Fic

Jul 05, 2010 15:28

The first ever fanfic of this journal.

Ok, so now I am someone who hangs out at memes (which is a fairly recent development which is taking up far too much of my time, but which is also awesome), and I've been spending time at the Glee_angst_meme recently, looking for nice angsty fics to read (though preferably with happy endings, I do not like all sad all the time). One prompt caught my eye and I ended up filling it. I figure I'll post it here, so here goes:

Rachel’s first day of school is something she still counts as one of the worst experiences of her life - and considering some of the things she has experienced since then, that’s saying something. With the heightened awareness that people don’t usually expect four and five year olds to have, finding out she had two dads and no mom (even when the children were far too young to understand ‘gay’ or its implications) immediately branded her a freak. Of course, the fact that when she introduced herself she did so by song probably didn’t help.

“Having two dads is weird!”

“Maybe one of them is really your mom and is just pretending, two men can’t have babies!”

“You’re stupid, and a liar! Everyone has a mom.”

She had her crayons stolen, she was pushed into the sandpit, pushed off of the swings, and she was surrounded by chanting children screeching ‘no mom, no mom!’ over and over until she ran to the bathroom crying (the first of many, many crying jags in bathrooms).

Her decision over what to do came with all the logic of a young child who had so far not been given any reason not to trust an adult in authority - she went and told her teacher.

“Miss Graham, everyone’s been making fun of me because I have two daddies, and they say I’m lying and that I can’t have two daddies, but I’m not lying and my daddies love me and I don’t know why they’re all being so mean to me!” Miss Graham looked down on her with her lips pursed; the words she said next felt like they had been branded into Rachel’s skin for a long time afterwards.

“It’s because your fathers are an abomination - do you know what that means?” Rachel shook her head, but she could already sense that it was not good, “It means that they are sinful, that they are against god and that their decision to bring you into this world was driven by nothing but selfishness; and since they are raising you, you too are an abomination, and if I were in charge you would not be in this school. The other children are making fun of you because they know that your... fathers,” she spat out the plural form of the word, and Rachel flinched, “are wrong, and that you are wrong. I do not want to hear any more tales, do you hear me?” She glared down at Rachel, who was crying silently but rubbing her hands over her eyes to try and hide it.

“Yes Miss Graham.” She went back outside, and sat down on an empty swing. Finn Hudson ambled up and pushed her off.

***
Since she was old enough to know what her birthday meant, Rachel had been allowed to choose a birthday activity. She had tried to have a party last year (her seventh birthday), but only three of her classmates had shown up. She and her fathers were eating left over party food for weeks, and the hurt looks they had shared over her cake cemented her decision to never try and have a normal birthday party again. But this year, she had made a friend - a good friend.

Jenny was sweet and a little shy, Rachel was bossy and overbearing, but because Jenny was a natural follower they seemed to work. They would often sneak off to private corners of the playground and sing together, or work on dance routines, and people bothered Rachel less when she was occupied in a corner with another person. They had been friends at school for a few months when Rachel’s birthday came up, and she had already decided that whatever she did she wanted Jenny to be there too. She asked her dads.

“Well honey, if you like we can go to the theater to see a show and take Jenny too; ‘The Lion King’ is touring.” Rachel was bouncing up and down with excitement the rest of the night.

The next morning she told Jenny, who was excited too but said she would have to ask her mom. The day after she told Rachel that her mom had said yes.

The day of Rachel’s birthday Jenny’s mom came and dropped her off. Rachel’s Dad came to the door, since her Daddy was ‘a bear in the mornings’ (her Dad liked to tease). Jenny’s mom had to go, so she introduced herself at the door, said a quick ‘happy birthday’ to Rachel, told Jenny to have fun and be good, then jumped back in the car and sped away. Rachel’s Daddy slouched down the stairs, yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He looked up and smiled at his daughter and her friend.

“Happy birthday munchkin!” He picked her up and gave her a hug, “You know, you’ll be too big for me to do this soon, and it’ll have to be Dad that swings you round.”

“Just because you’re short!” Her Dad teased.

“Dad, I’m short too!” Rachel said indignantly.

