Fic: Two Untitled Drabbles
Title(s): There aren't any! :)
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: G.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: Two 500-worders set in the same 'verse as "Cravings." Short and silly, pretty much. And in the interest of full disclosure, the first is based on a scene in a lovely BTVS fic called "Absolution," which can be found here if anyone's curious.
Rachel was awake. She laid there, as she did so very many nights, watching her beloved wife slumber, marvelling at the shape of her, the tiny life she carried within. It had been a struggle for her, Rachel knew, admitting that she wanted to bear another child. The guilt of giving away her firstborn haunted her, and for the first month of her new pregnancy she’d stopped more than once in front of a mirror, looking sadly at her stomach. Those were the moments when Rachel took her firmly in her arms, kissing her and cuddling her and reassuring her that she’d made the right choice by giving Beth to Shelby.
She loved these early morning hours, when the only light in the room was cast by the nightlight she’d installed after the fourth time she’d stumbled into the wall in the middle of the night. She watched with reverent wonder as their baby girl’s tiny fist impacted Quinn’s abdomen. It was fascinating to watch, and she wondered how on earth Quinn could possibly sleep through it. She decided to try something she hadn’t before - she poked the last spot the baby had punched with a solitary finger. The baby punched back. She poked another spot, about six inches away. The baby punched the same spot.
The pattern continued - poke, punch, poke, punch - for some minutes until a hand slapped Rachel’s fingers away. “What are you doin’?” Quinn asked sleepily.
“She punches back!” Rachel exclaimed. “If you poke at her, she punches back at you!”
“That’s fascinating. Here’s another tidbit - if I don’t get sleep, I get cranky and yell at you. She’s been dancing a jig in there all night, Rach, and you’re making it worse. I’m pretty sure she’s kicked every organ at least twice by now.”
“Sorry,” Rachel flushed. “I didn’t think - I was caught up in the excitement of realising that our baby daughter is obviously going to be a gifted entertainer, with reflexes like that she’ll make an excellent dancer, and-“
“Shh,” Quinn mumbled. “Can you save the poking for when I’m awake? If you want to bond with our daughter, do something that’s not going to keep me up. Sing to her.”
“What should I sing?”
“I don’t care, just don’t poke me.”
Rachel settled for a soft lullaby. She laid her hand on Quinn’s warm stomach, feeling the baby begin to punch at her again at the same time as Quinn slid back into quiet slumber. She exhausted her supply of lullabies, feeling the punches decrease in number and intensity as her final song came to an end. Just before she withdrew her hand and went to sleep, there was a final impact of tiny fist under her palm, almost like a high-five. Rachel grinned, pulling the covers up around the two of them and snuggling into her pillow.
“Our baby’s going to be brilliant,” she murmured to herself. “Must remember to research dance competitions for babies that are under one year...”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is that the Indiana Jones theme song? Rachel wondered as she passed the nursery. Surely Quinn would know better than to expose an innocent child to a PG-rated movie before they’re old enough to understand the context! She crept up to the nursery door and peeked in, completely unprepared for what she saw.
Lily was in her crib, staring up at her mother with wide eyes. Quinn was dressed in her nightgown and - wait, when did Quinn get an Indiana Jones hat?
“So,” Quinn was play-acting, ducking invisible arrows and jumping over imaginary obstacles, “the intrepid Professor Quinndiana Jones made her way through the scary temple. The threat of imminent death wasn’t enough to dissuade her from her goal. She approached the sacred chamber on tip-toe, admiring the intricate carvings on the altar that held the greatest treasure in all the land. She crept to the altar, watching the floor for hidden traps and sneaking looks around her,” she looked up, and Rachel ducked away from the door. She didn’t want to interrupt the time that her wife and daughter were obviously enjoying together.
