fic: It Begins With Bacon and...
Title: It Begins With Bacon and Ends Up With A Kiss (And Other Stuff)
Author: Brio
Rating: I'm going to say PG-13. There's same-sex kissing. And I think... one swear word. And there's implied bedroom!activities but I pretty much suck at writing smut, so avoided it.
Length: It was going to be short but then I ended up with nearly 8500 words. Oops.
Spoilers: All of season 1. It's not spoilertastic because it's pretty much AU.
Summary: The final month of Quinn's pregnancy. With cravings and stuff.
A/N1: I wrote this prior to watching the final two episodes so there are little things that I could have changed but then decided not to because the more I play with a fic, the more things I find to change.
A/N2: Unbeta'd (if anyone would like to beta any further fics I write, let me know... my grammar is sometimes quite shoddy) but huge thanks to Ilsu and Darch for reading it and suggesting things.
A/N3: First R/Q fic that I've finished and posted (despite having started several) so comments would be awesome :) I also don't know what to tag it with :/
Part 1: Four weeks to go
Rachel senses immediately that she is not alone when she reaches the choir room after school; after all, she is a little psychic. The lights are on but there’s no-one in plain sight. The petite brunette takes a couple of steps towards the piano, pulling up short when she hears a muffled moan.
“Hello?” she calls hesitantly, “I’ll have you know that this room is booked for Glee rehearsals from three-thirty onwards… and I’m aware that it’s only three o’clock but I like to get here early in order to warm up my voice. Without the correct vocal exercises, a voice can be damaged…” Rachel rounds the piano and catches the trespasser, hiding beneath the keyboard of the piano, not visible from the doorway “A-ha!” She draws back slightly, confusion etching itself onto her features, “Quinn?!”
Rachel stares down at the former head cheerleader who’s trying to wipe her face with a napkin as quickly as possible.
“Streisand,” Quinn’s voice is muffled by whatever is in her mouth. She chews rapidly and swallows the rest of her food.
“This might seem a foolhardy question, so forgive me for asking the obvious, but why are you hiding under the piano? And…” Rachel sniffs, “Is that bacon?!”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Quinn narrows her eyes, “I was merely… having some alone time. On my own.”
“I’m aware of the definition of alone,” Rachel says, folding her arms across her chest. She watches the blonde attempt to push herself up off the floor, using the piano stool for leverage, for a few seconds, “Can I help you?”
“No, I can do this,” Quinn pants, clutching her swollen stomach. Rachel bites her bottom lip, trying to stop the laugh waiting there. Quinn gives up and sinks back to the floor, bursting into tears. Rachel’s face goes from mildly amused to horrified.
“Quinn, it’s okay,” Rachel says, scooting down next to the blonde. She reaches to put her arm around Quinn’s shoulders but pulls back, unsure if Quinn will appreciate being comforted by someone she’s just called ‘Streisand’. Quinn’s insults have been few and far between lately, especially since she became friends with Mercedes, a friendship that had surprised Rachel and most of Glee actually.
Internally berating herself, Rachel slides an arm around Quinn’s shoulders and feels the blonde lean against her.
“I feel so useless, Rachel,” Quinn says quietly. The usage of her name, as opposed to an insulting nickname, momentarily stuns Rachel but doesn’t render her completely speechless.
“I can imagine that not many women in their eighth month of pregnancy would manage to sit down on the floor so you’re not completely useless,” Rachel says, rubbing the blonde’s arm. Quinn gives a mirthless laugh and Rachel realises what she’s just said, “I didn’t mean that you’re completely useless…” The brunette starts to blush, “What were you eating? And why were you hiding?”
“I wasn’t…” Quinn starts.
“Okay, why were you sitting under the piano, alone?” Rachel asks. Quinn sighs.
“This is going to sound ridiculous,” she mumbles, brushing her hair off her face, “When I was younger, my grandparents had a grand piano and I used to sit under it whenever my grandfather played. It’s sort of like a comfort thing. Even if no-one’s playing. Or it was until I got so fat that I can’t even get off the floor.”
“Quinn, you’re not fat,” Rachel admonishes gently, “That sounds nice, that your grandfather played the piano. I never met any of my grandparents.”
“Really?” Quinn asks, wiping the remaining tears from her face.
“My dad and his parents don’t talk,” Rachel shrugs, “And my other dad’s parents died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says though it wasn’t her fault. Rachel shrugs again, something that Quinn’s never noticed the brunette do before, “I was eating a bacon sandwich.”
“Well, I figured that,” Rachel says, “I thought Christians ate pork.”
“They do,” Quinn says, “But Puck’s mom…she’s strict on the ‘no pork’ rule, so I have to sneak it at school. You have no idea how horrendous it is to wake up at three in the morning and want nothing but bacon.”
“Give me your cell,” Rachel says, holding out her hand. Quinn looks at her questioningly, “Unless you already have my number?” Quinn bites her lip and Rachel scrolls through the list of names quickly.
“At least you saved it as ‘Rachel’ and not ‘Streisand’ or ‘Man Hands’,” Rachel muses.
“When did I call you Man Hands?” Quinn asks, slightly horrified.
“Pregnancy is obviously affecting your memory,” Rachel says, handing the phone back to Quinn, “Look, if you ever get cravings, you can call me.”
“Really?” Quinn asks, “Even at 3am?”
“Quinn, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Rachel asks, “Well, sort of anyway. It’s my fault you’re staying at Noah’s house and having to hide under pianos to satisfy your cravings.”
“Rachel, it’s not your fault,” Quinn says, “I don’t blame you for any of this.”
“Doesn’t stop the guilt,” Rachel says, “So, if you need bacon. Or whatever. Ham. Sausages. Other pork products… then I’ll help you out.” She gives Quinn’s arm a squeeze, “Just don’t tell my dads.” Quinn laughs and Rachel gets to her feet, “Everyone will be here soon and I haven’t done my warm-ups yet.” Rachel leans down, stretching both of her arms out to Quinn. Quinn slides her hands into the decidedly non-mannish hands and Rachel pulls her up off the ground, surprising the blonde with her strength, “My daily work-out involves some light weight training. I obviously hide my muscles well.”
“Rachel,” Quinn says, still holding onto the brunette’s hands, “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Quinn,” Rachel says. They tentatively share a hug and then pull away from each other quickly, “By the way, you have ketchup all over your face.”
Part 2: Three Weeks to Go
Quinn waits three nights before taking up Rachel’s offer. She’s been lying in bed since eleven, her stomach growling at her, completely unsatisfied by the meal Mrs Puckerman had cooked for them though it had been delicious. Nervously, she scrolls through her contacts, pausing when she reaches Rachel’s number. Hoping that the brunette hadn’t been joking, she presses the call button.
“Rachel Berry’s phone,” Rachel answers on the fourth ring sounding exhausted.
“Hi, sorry, it’s Quinn,” Quinn says in a hushed voice.
“Quinn, hey,” Rachel says, yawning loudly, “Cravings?”
“Yeah,” Quinn says.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes, get dressed,” Rachel says and hangs up. Quinn rolls out of bed, reaching for the first pair of pants that fit and a zip-up hoody that Mercedes had bought her when they went shopping at the weekend. Pointless really, she wouldn’t be able to wear it in a few week’s time.
True to her word, Rachel pulls up outside Puck’s house ten minutes later. Quinn sneaks from the house, down the path and climbs into the car as quietly as possible. Rachel is wearing shorts. Short shorts and a hoody and has her hair plaited loosely. Quinn can’t help but find it adorable. Rachel pulls away from the kerb and drives towards town while Quinn contemplates why she isn’t entirely freaked out by the idea that Rachel can be adorable.
“… and it’s a good job that I’ve been taking those dance lessons. Although my dads are incredibly heavy sleepers. Once I set off the smoke alarm and neither of them woke up. That doesn’t bode well if there’s a fire in the middle of the night that I’m not there to put out.” Rachel looks thoughtful for a couple of seconds while Quinn tries to figure out exactly what she’s babbling about having missed the start of the brunette’s stream of consciousness.
“Hmm,” Quinn adds with a nod, hoping that this response will be sufficient and reaches to turn up the volume on the CD player, “What’s this?” The song sounds familiar but she doesn’t know the name of the band. She’s a little surprised that it isn’t some sort of Broadway compilation.
“Train,” Rachel says, glancing at Quinn, “I don’t listen to show tunes all the time. My dads have made sure that I’m very well-rounded when it comes to music.”
“So if I open your glove box, there won’t be copies of the soundtracks to at least three Broadway musicals?” Quinn asks with a devilish grin, reaching forward.
“No!” Rachel cries, but it’s too late. Quinn already has the CDs in her hand and is flicking through them.
“Wicked, Rent, Funny Girl and Les Miserables,” Quinn nods her head, “Geek.” Rachel huffs.
“I’m not a geek,” she says, taking the discs from Quinn and shoving them back into the glove box, “I suppose your musical tastes are impeccable then?”
