Fanfiction: Glee - ...More Than Anyone Else
Once Quinn and Rachel had decided to have a baby, neither had thought about how many decisions it would entail before either one of them was carrying their child. First, there was the question of who would physically have the baby.
Rachel’s massive whiteboard sat on their kitchen table for a week with a lengthy pro-con list. It was littered with things like flexibility of work schedules, stability of income, and even who was better suited to satisfy the sudden cravings of the other. (It was Quinn. She was the better cook, and had less of a tendency to get distracted on takeout runs). Somewhere in the middle of the two columns was written that Quinn was the one with “baby-having experience” because neither of them could determine if that should be a pro or a con.
Eventually it was decided that Rachel would be the one to have the baby because, in the end, all the hang-ups about her budding career didn’t matter.
“If my career cannot handle me being pregnant, then it certainly could not withstand the pressures and duties of a larger family. I would rather know that piece of information now while I can still change to a more accommodating profession,” were Rachel’s exact words on the subject.
It wasn’t until Rachel brought up the decision of who would be the biological mother that the two of them had any real disagreement on things.
Quinn was sitting in bed one evening when her thoughts drifted toward the child she and Rachel were deciding to have. All of Quinn’s past daydreams involved two beautiful brunettes, one with a smile that was the miniature of her mother's.
Only this time, it wasn’t a tiny brown haired girl that was playing happily with Rachel, it was a blonde. Quinn hadn’t really considered the idea that, given their current plans for the pregnancy, there was an equal chance that the baby would share her genetic code and not Rachel’s.
Quinn felt her chest tighten at the thought of another fair-haired, light eyed girl being held in her arms. She didn’t know if she could handle that feeling again. The anxiousness was spreading when Quinn realized Rachel had just asked her a question.
“Huh?”
“I said I was thinking about the baby and wanted to talk to you about something,” Rachel repeated.
“Uh, sure,” Quinn said still trying to collect the distressing thoughts that were running through her brain.
“I know we had talked about using methods to ensure it would be random who ended up as the biological mother,” Rachel said.
“Uh, huh,” Quinn nodded.
“But wouldn’t it better if we both had a special connection to our child? I will already be carrying him or her for nine months which led me to the obvious conclusion that you should, at least genetically speaking, be the mother,” Rachel said matter-of-factly, expecting Quinn to agree with her as she had on all previous choices concerning the pregnancy.
Instead she was met with Quinn’s face momentarily flashing with panic before she broke down into tears.
Rachel swiftly took Quinn into her arms, not understanding what she had said that would warrant the devastating sight before her. “What is it, sweetie? We don’t have to do that if you don’t want. It can still be surprise. Or we can do it the other way if you want. I don’t have to be the one that has the baby.” Rachel offered every solution that she could think of.
“No, that’s not it,” Quinn said muffled against her wife and the brunette silently prayed that Quinn wasn’t second guessing them starting a family altogether.
“Are you having second thoughts about us having a child?” Rachel closed her eyes and braced herself for the response.
“No!” Quinn’s answer was almost instantaneous. She pulled back slightly to wipe her eyes. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea if the baby’s biologically mine,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the bed.
Rachel’s rush of relief was rapidly replaced with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we shouldn’t run the risk of having the baby be mine,” Quinn said and the words broke Rachel’s heart. She clutched Quinn tighter while she waited for her wife to get everything out.
“What if my genes are defective? My parents and I still barely tolerate one another. When I was trying to live up to their expectations, I was this horrible person. What if I do that to our kid?” Quinn asked.
“Quinn, look at me. First, you are in no way, shape, or form your parents,” Rachel said definitively. If they hadn’t been holding each other on the bed, Quinn was sure there would have been an accompanying stomp. “You love me for who I am, not who you want me to be. And I cannot imagine things being any different with our son or daughter.”
“Second, you, in fact, have very nice genes. There are an abundance of traits that I hope our child would inherit from you.”
“Like what?” The question would have been a shameless ploy for compliments had Quinn not felt so utterly worthless at the moment.
“Your courage, and compassion, and the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and your ability to be patient even when I’m in diva freakout mode,” Rachel said. The last trait coaxed a small smile out of Quinn.
