Fic: Company (7/?)
Title: Company
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes.
Spoilers: Original Song.
Summary: Sisters
And you are - you have a brief panicked moment when you think you see a horribly familiar face behind you as you take your son to school, but it’s gone when you turn around. Dylan kisses you on the cheek and runs off into the school without a backward glance, and you slowly make your way home. Packing a few small boxes to bring with you to Rachel’s, you take a long look around the house and wonder if you shouldn’t just sell it. It won’t bring in much, Lima property values being what they are (nonexistent), but if you’re going to live at Rachel’s then you could use the extra money for Dylan.
You decide to put off any decision, taking the boxes with you when you leave. Rachel’s extra key unlocks her front door after a bit of fiddling, and you make sure to lock it tightly behind you. You put your boxes in the spare bedroom, reminding yourself to talk to her about the living arrangements when she gets home. You’ve only just started cleaning when the doorbell rings, making you freeze up. It rings again a minute later, and it’s followed by a loud knock and someone shouting your name - someone who sounds really familiar. You run downstairs and unlock the door, throwing it open, and you’re bowled over by your sister.
“Quinnie!”
“Charlie? What are you doing here? I thought you were getting in sometime tonight!”
“I grabbed an earlier flight, figured I’d come and harass you!”
“How did you even know where I was?”
“I’ll never reveal my sources,” she winks, releasing you and taking a step back. You take a long look at her - it’s been a long time since you felt the odd sensation of looking at a facsimile of yourself. Her hair is shorter than yours, stopping at the nape of her neck. It’s red where yours is blonde, and there’s a piercing through her eyebrow. She’s dressed in leather pants and a dark top, and the heels she’s wearing leave her standing a few inches taller than you.
“Charlie,” you whisper, feeling yourself start to cry.
“Hey,” she pulls you into a tight hug. “No tears, Quinnie, okay? I know I’m hideous, but you don’t have to cry.”
You poke her in the side. “I missed you.”
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, it was just - it was too hard, you know?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”
“So, when do I get to meet my nephew?”
“You can come with me to pick him up after school, if you want. I need to finish working, though, so I guess I’ll-“
“No, no - you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Mom said you’re a maid now - makes sense, you were always obsessive compulsive about being clean.”
“No, I wasn’t! You were just a slob!”
“Anyway,” she looks pointedly at you, “I figured I’d give you a hand. Give us a chance to catch up.”
You look incredulously at her. “Do you even know what a vacuum cleaner looks like?”
“Of course I do! That’s the thing you use with the dustpan, right?” she lets the question hang just long enough to make you wonder, then gives you a playful shove. “Yes, smartass. Point me to the cleaning supplies!”
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You’re not sure what you were expecting when you told her your life story, complete up to yesterday - snark, perhaps, or outright laughter, some sort of overt cynicism - but the one thing you didn’t expect was that she’d cry. You’re sitting on the couch with her, holding her close to you.
“I’m sorry, Quinn,” she’s murmuring in your ear. “I’m sorry you went through all of this alone - you’re kinda dumb, though. Why didn’t you ever call me? There must be something I could have done.”
“Call you and say what? Charlie, I’m a whore now, let’s rap about it?”
“Point taken. I’m glad you’ve got this Rachel chick looking out for you now, though - she sounds like good people. And seriously, fuck this hearing in the ass anyway - do you want me to just go find this Finn guy and cut his balls off? Because you know I will. I’ve got the knife in my overnight bag.”
“Don’t even tempt me,” you snort. “Although you’d need a smaller knife.”
“I didn’t even tell you how big a knife it was.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you surprise yourself by laughing, and she laughs with you.
“That bad, was it? Did you and Bob spend a lot of lonely nights together during your marriage?”
“I kept Duracell in business.”
“Should have gone with Energizer, that fucking bunny is wonderful!”
“And what about you?” you ask when you’ve stopped laughing. “Anybody special?”
“Yeah, actually - I’m dating a tattoo artist named Sarah. She’s awesome.”
“So you’re-”
“Gay? A big ol’ dyke? Yep. What, you figured you were the only Fabray that’s played both sides of the fence? Typical - same old Quinn, always had to be number one at everything.”
“Same old Charlie, being a bitch with an inferiority complex,” you grin, and she hits you with a pillow.
“Yeah, well, it was hard not to have an inferiority complex, wasn’t it? ‘Oh, Charlie, why can’t you be more like Quinn? Quinn’s a good girl. Quinn doesn’t rub the boys’ faces in the dirt until they cry. Quinn doesn’t stab the lunch monitor with a spoon. Quinn doesn’t charge the boys five dollars to look at her junk.’”