“And that is why we call you munchkin!” Her Daddy cried, then they both fell to tickling her, and she squirmed to get away while Jenny laughed.

‘The Lion King’ was amazing, the whole day was amazing and she and Jenny got to share a big slice of chocolate cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory afterwards. When they pulled back into the driveway Jenny’s dad was waiting. When he saw the two men get out of the car with the girls, his expression changed to disbelief, then horror.

“Jenny, get in the car, now!”

“But dad...”

“NOW!” Jenny scrambled to obey, “I had no idea that you were that disgusting... family!” Disgusting made Rachel flinch, and there was that pause again, like it hurt Mr. Kingston to even think of them as a family, “my daughter is never spending time with yours again! She’s an abomination, and you were selfish to even think of having her, let alone going through with it! It’s unnatural!” Rachel’s Daddy’s eyes were glistening, but her Dad looked absolutely furious. When he spoke, his voice was low,

“Get the fuck out of my driveway - I wouldn’t let my child anywhere near the child of a man as foul as you!” Mr. Kingston marched back to his car and slammed the door before speeding away, tires screeching. Rachel gaped up at her Dad - she was shocked at the bad word, but she was far more distressed at the idea of not seeing Jenny anymore. Jenny was her first friend, her only friend, and now... She began to cry. Without a word, her Daddy picked her up and took her upstairs to bed.

Jenny wasn’t allowed to play with her anymore, and she wasn’t allowed to play with Jenny either. Her Dads told her that they were sorry, that they’d change it if they could, but they couldn’t let her spend time with someone who came from that kind of household. Even at eight, she thought how sad it was, and how wrong it was, that Jenny was probably hearing the same thing. After the school year finished, Jenny Kingston was transferred away, and that was the end of it.

***
  Over the years, Rachel got used to mother’s day - after all, there were other children who, for one reason or another, lacked a mother, and the reason was usually that they had died and they were only left with the one remaining parent. She had two fully healthy and attentive parents, and while she sometimes dreamed of a woman with a voice as powerful as hers who would look just like her (she didn’t particularly look like either of her Dads) and would be there for all the feminine problems she just knew were going to be sprung upon her all too soon (she was eleven, there were going to be breasts and ‘that time of the month’ and possibly boys, though having two gay parents meant that she was definitely going to ‘wait and see’ with regards to that), she didn’t really actively miss something she had never had.

But the main problem with mother’s day was that at school they always made cards - they were getting older, so this year would probably be the last and she was very thankful for it. While everyone else set to work making their cards (even Kurt, whose mother had died, because he said that he liked to remember her), she refused. She would not simply make a card for her fathers - this was Mother’s Day, they had their Father’s Day, and she felt very strongly that making them a card on a day that really had nothing to do with them was just stupid. Besides, she had tried it the first year, but she had copied the teacher’s design without thinking, ended up writing ‘Hapy Mom’s Day Dad + Daddy’, and when she brought the card home she could see that they didn’t really like it, even though they tried to look like they did.

“Rachel,” Mrs. Adlam, the art teacher addressed her from the front of the classroom, “I am aware that you have no reason to be making a card right now, but I cannot permit you to just sit and do nothing during class.”

“Mrs. Adlam, art is not really my strong suit, would it be possible for me to just go somewhere and practice my song for the next assembly?” Mrs. Adlam blew out an exasperated breath, and Rachel braced herself for whatever was coming.

“Rachel, you are not special or exceptional, you are the same as everyone else here, and therefore you will work on an art project like everyone else. Just because your... fathers,” there it was, that pause that Rachel absolutely hated, “have pushed you from birth to strive for as much attention as possible via that voice doesn’t mean that you can just do what you like.” That wasn’t fair - sure Rachel’s fathers had pushed her, but she had sung before she even spoke (there were videos) so she knew that her love of music and singing was her own. But she didn’t say any of this.

“Then what do you suggest I do, Mrs. Adlam?” Mrs. Adlam searched the words for any suggestion of sarcasm, and finding none, she spoke as if it should be obvious.