“But the one thing I hope that our child would share with you is your protectiveness of your family,” Rachel said. “Remember that boss of mine you told off for making me work ungodly hours without overtime. I had to do all the grunt work around the theater even though my contract was for the ensemble.”
“Yeah. I remember that you were fired the next day,” Quinn mumbled.
“Which left me open to get my first role where I was part of the principle cast, and it helped me remember where my priorities were,” Rachel squeezed Quinn’s hand affectionately. “I haven’t let a director walk over me a day since.”
“What if I can’t love our baby like I should?” Quinn said, voice still quavering.
“Quinn, it, generally speaking, is a good indicator that one is going to be alright if you are concerned enough to ask the question,” Rachel said, her voice softening. “Additionally, I know there is no one else that would love our child more than you. You will be a wonderful mother.”
And just like that, Rachel’s completely assured statement, as if Quinn’s impending role as mother extraordinaire was a foregone conclusion, banished much of Quinn’s doubt from her mind. Not all of it was gone, but somehow Rachel had managed, as she always did, to lift the overwhelming weight.
“I’m scared too, you know,” Rachel added softly whispering into Quinn’s hair. “But I know I have you, and that we’re in this together.”
“I know,” Quinn breathed out. “Are you serious about wanting to do things this way?”
“Yes. Besides I’ve always wanted a little blond child and I simply do not have the proper genetics for that,” Rachel said with a smile that tried to make it seem like she was joking, but Quinn could tell she was serious.
“Is it ok if I think about it? This isn’t something I can just get over in a night,” Quinn said beginning to lie down.
“Of course you can,” Rachel said leaning over to press a goodnight kiss to Quinn’s lips. “Have all the time you need.”
It was eight days later (and conveniently three days before their first doctor’s appointment) that Quinn came to Rachel with her answer. She was watching Rachel devour a bowl of Cheerios when she had this overwhelming feeling, similar to the one she had when she spontaneously asked Rachel to have a baby with her.
It wasn’t any one thing Rachel said or did this time. (Obviously. She was only eating cereal at the moment). But it was all those days of Rachel’s patience with and silent faith in her that broke the final barrier.
“We should do it your way,” was all she said.
“Pardon?” Rachel said looking up from her breakfast.
“I said we should do things your way - with the baby that is. I mean if you still want my genetic material,” Quinn said.
As soon as she saw the smile on Rachel’s face she knew she had made the right choice.
“Really?” Rachel asked vaulting from her seat.
“Really,” Quinn confirmed, barely able to get in a nod before Rachel had slammed into her for a bone-crushing hug.
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They had just finished cleaning up dinner one night when Quinn brought up the next big baby decision.
“You know how people use family names for the middle names?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah,” Rachel replied trying to keep her tone neutral. Surely Quinn didn’t want to name their child after anyone in that callous, self-righteous family of hers.
“Well, I was wondering what you thought about using Berry?” Quinn asked hesitantly. When Rachel didn’t respond right away she continued, “I mean I know that you still use it for your stage name, but I wanted at least one of our children to have a link to that part of you.”
“You want to name the baby after me?” Rachel said breaking into a full face smile. “That has to be one of the sweetest things you have ever said to me.”
“It is really the only name I care about,” Quinn said her own smile competing with Rachel’s in the wattage arena. “Are you crying?”
“No,” Rachel said blinking rapidly. “Just a little teary.”
Quinn reached over to wipe the lone escaped tear off Rachel’s face when the brunette’s expression changed suddenly as if she just realized something.
“But it would only be a girl middle name, right?” Rachel said, hoping she wasn’t hurting Quinn’s feelings with the question after her wife had just been so thoughtful.
“Yes, definitely a girl name. Could you imagine a poor boy with a middle name like Berry and two mothers? We would be setting him up to be the one all the kids pick on,” Quinn said with a laugh.
Rachel’s brow furrowed momentarily, “You know it is not going to be easy for them no matter what.”
“Oh, Rach,” Quinn responded pulling Rachel close. She knew her wife was thinking of all the taunting she had endured over the years and it took all her strength to follow Fabray Household Rule #3 and not apologize for the part she had played in the torture. “With you as a mother, I know that they will be prepared to handle whatever people throw at them. And I’ll beat up any parents that disapprove.”
“You know how I feel about physical violence. A respectful debate is often just as effective in swaying the opposing party to proper side,” Rachel said, hands on her hips.