“Wait, when was that?”
“Third grade.”
“How do I not remember this?”
“Please - the great god Russell picked me up from school, whipped my ass, and made me swear never to tell anyone about it. Told me never to do it again, because I was going to hell already and I was only making it worse. Fucker.”
“I agree.”
“So, how did the divorce happen? Aunt Muriel wouldn’t tell me jack, something about ‘impugning her sister’s honor,’ or some shit like that.”
“She found out he was having an affair. She threw him out, and then she asked me to move back in with her.”
“This was right before you had your kid, right? The first one?”
“Yeah,” you nod.
“So,” she laughs, “Mister Morality was having an affair - that’s fucking epic. Does he still live here?”
You shake your head. “He’s out in Cleveland, last I heard.”
“That’s too bad - I’d love to pay the asshole a visit. We need to have a long overdue chat about the ethics of throwing your children out of your house.”
“Not even worth it, Charlie. Although if you wanted to rob him, and give the money to Mom, that’d be cool by me.” You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. “Shit - we need to get going, it’s a good twenty minutes walk.”
“Walk? Bitch, please. Charlotte Fabray does not walk, that’s so ghetto. My rental car’s outside. It’s got a sweet iPod dock in it.” The joviality goes out of her voice, and she looks at you with deadly seriousness. “And if you see that guy - the one who raped you - you shout, and you point. I’ll stop the car, and then I’ll go and kill him.”
“Charlie-“
“No, I’m not fucking around, Q. Nobody does that to my baby sister and lives. If you see him, you tell me. Understand?”
“I do,” you nod, squeezing her tightly. “I hate when you call me that, though. I was born three minutes after you.”
“You’re still my baby sister,” she ruffles your hair, and you pull away with a scowl. “Now let’s go pick up my nephew!”
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Dylan’s shy at first, which you sort of expected. He follows you back to the forest green SUV Charlie’s rented and reluctantly accepts her sweeping hug. Soon, though, her gregarious nature has won him over, and he’s asking every question that races into his mind. He barely notices as you load him into the back seat and buckle him up, and his chatter doesn’t stop.
“What’s that thing in your eye?” he points, and you reach back to push his hand down.
“Don’t point, baby, it’s rude.”
“This?” Charlie flicks her eyebrow piercing. “It’s like an earring, but it goes in your eyebrow instead.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore, little man. When they put it in it hurts, but just for a second.”
“Can I get one?”
“When you’re eighteen,” she answers before you can jump in.
He frowns, studying her carefully. She pulls away from the curb, looking at him in the rearview mirror. “You look like you’re thinking hard.”
“Why isn’t your hair the same as mommy’s?”
“I don’t follow.”
“She said you’re idemical twins.”
“Identical,” you correct automatically.
“That we are.”
“Then shouldn’t your hair be yellow too?”
She meets your gaze and winks, and you shake your head, knowing she’s about to fill your son’s head full of lies. “Well, it used to be. But then one day I was walking through a strawberry jam plant, and it exploded. All the jam got in my hair, and it’s been red ever since.”
Dylan nods thoughtfully. “Did you wash it?”
“I did - I even went to the doctor. But they said there was so much jam, it’ll never come clean. So if you go to a jam factory, make sure you wear a helmet, okay? What if the blueberry jam exploded? You’d have blue hair forever!”
His eyes are wide, and he just nods. You lean over to whisper in her ear. “You know he’s going to be afraid of strawberry jam for a month now, right?”
“Ah, c’mon - I’m the cool aunt, I’m supposed to b.s. the kid.”
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Judy’s obnoxiously happy to have her kids and grandchild under one roof, and insists on taking so many pictures that you worry Dylan’s going to go blind from all the flashing. But you don’t mind - it’s been a long time since you’ve seen her smile quite this much, and it heals your heart a little. When the picture-taking is interrupted by a knock at the door, you and Charlie exchange a confused look. Judy rolls her eyes and moves to answer the door. “I invited your friend Rachel to join us.”
You tense imperceptibly, hoping that Charlie will hold her tongue. That’s quickly dashed when she looks at you with a gleam in her eye. “Your ‘friend,’ huh? The ‘friend’ that gave you a job and a lawyer and a place to live? That’s a good ‘friend.’”
“Shut it,” you punch her in the arm, gesturing at Dylan. Still shaking your head, you get up to meet Rachel at the door with a quick hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come in, Rach.” You ignore Charlie’s wolf-whistle, casually flipping her the bird behind your back.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Fabray,” she greets your mother.
“Judy, darling, please.”
