Fic: "Let's Take The Long Way Home" - 1/?
Title: Let's Take The Long Way Home
Author: hungrygirrl
Rating: G
Length: 1,607 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Quinn and Rachel cross paths years later...with both of them much different from how they were in high school...and yet still much the same.
Author's Note: First go at writing Faberry. I hope it ain't too bad.
Quinn walks in to Beth's room, expecting to see her precocious 8 year old dressed and ready to go to her first day of school. Instead, she finds her little blonde replica still decked out in her purple jammies, sitting at the foot of her bed sporting a defiant scowl.
"Beth, why in heaven's name are you s-" she begins an exasperated rant, pausing only when she looks at her daughter's eyes and notices the quiet fear and insecurity lurking behind brown eyes. She squeezes her eyes briefly, swallowing the rest of her lecture as she approaches and then kneels in front of her little girl.
Her heart melts as she recognizes the look on Beth's face. The forced look of defiance so uncharacteristic of her little angel. And that's really what the little girl has been from day one - an angel. Shy and obedient. Quietly observant. Unbelievably bright and quick-witted for a child her age. And boy, does the girl love music. Something that doesn't really surprise her mother as both her and Puck loved music themselves - albeit much different styles. Needless to say, neither of them had done, and would ever do, anything to curb Beth's enthusiasm toward music. In fact, both secretly hope the little girl would eventually, at the very least, follow their Glee era footsteps.
Lately though, the blonde has recognized new facets of her daughter's personality surfacing. A little more daring, more initiative to try out new things she had previously never shown interest in. And a little more...chutzpah, as her father fondly - and proudly - refers to it. Little things such as refusing to wear the pink top Quinn had bought for her to wear to her 8th birthday party, insisting on the black Beatles top Puck had secretly gifted her instead. Or when she had scolded her father for calling 9 minutes after the hour he had promised he would call. In truth, they are both enjoying watching the little girl's evolution, curious and excited while still wary of what they'd have to deal with a few more years down the road.
"Beth," she tries again, affecting a gentler tone this time, "I know you're not happy about moving to New York but honey, we've talked about this. Mommy's work is here now and this is a really great opportunity for me to start my career off." The best thing about having a precocious kid, she's never had to worry about talking to her as if she were talking to an adult. Most times, Beth would get it without much explanation.
Still unable to get a reaction, Quinn continues. "I promised you we'll only give it a try. One year and if you still don't like it here then we'll talk about it and I promise we'll figure something out. You said ok to that, remember, sweetie?"
She gets a barely discernible nod after a few more seconds of grudging silence. "Ok then part of you agreeing to try it out here is to go to school. As much as your dad would love the idea of it, you will not be a 3rd grade drop-out, missy."
Quinn lets out a quiet sigh of relief when her teasing elicits a hint of a smile from her daughter still otherwise determined to keep up a defiant facade. She pokes the 8 year old's side teasingly, sensing the headway she's made. "Come on, get dressed now. I'm even pretty sure Auntie S won't mind if you wear that Beatles shirt to school today," she promises, knowing Beth loves her Aunt Santana, better known as Auntie S, who so happens to be the principal at William Sherman, the grade school she's enrolled her daughter at.
"Really?" Beth finally breaks her silent protest.
"Really rrreally rrrrrreally," Quinn replies, channeling Brittney - that would be Aunt B to the little girl who giggles at her mother's antics.
"Aunt B's funnier," Beth critiques, granting her relieved mother a little smile.
"As much as that hurts my feelings, I'll let you get away with it because you will be late if you're not dressed in the next 15 minutes, Simon Cowell." Quinn smiles, giving her daughter a peck on the forehead before wrapping the young girl in her arms. "And thank you, my love, for being so good to Mommy and giving this a chance. I love you and I promise, whatever happens, you come first, ok?"
When she feels her daughter nod into her shoulder, the older blonde unwraps her arms from around the tiny form.
"I love you too, Mom."
Quinn smiles adoringly at her daughter, getting up and ruffling blonde locks so like her own before giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her going.
"Santana, I promise you she was agreeable to the plan just a little while ago. I don't know why she's changed her mind again," Quinn laments tiredly, standing in front of Santana's desk as she explains how she has an 8 year old sitting in her car in the parking lot refusing to step out.
"I do." The brunette, smartly dressed in a gray pantsuit, briefly replies.
"You do what?" Quinn asks distractedly, fingers massaging the beginnings of a headache away from her temples.
"I know why she's changed her mind again," Santana declares in her usual confident manner. "You got to the parking lot, she saw all these strange faces, kids...the strange surroundings, she probably even heard the strange way these New Yorkers talk and heck, can you blame her if she's scared shitless again?"
The blonde throws her old friend a glare, wondering how someone who's supposed to be in charge of providing education to young children can possess the vocabulary of...well, the vocabulary of Santana from high school.