“She looked at the treasure,” Quinn continued, and Rachel risked another look inside. “It was heavy - there was a lot of it, after all. She scooped some sand from the floor into her handbag,” Quinn used an old purse as a prop, “until she thought it was enough. Then, after a few minutes of careful consideration, she swapped her bag for the treasure! For a long moment, nothing happened. Quinndiana thought she was safe, so she wiped the sweat from her forehead with relief. But then!” Quinn’s voice raised, and Lily crouched down in her crib, “Then the altar began to sink. The ceiling collapsed above Quinndiana, and a huge stone rolled down at her! She ran for her life!” she ran around the room in circles, yelling in mock terror. “She ran down the corridors, just missing the arrows that fired at her again, jumping over the booby-trapped floor tiles, nearly losing her precious hat, and emerged into the jungle air just as the boulder crashed into the entrance behind her, sealing it for all time!”
“But Quinndiana wasn’t out of danger yet, no sir! The fearsome natives, angry at the theft of their beloved treasure, chased her for miles, waving their spears and shooting poisoned darts at her! She stumbled down a hilly embankment, running toward a waiting plane. The pilot began to spin up the engine as he saw her coming, and by the time she got there, they were ready for take-off! They soared into the air above the screaming natives, and she only barely resisted the urge to tease them - their treasure was hers now, and it was going straight home with her to be put to its proper use! She sat back in her seat, staring at her treasure with hungry eyes - the bacon was hers, and hers alone!”
In the doorway, Rachel couldn’t take it anymore - she collapsed in a fit of laughter, and Quinn looked at her with a blush in her cheeks. “What - “ she tried to catch her breath, “what was the name of this story, Quinn?”
“Quinndiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Bacon!” Quinn nodded proudly. “Lily loves this one! Not quite as much as the Temple of Bacon, but I can’t blame her - that one has more bacon.”
Recovering from her laughing fit, Rachel plucked their daughter from her bed. “Your mother is a lunatic,” she cooed. “Yes, she is.”
“I’m kind of hungry, babe,” Quinn mused. “Could you eat?”
“There’s leftover bacon in the fridge. And no, thank you.”
Quinn vanished down the stairs, humming the iconic theme as she went.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: G.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: Two 500-worders set in the same 'verse as "Cravings." Short and silly, pretty much. And in the interest of full disclosure, the first is based on a scene in a lovely BTVS fic called "Absolution," which can be found here if anyone's curious.
Rachel was awake. She laid there, as she did so very many nights, watching her beloved wife slumber, marvelling at the shape of her, the tiny life she carried within. It had been a struggle for her, Rachel knew, admitting that she wanted to bear another child. The guilt of giving away her firstborn haunted her, and for the first month of her new pregnancy she’d stopped more than once in front of a mirror, looking sadly at her stomach. Those were the moments when Rachel took her firmly in her arms, kissing her and cuddling her and reassuring her that she’d made the right choice by giving Beth to Shelby.
She loved these early morning hours, when the only light in the room was cast by the nightlight she’d installed after the fourth time she’d stumbled into the wall in the middle of the night. She watched with reverent wonder as their baby girl’s tiny fist impacted Quinn’s abdomen. It was fascinating to watch, and she wondered how on earth Quinn could possibly sleep through it. She decided to try something she hadn’t before - she poked the last spot the baby had punched with a solitary finger. The baby punched back. She poked another spot, about six inches away. The baby punched the same spot.
The pattern continued - poke, punch, poke, punch - for some minutes until a hand slapped Rachel’s fingers away. “What are you doin’?” Quinn asked sleepily.
“She punches back!” Rachel exclaimed. “If you poke at her, she punches back at you!”
“That’s fascinating. Here’s another tidbit - if I don’t get sleep, I get cranky and yell at you. She’s been dancing a jig in there all night, Rach, and you’re making it worse. I’m pretty sure she’s kicked every organ at least twice by now.”
“Sorry,” Rachel flushed. “I didn’t think - I was caught up in the excitement of realising that our baby daughter is obviously going to be a gifted entertainer, with reflexes like that she’ll make an excellent dancer, and-“
“Shh,” Quinn mumbled. “Can you save the poking for when I’m awake? If you want to bond with our daughter, do something that’s not going to keep me up. Sing to her.”