“Just make a card for your fathers.” Rachel sighed, and went to the front to get paper and glitter glue. When she reached the desk, and was standing in front of it trying to decide on a color (not that she would be giving the card to either one of her fathers, so she wasn’t sure why she was taking her time choosing), Mrs. Adlam said, in a much lower tone of voice, “Of course, you could always make a card for the poor unfortunate woman who birthed you and then placed you into a house of sin - I’m sure your fastidious parents still have her contact details in case you end up with a horrible genetic disease.” She looked up and smiled, malice behind her eyes. Tears welled up in Rachel’s, but she said nothing, simply grabbed the gold glitter glue and a piece of blue paper and turned to walk back to her desk. On the way she glanced at Kurt Hummel, and saw that he was crying quietly onto his card. In that moment she felt terribly guilty for her tears and wished with all her heart that he had no reason for his.

She got back to her desk and sat down, trying to stifle her sobs. A whisper hissed from next to her,

“Hey, freak, it’s Mother’s Day and my mother likes gold, so hand over that glitter glue since it’s useless to you. Nothing that you could create would be fancy enough for a pair of fags anyway.” Rachel looked up to find Quinn Fabray glaring at her viciously. She handed over the glitter glue without comment. She hated Ohio, she hated that her classmates were being brought up to hate her and her family because she was different - but on a deeper level, she simply hated that she was different, and right then she really hated her Dads for their decision to have her, to bring her into this miserable world that clearly wasn’t ready.

***
Rachel was bleeding. She was bleeding and sore and grouchy, and doing everything she could to avoid telling her Dads. She had stuffed toilet paper in her underwear, she’d snuck into the medicine cabinet (the necessity of which was a little ridiculous, since she considered herself perfectly capable of handling her own ibuprofen dosage at thirteen), and she’d rinsed out the first pair of underwear she’d worn that day in the bathroom. Feeling angry and resentful, she threw herself down on her bed, and thanked god for small mercies; since she had started on a weekend, she didn’t have to deal with school.

“Rachel,” her Dad called upstairs, “Where’s the ibuprofen?” Damn.

There was a long talk between her and her Dads, followed by her Daddy giving her a book that ‘explains what you’re going through’, and heading out to buy everything she would need. It was horrific and embarrassing (even worse than the time they took her bra shopping, and she didn’t think it could get any worse than that) and she didn’t even have any female friends that she could commiserate with. Now both her parents were hovering anxiously, and she wanted to scream at them to leave her alone, that they didn’t know about any of this, that they never would. She wanted her mom.

***
Things were better for Rachel, a lot better. Glee Club had given her some actual friends (even if they did sometimes gang up on her, she was aware that every group sometimes needs a scapegoat, she was a relatively easy target since she was sometimes obnoxious, and overall they did care about her). After the pregnancy scandal and being kicked out, Quinn Fabray had even apologised to her for making fun of her parents - it wasn’t an apology for making fun of her, but it was a start.

Lost in her thoughts of Glee as she ambled towards the parking lot to wait for her Daddy (being the youngest and the only one in Glee who wasn’t even able to start learning to drive was grating, but her dads were willing to be her taxi service pretty much any time, since her Daddy worked from home and could rearrange things during the day, and her Dad often took the evenings). She had stayed late to work on a new song, trying out harmonies with Finn, Quinn, Mercedes and Artie, but all of them except Artie had left. He was also stuck waiting for his parents, and while normally Rachel would happily wait with him in the glee room, she knew her parents had an important work dinner to get to, and so she wanted to wait in the parking lot so she could jump in the car as soon as her Daddy arrived. She had forgotten about hockey practice.

They were on her before she even knew what was happening, five or so guys and one very tiny Rachel Berry.

“Hey, it’s the fags’ kid!” She tried to tune it out after that, as words became blows; she tasted blood in her mouth and felt dizzy from falling back and hitting her head on the wall, and when she fell they started kicking. She curled up, hands over her face, and then there was a shout. The hockey players scattered, clearly not wanting to be caught, and Rachel looked up into the concerned faces of Santana and Brittany. Of course, Cheerios practice.

“Oh Rach...” Brittany seemed unable to say more, and Santana let out a low growl when she saw the blood. They picked her up, discussing where to take her. Since it was out of hours and the school nurse had gone home, they took her to the Cheerios locker room, and Santana dampened the edge of a towel in order to begin cleaning Rachel’s cuts, while Brittany went to look for the first aid kit Coach Sylvester kept in the locker room, because ‘You think stitching your own wounds is hard? Try pulling shrapnel from your ass while on the run from the Viet Cong! That’s hard!’

