watches the world keep moving after the birth of her baby -- with the help of the boys who stick around in the aftermath. // Title courtesy of Hedley.
Notes | Meme fill for artemis_sparks , who wanted MQ, and also possibly PQ. This is set in the same universe as you'll see a side of love you've never known.
The night after Quinn is released from the hospital, Mike Chang sleeps on her bed.
On it, not in it, because they don't get under the covers. She is back at home now, and her mother stares at Mike with wide eyes and insists that they leave the door open, but she doesn't forbid him staying over - which is good, because Quinn wouldn't have listened.
They are quiet together. She lays her stomach, still adjusting to the fact that she no longer has a baby bump, her cheek against her pillow. Mike lies on his side next to her, one hand in her hair, toying with strands and stroking it gently. Quinn bites the inside of her cheek on and off, but she does not cry.
Puck arrives just after ten o'clock. She is conscious of his presence the moment he arrives, straining her ears to hear his interaction with her mother - the quiet apologies, the tripped-over words.
Let him upstairs, Quinn whispers to no one. Mike is dozing beside her.
When Puck arrives in her room, he closes the door behind himself. He looks disoriented and it makes her sit up, makes her wonder if he's drunk. He sets his eyes on Mike for a long moment before he waves a hand at her, indicating that she shouldn't get up.
"I can go," he says. His voice is gravelly and it makes her stomach ache. Her womb feels empty and her arms are so heavy, yearning for the baby she gave away.
"Stay," she says, and in a single syllable her heart spills out of her mouth, into his hands.
Quinn watches the boy she made a baby with cry.
Slow tears track down his cheeks. They stare at one another and she reaches out tentative fingers, following the path of his tears down his cheeks. He leans into her touch, his eyes falling closed.
"She looks like you," he mutters thickly.
She needs a long, deep breath before she can say, firm and desperately trying to be careless, "Good."
They laugh and he buries his face into her pillow. She huddles closer to him and lets him hold her for a moment, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns against her back. He breathes her in like she's a new brand of oxygen.
This is the first - and perhaps the last - time that she will ever believe he loves her.
She lies on her back, wide awake, with a boy curled up on either side of her.
But she keeps her eyes closed, and her breathing steady, and sometime around two o'clock in the morning she hears them start to whisper and it goes on a long, long while.
The conversation topics vary: Her. Beth. Football, for a moment. Her. A long-ago inside joke. What happens after Lima. Beth. Her, again and again.
After a long while, having come to some sort of consensus only they understand, they reach over her to bump fists.
Quinn peeks through her lashes and sees the shadows on her walls changing with the first hints of sunrise.
The brand new day is especially bright.
Puck volunteers to go on a coffee run. Mike kisses her the moment he leaves, so softly and tentatively that she finds herself grasping at his shirt, tangling her tongue with his, needing more.
"Easy, Q," he says quietly against her lips.
"I want - " she gasps.
"I know." His hand is so tender against her cheek; he cares too much. His thumb brushes beneath her eye, collecting the orphan tear that has escaped. "And I wish I could give you what you want right now."
The doorbell rings shortly after Puck has returned, when the three of them are sitting on her bed guzzling down coffee - decaffeinated, because it's habit now - like their lives depend on it.
Quinn wanders downstairs in her raggedy pyjamas, her hair an utter mess. There are circles underneath her eyes that she can't bring herself to care about and her body still aches from Beth's birth.
She's fallen a long, long way, but when she opens the door and sees Finn Hudson standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets and a hopeful expression on her face, she feels like the girl she was nine months ago, for just a moment.
Her mother is scandalized, wringing her hands and whispering, "This isn't a brothel, Quinnie."
She goes out onto the porch to talk to Finn.
The first thing he does is hug her.
The first thing she does is cry.
She sits with Finn on her porch steps for a long time, staring out into the traffic, playing a game of remember when?, recalling moment after moment in their relationship.
"I'm so sorry I lied to you, Finn."
He shrugs. "Water under the bridge, you know?"
But she feels the need to explain, so she continues, cautiously, "I just thought you…you would have taken care of us. And you would have been a good dad. I know that."
He clears his throat. "I saw her. At the hospital."
She glances over at him, waiting for more.
Finn looks about as sad as she feels. "I think…I love her, Quinn. I still do. I don't know if that's allowed - "
Her face crumples, but she manages to nod at him. It's allowed.
Puck and Mike wander outside later in the afternoon to join them. Mike sits on the step behind Quinn, wrapping his arms gently around her and letting her lean back against him. She tips her head back and closes her eyes, relishing in the comfort of that gesture. She can sense Puck settling in on her other side.
Cars drive by. The wind shakes the leaves on the trees. Quinn listens to Finn breathing while Puck takes her hand, gingerly toying with the hospital bracelet she still hasn't bothered to remove.
Mike touches her cheek with a single finger and puts his mouth by her ear. "Eyelash," he whispers to her, and she blinks her eyes open slowly to see that he's holding it out for her on the tip of his finger. She can hear his smile when he says, "Make a wish."
Quinn sucks in all the air her lungs can handle and holds that breath for a long moment, a prayer drifting through her thoughts, and then she blows out her breath slowly and wishes the world for the daughter she'll never call her own.
Life keeps on moving.
But the four of them -- they stay still, for a while.
And when she's ready, she stands up and dusts off her pyjama pants and lifts her chin. She asks if they would like to stay for dinner.
- fin -
Chapter | 1/1
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Quinn Fabray. Mike/Quinn, Puck/Quinn, Finn/Quinn.