“What should I sing?”
“I don’t care, just don’t poke me.”
Rachel settled for a soft lullaby. She laid her hand on Quinn’s warm stomach, feeling the baby begin to punch at her again at the same time as Quinn slid back into quiet slumber. She exhausted her supply of lullabies, feeling the punches decrease in number and intensity as her final song came to an end. Just before she withdrew her hand and went to sleep, there was a final impact of tiny fist under her palm, almost like a high-five. Rachel grinned, pulling the covers up around the two of them and snuggling into her pillow.
“Our baby’s going to be brilliant,” she murmured to herself. “Must remember to research dance competitions for babies that are under one year...”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is that the Indiana Jones theme song? Rachel wondered as she passed the nursery. Surely Quinn would know better than to expose an innocent child to a PG-rated movie before they’re old enough to understand the context! She crept up to the nursery door and peeked in, completely unprepared for what she saw.
Lily was in her crib, staring up at her mother with wide eyes. Quinn was dressed in her nightgown and - wait, when did Quinn get an Indiana Jones hat?
“So,” Quinn was play-acting, ducking invisible arrows and jumping over imaginary obstacles, “the intrepid Professor Quinndiana Jones made her way through the scary temple. The threat of imminent death wasn’t enough to dissuade her from her goal. She approached the sacred chamber on tip-toe, admiring the intricate carvings on the altar that held the greatest treasure in all the land. She crept to the altar, watching the floor for hidden traps and sneaking looks around her,” she looked up, and Rachel ducked away from the door. She didn’t want to interrupt the time that her wife and daughter were obviously enjoying together.
“She looked at the treasure,” Quinn continued, and Rachel risked another look inside. “It was heavy - there was a lot of it, after all. She scooped some sand from the floor into her handbag,” Quinn used an old purse as a prop, “until she thought it was enough. Then, after a few minutes of careful consideration, she swapped her bag for the treasure! For a long moment, nothing happened. Quinndiana thought she was safe, so she wiped the sweat from her forehead with relief. But then!” Quinn’s voice raised, and Lily crouched down in her crib, “Then the altar began to sink. The ceiling collapsed above Quinndiana, and a huge stone rolled down at her! She ran for her life!” she ran around the room in circles, yelling in mock terror. “She ran down the corridors, just missing the arrows that fired at her again, jumping over the booby-trapped floor tiles, nearly losing her precious hat, and emerged into the jungle air just as the boulder crashed into the entrance behind her, sealing it for all time!”
“But Quinndiana wasn’t out of danger yet, no sir! The fearsome natives, angry at the theft of their beloved treasure, chased her for miles, waving their spears and shooting poisoned darts at her! She stumbled down a hilly embankment, running toward a waiting plane. The pilot began to spin up the engine as he saw her coming, and by the time she got there, they were ready for take-off! They soared into the air above the screaming natives, and she only barely resisted the urge to tease them - their treasure was hers now, and it was going straight home with her to be put to its proper use! She sat back in her seat, staring at her treasure with hungry eyes - the bacon was hers, and hers alone!”
In the doorway, Rachel couldn’t take it anymore - she collapsed in a fit of laughter, and Quinn looked at her with a blush in her cheeks. “What - “ she tried to catch her breath, “what was the name of this story, Quinn?”
“Quinndiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Bacon!” Quinn nodded proudly. “Lily loves this one! Not quite as much as the Temple of Bacon, but I can’t blame her - that one has more bacon.”
Recovering from her laughing fit, Rachel plucked their daughter from her bed. “Your mother is a lunatic,” she cooed. “Yes, she is.”
“I’m kind of hungry, babe,” Quinn mused. “Could you eat?”
“There’s leftover bacon in the fridge. And no, thank you.”
Quinn vanished down the stairs, humming the iconic theme as she went.