“Judy it is,” she agrees easily. She catches sight of Charlie on the loveseat and does a double-take. “And you must be Charlotte.”
Charlie laughs loudly. “No one’s called me Charlotte since primary school. It’s Charlie.” She saunters over, taking Rachel by surprise with a forceful hug. She whispers something into Rachel’s ear that you don’t hear, and it’s replied to with a smile and a nod. Charlie pulls back, and Rachel takes a longer look at her.
“It’s so wild,” she laughs. “Like a carnival mirror or something. Did you guys ever do any of that fun stuff that twins can get away with?”
“We did it all,” Charlie laughs again. My favourite was when Mom would dress us differently so she could tell us apart, and then we’d switch clothes before we came home from school.”
“They were terrible,” Judy confirms, and you and Charlie grin at each other.
“Could I help with dinner, Mrs - Judy?”
“Not at all, Rachel - go and sit with the girls. I’ll get the three of you to set the table in a few minutes.”
Rachel sit opposite the two of you, and you laugh as she looks back and forth at you both. But her contemplation is interrupted by Dylan, who crashes into her lap. Rachel picks him up and resettles him.
“How are you today, Dylan?”
“Good. That’s mommy’s sister,” he points to Charlie, “that one’s mommy.”
“Ah, okay, thank you! She forgot her name tag, so I was a bit confused!” She smiles at you. “So, Quinn - I was wondering whether you wanted a hand moving your things tonight.”
“About that,” you murmur, trying not to draw Dylan’s attention as he makes faces at Charlie, who’s making faces back at him, “are you sure? I mean, do you really want a kid in your house?”
“It’s just a house, Quinn. And I want you there, so I want him there too. He can have the spare room.”
“And what about me?”
“You can stay in my room,” she bites her lip nervously. “I mean, if you want to.”
“I want to,” you assure her.
“I’ll give you guys a hand,” Charlie interjects. “The SUV has some sweet cargo space.”
You don’t bother pointing out that it won’t take two vehicles - you don’t have that much to move.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Judy calls from the kitchen. “Could someone set the table?”
You start to get up, and Charlie does the same. You sit back down, and she copies you. You grin and launch yourself across the loveseat, breaking into a run as she chases after you. The last thing you hear on the way out of the room is Dylan telling Rachel that Charlie’s hair is full of jam.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes.
Spoilers: Original Song.
Summary: Sisters
And you are - you have a brief panicked moment when you think you see a horribly familiar face behind you as you take your son to school, but it’s gone when you turn around. Dylan kisses you on the cheek and runs off into the school without a backward glance, and you slowly make your way home. Packing a few small boxes to bring with you to Rachel’s, you take a long look around the house and wonder if you shouldn’t just sell it. It won’t bring in much, Lima property values being what they are (nonexistent), but if you’re going to live at Rachel’s then you could use the extra money for Dylan.
You decide to put off any decision, taking the boxes with you when you leave. Rachel’s extra key unlocks her front door after a bit of fiddling, and you make sure to lock it tightly behind you. You put your boxes in the spare bedroom, reminding yourself to talk to her about the living arrangements when she gets home. You’ve only just started cleaning when the doorbell rings, making you freeze up. It rings again a minute later, and it’s followed by a loud knock and someone shouting your name - someone who sounds really familiar. You run downstairs and unlock the door, throwing it open, and you’re bowled over by your sister.
“Quinnie!”
“Charlie? What are you doing here? I thought you were getting in sometime tonight!”
“I grabbed an earlier flight, figured I’d come and harass you!”
“How did you even know where I was?”
“I’ll never reveal my sources,” she winks, releasing you and taking a step back. You take a long look at her - it’s been a long time since you felt the odd sensation of looking at a facsimile of yourself. Her hair is shorter than yours, stopping at the nape of her neck. It’s red where yours is blonde, and there’s a piercing through her eyebrow. She’s dressed in leather pants and a dark top, and the heels she’s wearing leave her standing a few inches taller than you.
“Charlie,” you whisper, feeling yourself start to cry.
“Hey,” she pulls you into a tight hug. “No tears, Quinnie, okay? I know I’m hideous, but you don’t have to cry.”
You poke her in the side. “I missed you.”
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, it was just - it was too hard, you know?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”
“So, when do I get to meet my nephew?”
“You can come with me to pick him up after school, if you want. I need to finish working, though, so I guess I’ll-“
“No, no - you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Mom said you’re a maid now - makes sense, you were always obsessive compulsive about being clean.”
“No, I wasn’t! You were just a slob!”