Summary | Wherein Mike Chang and Noah Puckerman are bros, Finn shows up unannounced, and Quinn watches the world keep moving after the birth of her baby -- with the help of the boys who stick around in the aftermath. // Title courtesy of Hedley.
Notes | Meme fill for artemis_sparks , who wanted MQ, and also possibly PQ. This is set in the same universe as you'll see a side of love you've never known.
The night after Quinn is released from the hospital, Mike Chang sleeps on her bed.
On it, not in it, because they don't get under the covers. She is back at home now, and her mother stares at Mike with wide eyes and insists that they leave the door open, but she doesn't forbid him staying over - which is good, because Quinn wouldn't have listened.
They are quiet together. She lays her stomach, still adjusting to the fact that she no longer has a baby bump, her cheek against her pillow. Mike lies on his side next to her, one hand in her hair, toying with strands and stroking it gently. Quinn bites the inside of her cheek on and off, but she does not cry.
Puck arrives just after ten o'clock. She is conscious of his presence the moment he arrives, straining her ears to hear his interaction with her mother - the quiet apologies, the tripped-over words.
Let him upstairs, Quinn whispers to no one. Mike is dozing beside her.
When Puck arrives in her room, he closes the door behind himself. He looks disoriented and it makes her sit up, makes her wonder if he's drunk. He sets his eyes on Mike for a long moment before he waves a hand at her, indicating that she shouldn't get up.
"I can go," he says. His voice is gravelly and it makes her stomach ache. Her womb feels empty and her arms are so heavy, yearning for the baby she gave away.
"Stay," she says, and in a single syllable her heart spills out of her mouth, into his hands.
Quinn watches the boy she made a baby with cry.
Slow tears track down his cheeks. They stare at one another and she reaches out tentative fingers, following the path of his tears down his cheeks. He leans into her touch, his eyes falling closed.
"She looks like you," he mutters thickly.
She needs a long, deep breath before she can say, firm and desperately trying to be careless, "Good."
They laugh and he buries his face into her pillow. She huddles closer to him and lets him hold her for a moment, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns against her back. He breathes her in like she's a new brand of oxygen.
This is the first - and perhaps the last - time that she will ever believe he loves her.
She lies on her back, wide awake, with a boy curled up on either side of her.
But she keeps her eyes closed, and her breathing steady, and sometime around two o'clock in the morning she hears them start to whisper and it goes on a long, long while.
The conversation topics vary: Her. Beth. Football, for a moment. Her. A long-ago inside joke. What happens after Lima. Beth. Her, again and again.
After a long while, having come to some sort of consensus only they understand, they reach over her to bump fists.
Quinn peeks through her lashes and sees the shadows on her walls changing with the first hints of sunrise.
The brand new day is especially bright.
Puck volunteers to go on a coffee run. Mike kisses her the moment he leaves, so softly and tentatively that she finds herself grasping at his shirt, tangling her tongue with his, needing more.
"Easy, Q," he says quietly against her lips.
"I want - " she gasps.
"I know." His hand is so tender against her cheek; he cares too much. His thumb brushes beneath her eye, collecting the orphan tear that has escaped. "And I wish I could give you what you want right now."
The doorbell rings shortly after Puck has returned, when the three of them are sitting on her bed guzzling down coffee - decaffeinated, because it's habit now - like their lives depend on it.
Quinn wanders downstairs in her raggedy pyjamas, her hair an utter mess. There are circles underneath her eyes that she can't bring herself to care about and her body still aches from Beth's birth.
She's fallen a long, long way, but when she opens the door and sees Finn Hudson standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets and a hopeful expression on her face, she feels like the girl she was nine months ago, for just a moment.
Her mother is scandalized, wringing her hands and whispering, "This isn't a brothel, Quinnie."
She goes out onto the porch to talk to Finn.
The first thing he does is hug her.
The first thing she does is cry.
She sits with Finn on her porch steps for a long time, staring out into the traffic, playing a game of remember when?, recalling moment after moment in their relationship.
"I'm so sorry I lied to you, Finn."
He shrugs. "Water under the bridge, you know?"
But she feels the need to explain, so she continues, cautiously, "I just thought you…you would have taken care of us. And you would have been a good dad. I know that."
He clears his throat. "I saw her. At the hospital."
She glances over at him, waiting for more.
Finn looks about as sad as she feels. "I think…I love her, Quinn. I still do. I don't know if that's allowed - "
Her face crumples, but she manages to nod at him. It's allowed.
Puck and Mike wander outside later in the afternoon to join them. Mike sits on the step behind Quinn, wrapping his arms gently around her and letting her lean back against him. She tips her head back and closes her eyes, relishing in the comfort of that gesture. She can sense Puck settling in on her other side.
Cars drive by. The wind shakes the leaves on the trees. Quinn listens to Finn breathing while Puck takes her hand, gingerly toying with the hospital bracelet she still hasn't bothered to remove.
Mike touches her cheek with a single finger and puts his mouth by her ear. "Eyelash," he whispers to her, and she blinks her eyes open slowly to see that he's holding it out for her on the tip of his finger. She can hear his smile when he says, "Make a wish."
Quinn sucks in all the air her lungs can handle and holds that breath for a long moment, a prayer drifting through her thoughts, and then she blows out her breath slowly and wishes the world for the daughter she'll never call her own.
Life keeps on moving.
But the four of them -- they stay still, for a while.
And when she's ready, she stands up and dusts off her pyjama pants and lifts her chin. She asks if they would like to stay for dinner.
- fin -