(Untitled)

[hbicheer]

The voice on the jukebox sounds so much like him that Quinn can't leave the room. She's sure it's a sign of her pregnancy getting to her head somehow, sure that this must be some hormonal thing. After all, the cramps have been getting worse today, and she's done so much walking in an attempt to get this show on the road that her feet are

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[since_1997]

It's not the first time that he's stood and watched that happen. He's still in scrubs from his shirt in the clinic, thinking about heading back to home and Tom, but, for now, he's kind of stuck.

"Looks like it," he says, walking towards her. "Hi. I'm Paul and I'm a doctor, okay? Everything's going to be fine."

[hbicheer]

"You don't look like a doctor," Quinn pants. "You look like, I don't know, a scarecrow or an," gasp, "English teacher." She's hyperventilating, the panic getting to her. She's not ready-- sure, being pregnant sucks but her body takes care of everything for her.

But this guy, weird and gawky as he looks, is offering to help.

"What kind of doctor?"

[since_1997]

"You want to see my I.D?" asks Paul, teasing her a little as he reaches out and touches her arm gently, squeezing reassuringly.

"OB-GYN, so you're sort of my area. C'mon. Let's at least get you to the clinic, okay? Then you can establish my credentials to your heart's content."

[hbicheer]

"Yes, I want to see your ID!" Quinn half-shrieks. "Don't touch me!" She looks for something to throw, but nearly falls over in the process. "Oh, goddammit...."

[yeah_wow_lovely]

She's been resting against the couch, her feet and bottom on the floor, her back to its upholstered side, but now Cassie slips up and away. "Oh," she says, "Oh wow," and threads her fingers through Quinn's. "I didn't know it would be so wet."

[hbicheer]

"It's going to get a lot wetter," Quinn says unhappily, "when my insides turn inside out." A cramp, or, she supposes, a contraction, races through her, and she groans. "Oh my god, I'm going to die, aren't I? There's no drugs here, they can't give me anything for the pain."

[yeah_wow_lovely]

"You mustn't be afraid," says Cassie. "The doctors are very good here." They must be, for they've kept her alive despite her extremely express wishes to the contrary. "Can you walk?"

[hbicheer]

"I think so," Quinn gasps. "You aren't going to leave me, right? You're going to stay while this happens? Please, I just-- need somebody."

[first_pink_lady]

For all she knew about how the baby making, she was pretty vague on the intricacies of the whole birthing-mother scenario. If she'd lived on a farm, maybe, she'd have seen squashed calves get squeezed out and be a bit more enlightened. As it was, a city gal from California like her, anything more than a pregnant 'glow' was hush-hush and inappropriate conversation. Not that social mores had ever stopped Rizzo, but her crowd tended to talk drag racing and necking, not fluids that gushed out of places the sun don't shine.

"I know you have to piss all the goddamn time," Rizzo said, eyes wide. "But I'm guessing this is somethin' else, ain't it?"

[hbicheer]

"Up yours," gasps Quinn, but she's more upset that she's getting pregnancy fluids all over the floor and her legs and that's gross, why is it happening this way? God is punishing her or something. "I better not have to give birth in this horrible looking room."

Reaching out, she tries to brace against the bookshelf.

[first_pink_lady]

Rizzo tilted her head, and her upper body did the same as she stared at Quinn's mess with the sort of morbid fascination usually reserved for nasty car wrecks. Then she blinked, and realized this had all come from Quinn's hoo-ha, and she hoped to Jesus Christ or who the hell ever else was up there that that was supposed to happen.

"I could try to spruce the place up a bit," Rizzo said dryly, but she wasn't a robot, her heart was beating faster on Quinn's behalf - she had enough of a link to Quinn and her peanut, betwen the body-snatching and her own false alarm, and she kinda liked the blonde, dammit. She had sass. "Or catch the munchkin. Or, even better, cart you to the clinic. Do you know Paul, the baby doc? He'd catch that thing no problem, slippery goo or not."

Her hands had moved to her hips as she was talking, and she eyed Quinn's posture on the bookshelf, wondering if she'd get an anxious slap if she moved in to help - it was something Rizzo'd do, and she didn't put it past blondie.

[hbicheer]

"My doctor is named Coop," Quinn answers, feeling a hysterical laugh bubble up inside her, or perhaps it's more disgusting body stuff. "He's like a giant twelve year old stuck in a doctor's body." Slowly, she forces her fingers to unwrap from the shelf.

She's only seen Grease about a million times in her life. She knows that she could do a lot worse than Rizzo. Looks aside, she knows she's way more of a Rizzo than a stupid Sandy. Especially now.

"Okay. Let's go," she tries to say, but it comes out as a squeak.

[supersmeller]

Gus was minding his own business. He wasn't about to ask an obviously pregnant girl why she was crying over a song. That could only lead to awkwardness and probably more tears; pregnancy made women scary.

But then she exclaimed that, and when Gus glanced back towards her, he noticed she was...apparently in pain. And was that...?

No. He was not having warthog flashbacks.

"Are you--you're not okay, are you?" he asked, stupidly. He kept his gaze on her face, because those flashbacks he was not having made him a little nauseated.

[hbicheer]

"Do I look like I'm okay?" hisses Quinn, and she reaches out for the first available object. It's a book, and she throws it at him as hard as she can while starting to double over. "I'm going to give birth! Of course I'm not okay!"

She might scream a little.

[supersmeller]

Gus ducked quickly, the book missing him by about a foot anyway. The girl looked way too young to be so frightening.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, hands up in a sort of surrender. And even though he kind of just wanted to rush right out of the room, he forced himself to say, "If you want, I can take you to the clinic. Or I can find someone you know to take you. Or I can--I can boil some water?"

Perhaps he was panicking just a little.

[hbicheer]

"WHAT."

Quinn is not out of it enough to let that go by her, and she tries to support her stomach, as if the baby will drop out at any second. "You're going to boil me some water? Do you want to tear up some sheets while you're at it? I know, how about you find me some pellets and put some new newspaper in my bed because I'm a giant HAMSTER!"

That ends in a shriek.

[my_potpie]

"Holy shit, Quinn," Cartman said from the doorway, his eyes wide as saucers. "Just because you're knocked up and everything, doesn't mean you can like, piss all over the floor whenever you feel like it. Jesus."

What the hell was wrong with everybody in this place? And was she crying? Seriously, she was crying. God, he officially did not have the energy to deal with this, today.

[hbicheer]

"I AM GOING INTO LABOR, YOU LITTLE FAT FREAK," she shrieks, and puts her face in her hands. "Go get an adult, okay? I need help getting to the clinic. It hurts, oh my god."

Somehow, Cartman's face only makes the cramping intensify.

She swears to be a better mother.

[my_potpie]

"Wow, okay. Like I'm really going to help you when you're screaming at me like a giant shrew-bitch," Eric muttered, arching a skeptical brow.

"You want to try that again?"

[hbicheer]

Quinn finds a wall to lean against, supporting her stomach as if she suspects the baby could fall out at any moment. "I am. Having. The baby."

Calling him fat again would really be the pot and kettle calling each other fat, she supposes.