“Fine. Then I’ll have Santana do it,” Quinn said.
“I can live with that,” Rachel laughed.
“Hey, why did you look so worried when I asked you about middle names? What did you think I was going to suggest, Mortimer?”
“No, but for a moment I thought you were going to want to name our child after that jerkface father of yours or something like that. You looked more nervous than you needed to be about suggesting we name a child after me.”
“Jerkface?” Quinn laughed.
“He deserves a worse name, but you know my thoughts on swearing. Plus little ears are going to be around here soon, and I don’t want to be in the habit of indulging in coarse language,” Rachel said seriously.
“You’re right,” Quinn said. “But does this mean no more ‘indulging’ in bed?”
Rachel flushed at the thought despite the fact that it was just her and Quinn. Clearing her throat, Rachel spoke, “Yes, well, although there are circumstances in which I do tend to have a fouler mouth,” Quinn smirked at the words. “I don’t think the bedroom will be a place where we will be in danger of little ears overhearing.”
“Good,” Quinn replied. “Because otherwise we would have needed to get it out of our system before the baby comes.” Quinn pulled Rachel close and kissed her deeply.
Rachel pulled away and Quinn groaned in disappointment. “Now before we got so easily distracted we were having a serious conversation about baby names,” Rachel said.
“Yes, we were,” Quinn said, restraining from rolling her eyes. “Did you have something in mind?”
Now it was Rachel’s turn to look sheepish as she suggested her baby name. “I too was thinking about middle names. How do you like Gabriel?”
Quinn only needed to think briefly before responding. “Sounds perfect. Seriously, that is an awesome boy middle name.” Rachel bounced happily on her toes and Quinn couldn’t resist adding, “Also, angels?”
“Yeah. Also, angels,” Rachel said.
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Quinn had only been at work an hour when Rachel had called frantic on the other end that something was wrong with the baby. Quinn had rushed home and taken her to an emergency appointment where, to both of their relief, the doctor confirmed that everything was normal. The baby was healthy, and while the pain Rachel had experienced was not uncommon, she should take it easy for the next few days.
“You go rest on the couch,” Quinn had said when they returned home. “I’ll go make us something to eat.”
Rachel had smiled brightly and given her a peck on the cheek in response, so when Quinn entered the family room only to find Rachel sobbing, she was a bit dumbfounded.
“Rach, baby, what’s wrong?” Quinn asked setting the plate of sandwiches down and moving to rub small soothing circles on Rachel’s back.
Rachel looked up and tried to control herself letting out short shuddering breaths.
“Shh,” Quinn whispered rocking Rachel back and forth in her arms. “Everything’s going to be alright. The baby’s healthy. You’re healthy. We’re going to be fine.”
Quinn didn’t know if that was what Rachel was upset about, but she really couldn’t think of anything else that would be more important at the moment.
“I… was… so scared,” Rachel’s words were hesitant when she finally calmed down enough to speak quietly. “And you were here for me and incredible and took care of everything. Which made me think of you all alone in high school and how scared you must have been. And how I wasn’t there for you.”
The words were now tumbling uncontrolled from Rachel’s mouth. Quinn could see she was about to hyperventilate so she squeezed Rachel tightly effectively closing the damn that had broken to let the words out.
“No, we aren’t going there,” Quinn voice was firm, but gentle. “You were one who instituted Fabray Household Rule #3. We aren’t allowed to continually apologize for our past because all has been forgiven. If I’m not allowed to wallow in guilt, you certainly aren’t allowed to either.”
“Besides,” Quinn continued, disbelief creeping into her tone, “You were there for all the important things. You ran and got me my cravings in the middle of the night, held my hand when she was born, and then held me when she was gone. I could have never have done it without you.”
“I could never do this without you,” Rachel said, no longer crying, but still the words stuck in her throat.
“Good, because I’m looking forward to being the one who gets to run for ice chips this time around,” Quinn said and adjusted Rachel until she rested comfortably against her chest.
“You better be. Because we both know I will be very demanding in the delivery room,” Rachel said with humor that only Quinn would detect.
“I know. And I love you for it,” Quinn said and placed a kiss on the top of Rachel’s head.
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"So we’re coming up on your appointment where we can see if it’s a boy or a girl and I wanted to talk to you about something,” Quinn said.