“Absolutely,” Quinn says, running her hands over her stomach as the little girl inside kicks a few times, “I like this.” She gestures to the CD player and the two sit in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the end of the track. Rachel pulls into the parking lot of a twenty-four hour fast food restaurant.
“What do you want?” Rachel asks, getting ready to jump out of the car.
“Double bacon cheeseburger,” Quinn says automatically, “With extra bacon… are you going in like that?” Quinn looks the brunette up and down, her eyes lingering on where Rachel’s shorts meet her tanned legs.
“Quinn, it’s three-thirty in the morning,” Rachel says, “The likelihood of anyone seeing me apart from the stoned guy flipping the burgers is highly unlikely.” She frowns for a second, “Do I not look okay?” Rachel looks down at her ensemble, “I didn’t really have the mental capacity to create an outfit that befitted a middle of the night run to the nearest fast food eatery.”
“You do have the mental capacity to talk far too much though,” Quinn says rolling her eyes, “You look good… I mean, fine. You look alright.” Rachel gives her a look before getting out of the car and trotting across the parking lot.
Quinn closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headrest for a few minutes, feeling herself start to drift off just as Rachel climbs back into the car. She has two burgers, fries and milkshakes.
“These shorts are amazing,” she comments, handing the food to Quinn who raises her eyebrow in response, “I’m kidding. All your talk of bacon has me craving burgers too.” Rachel pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Lima’s highest point, a lookout over the town.
“Jeez, Rachel, this is second date stuff,” Quinn says, unwrapping her burger the moment Rachel stops the car.
“Oh… I didn’t mean… we can go somewhere else if you want…” Rachel starts to get flustered and Quinn waves a hand at her, taking the first bite of her burger and moaning. Rachel chuckles and unwraps her own burger.
“That was amazing,” Quinn sighs when she finishes just over a minute later. Rachel’s barely taken her second bite.
“Fry?” Rachel offers and Quinn takes a couple, “So have you had any other cravings? I read that some women go through a different craving every month…”
“You’ve been reading up about pregnancy?” Quinn asks, pausing to swirl a fry in some ketchup before popping it into her mouth. Rachel blushes a little.
“I might have done a little research,” Rachel says, “Just incase.”
“Just incase you and Jesse decide to ruin your lives?” Quinn asks.
“You’re not ruining your life, Quinn,” Rachel says, “And no, in response to your question.”
“So you and Jesse aren’t…?” Quinn stops. The two girls are barely even friends and she’s overstepping the line.
“Jesse and I never. And we’re not together,” Rachel says quietly, glancing out the window, “Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says, “He seemed nice.” Rachel shrugs, “So why were you reading about the miracle of childbirth if you’re not planning on joining the unwed mothers club?”
“So I’m ready if you go into labour during a rehearsal or if I happen to be nearby,” Rachel says, “I mean, I know the basics of childbirth, but it helps to be completely prepared. I doubt that Noah will know how to make you as comfortable as possible if your water breaks at Glee and you start having contractions.” Quinn is simultaneously touched and weirded out by this admission.
“You’re going to try and deliver my baby?” Quinn asks with a chuckle, “You know the hospital is pretty much a ten minute drive regardless of where we are in Lima.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rachel says, “I just thought it would help to know what’s coming. Then I was intrigued by what the body goes through whilst one is pregnant.”
“I craved pineapple,” Quinn says deciding to answer the question, “At the beginning. And occasionally liquorice, which is weird because I’ve hated both my whole life. And now bacon.”
“I love pineapple,” Rachel notes, scrunching up the wrapper of her now finished burger and finishing off the fries that Quinn hasn’t eaten (roughly five), “Strawberry or chocolate?” She holds up the milkshakes, “I like both but I don’t know what flavour you prefer.”
“Strawberry please,” Quinn says. Rachel passes her the cup and a straw. After a few more minutes of silence, Quinn notices Rachel getting restless, her fingers drumming gently on the steering wheel, her knee bouncing ever so slightly.
“Are you scared?” Rachel asks suddenly, turning to look at Quinn, only to find the blonde staring back at her. Quinn blinks a couple of times while thinking about the answer to her question.
“Yeah,” Quinn says, “Yes I am.” Rachel reaches across and slides her hand on top of Quinn’s but is quiet, for a change. After the milkshakes are finished, Rachel drives Quinn back to the Puckerman’s.
“Hope you sleep better now,” Rachel says, unable to stop the yawn escaping her lips.
“I hope you don’t feel horrible in the morning,” Quinn says grimacing, “Thanks for this.”
“Anytime,” Rachel says, “See you at school.” Quinn nods, considers saying something else but instead gets out of the car. Rachel watches Quinn go up the path and slip into the house and drives home, narrowly missing three lampposts and a dustbin on the way. When she gets in, she realises she has ketchup all over her face.
Part 3: Two Weeks To Go
Quinn wakes up with a start, her breathing laboured, her heart pounding in her chest. She checks the time and groans. Typical, one of the only nights out of the past seven that she hasn’t been craving bacon, she wakes up at three anyway. She lies down again, straightening the covers she’s kicked off during her dream.
The dream!
It rushes back to Quinn in full technicolour glory. Small insistent hands all over her body, lips on her own, kisses, moans… Quinn feels a current shoot through her body and sighs in frustration. In the earlier months of her pregnancy, she’d been able to satisfy this craving on her own. She reaches for her phone and hesitates, more details of the dream coming back to her.
Rachel. It had been Rachel’s hands, Rachel’s mouth. Rachel’s lips… Rachel moaning.
Quinn drops the phone onto the bed and stares at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out what she should do. And why she isn’t freaked out by the idea of Rachel’s hands, Rachel’s mouth, Rachel’s lips…
Her phone buzzes on the bedspread next to her and she snatches it up, her eyes lighting up when she sees Rachel’s name next to the message that’s just come through.
“I’m craving burgers. Is this a sympathetic pregnancy sort of thing? Can’t sleep so let me know if you want to go get some food xx”
Quinn taps out her response quickly and pulls herself out of bed. She’s at the front door when Puck appears, holding a carton of orange juice. He stares at her for a few seconds.
“Where are you going?” he asks, glancing at Quinn’s fingers wrapped around the door handle.
“Um… I’m going to get a burger,” Quinn says, “Cravings.” She makes a face.
“Who’s taking you to get a burger?” he asks, folding his arms across his bare chest, an amused expression on his face, “Unless you’ve invented some magical car that you can actually fit in.” She rolls her eyes.
“Screw you, Puck,” she hisses. A car pulls up outside and Puck cranes his neck to see who it is through the glass pane at the side of the door.
“Is that Berry’s car?” he asks in slight disbelief.
“Yes, it’s Rachel’s car,” Quinn says, “Some people are actually being nice to me while I’m carrying your demon spawn.”
“Quinn…” he starts, an apology on his lips, but Quinn wrenches the door open and leaves the house, waddling as fast as she can to Rachel’s car. Puck watches the two speed off and shakes his head, wondering if he’s just dreamed this conversation.
“Hi,” Quinn says a little breathlessly, partly because of her waddle down to the car and partly because of the after-effects of her dream, still completely fresh in her mind.
“Hey, are you okay?” Rachel asks. Quinn nods feverishly.
“Fine. Perfect. Great.” Rachel looks at her questioningly but doesn’t question Quinn further on her wellbeing.
“So… Quinn… I was wondering if…”
“Rachel!” Quinn screams suddenly throwing her hands out to brace herself against the dashboard, causing Rachel to stomp on the brakes and swerve a little. A cat is staring at them from the middle of the road. It cocks it’s head before sauntering across the rest of the street, disappearing into the darkness.
“Ow,” Rachel mutters, rubbing her chest where her seatbelt hit, stopping her from flying through the windscreen.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, repositioning her seatbelt carefully.
“Yeah, just a little winded,” Rachel says, starting her car up again and checking the street for anymore animals that may cause her to brake suddenly, “So where are we going? Are you craving any burger in particular?”
“Not really,” Quinn says, blushing as she looks away from Rachel’s face. Bad idea. Her eyes land on Rachel’s legs. Blue shorts tonight. She turns her attention to the CD player instead, turning up the volume a little too loudly. Rachel reaches for the knob and turns it down again.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, “You’re all over the place. Has something happened at the Puckerman’s? I’m not opposed to hitting Noah if he’s said something offensive to you.”
“Puck’s offensive to everyone,” Quinn replies, “And no, it’s nothing to do with him. I just…” she pauses, “I just had a strange dream. Before you sent me that message.”
“Oh,” Rachel says, “So you weren’t craving bacon tonight then?” Quinn blushes again.
“Not exactly,” Quinn says.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” Rachel says, “You should get your rest…”
“Rachel, I wanted to come,” Quinn says, “I like spending time with you.” Rachel beams at her, a grin forming across her lips. Quinn stares at them. They were definitely the ones from her dream.
