(no subject)
Title: Pastels and Perplexities
Author: xfindyourlight
Rating: G
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel friendship/pre-slash.
Summary: Living at the Berrys, Quinn should come to expect the unexpected.
Warning: no spoilers, religion.
Disclaimer: If it were mine, I would be in it.
Word Count: 901
Author's Note: really short and really fluffy. I wrote this pretty quickly so I apologize for any mistakes.
Quinn is abruptly and rudely awakened by a rap on her door and Rachel’s stupid, annoying voice. Sure, she’s super grateful that the Berrys offered to take her in, because being homeless is never cool by any definition of the word, unless you include being freezing in the winter without a house. Hank and Michael are really, really nice and supportive of Quinn, taking her to her doctor’s appointments and laughing off her promises to pay them back eventually. Life overall? Pretty good.
“Quinn? Are you awake?” And then there’s Rachel. Sometimes, the girl is nice and fun. Sometimes they do their homework together or watch television or, hell, paint each other’s nails like that one time. And Quinn genuinely doesn’t want to strangle her. Then there are other times, like this one, that bring her back to her Cheerios days and have her dreaming up creative new ways to murder Rachel Barbara Berry. Honestly, who wakes up a pregnant teenager before eleven on a weekend?
“Quinn? Answer me. I’ll give you twenty seconds before I come in and perform life saving procedures. I’m certified, you know, and I don’t want to be held responsible for the loss of two lives under my roof.”
“I’m alive,” she calls back. “What do you want?”
“Come out here please.” Quinn all but growls as she stumbles, half asleep, to the door. She’s about to rip Rachel’s head off when the brunette, grinning, grabs her arm and steers her into the living room. She just gapes. Hank and Michael are standing there, dressed in pretty pastels, and throughout the room there are brightly colored eggs sitting on every surface.
“What?” she breathes.
“Happy Easter, Quinn,” Hank says smiling.
“You’re Jewish,” she answers incredulously.
“But you aren’t.” Quinn turns to Rachel, shaking her head. “I know how much your religion means to you. You wear your cross every day and I hear you praying sometimes. We may be Jewish, but you deserve the chance to celebrate your holiday. Besides, I always thought the egg hunt looked fun, even though it is strange and pagan.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.” It’s too much for Quinn. She can’t remember the last time anyone went out of their way to help her, especially not to this degree. The baby hormones are kicking in and soon she’s avoiding eye contact to hide the tears forming in her eyes.
“You could say, ‘Thank you.’” Quinn will not kill Rachel Berry when she’s being so nice to her, no matter how much she wants to. “And then you could go put on a nice dress and get ready for church.”
“What?”
“Christians go to church on Easter. I researched it. My dad, Michael, is going to take you, because he was once Christian before he converted. I offered to take you myself, but my dads think that my presence would be too much for the church, unlike the synagogue which is used to and has come to love me.” Quinn only nods and Hank and Michael smile at her sympathetically. “So go get dressed so we can do the egg hunt.”
She allows herself to be ushered into her bedroom by Rachel and, once the door closes behind her, she takes a big breath and processes what just happened. Giddily, she goes to her closet and picks out a satiny pink dress that’s modest but flattering. She’s about to run into the living room when she stops and says a quick prayer thanking God for the Berrys. Even Rachel.
The next hour is spent dashing around the entire house and backyard with Rachel, picking up eggs and laughing, while her dads take photos. It’s fun and Quinn feels like she’s a child again, lightheartedly competing with her cousins and sister for treats and coins. The eggs are everywhere: behind furniture, in the refrigerator, under tables, up trees (Rachel refuses to let Quinn reach for those, for fear of Quinn hurting herself and the baby. Quinn performs an Easter miracle and doesn’t murder her.).
“We should get going if we want a seat,” Michael says in his deep baritone.
“Right,” Quinn says, face pink from exertion and laughter. She puts her bag of eggs by the couch in the living room and Rachel puts hers by the television.
“We can open them and see what we got when you return.”
Quinn nods and she and Michael head out the front door and get into the car. They’re almost out of the driveway when Quinn yells, “Wait!” Michael stops abruptly, looking concerned, but Quinn shakes her head and says, “I’ll be right back.”
It’s really stupid, she knows, but she runs up the stairs back into the house. Rachel and Hank are happily chatting about the morning and Quinn interrupts them by rushing in and wrapping Rachel in a hug. It’s awkward, because of her belly, but it’s warm and loving. She doesn’t need to say anything, because it’s all there in that embrace. When they separate, they smile at each other and Quinn scampers back into the car, embarrassed slightly by her outburst. Michael grins at her and he realizes he must’ve seen the whole thing through the large front window. She blushes.
“Just drive or we’re gonna be late,” she snaps, but there’s no bite to her words. He laughs and obliges.
It’s the happiest Easter Quinn’s ever had.