“You want it to be a surprise?” Rachel asked, confused. They hadn’t exactly sat down and had a conversation about it, but it had seemed implied from the beginning that they were going to find out.
“Oh no, no, no,” Quinn said shaking her head. “There is no way I’m dealing with you not knowing the gender of our baby. No offense, but you would decide you wanted it to be a surprise and then next thing you know you’re waking me up at three in the morning to set an appointment to find out what we’re having. “
“I would not do that!” Rachel said sticking her lip out in a pout, a surefire indication that she knew Quinn was right and was using her adorableness to cover it up.
Quinn didn’t even respond more than a quirked eyebrow and a pointed glance before Rachel conceded.
“Alright, maybe that would happen,” Rachel threw up her hands in defeat. “But you are the one who fell in love with an admittedly high-maintenance girl,” she added with a smirk.
“I was thinking maybe we could hold off telling people. At least until after the shower that is,” Quinn said.
“Why would we want to do that?” Rachel asked. “Part of the fun is getting to tell people and show off.”
“I know. It’s just that I like a little variety and people tend to be more creative if they can’t default back to some stereotype. That I and I don’t want a million pink or blue clothes,” Quinn said.
“If we asked people not to get us that color that wouldn’t happen. People would listen to a reasonable request for diversity in their gifts,” Rachel said.
“Don’t you remember Renea’s shower? She specifically asked for people not to buy pink outfits and close to 75% of them were,” Quinn said.
“Oh,” Rachel winced as she remembered sitting with their friend after the shower. “I couldn’t help it that the only onesie they had that came with a matching hat was pink. It was too cute an ensemble to pass up,” Rachel said in her defense. “Besides I don’t think you get to pick on me while I’m pregnant. The baby doesn’t like it.”
“The baby is easily offended because I was not the one who brought up what you purchased. I just said I didn’t want to get baby clothes that were all the same color. That’s all,” Quinn said. “And I do like yellow and green better anyway.”
“Well, I guess I can get behind not wanting our child to have to conform to the social pressures of gender stereotypes. It is never too early to instill proper values. As long as this isn’t so we get more presents,” Rachel warned all but shaking her finger at Quinn.
“It’s not,” Quinn laughed.
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"Rachel, what are you doing?” Quinn asked when she got home. Rachel surrounded by what looked to be a mountain of parenting books while she stared intently at the television.
Rachel looked up from her spot where she had sunken into the couch and answered innocently, “Watching Sportscenter.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you were doing. I guess the better question would have been, why?” Quinn asked her eyebrow quirked upward.
“We’re having a boy, Quinn, and in my efforts to be prepared I realized that my sports knowledge is limited to the few games I went to watch Finn in high school and of course the musical Damn Yankees. Which, oh by the way, today I decided that we are Mets fans. I think we should get hats,” Rachel said turning back to the television.
Quinn stopped herself from laughing at the absurdity that Rachel had been watching ESPN all day and had managed to choose a favorite team for them. In reality, the earnestness with which she was watching the television was quite endearing.
“You know I didn’t just stand there and cheer all those years without picking up anything. I’m fairly up on my sports. I pretty sure our child will be fine. Besides, weren’t you the one who was all for the no gender bias thing?” Quinn said dropping down next to Rachel on the couch.
“Not wanting to create an environment of gender bias is one thing, but leaving out a crucial area of growth such as physical development is quite another. Plus these books state that sports are good for teaching general coordination as well as teambuilding. Dance, while a positive physical outlet, is at the younger levels more of a solo endeavor. Athletics would be necessary to balance things out.
“Sounds good to me. But that doesn’t explain why we now have a favorite team,” Quinn said with a smirk.
“What if he really likes sports?” Rachel asks looking down at her prominent belly. “I want him to be able to do things with us that he likes. And I also think I might be more of a fan than I thought I was.”
“Of course. My wife the sports junkie,” Quinn said.
“Not junkie. Average fan,” Rachel corrected. She snuggled into Quinn as best she could, but before she rested her head on her wife’s shoulder she asked with sincerity that only Rachel could muster, “What do you think about the name Lebron?”
Quinn didn’t even try to contain the laughter that time.
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“Quinn,” Rachel called from the other room. “I have a question for you.”