“Quinn?” Rachel asks nervously.
“Mm?” Quinn responds, unable to drag her eyes from Rachel’s lips. The brunette is now chewing her bottom one as she stares at her friend.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me like I’m bacon?” Quinn forces her eyes upwards and nods a little, “Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn shakes her head slowly, “Okay then. If you do, you know you can. If you want to. I mean, we’re friends after all. And friends talk about things.” Rachel says all of this in a rush, really wishing that Quinn would stop staring at her like she’s about to devour her from head to toe. Rachel feels a slight shiver course over her body at the thought of Quinn’s teeth on her skin but suppresses the urge to act on it.
Rachel buys the food, as usual, and Quinn realises that she’s been a bit of crap friend, letting Rachel pay for her cravings for the past week. She pulls out some money when Rachel gets back in the car, but Rachel waves it away, handing Quinn her burger and milkshake. They drive to the lookout in silence, the CD finishes and Quinn opens the glove box to put on something else. She chooses the CD they’d listened to the first night Rachel had picked her up.
“You like this CD,” Rachel observes before taking a bite of her burger, “This is the fourth time we’ve listened to it.”
“It’s a bit more upbeat than Les Mis,” Quinn says, “Don’t get me wrong, I like the musical, it’s just not… driving music.”
“We’re not driving,” Rachel points out absently.
“Fine, parking music,” Quinn says, rolling her eyes at Rachel’s ability to take everything literally, “You were going to say something earlier. Before we nearly hit that cat.”
“Oh yeah,” Rachel says, wiping her face carefully with a napkin and checking her face in the mirror for any errant ketchup splotches. Clear, “I have a ballet class in the morning and a singing lesson but if you’re free, I could make you lunch and we could see a movie or something? If you want.” Quinn smiles.
“Yeah, that would be great,” she says. Her only plans for the weekend involved trying to wrench herself out of bed and eating and studying for the impending exams. A few hours with Rachel would be bliss compared to that.
“Great,” Rachel says sounding relieved, “I’ll pick you up around one?”
“Sure,” Quinn says with a nod.
When Quinn rolls into bed, just before four, her cravings are still at the forefront of her mind. When she closes her eyes, she sees Rachel’s lips and she drifts off into the dream she’d been having earlier that night. Only this time, Quinn smiles in her sleep and lets the dream run its course.
**
Rachel arrives just after one. Quinn has been sitting in the lounge, anxiously flicking through the channels on the television much to the annoyance of Puck’s little sister.
“ADD much?” she asks, grabbing the remote from Quinn’s hands and setting it out of her reach.
“I’m going anyway,” Quinn says, pushing herself off the couch. She grabs her bag, checks her reflection in the mirror and heads out to Rachel’s car. Rachel is dressed in jeans and a shirt. No skirts. No jumpers.
“Hi,” she says as Quinn climbs in and fastens her seatbelt around her belly.
“Hey,” Quinn replies, “You own jeans.”
“I do,” Rachel says with a laugh, “And you’re not wearing sweats.” Quinn looks down at her outfit. She’d consciously made an effort since every time she and Rachel hung out at night, she was dressed in sweats and hoodies and her hair was all over the place.
“I thought I’d dress up a little,” Quinn says, flattening down the hem of her dress, “I can’t wait to wear jeans that don’t have elastic…” she breaks off and frowns. She never really mentioned what would happen post-baby. That part of her life was a brick wall that she didn’t want to think about passing just yet. Or tried to think about as little as possible.
“You look great,” Rachel says, reaching over to touch Quinn’s hand, “What would you like for lunch? I can make us something, or if you don’t want to get food poisoning, we could go out. Although I’d suggest not going for burgers. Ballet was a struggle this morning.”
“Believe it or not, I’m not craving bacon or burgers at all,” Quinn says, “How about something spicy? Mexican?”
“Are you trying to induce your pregnancy?” Rachel asks with a grin.
“At least I’m in good hands if she decides to come along,” Quinn says, “Rachel Berry, midwife extraordinaire.” They share a laugh and Quinn is surprised by how natural this feels. She can’t remember the last time she laughed like this with Santana and Brittany and her friendship with Mercedes is different.
“Mexican it is then,” Rachel says and heads towards town.
After lunch, they head to Rachel’s house which is empty.
“No parents?” Quinn asks, looking around the foyer as Rachel disables the alarm.
“They’re out of town visiting friends,” Rachel says, “They’ll be back tomorrow evening.” Rachel leads Quinn into the lounge, which isn’t exactly what she expected. No shrine to Rachel, the wunderkind. No playbills from Broadway musicals (though she hadn’t seen Rachel’s room yet). No collected works of Barbra Streisand.
Instead, Quinn finds herself looking at photos of Rachel through the ages, usually in some sort of dance competition outfit, and settling down into a very comfortable couch. Rachel disappears into the kitchen. Quinn can hear Rachel singing to herself. Over the past couple of weeks, Quinn had noticed so many things about Rachel that she’d never noticed before, mostly because she was too busy throwing slushies in her face or calling her insulting names.
Rachel sings, constantly, especially when she’s driving. She insists it’s a family thing and they all sing in the car. Quinn can vaguely remember a time when she and her dad used to sing Motown songs together in the car but that had been years ago. Quinn is used to hearing Rachel sing at Glee, but even when she’s not one hundred per cent focused on it, she still manages to sound faultless. Right now, she’s singing a song they’ve been working on in Glee club for the past week.
The brunette returns with two glasses of orange juice and a bowl of pineapple, chopped up into bite-sized chunks.
“Thanks,” Quinn says, taking the glass from Rachel’s hand.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Rachel asks, setting her glass and the bowl on the table in front of them.
“Sure, you pick,” Quinn says. She’s far too comfortable on the couch to contemplate getting up again. Rachel rummages through the DVD’s on the stand next to the TV and selects a few for Quinn to pick from, “Juno? Saved? Really, Rachel?” Quinn makes a face and Rachel laughs, tossing them back onto the pile next to the television. She selects two more and passes them to Quinn. “I really don’t mind.” Rachel mock-pouts until Quinn closes her eyes and waves her hand around before pointing to one of the boxes. She makes another face, “I don’t want to watch that one.” Rachel makes an exasperated noise, “I told you to pick!”
“And what if I’d picked that one?” Rachel asks, holding up the other four boxes for Quinn to choose from.
“I’d have told you to change it,” Quinn says, selecting one of the cases and handing it to Rachel, “This one.”
“Good,” Rachel says, scooting off the couch to put it in the machine, “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to get off the couch again anytime soon.”
The two settle into the couch as the movie starts to play. Quinn soon finds that her attention isn’t anywhere close to what’s on the screen. She’s more aware of the fact that Rachel is sitting close to her. So close that if Quinn were to turn her head, they would probably kiss. Images from her dream pop into her head again and she sighs a little as that familiar ache courses through her body.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks, placing a hand on Quinn’s arm, “I can get you more cushions if you’re not comfortable enough. Or change the movie if you’re bored.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn says, “Really.” Rachel doesn’t move her hand from Quinn’s arm. If anything, her grip seems to be getting tighter. The movie plays on and Quinn tries to focus. Fails to focus. Completely and utterly fails to focus. Rachel’s fingers are drawing patterns on Quinn’s forearm now. Quinn places her other hand on top of Rachel’s, intertwining their fingers together. She feels Rachel give her hand a squeeze and Quinn turns to look at the brunette. Rachel’s eyes meet hers, dark pools of brown.
“Hi,” Rachel whispers, twisting her body to face Quinn’s and reaching her free hand up to cup Quinn’s face, stroking Quinn’s cheek with her thumb.
“Hey,” Quinn whispers in response and starts to lean in towards Rachel.
“This isn’t some hormonal pregnancy thing is it?” Rachel asks quickly just as their lips are about to meet.
“No,” Quinn says, leaning in again.
“Are you sure? You haven’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me prior to last night when you looked at me like you wanted to slap me between two pieces of bread, smother me in ketchup and…” Quinn holds up a finger to Rachel’s lips.
“Stop talking,” Quinn says, “Please.” Rachel bites down on her bottom lip and nods quickly.
“But…” she starts.
“No,” Quinn says firmly. Rachel opens her mouth again, “Rachel, I swear to whatever higher power happens to be listening right now, that I will slushie you every day until graduation if you say a word.” Rachel snaps her mouth shut, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?” Rachel nods. Quinn can see the girl physically straining not to open her mouth. Quinn leans in and whispers, “You can open your mouth.”
**
Quinn doesn’t remember whose idea it was to go up to Rachel’s room but that’s where they find themselves, lying on Rachel’s bed facing one another, ridiculous smiles on their faces.
“Can I talk yet?” Rachel asks before pressing another kiss to Quinn’s temple (it might have been Quinn’s idea).