“Anyway,” she looks pointedly at you, “I figured I’d give you a hand. Give us a chance to catch up.”
You look incredulously at her. “Do you even know what a vacuum cleaner looks like?”
“Of course I do! That’s the thing you use with the dustpan, right?” she lets the question hang just long enough to make you wonder, then gives you a playful shove. “Yes, smartass. Point me to the cleaning supplies!”
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You’re not sure what you were expecting when you told her your life story, complete up to yesterday - snark, perhaps, or outright laughter, some sort of overt cynicism - but the one thing you didn’t expect was that she’d cry. You’re sitting on the couch with her, holding her close to you.
“I’m sorry, Quinn,” she’s murmuring in your ear. “I’m sorry you went through all of this alone - you’re kinda dumb, though. Why didn’t you ever call me? There must be something I could have done.”
“Call you and say what? Charlie, I’m a whore now, let’s rap about it?”
“Point taken. I’m glad you’ve got this Rachel chick looking out for you now, though - she sounds like good people. And seriously, fuck this hearing in the ass anyway - do you want me to just go find this Finn guy and cut his balls off? Because you know I will. I’ve got the knife in my overnight bag.”
“Don’t even tempt me,” you snort. “Although you’d need a smaller knife.”
“I didn’t even tell you how big a knife it was.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you surprise yourself by laughing, and she laughs with you.
“That bad, was it? Did you and Bob spend a lot of lonely nights together during your marriage?”
“I kept Duracell in business.”
“Should have gone with Energizer, that fucking bunny is wonderful!”
“And what about you?” you ask when you’ve stopped laughing. “Anybody special?”
“Yeah, actually - I’m dating a tattoo artist named Sarah. She’s awesome.”
“So you’re-”
“Gay? A big ol’ dyke? Yep. What, you figured you were the only Fabray that’s played both sides of the fence? Typical - same old Quinn, always had to be number one at everything.”
“Same old Charlie, being a bitch with an inferiority complex,” you grin, and she hits you with a pillow.
“Yeah, well, it was hard not to have an inferiority complex, wasn’t it? ‘Oh, Charlie, why can’t you be more like Quinn? Quinn’s a good girl. Quinn doesn’t rub the boys’ faces in the dirt until they cry. Quinn doesn’t stab the lunch monitor with a spoon. Quinn doesn’t charge the boys five dollars to look at her junk.’”
“Wait, when was that?”
“Third grade.”
“How do I not remember this?”
“Please - the great god Russell picked me up from school, whipped my ass, and made me swear never to tell anyone about it. Told me never to do it again, because I was going to hell already and I was only making it worse. Fucker.”
“I agree.”
“So, how did the divorce happen? Aunt Muriel wouldn’t tell me jack, something about ‘impugning her sister’s honor,’ or some shit like that.”
“She found out he was having an affair. She threw him out, and then she asked me to move back in with her.”
“This was right before you had your kid, right? The first one?”
“Yeah,” you nod.
“So,” she laughs, “Mister Morality was having an affair - that’s fucking epic. Does he still live here?”
You shake your head. “He’s out in Cleveland, last I heard.”
“That’s too bad - I’d love to pay the asshole a visit. We need to have a long overdue chat about the ethics of throwing your children out of your house.”
“Not even worth it, Charlie. Although if you wanted to rob him, and give the money to Mom, that’d be cool by me.” You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. “Shit - we need to get going, it’s a good twenty minutes walk.”
“Walk? Bitch, please. Charlotte Fabray does not walk, that’s so ghetto. My rental car’s outside. It’s got a sweet iPod dock in it.” The joviality goes out of her voice, and she looks at you with deadly seriousness. “And if you see that guy - the one who raped you - you shout, and you point. I’ll stop the car, and then I’ll go and kill him.”
“Charlie-“
“No, I’m not fucking around, Q. Nobody does that to my baby sister and lives. If you see him, you tell me. Understand?”
“I do,” you nod, squeezing her tightly. “I hate when you call me that, though. I was born three minutes after you.”
“You’re still my baby sister,” she ruffles your hair, and you pull away with a scowl. “Now let’s go pick up my nephew!”
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Dylan’s shy at first, which you sort of expected. He follows you back to the forest green SUV Charlie’s rented and reluctantly accepts her sweeping hug. Soon, though, her gregarious nature has won him over, and he’s asking every question that races into his mind. He barely notices as you load him into the back seat and buckle him up, and his chatter doesn’t stop.
“What’s that thing in your eye?” he points, and you reach back to push his hand down.
“Don’t point, baby, it’s rude.”