“Oh no,” Quinn muttered quietly under her breath. She knew that tone and it meant that Rachel was about to ask her one of those lose-lose scenario questions from which there was no escape.
Looking up from her position on the couch Rachel asked, “Do I waddle?”
Not the question Quinn had been expecting, but definitely lose-lose. It actually would have been somewhat comical if the brunette didn’t look so deathly serious.
“Well…” Quinn began hesitantly “Do you mean that you move from side to side when you walk?” She paused briefly hoping Rachel would get the hint, but instead she just sat there and nodded waiting expectantly. “Then yes.”
“Ugh, I do waddle! People must think I’m a giant obese cow!” Rachel wailed, bordering on tears. She covered her face with the back of her arm as she flopped back on the couch. Pregnant Rachel regained much of her flair for the dramatic that she had lost as she mellowed some over the years.
“Look, Rach. No one thinks you’re a cow. How many times do I need to tell you, you’re beautiful? You wear the weight really well, and you always have that pregnant glow people talk about,” Quinn reassured her. “That and your wife still finds you widely attractive.”
“You have to say that because we’re married. It doesn’t count,” Rachel said pouting.
Quinn scowled at the unwanted response before quickly changing her tactics.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked when Quinn whipped out her phone and started dialing.
“I’m settling this once and for all. If you won’t believe me I’ll get outside corroboration,” Quinn said, and waited until her call was answered. “Hey, Santana, I have you on speaker phone with me and Rachel and I need your help with something,”
“I’m not settling one of your Broadway debates again,” Santana said.
“We haven’t needed you to settle one of those in over a year,” Quinn said indignantly. “It’s not that.”
“Alright then. What is it this time?” Santana asked.
“I need you tell Rachel what you said about her the other day,” Quinn said, shooting Rachel a pointed glance when the brunette rolled her eyes.
“I warned that I would punch you if you ever told anyone about that, Fabray,” Santana said her tone full of false menace.
“I’m not going to be the one telling anything, you are. Besides,” Quinn took a sidelong glance at a still moping Rachel, “I’d be willing to take the punch at this point. Please, for some unknown reason Rachel doesn’t see her wife as a source of unbiased opinion.”
“Fine,” Santana grumbled. “I said that you just might be the most adorable pregnant woman I’d ever seen.”
“Really?” Rachel said. Despite tears coming on for the second time in the matter of minutes, it was clear that their friend’s words were already brightening her countenance. Quinn certainly did not miss those rollercoaster hormones.
“Yes, really, Fabray 2.” Santana said. And Quinn smiled at the use of the nickname Santana had given Rachel after they married. She rarely used it because it resulted in Rachel grinning like a kid who’d been given a Mountain Dew and a Little Debbie after being told all they were getting for snack was carrot sticks (Santana’s words). This time was no exception.
Quinn said goodbye to Santana and turned to her wife to grin triumphantly.
“See. You should never doubt my superior observation skills,” Quinn said followed by a swat to Rachel’s arm.
“Hey!” Rachel exclaimed rubbing the spot where Quinn had smacked her.
“I know, I know. The baby doesn’t like when I pick on you,” Quinn said.
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Quinn didn’t know how long she had been standing in the dim nursery, watching her son, when she felt Rachel’s arms encircle her from behind.
“He finally decided to sleep,” Rachel whispered as she laid her head on Quinn’s back. “You should be in bed sleeping. With me.”
Quinn turned in Rachel’s arms so that she could hold the brunette tightly herself. Rachel relished the contact running down the length of their bodies, no longer impeded by her protruding stomach.
They stood subconsciously swaying together amidst the stillness until Rachel looked up into Quinn’s eyes. “You’re crying,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Quinn said and Rachel wiped the few tears that had fallen down her cheek. “You and James just make me so happy I can’t contain it. I don't even have hormones to use as an excuse.”
“Sympathy hormones,” Rachel murmured burrowing herself back against Quinn’s chest.
Quinn let out a hushed laugh. “I like that.” She said and silently wished for a thousand more of quiet moments like this - her wife in her arms and son resting peacefully beside them.
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Final Author's Note: I have to admit that Rachel asking Quinn if she waddles and Quinn's response is a near verbatim exchange of my best friend and her husband. So that was for her, and I can claim no credit for his stupidity in responding.