“Yes,” Quinn responds, by tugging the brunette closer to her, “Of course you can. You were just making it really, really difficult for me to kiss you earlier.”
“Is this what you wouldn’t talk to me about last night?” Rachel asks, finding herself suddenly fascinated with the zip on the side of Quinn’s dress.
“Yes,” Quinn responds, “I like you, Rachel.”
“So I gathered,” Rachel replies, starting to drag the zip southward, “I like you too. It’s a little confusing.”
“Hm,” Quinn makes a noise of agreement as Rachel abandons the zip and starts to slide Quinn’s dress up, “We can wait… until you’re less confused. If you want.” Quinn lets her lips drift over Rachel’s, biting gently. Rachel’s moan indicates that waiting is the last thing on her mind.
“It’s not that confusing,” she insists, “The emotions of hate and love are closely related and can be often confused for each other. Your incessant name-calling and slushie-throwing was clearly a manifestation of your ulterior feelings towards me.” Rachel succeeds in yanking Quinn’s dress over her head, tossing it onto the floor.
“And your attempts to steal my ex-boyfriend?” Quinn asks arching an eyebrow as Rachel runs a hand over Quinn’s belly, massaging small circles with her fingertips.
“Well I liked Finn,” Rachel says. The use of the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by Quinn, “Hence the confusion.” Rachel ducks her head to the bump and presses a kiss against the taut skin, “Your pillow talk leaves a lot to be desired by the way… bringing up exes.” Rachel turns her eyes up towards Quinn, batting her eyelashes at the blonde.
“My apologies,” Quinn says with a laugh, “I just don’t want you to rush into anything that you don’t feel ready for… since I know you weren’t ready with Jesse…” Rachel rolls her eyes now, “Sorry.”
“Quinn, you need to understand something,” Rachel says, sliding her hand down Quinn’s bump, playing with the elastic of her panties. Quinn feels her mouth run dry. “Whatever I feel for you isn’t some sort of rebound thing. Now I need you to stop talking. Can you do that for me?” Quinn bites her lip and nods feverishly as Rachel’s fingers make quick work of her underwear.
**
Later that week, Rachel and Quinn arrive at Glee arm in arm. The others stare at them as they take seats next to each other, Rachel’s arm slung casually around the back of the blonde’s chair, whispering in each other’s ears and giggling. Even Mr Shue is agog at the new development.
“Have we entered the twilight zone?” Kurt whispers in Mercedes’ ear.
Finn sits tight-lipped watching the pair, feeling confused and a little hurt. Santana just glowers in Rachel’s direction while Brittany stares off into space, wondering what she’ll have for lunch, even though it’s half past three.
“Um… Rachel…” Tina pipes up. Rachel twists around in her seat.
“Yes?” Rachel asks, a smile on her face.
“Just… um… nothing,” Tina says, glancing at Artie who shrugs.
“Doesn’t look like a robot,” he comments and Quinn rolls her eyes. They go through the routines, without Quinn due to her inability to dance, and at the end of the rehearsal, everyone leaves, still stunned.
Part Four - One Week to Go
Quinn is lying on Rachel’s couch, unable to do anything else because it’s unseasonably hot outside. Rachel has all of the doors and windows open and has just returned from Home Depot with two pedestal fans which she sets up so that Quinn constantly has at least one onslaught of cold air on her at all times. Rachel on the other hand is frozen and wearing four layers of clothing plus a scarf.
“You’re being a complete wuss,” Quinn points out as Rachel returns from the kitchen with a hot chocolate for herself and a pint glass of iced water for Quinn.
“Quinn, it’s really not that hot outside,” Rachel says, lifting Quinn’s feet up onto her lap so that she can massage the blonde’s swollen ankles. They’re watching a marathon of Grey’s Anatomy.
“I don’t think I could be a doctor,” Quinn grimaces, turning away from the television when blood starts spurting from one of the patients onscreen.
“Well, you’re terrified of blood, so I wouldn’t suggest it,” Rachel says grinning over at the blonde, “And you call me a complete wuss.”
“You are,” Quinn says matter-of-factly, “And anyway, some of us haven’t had our entire life plan’s mapped out since we were in Kindergarten. Some of us are still trying to decide what to do with the rest of our lives.”
“Who says you have to pick one thing?” Rachel asks, “You can do anything you want, Quinn. And I’ll be there to support you.”
“Jeez Rachel, you’re making life sound like an after-school special,” Quinn sticks out her tongue and Rachel rolls her eyes in response. Rachel finishes massaging one foot and moves onto the next, ignoring the television as thoughts swirl around her head, “What’s wrong? You look as though you’re trying to decide what to say but there’s too many things in that impossibly large brain of yours.”
“I’m worried about what’s going to happen to us after the baby’s born,” Rachel says quickly, not meeting Quinn’s gaze.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Quinn says, “I’m going to give birth, she’ll be handed over to two wonderful and incredibly grateful people and then I’ll have to study my ass off for exams otherwise I get to spend the summer in school instead of spending it with you.”
“You say it like it isn’t a big deal,” Rachel says, still not meeting Quinn’s eyes.
“It is a big deal,” Quinn says, “What do you want me to say, Rachel? She isn’t my baby. She’s going to belong to someone else. It would be completely unfair of me to try to raise her on my own.”
“You wouldn’t be alone,” Rachel says finally looking up at Quinn, “Puck would help and I’d help too. And my dads…”
“Stop,” Quinn says softly, “I’m well aware of how I might feel after I give birth to her. I’ll probably be a mess but right now, I don’t want to think about it. I want to try and think about having a normal life. I want to think about going to college in a couple of years and having fun and spending time with my friends. And you. I’m not keeping her, Rachel.” Rachel nods resignedly.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she says.
“Besides, your dads will probably like me more when I’m able to take you out instead of lounging on their sofa all day long,” Quinn says.
“Where are you going to live?” Rachel asks, clearly not done with her questions.
“I don’t know,” Quinn says with a shrug, “Puck’s mom has said that I can stay until my parents come to their senses. Since that’s unlikely to happen in the next century or so, it looks like I’m stuck there.”
“We have a spare room,” Rachel says, “You already spend most of your time here outside of school…”
“Rachel, we’ve barely been together for a week and you’re asking me to move in with you? I think this takes u-hauling to a new level,” Quinn says with a grin.
“No more L Word for you,” Rachel says, “And it wouldn’t be u-hauling. You’d have your own room. And if you felt like it, you could sleep over in mine a couple of nights a week.” Quinn frowns.
“Only a couple?” she asks, “Maybe we should talk to your dads about it first, okay? I do like the thought of being able to jump you any time, day or night. And I believe it was your idea to watch The L Word. For research.”
Quinn smirks at Rachel’s blush before leaning over to give the brunette a kiss on the cheek. They turn their attention back to the TV, Rachel’s hands still massaging Quinn’s feet. It feels like heaven to Quinn. She wonders, glancing at Rachel, if things will change after the baby, if she’ll be different, if it will be possible to remain detached from the baby. She shifts slightly as Rachel’s hands start to travel up her calves. Quinn smiles at the television, trying for as long as possible not to look down at Rachel. Rachel’s hands become more insistent as they travel up the blonde’s thighs.
“Your dads will be back soon,” Quinn comments, her voice already uneven, her breathing a little of out rhythm. This doesn’t deter Rachel, who pushes Quinn’s legs apart and slides her head up between them. She presses soft, delicate kisses to the inside of Quinn’s thighs, her tongue trailing a path northwards. Quinn’s hands slide into Rachel’s hair and without a word, Rachel pushes Quinn’s underwear to the side, breathing in the scent of the blonde. She exhales a little and watches Quinn shiver with a grin on her face.
**
“Rachel!” Quinn’s voice calls from the bathroom. Rachel is sprawled on the couch, completely exhausted and still completely frozen despite all of her physical exertion. She pushes herself off the couch and heads down the hallway. The bathroom door is open and Quinn is staring at the ground, a pool of water below her, spreading outwards.
“Oh my god,” Rachel says.
“I think you broke my water,” Quinn says, glancing up at the brunette.
“I didn’t break anything!“ Rachel says, her voice high-pitched.
“My water was perfectly intact before you… and that tongue…“ Quinn looks accusingly at Rachel who flounders for words.
“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time! Quite the opposite actually!” she finally retorts, hands on her hips. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before bursting into laughter. Then Rachel goes into business mode, ushering Quinn out of the bathroom and leading her back into the lounge. Her dads arrive home as she’s helping Quinn out to the car after closing all of the windows and doors.
“I’ll drive,” Alex says, taking Rachel’s keys, “Quinn, how are you feeling?” He gives Quinn an encouraging smile as he slides into the front seat. James, Rachel’s other father, is given the task of picking up Quinn’s overnight bag from the Puckerman’s and telling Puck to get to the hospital. In the backseat of the car, Rachel grasps Quinn’s hand tightly, whispering in the blonde’s ear to breathe.