“This?” Charlie flicks her eyebrow piercing. “It’s like an earring, but it goes in your eyebrow instead.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore, little man. When they put it in it hurts, but just for a second.”
“Can I get one?”
“When you’re eighteen,” she answers before you can jump in.
He frowns, studying her carefully. She pulls away from the curb, looking at him in the rearview mirror. “You look like you’re thinking hard.”
“Why isn’t your hair the same as mommy’s?”
“I don’t follow.”
“She said you’re idemical twins.”
“Identical,” you correct automatically.
“That we are.”
“Then shouldn’t your hair be yellow too?”
She meets your gaze and winks, and you shake your head, knowing she’s about to fill your son’s head full of lies. “Well, it used to be. But then one day I was walking through a strawberry jam plant, and it exploded. All the jam got in my hair, and it’s been red ever since.”
Dylan nods thoughtfully. “Did you wash it?”
“I did - I even went to the doctor. But they said there was so much jam, it’ll never come clean. So if you go to a jam factory, make sure you wear a helmet, okay? What if the blueberry jam exploded? You’d have blue hair forever!”
His eyes are wide, and he just nods. You lean over to whisper in her ear. “You know he’s going to be afraid of strawberry jam for a month now, right?”
“Ah, c’mon - I’m the cool aunt, I’m supposed to b.s. the kid.”
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Judy’s obnoxiously happy to have her kids and grandchild under one roof, and insists on taking so many pictures that you worry Dylan’s going to go blind from all the flashing. But you don’t mind - it’s been a long time since you’ve seen her smile quite this much, and it heals your heart a little. When the picture-taking is interrupted by a knock at the door, you and Charlie exchange a confused look. Judy rolls her eyes and moves to answer the door. “I invited your friend Rachel to join us.”
You tense imperceptibly, hoping that Charlie will hold her tongue. That’s quickly dashed when she looks at you with a gleam in her eye. “Your ‘friend,’ huh? The ‘friend’ that gave you a job and a lawyer and a place to live? That’s a good ‘friend.’”
“Shut it,” you punch her in the arm, gesturing at Dylan. Still shaking your head, you get up to meet Rachel at the door with a quick hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come in, Rach.” You ignore Charlie’s wolf-whistle, casually flipping her the bird behind your back.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Fabray,” she greets your mother.
“Judy, darling, please.”
“Judy it is,” she agrees easily. She catches sight of Charlie on the loveseat and does a double-take. “And you must be Charlotte.”
Charlie laughs loudly. “No one’s called me Charlotte since primary school. It’s Charlie.” She saunters over, taking Rachel by surprise with a forceful hug. She whispers something into Rachel’s ear that you don’t hear, and it’s replied to with a smile and a nod. Charlie pulls back, and Rachel takes a longer look at her.
“It’s so wild,” she laughs. “Like a carnival mirror or something. Did you guys ever do any of that fun stuff that twins can get away with?”
“We did it all,” Charlie laughs again. My favourite was when Mom would dress us differently so she could tell us apart, and then we’d switch clothes before we came home from school.”
“They were terrible,” Judy confirms, and you and Charlie grin at each other.
“Could I help with dinner, Mrs - Judy?”
“Not at all, Rachel - go and sit with the girls. I’ll get the three of you to set the table in a few minutes.”
Rachel sit opposite the two of you, and you laugh as she looks back and forth at you both. But her contemplation is interrupted by Dylan, who crashes into her lap. Rachel picks him up and resettles him.
“How are you today, Dylan?”
“Good. That’s mommy’s sister,” he points to Charlie, “that one’s mommy.”
“Ah, okay, thank you! She forgot her name tag, so I was a bit confused!” She smiles at you. “So, Quinn - I was wondering whether you wanted a hand moving your things tonight.”
“About that,” you murmur, trying not to draw Dylan’s attention as he makes faces at Charlie, who’s making faces back at him, “are you sure? I mean, do you really want a kid in your house?”
“It’s just a house, Quinn. And I want you there, so I want him there too. He can have the spare room.”
“And what about me?”
“You can stay in my room,” she bites her lip nervously. “I mean, if you want to.”
“I want to,” you assure her.
“I’ll give you guys a hand,” Charlie interjects. “The SUV has some sweet cargo space.”
You don’t bother pointing out that it won’t take two vehicles - you don’t have that much to move.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Judy calls from the kitchen. “Could someone set the table?”
You start to get up, and Charlie does the same. You sit back down, and she copies you. You grin and launch yourself across the loveseat, breaking into a run as she chases after you. The last thing you hear on the way out of the room is Dylan telling Rachel that Charlie’s hair is full of jam.