"I get that, S. But you still haven't told me how I can get her to get over that fear and walk through the front door at least."
"Beth likes music, right?" Santana asks, lips pursed in thought.
"No, she loves music, " Quinn corrects, curious as to where Santana's headed.
"Hmm...I happen to have a really good music teacher I think Beth will absolutely love," the young principal begins, the old familiar smirk making an appearance. "Beth kinda reminds me of her, come to think of it," she adds, smiling an odd, fond smile. Odd only because Santana does not do fond smiles.
"Still waiting for the plan..." Quinn prompts, getting impatient.
"Ok, so how about this...she teaches 5th grade but she also handles a special music class after school, usually for kids who stay in day care for an hour or so and the kids just love her. We can promise Beth we'll get her in the class after school."
Quinn ponders the brunette's idea, quickly deciding it's worth the try seeing as how she's ran out of ideas herself. "Alright, so who's going to talk to my sulking girl about this plan? Think Auntie S can give it a try this time?" Quinn suggests, smiling expectantly.
Santana chuckles, rolling her eyes at the blonde. "Even better, let's get my music teacher to talk to her. She can be quite...convincing." The familiar smirk makes another appearance.
Quinn, oblivious to the brunette's inexplicable change in demeanor from thoughtful to devious, nods in agreement. "Alright then, bring this music teacher of yours to meet Beth. Let's see just how convincing she is."
"I'll send her along to meet you in the parking lot. Black Lexus SUV, right?"
"Alright, we'll be there," Quinn replies, already walking toward the door. Hand on the doorknob, she turns, remembering to ask about a particular detail. "What's her name again, S?"
Santana pauses from dialing the faculty room extension, "Rachel," she replies quickly.
Quinn pauses when she hears the name. In all her life, she's only known one Rachel. And this one happens to be a music teacher, too. She laughs at the coincidence. "It wouldn't be Rachel Berry, would it?" she asks with an eye roll.
Santana delivers another trademark smirk. "As a matter of fact..." she pauses dramatically.
Quinn raises an eyebrow, uncharacteristically and inexplicably feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Well?" she prods her friend.
"As a matter of fact...it wouldn't be Rachel Berry," Santana declares, laughing quietly. "It's James. Rachel James."
Not quite sure why she feels a brief pang of disappointment, Quinn lets out her own laugh.
"Whew," she jokes. "Got it, S. Tell Ms. James we'll be waiting."
Author: hungrygirrl
Rating: G
Length: 1,607 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Quinn and Rachel cross paths years later...with both of them much different from how they were in high school...and yet still much the same.
Author's Note: First go at writing Faberry. I hope it ain't too bad.
Quinn walks in to Beth's room, expecting to see her precocious 8 year old dressed and ready to go to her first day of school. Instead, she finds her little blonde replica still decked out in her purple jammies, sitting at the foot of her bed sporting a defiant scowl.
"Beth, why in heaven's name are you s-" she begins an exasperated rant, pausing only when she looks at her daughter's eyes and notices the quiet fear and insecurity lurking behind brown eyes. She squeezes her eyes briefly, swallowing the rest of her lecture as she approaches and then kneels in front of her little girl.
Her heart melts as she recognizes the look on Beth's face. The forced look of defiance so uncharacteristic of her little angel. And that's really what the little girl has been from day one - an angel. Shy and obedient. Quietly observant. Unbelievably bright and quick-witted for a child her age. And boy, does the girl love music. Something that doesn't really surprise her mother as both her and Puck loved music themselves - albeit much different styles. Needless to say, neither of them had done, and would ever do, anything to curb Beth's enthusiasm toward music. In fact, both secretly hope the little girl would eventually, at the very least, follow their Glee era footsteps.
Lately though, the blonde has recognized new facets of her daughter's personality surfacing. A little more daring, more initiative to try out new things she had previously never shown interest in. And a little more...chutzpah, as her father fondly - and proudly - refers to it. Little things such as refusing to wear the pink top Quinn had bought for her to wear to her 8th birthday party, insisting on the black Beatles top Puck had secretly gifted her instead. Or when she had scolded her father for calling 9 minutes after the hour he had promised he would call. In truth, they are both enjoying watching the little girl's evolution, curious and excited while still wary of what they'd have to deal with a few more years down the road.
"Beth," she tries again, affecting a gentler tone this time, "I know you're not happy about moving to New York but honey, we've talked about this. Mommy's work is here now and this is a really great opportunity for me to start my career off." The best thing about having a precocious kid, she's never had to worry about talking to her as if she were talking to an adult. Most times, Beth would get it without much explanation.
Still unable to get a reaction, Quinn continues. "I promised you we'll only give it a try. One year and if you still don't like it here then we'll talk about it and I promise we'll figure something out. You said ok to that, remember, sweetie?"