“Don’t leave me,” Quinn tells her urgently.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rachel says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s temple. She notices her dad watching them in the mirror and they share a quick smile.
“Rachel, honey, is there a reason you’re dressed for an Arctic expedition?” Quinn chuckles while Rachel pouts before launching into a diatribe that lasts until they reach the hospital.
**
“She’s trying to kill me,” Quinn says, grabbing Rachel’s hand as a contraction wracks her body. Puck’s taken a break from the labour room and has gone to get a quick dinner and to update his mom and Rachel’s dads in the waiting room (a message had been left for the Fabray’s when Quinn arrived at the hospital but no-one expected them to turn up).
“You’re doing really well,” Rachel says, stroking the blonde’s forehead as the pain dissipates, “The doctor thinks she’ll be ready in an hour.”
“I’m never having sex again,” Quinn says. Rachel fixes her with a look, “With men, Rachel. With men. You should go get something to eat. You must be hungry. And tired.”
“I said I wasn’t going to leave,” Rachel says with a smile.
“You’re no good to me if you keel over due to lack of food,” Quinn says, “When Puck gets back, I’m forcing you to take a recess.”
“I’m not five, Quinn,” Rachel says, “And you’re not really in a position to force me to do anything.”
“Why won’t she hurry up?” Quinn asks, “Seven hours. Seven. You’d think she’d want to get out and see the world, meet her mom and dad.” Her face screws up again as another contraction comes along, “Owfuckinghell,” she cries out, “Where’s Puck? I want to punch him in the face. Or castrate him.”
“I don’t think that’ll help you now, Quinn,” Rachel says, “Just breathe, okay? You’re doing really great.” Rachel does the breathing along with Quinn, causing the blonde to laugh through the tears that have started to fall.
“Dork,” she gasps. Rachel wipes the tears from Quinn’s face.
“Your dork though,” she says and Quinn nods, pressing her lips to Rachel’s.
**
After Puck leaves, Rachel lies down next to Quinn, wrapping her arms around the taller girl, feeling her body shake as tears start to stream down her face. Rachel can’t think of anything to say so just holds her girlfriend until she falls asleep, exhausted after nine hours of labour.
In the morning, Quinn wakes up momentarily forgetting that she’s in hospital. She takes in her surroundings quickly and notices the small brunette curled up in a chair next to the window, a blanket draped over her. She looks exhausted too. A nurse comes into the room.
“Morning,” she says quietly, glancing over Quinn’s chart, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Quinn says yawning, “Sore. Has she been here all night?” She gestures to Rachel who still hasn’t stirred.
“She refused to leave,” the nurse chuckles, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Is she… is the baby gone?” Quinn asks, looking up at the nurse. The nurse nods a couple of times, “They’ll be good people, right?”
“Yeah,” the nurse says, placing her hand on top of Quinn’s, “It’s probably not too late if you do want to see her…”
“No,” Quinn says, “It’s fine. I just want to go home.”
“Well, let’s get some breakfast in you first,” the nurse says, “I’ll get some for Rachel too.” She disappears from the room and Quinn leans back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through her emotions.
“Quinn,” her eyes shoot to the doorway, her dad is standing there.
“What are you doing here?” she asks loudly enough to wake up Rachel, who’s on her feet in an instant going to the bedside to take Quinn’s hand. Russell Fabray stares at their linked fingers and turns a dull shade of red, taking a few steps inside the room.
“We’re taking you home,” he says, eventually looking back up at his daughter. The nurse comes back with two trays of food and stops in the doorway.
“Excuse me sir, visiting hours aren’t until eleven…” she glances between the man and Quinn, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” When he doesn’t move, the nurse steps out into the hallway and tells the nurse at the desk to call for security.
“Dad, please go,” Quinn says, her voice strong, “I have nothing to say to you. I’m not coming home.”
“You’re my daughter,” he says, “We raised you for sixteen years and now you’re going to throw that in our faces…”
“You threw me out,” Quinn explodes. Rachel has seen Quinn angry but never like this, “You threw me out when I needed you most. I found more compassion in a girl who I’ve been torturing for years than I could find in my own parents who ‘raised me for sixteen years’. Just because you’re my father doesn’t make you my family.”
“Your mother cries herself to sleep every night,” he says weakly.
“She did that a long time before I got pregnant, dad,” Quinn says, “Stop pointing fingers and sort out your own goddamn life before you try to ruin mine further.”
The nurse returns flanked by another nurse and a doctor and two security guards.
“Sir, come with us,” one of them says.
“You’re not the girl I raised,” he says staring at her before brushing past the security guards outside. Quinn sinks back against the pillows, sobs erupting from deep in her chest. Rachel wraps her arms around the shaking girl and rubs circles across her back.
“Don’t let him near this room again,” she says quietly to the nurse who nods and leaves the trays of food at the foot of the bed.
**
Part Five: Due Date
Quinn drums her fingers against her stomach, much flatter than it was this time last week. It feels like a lifetime ago already. After her father left, Rachel’s dads arrived to take them home. Home. Quinn feels a slight tug somewhere deep inside when she realises that she’ll never go back to her house on Dudley Road. Her things had been left on the Berry’s porch a few nights ago.
Alex and James have been wonderful so far. They’ve hugged her more in the past week than she’s been hugged her entire life. They’ve taken her shopping to get furniture for her room and told her she can decorate it any colour she wants. Last night, they’d gone out for dinner together, the four of them. Her family. Quinn actually feels like a teenager again instead of the adult she’s felt like for the past few months.
There’s a knock on her bedroom door and she lifts her head to see Rachel standing there, a huge grin on her face.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey,” Quinn replies patting the bed next to her. Rachel bounces over but sits down a little warily, as though she’s afraid of hurting Quinn. They’ve barely kissed since leaving the hospital the week before, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Quinn, “I think I’ll go back to school on Monday.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel asks, still not touching Quinn. Quinn grabs the brunette’s hand and places it on her thigh.
“You’re allowed to touch me,” Quinn says, “I won’t break.” Rachel’s hand relaxes and Quinn smiles, “See? And yes, I’m sure. I can’t take any more time off without really destroying my chances of passing the end of year exams. Plus I miss Glee.”
“I miss you being there,” Rachel admits, squeezing Quinn’s thigh, “Want to come downstairs? Dad’s just finished making some brownies and I want to show you something in the basement.”
“The basement?” Quinn asks raising an eyebrow, “What is it?”
“It‘s an area habitually used to store things in a person’s house, but that’s not important right now,” Rachel says, taking Quinn’s hand and pulling her off the bed.
“Did you just quote Airplane!?” Quinn asks and Rachel sticks out her tongue, “Wait a second,” Quinn says. Rachel turns back to face her and Quinn pulls her in for a kiss. Rachel is hesitant at first but soon melts against Quinn’s body. It feels strange to her, not having the bump between them. Quinn lets her fingers trail along the bottom of Rachel’s shirt, the shorter girl sighing into her mouth. When they pull apart, Rachel sways slightly on her feet, “I missed that.”
“Um… yeah… me too,” Rachel says, blinking a couple of times, “Brownies. Basement.” She takes Quinn’s hand again and leads her down the stairs where they help themselves to a couple of chocolate brownies and then head down into the basement. Quinn hasn’t ventured into this part of the Berry household, figuring it was precisely like every other basement she’d seen. Not so in this house. The space has been converted into four rooms.
“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you? You’ve got a cinema behind one of these doors, right? Or a mini-theatre where you give impassioned one-woman performances of Barbra Streisand shows? Or another secret entrance to the magical land of Narnia?”
“No, no and close,” Rachel replies, “Actually, that’s a storage room,” she points to the first door on the left, “That is a tiny dance studio,” she points to the door next to it, “Bathroom,” she points to the third door before opening the last door. Quinn steps inside and grins.
“But of course, Rachel Berry has her own grand piano,” Quinn says turning back to her girlfriend, “Play me something.”
“It actually came with the house,” Rachel says taking a seat at the stool, “The previous owners managed to get it down here but couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of getting it out again so my dads bought it from them.” There are a couple of guitars strewn around the room too and an old record player, overflowing boxes of records sit next to it.
“This is Narnia,” Quinn says sitting down next to Rachel.
“Any requests?” Rachel asks, playing a few chords and arpeggios to warm her fingers up.
“Whatever you want,” Quinn says deciding she doesn’t want to sit on the bench. She slides under the piano and lies down, eyes closed, hands folded across her stomach.
“I have been working on something,” Rachel says, starting to play chords in an order that resemble a tune. Quinn nods her head along, a smile spreading across her face properly for the first time in a week. Then Rachel starts to sing and she feels that familiar shiver down her spine. And she feels like she’s home.
Author: Brio
Rating: I'm going to say PG-13. There's same-sex kissing. And I think... one swear word. And there's implied bedroom!activities but I pretty much suck at writing smut, so avoided it.