As Santana took care of Rachel, far more gently than the diva would have expected from the normally tough-as-nails Cheerio, she remembered Artie.

“Santana,” She winced as she felt her split lip and the fact that her face was already swelling, “Artie was in the glee room, but he might go out into the parking lot to wait for his dad - if those Neanderthals are still out there they might decide to vent their anger on him - he could end up in the port-o-potty again, or worse.” Brittany returned with the first aid kit.

“Ok Rach. Britt, bring the first aid kit, we’ll go to the Glee room and hopefully catch Artie before he heads out.” It might have made more logical sense for Santana to send Brittany or go herself, but Rachel knew that Santana wouldn’t want Brittany alone and vulnerable. Her lack of smarts and easygoing nature meant that being a Cheerio didn’t always spare her abuse, particularly after she had joined Glee, and when Santana wasn’t around.

They found Artie strumming away at his guitar, but he almost dropped it when he saw Rachel.

“Rachel, what the hell happened?”

“Hockey jocks. I didn’t see who it was. We came to warn you not to go out to the parking lot on your own in case they still feel like venting their frustration with their pathetic lives.”

Rachel sat down on one of the plastic chairs, wincing as she did so. Artie rolled himself in front of her and took her hand. Tears welled up in her eyes, and with Santana sitting on one side of her and Brittany the other, the former holding her other hand and the latter placing an arm around her shoulders, Rachel broke down and cried somewhere that wasn’t a bathroom.

Her Daddy was outraged when he saw her, but she told him she had no clue who the attackers were and Santana and Brittany hadn’t seen either. He begged her to bring it up with the school or to try and press charges, but she knew it would just make things worse (and she would have to tell the things they said, the reason they had done this, and she couldn’t - it would break her parents to hear it). But by the time she got home, and had to face the same questions and pleas from her Dad, she had had enough.

She screamed at them that this was their fault, that simply by bringing her into the world they had made her a target, that she wished they were dead, that she was never born, that she hated them. Then she stormed up to her room and sobbed into her pillow,

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it...” But some part of her did, and in the midst of her distress she felt cruel, and ugly, and no better than them, the ones who paused before mentioning her Dads, the ones who whispered insults or who yelled them, the ones who called her abomination.

***
“Dad, Daddy - I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.”

“Oh?” Her Dad glanced up from the TV, her Daddy’s gaze following a couple of seconds later, after he’d hit pause on the Tivo.

“Yeah. I mean, I always held off on labelling my sexuality, you know that, but I’ve been having feelings for certain girls that are very similar to my feelings for certain boys, so I’m pretty sure.”

“Alright hon.” her Daddy said, “Just make sure that when you tell us you’re bringing someone home, you specify the gender. There are far too many Lesleys and Ashleys and Quinns.” This last said teasingly, making her stick her tongue out, because while Quinn was indeed very attractive and were the offer made she would seriously consider it, hell would be very likely to freeze over before Quinn Fabray would become a potential girlfriend (even if they had been developing more of a friendship as of late).

“So kiddo, do you want to watch a movie with us?” Her Dad asked, with a smile. She looked, and saw that they were watching some terrible horror movie (her Dad loved them and her Daddy liked the excuse to snuggle). Normally she would have declined such a film, but right then she felt a rush of affection for her parents. So many children had to hide who they were, lived in fear of being thrown out, rejected, ignored or even attempts at ‘conversion’. So many bisexuals just identified as straight because in this society it was simply easier, so many gay people had to hide. Even Kurt, who was gayer than gay, who never needed to say a word for people to know, was terrified of his father’s reaction, still tried to change himself even after being told that he was accepted, that he was loved.
So she sat on the sofa, and her Dad put one arm around her, and the other around her Daddy, and she watched the terrible horror movie with her parents (her Daddy’s face buried in her Dad’s side, and feeling scared herself, though she would never admit it), and in that moment she felt that her family lacked for absolutely nothing.

glee

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