She gets a barely discernible nod after a few more seconds of grudging silence. "Ok then part of you agreeing to try it out here is to go to school. As much as your dad would love the idea of it, you will not be a 3rd grade drop-out, missy."
Quinn lets out a quiet sigh of relief when her teasing elicits a hint of a smile from her daughter still otherwise determined to keep up a defiant facade. She pokes the 8 year old's side teasingly, sensing the headway she's made. "Come on, get dressed now. I'm even pretty sure Auntie S won't mind if you wear that Beatles shirt to school today," she promises, knowing Beth loves her Aunt Santana, better known as Auntie S, who so happens to be the principal at William Sherman, the grade school she's enrolled her daughter at.
"Really?" Beth finally breaks her silent protest.
"Really rrreally rrrrrreally," Quinn replies, channeling Brittney - that would be Aunt B to the little girl who giggles at her mother's antics.
"Aunt B's funnier," Beth critiques, granting her relieved mother a little smile.
"As much as that hurts my feelings, I'll let you get away with it because you will be late if you're not dressed in the next 15 minutes, Simon Cowell." Quinn smiles, giving her daughter a peck on the forehead before wrapping the young girl in her arms. "And thank you, my love, for being so good to Mommy and giving this a chance. I love you and I promise, whatever happens, you come first, ok?"
When she feels her daughter nod into her shoulder, the older blonde unwraps her arms from around the tiny form.
"I love you too, Mom."
Quinn smiles adoringly at her daughter, getting up and ruffling blonde locks so like her own before giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her going.
"Santana, I promise you she was agreeable to the plan just a little while ago. I don't know why she's changed her mind again," Quinn laments tiredly, standing in front of Santana's desk as she explains how she has an 8 year old sitting in her car in the parking lot refusing to step out.
"I do." The brunette, smartly dressed in a gray pantsuit, briefly replies.
"You do what?" Quinn asks distractedly, fingers massaging the beginnings of a headache away from her temples.
"I know why she's changed her mind again," Santana declares in her usual confident manner. "You got to the parking lot, she saw all these strange faces, kids...the strange surroundings, she probably even heard the strange way these New Yorkers talk and heck, can you blame her if she's scared shitless again?"
The blonde throws her old friend a glare, wondering how someone who's supposed to be in charge of providing education to young children can possess the vocabulary of...well, the vocabulary of Santana from high school.
"I get that, S. But you still haven't told me how I can get her to get over that fear and walk through the front door at least."
"Beth likes music, right?" Santana asks, lips pursed in thought.
"No, she loves music, " Quinn corrects, curious as to where Santana's headed.
"Hmm...I happen to have a really good music teacher I think Beth will absolutely love," the young principal begins, the old familiar smirk making an appearance. "Beth kinda reminds me of her, come to think of it," she adds, smiling an odd, fond smile. Odd only because Santana does not do fond smiles.
"Still waiting for the plan..." Quinn prompts, getting impatient.
"Ok, so how about this...she teaches 5th grade but she also handles a special music class after school, usually for kids who stay in day care for an hour or so and the kids just love her. We can promise Beth we'll get her in the class after school."
Quinn ponders the brunette's idea, quickly deciding it's worth the try seeing as how she's ran out of ideas herself. "Alright, so who's going to talk to my sulking girl about this plan? Think Auntie S can give it a try this time?" Quinn suggests, smiling expectantly.
Santana chuckles, rolling her eyes at the blonde. "Even better, let's get my music teacher to talk to her. She can be quite...convincing." The familiar smirk makes another appearance.
Quinn, oblivious to the brunette's inexplicable change in demeanor from thoughtful to devious, nods in agreement. "Alright then, bring this music teacher of yours to meet Beth. Let's see just how convincing she is."
"I'll send her along to meet you in the parking lot. Black Lexus SUV, right?"
"Alright, we'll be there," Quinn replies, already walking toward the door. Hand on the doorknob, she turns, remembering to ask about a particular detail. "What's her name again, S?"
Santana pauses from dialing the faculty room extension, "Rachel," she replies quickly.
Quinn pauses when she hears the name. In all her life, she's only known one Rachel. And this one happens to be a music teacher, too. She laughs at the coincidence. "It wouldn't be Rachel Berry, would it?" she asks with an eye roll.
Santana delivers another trademark smirk. "As a matter of fact..." she pauses dramatically.
Quinn raises an eyebrow, uncharacteristically and inexplicably feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Well?" she prods her friend.
"As a matter of fact...it wouldn't be Rachel Berry," Santana declares, laughing quietly. "It's James. Rachel James."
Not quite sure why she feels a brief pang of disappointment, Quinn lets out her own laugh.
"Whew," she jokes. "Got it, S. Tell Ms. James we'll be waiting."