Length: It was going to be short but then I ended up with nearly 8500 words. Oops.
Spoilers: All of season 1. It's not spoilertastic because it's pretty much AU.
Summary: The final month of Quinn's pregnancy. With cravings and stuff.
A/N1: I wrote this prior to watching the final two episodes so there are little things that I could have changed but then decided not to because the more I play with a fic, the more things I find to change.
A/N2: Unbeta'd (if anyone would like to beta any further fics I write, let me know... my grammar is sometimes quite shoddy) but huge thanks to Ilsu and Darch for reading it and suggesting things.
A/N3: First R/Q fic that I've finished and posted (despite having started several) so comments would be awesome :) I also don't know what to tag it with :/
Part 1: Four weeks to go
Rachel senses immediately that she is not alone when she reaches the choir room after school; after all, she is a little psychic. The lights are on but there’s no-one in plain sight. The petite brunette takes a couple of steps towards the piano, pulling up short when she hears a muffled moan.
“Hello?” she calls hesitantly, “I’ll have you know that this room is booked for Glee rehearsals from three-thirty onwards… and I’m aware that it’s only three o’clock but I like to get here early in order to warm up my voice. Without the correct vocal exercises, a voice can be damaged…” Rachel rounds the piano and catches the trespasser, hiding beneath the keyboard of the piano, not visible from the doorway “A-ha!” She draws back slightly, confusion etching itself onto her features, “Quinn?!”
Rachel stares down at the former head cheerleader who’s trying to wipe her face with a napkin as quickly as possible.
“Streisand,” Quinn’s voice is muffled by whatever is in her mouth. She chews rapidly and swallows the rest of her food.
“This might seem a foolhardy question, so forgive me for asking the obvious, but why are you hiding under the piano? And…” Rachel sniffs, “Is that bacon?!”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Quinn narrows her eyes, “I was merely… having some alone time. On my own.”
“I’m aware of the definition of alone,” Rachel says, folding her arms across her chest. She watches the blonde attempt to push herself up off the floor, using the piano stool for leverage, for a few seconds, “Can I help you?”
“No, I can do this,” Quinn pants, clutching her swollen stomach. Rachel bites her bottom lip, trying to stop the laugh waiting there. Quinn gives up and sinks back to the floor, bursting into tears. Rachel’s face goes from mildly amused to horrified.
“Quinn, it’s okay,” Rachel says, scooting down next to the blonde. She reaches to put her arm around Quinn’s shoulders but pulls back, unsure if Quinn will appreciate being comforted by someone she’s just called ‘Streisand’. Quinn’s insults have been few and far between lately, especially since she became friends with Mercedes, a friendship that had surprised Rachel and most of Glee actually.
Internally berating herself, Rachel slides an arm around Quinn’s shoulders and feels the blonde lean against her.
“I feel so useless, Rachel,” Quinn says quietly. The usage of her name, as opposed to an insulting nickname, momentarily stuns Rachel but doesn’t render her completely speechless.
“I can imagine that not many women in their eighth month of pregnancy would manage to sit down on the floor so you’re not completely useless,” Rachel says, rubbing the blonde’s arm. Quinn gives a mirthless laugh and Rachel realises what she’s just said, “I didn’t mean that you’re completely useless…” The brunette starts to blush, “What were you eating? And why were you hiding?”
“I wasn’t…” Quinn starts.
“Okay, why were you sitting under the piano, alone?” Rachel asks. Quinn sighs.
“This is going to sound ridiculous,” she mumbles, brushing her hair off her face, “When I was younger, my grandparents had a grand piano and I used to sit under it whenever my grandfather played. It’s sort of like a comfort thing. Even if no-one’s playing. Or it was until I got so fat that I can’t even get off the floor.”
“Quinn, you’re not fat,” Rachel admonishes gently, “That sounds nice, that your grandfather played the piano. I never met any of my grandparents.”
“Really?” Quinn asks, wiping the remaining tears from her face.
“My dad and his parents don’t talk,” Rachel shrugs, “And my other dad’s parents died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says though it wasn’t her fault. Rachel shrugs again, something that Quinn’s never noticed the brunette do before, “I was eating a bacon sandwich.”
“Well, I figured that,” Rachel says, “I thought Christians ate pork.”
“They do,” Quinn says, “But Puck’s mom…she’s strict on the ‘no pork’ rule, so I have to sneak it at school. You have no idea how horrendous it is to wake up at three in the morning and want nothing but bacon.”
“Give me your cell,” Rachel says, holding out her hand. Quinn looks at her questioningly, “Unless you already have my number?” Quinn bites her lip and Rachel scrolls through the list of names quickly.
“At least you saved it as ‘Rachel’ and not ‘Streisand’ or ‘Man Hands’,” Rachel muses.
“When did I call you Man Hands?” Quinn asks, slightly horrified.
“Pregnancy is obviously affecting your memory,” Rachel says, handing the phone back to Quinn, “Look, if you ever get cravings, you can call me.”
“Really?” Quinn asks, “Even at 3am?”
“Quinn, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Rachel asks, “Well, sort of anyway. It’s my fault you’re staying at Noah’s house and having to hide under pianos to satisfy your cravings.”
“Rachel, it’s not your fault,” Quinn says, “I don’t blame you for any of this.”
“Doesn’t stop the guilt,” Rachel says, “So, if you need bacon. Or whatever. Ham. Sausages. Other pork products… then I’ll help you out.” She gives Quinn’s arm a squeeze, “Just don’t tell my dads.” Quinn laughs and Rachel gets to her feet, “Everyone will be here soon and I haven’t done my warm-ups yet.” Rachel leans down, stretching both of her arms out to Quinn. Quinn slides her hands into the decidedly non-mannish hands and Rachel pulls her up off the ground, surprising the blonde with her strength, “My daily work-out involves some light weight training. I obviously hide my muscles well.”
“Rachel,” Quinn says, still holding onto the brunette’s hands, “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Quinn,” Rachel says. They tentatively share a hug and then pull away from each other quickly, “By the way, you have ketchup all over your face.”
Part 2: Three Weeks to Go
Quinn waits three nights before taking up Rachel’s offer. She’s been lying in bed since eleven, her stomach growling at her, completely unsatisfied by the meal Mrs Puckerman had cooked for them though it had been delicious. Nervously, she scrolls through her contacts, pausing when she reaches Rachel’s number. Hoping that the brunette hadn’t been joking, she presses the call button.
“Rachel Berry’s phone,” Rachel answers on the fourth ring sounding exhausted.
“Hi, sorry, it’s Quinn,” Quinn says in a hushed voice.
“Quinn, hey,” Rachel says, yawning loudly, “Cravings?”
“Yeah,” Quinn says.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes, get dressed,” Rachel says and hangs up. Quinn rolls out of bed, reaching for the first pair of pants that fit and a zip-up hoody that Mercedes had bought her when they went shopping at the weekend. Pointless really, she wouldn’t be able to wear it in a few week’s time.
True to her word, Rachel pulls up outside Puck’s house ten minutes later. Quinn sneaks from the house, down the path and climbs into the car as quietly as possible. Rachel is wearing shorts. Short shorts and a hoody and has her hair plaited loosely. Quinn can’t help but find it adorable. Rachel pulls away from the kerb and drives towards town while Quinn contemplates why she isn’t entirely freaked out by the idea that Rachel can be adorable.
“… and it’s a good job that I’ve been taking those dance lessons. Although my dads are incredibly heavy sleepers. Once I set off the smoke alarm and neither of them woke up. That doesn’t bode well if there’s a fire in the middle of the night that I’m not there to put out.” Rachel looks thoughtful for a couple of seconds while Quinn tries to figure out exactly what she’s babbling about having missed the start of the brunette’s stream of consciousness.
“Hmm,” Quinn adds with a nod, hoping that this response will be sufficient and reaches to turn up the volume on the CD player, “What’s this?” The song sounds familiar but she doesn’t know the name of the band. She’s a little surprised that it isn’t some sort of Broadway compilation.
“Train,” Rachel says, glancing at Quinn, “I don’t listen to show tunes all the time. My dads have made sure that I’m very well-rounded when it comes to music.”
“So if I open your glove box, there won’t be copies of the soundtracks to at least three Broadway musicals?” Quinn asks with a devilish grin, reaching forward.
“No!” Rachel cries, but it’s too late. Quinn already has the CDs in her hand and is flicking through them.
“Wicked, Rent, Funny Girl and Les Miserables,” Quinn nods her head, “Geek.” Rachel huffs.
“I’m not a geek,” she says, taking the discs from Quinn and shoving them back into the glove box, “I suppose your musical tastes are impeccable then?”
“Absolutely,” Quinn says, running her hands over her stomach as the little girl inside kicks a few times, “I like this.” She gestures to the CD player and the two sit in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the end of the track. Rachel pulls into the parking lot of a twenty-four hour fast food restaurant.
“What do you want?” Rachel asks, getting ready to jump out of the car.
“Double bacon cheeseburger,” Quinn says automatically, “With extra bacon… are you going in like that?” Quinn looks the brunette up and down, her eyes lingering on where Rachel’s shorts meet her tanned legs.
“Quinn, it’s three-thirty in the morning,” Rachel says, “The likelihood of anyone seeing me apart from the stoned guy flipping the burgers is highly unlikely.” She frowns for a second, “Do I not look okay?” Rachel looks down at her ensemble, “I didn’t really have the mental capacity to create an outfit that befitted a middle of the night run to the nearest fast food eatery.”
“You do have the mental capacity to talk far too much though,” Quinn says rolling her eyes, “You look good… I mean, fine. You look alright.” Rachel gives her a look before getting out of the car and trotting across the parking lot.
Quinn closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headrest for a few minutes, feeling herself start to drift off just as Rachel climbs back into the car. She has two burgers, fries and milkshakes.
“These shorts are amazing,” she comments, handing the food to Quinn who raises her eyebrow in response, “I’m kidding. All your talk of bacon has me craving burgers too.” Rachel pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Lima’s highest point, a lookout over the town.
“Jeez, Rachel, this is second date stuff,” Quinn says, unwrapping her burger the moment Rachel stops the car.
“Oh… I didn’t mean… we can go somewhere else if you want…” Rachel starts to get flustered and Quinn waves a hand at her, taking the first bite of her burger and moaning. Rachel chuckles and unwraps her own burger.
“That was amazing,” Quinn sighs when she finishes just over a minute later. Rachel’s barely taken her second bite.
“Fry?” Rachel offers and Quinn takes a couple, “So have you had any other cravings? I read that some women go through a different craving every month…”
“You’ve been reading up about pregnancy?” Quinn asks, pausing to swirl a fry in some ketchup before popping it into her mouth. Rachel blushes a little.
“I might have done a little research,” Rachel says, “Just incase.”
“Just incase you and Jesse decide to ruin your lives?” Quinn asks.
“You’re not ruining your life, Quinn,” Rachel says, “And no, in response to your question.”
“So you and Jesse aren’t…?” Quinn stops. The two girls are barely even friends and she’s overstepping the line.
“Jesse and I never. And we’re not together,” Rachel says quietly, glancing out the window, “Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says, “He seemed nice.” Rachel shrugs, “So why were you reading about the miracle of childbirth if you’re not planning on joining the unwed mothers club?”
“So I’m ready if you go into labour during a rehearsal or if I happen to be nearby,” Rachel says, “I mean, I know the basics of childbirth, but it helps to be completely prepared. I doubt that Noah will know how to make you as comfortable as possible if your water breaks at Glee and you start having contractions.” Quinn is simultaneously touched and weirded out by this admission.
“You’re going to try and deliver my baby?” Quinn asks with a chuckle, “You know the hospital is pretty much a ten minute drive regardless of where we are in Lima.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rachel says, “I just thought it would help to know what’s coming. Then I was intrigued by what the body goes through whilst one is pregnant.”
“I craved pineapple,” Quinn says deciding to answer the question, “At the beginning. And occasionally liquorice, which is weird because I’ve hated both my whole life. And now bacon.”
“I love pineapple,” Rachel notes, scrunching up the wrapper of her now finished burger and finishing off the fries that Quinn hasn’t eaten (roughly five), “Strawberry or chocolate?” She holds up the milkshakes, “I like both but I don’t know what flavour you prefer.”
“Strawberry please,” Quinn says. Rachel passes her the cup and a straw. After a few more minutes of silence, Quinn notices Rachel getting restless, her fingers drumming gently on the steering wheel, her knee bouncing ever so slightly.
“Are you scared?” Rachel asks suddenly, turning to look at Quinn, only to find the blonde staring back at her. Quinn blinks a couple of times while thinking about the answer to her question.
“Yeah,” Quinn says, “Yes I am.” Rachel reaches across and slides her hand on top of Quinn’s but is quiet, for a change. After the milkshakes are finished, Rachel drives Quinn back to the Puckerman’s.
“Hope you sleep better now,” Rachel says, unable to stop the yawn escaping her lips.
“I hope you don’t feel horrible in the morning,” Quinn says grimacing, “Thanks for this.”
“Anytime,” Rachel says, “See you at school.” Quinn nods, considers saying something else but instead gets out of the car. Rachel watches Quinn go up the path and slip into the house and drives home, narrowly missing three lampposts and a dustbin on the way. When she gets in, she realises she has ketchup all over her face.
Part 3: Two Weeks To Go
Quinn wakes up with a start, her breathing laboured, her heart pounding in her chest. She checks the time and groans. Typical, one of the only nights out of the past seven that she hasn’t been craving bacon, she wakes up at three anyway. She lies down again, straightening the covers she’s kicked off during her dream.
The dream!
It rushes back to Quinn in full technicolour glory. Small insistent hands all over her body, lips on her own, kisses, moans… Quinn feels a current shoot through her body and sighs in frustration. In the earlier months of her pregnancy, she’d been able to satisfy this craving on her own. She reaches for her phone and hesitates, more details of the dream coming back to her.
Rachel. It had been Rachel’s hands, Rachel’s mouth. Rachel’s lips… Rachel moaning.
Quinn drops the phone onto the bed and stares at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, trying to figure out what she should do. And why she isn’t freaked out by the idea of Rachel’s hands, Rachel’s mouth, Rachel’s lips…
Her phone buzzes on the bedspread next to her and she snatches it up, her eyes lighting up when she sees Rachel’s name next to the message that’s just come through.
“I’m craving burgers. Is this a sympathetic pregnancy sort of thing? Can’t sleep so let me know if you want to go get some food xx”
Quinn taps out her response quickly and pulls herself out of bed. She’s at the front door when Puck appears, holding a carton of orange juice. He stares at her for a few seconds.
“Where are you going?” he asks, glancing at Quinn’s fingers wrapped around the door handle.
“Um… I’m going to get a burger,” Quinn says, “Cravings.” She makes a face.
“Who’s taking you to get a burger?” he asks, folding his arms across his bare chest, an amused expression on his face, “Unless you’ve invented some magical car that you can actually fit in.” She rolls her eyes.
“Screw you, Puck,” she hisses. A car pulls up outside and Puck cranes his neck to see who it is through the glass pane at the side of the door.
“Is that Berry’s car?” he asks in slight disbelief.
“Yes, it’s Rachel’s car,” Quinn says, “Some people are actually being nice to me while I’m carrying your demon spawn.”
“Quinn…” he starts, an apology on his lips, but Quinn wrenches the door open and leaves the house, waddling as fast as she can to Rachel’s car. Puck watches the two speed off and shakes his head, wondering if he’s just dreamed this conversation.
“Hi,” Quinn says a little breathlessly, partly because of her waddle down to the car and partly because of the after-effects of her dream, still completely fresh in her mind.
“Hey, are you okay?” Rachel asks. Quinn nods feverishly.
“Fine. Perfect. Great.” Rachel looks at her questioningly but doesn’t question Quinn further on her wellbeing.
“So… Quinn… I was wondering if…”
“Rachel!” Quinn screams suddenly throwing her hands out to brace herself against the dashboard, causing Rachel to stomp on the brakes and swerve a little. A cat is staring at them from the middle of the road. It cocks it’s head before sauntering across the rest of the street, disappearing into the darkness.
“Ow,” Rachel mutters, rubbing her chest where her seatbelt hit, stopping her from flying through the windscreen.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, repositioning her seatbelt carefully.
“Yeah, just a little winded,” Rachel says, starting her car up again and checking the street for anymore animals that may cause her to brake suddenly, “So where are we going? Are you craving any burger in particular?”
“Not really,” Quinn says, blushing as she looks away from Rachel’s face. Bad idea. Her eyes land on Rachel’s legs. Blue shorts tonight. She turns her attention to the CD player instead, turning up the volume a little too loudly. Rachel reaches for the knob and turns it down again.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, “You’re all over the place. Has something happened at the Puckerman’s? I’m not opposed to hitting Noah if he’s said something offensive to you.”
“Puck’s offensive to everyone,” Quinn replies, “And no, it’s nothing to do with him. I just…” she pauses, “I just had a strange dream. Before you sent me that message.”
“Oh,” Rachel says, “So you weren’t craving bacon tonight then?” Quinn blushes again.
“Not exactly,” Quinn says.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” Rachel says, “You should get your rest…”
“Rachel, I wanted to come,” Quinn says, “I like spending time with you.” Rachel beams at her, a grin forming across her lips. Quinn stares at them. They were definitely the ones from her dream.
“Quinn?” Rachel asks nervously.
“Mm?” Quinn responds, unable to drag her eyes from Rachel’s lips. The brunette is now chewing her bottom one as she stares at her friend.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me like I’m bacon?” Quinn forces her eyes upwards and nods a little, “Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn shakes her head slowly, “Okay then. If you do, you know you can. If you want to. I mean, we’re friends after all. And friends talk about things.” Rachel says all of this in a rush, really wishing that Quinn would stop staring at her like she’s about to devour her from head to toe. Rachel feels a slight shiver course over her body at the thought of Quinn’s teeth on her skin but suppresses the urge to act on it.
Rachel buys the food, as usual, and Quinn realises that she’s been a bit of crap friend, letting Rachel pay for her cravings for the past week. She pulls out some money when Rachel gets back in the car, but Rachel waves it away, handing Quinn her burger and milkshake. They drive to the lookout in silence, the CD finishes and Quinn opens the glove box to put on something else. She chooses the CD they’d listened to the first night Rachel had picked her up.
“You like this CD,” Rachel observes before taking a bite of her burger, “This is the fourth time we’ve listened to it.”
“It’s a bit more upbeat than Les Mis,” Quinn says, “Don’t get me wrong, I like the musical, it’s just not… driving music.”
“We’re not driving,” Rachel points out absently.
“Fine, parking music,” Quinn says, rolling her eyes at Rachel’s ability to take everything literally, “You were going to say something earlier. Before we nearly hit that cat.”
“Oh yeah,” Rachel says, wiping her face carefully with a napkin and checking her face in the mirror for any errant ketchup splotches. Clear, “I have a ballet class in the morning and a singing lesson but if you’re free, I could make you lunch and we could see a movie or something? If you want.” Quinn smiles.
“Yeah, that would be great,” she says. Her only plans for the weekend involved trying to wrench herself out of bed and eating and studying for the impending exams. A few hours with Rachel would be bliss compared to that.
“Great,” Rachel says sounding relieved, “I’ll pick you up around one?”
“Sure,” Quinn says with a nod.
When Quinn rolls into bed, just before four, her cravings are still at the forefront of her mind. When she closes her eyes, she sees Rachel’s lips and she drifts off into the dream she’d been having earlier that night. Only this time, Quinn smiles in her sleep and lets the dream run its course.
**
Rachel arrives just after one. Quinn has been sitting in the lounge, anxiously flicking through the channels on the television much to the annoyance of Puck’s little sister.
“ADD much?” she asks, grabbing the remote from Quinn’s hands and setting it out of her reach.
“I’m going anyway,” Quinn says, pushing herself off the couch. She grabs her bag, checks her reflection in the mirror and heads out to Rachel’s car. Rachel is dressed in jeans and a shirt. No skirts. No jumpers.
“Hi,” she says as Quinn climbs in and fastens her seatbelt around her belly.
“Hey,” Quinn replies, “You own jeans.”
“I do,” Rachel says with a laugh, “And you’re not wearing sweats.” Quinn looks down at her outfit. She’d consciously made an effort since every time she and Rachel hung out at night, she was dressed in sweats and hoodies and her hair was all over the place.
“I thought I’d dress up a little,” Quinn says, flattening down the hem of her dress, “I can’t wait to wear jeans that don’t have elastic…” she breaks off and frowns. She never really mentioned what would happen post-baby. That part of her life was a brick wall that she didn’t want to think about passing just yet. Or tried to think about as little as possible.
“You look great,” Rachel says, reaching over to touch Quinn’s hand, “What would you like for lunch? I can make us something, or if you don’t want to get food poisoning, we could go out. Although I’d suggest not going for burgers. Ballet was a struggle this morning.”
“Believe it or not, I’m not craving bacon or burgers at all,” Quinn says, “How about something spicy? Mexican?”
“Are you trying to induce your pregnancy?” Rachel asks with a grin.
“At least I’m in good hands if she decides to come along,” Quinn says, “Rachel Berry, midwife extraordinaire.” They share a laugh and Quinn is surprised by how natural this feels. She can’t remember the last time she laughed like this with Santana and Brittany and her friendship with Mercedes is different.
“Mexican it is then,” Rachel says and heads towards town.
After lunch, they head to Rachel’s house which is empty.
“No parents?” Quinn asks, looking around the foyer as Rachel disables the alarm.
“They’re out of town visiting friends,” Rachel says, “They’ll be back tomorrow evening.” Rachel leads Quinn into the lounge, which isn’t exactly what she expected. No shrine to Rachel, the wunderkind. No playbills from Broadway musicals (though she hadn’t seen Rachel’s room yet). No collected works of Barbra Streisand.
Instead, Quinn finds herself looking at photos of Rachel through the ages, usually in some sort of dance competition outfit, and settling down into a very comfortable couch. Rachel disappears into the kitchen. Quinn can hear Rachel singing to herself. Over the past couple of weeks, Quinn had noticed so many things about Rachel that she’d never noticed before, mostly because she was too busy throwing slushies in her face or calling her insulting names.
Rachel sings, constantly, especially when she’s driving. She insists it’s a family thing and they all sing in the car. Quinn can vaguely remember a time when she and her dad used to sing Motown songs together in the car but that had been years ago. Quinn is used to hearing Rachel sing at Glee, but even when she’s not one hundred per cent focused on it, she still manages to sound faultless. Right now, she’s singing a song they’ve been working on in Glee club for the past week.
The brunette returns with two glasses of orange juice and a bowl of pineapple, chopped up into bite-sized chunks.
“Thanks,” Quinn says, taking the glass from Rachel’s hand.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Rachel asks, setting her glass and the bowl on the table in front of them.
“Sure, you pick,” Quinn says. She’s far too comfortable on the couch to contemplate getting up again. Rachel rummages through the DVD’s on the stand next to the TV and selects a few for Quinn to pick from, “Juno? Saved? Really, Rachel?” Quinn makes a face and Rachel laughs, tossing them back onto the pile next to the television. She selects two more and passes them to Quinn. “I really don’t mind.” Rachel mock-pouts until Quinn closes her eyes and waves her hand around before pointing to one of the boxes. She makes another face, “I don’t want to watch that one.” Rachel makes an exasperated noise, “I told you to pick!”
“And what if I’d picked that one?” Rachel asks, holding up the other four boxes for Quinn to choose from.
“I’d have told you to change it,” Quinn says, selecting one of the cases and handing it to Rachel, “This one.”
“Good,” Rachel says, scooting off the couch to put it in the machine, “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to get off the couch again anytime soon.”
The two settle into the couch as the movie starts to play. Quinn soon finds that her attention isn’t anywhere close to what’s on the screen. She’s more aware of the fact that Rachel is sitting close to her. So close that if Quinn were to turn her head, they would probably kiss. Images from her dream pop into her head again and she sighs a little as that familiar ache courses through her body.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks, placing a hand on Quinn’s arm, “I can get you more cushions if you’re not comfortable enough. Or change the movie if you’re bored.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn says, “Really.” Rachel doesn’t move her hand from Quinn’s arm. If anything, her grip seems to be getting tighter. The movie plays on and Quinn tries to focus. Fails to focus. Completely and utterly fails to focus. Rachel’s fingers are drawing patterns on Quinn’s forearm now. Quinn places her other hand on top of Rachel’s, intertwining their fingers together. She feels Rachel give her hand a squeeze and Quinn turns to look at the brunette. Rachel’s eyes meet hers, dark pools of brown.
“Hi,” Rachel whispers, twisting her body to face Quinn’s and reaching her free hand up to cup Quinn’s face, stroking Quinn’s cheek with her thumb.
“Hey,” Quinn whispers in response and starts to lean in towards Rachel.
“This isn’t some hormonal pregnancy thing is it?” Rachel asks quickly just as their lips are about to meet.
“No,” Quinn says, leaning in again.
“Are you sure? You haven’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me prior to last night when you looked at me like you wanted to slap me between two pieces of bread, smother me in ketchup and…” Quinn holds up a finger to Rachel’s lips.
“Stop talking,” Quinn says, “Please.” Rachel bites down on her bottom lip and nods quickly.
“But…” she starts.
“No,” Quinn says firmly. Rachel opens her mouth again, “Rachel, I swear to whatever higher power happens to be listening right now, that I will slushie you every day until graduation if you say a word.” Rachel snaps her mouth shut, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?” Rachel nods. Quinn can see the girl physically straining not to open her mouth. Quinn leans in and whispers, “You can open your mouth.”
**
Quinn doesn’t remember whose idea it was to go up to Rachel’s room but that’s where they find themselves, lying on Rachel’s bed facing one another, ridiculous smiles on their faces.
“Can I talk yet?” Rachel asks before pressing another kiss to Quinn’s temple (it might have been Quinn’s idea).
“Yes,” Quinn responds, by tugging the brunette closer to her, “Of course you can. You were just making it really, really difficult for me to kiss you earlier.”
“Is this what you wouldn’t talk to me about last night?” Rachel asks, finding herself suddenly fascinated with the zip on the side of Quinn’s dress.
“Yes,” Quinn responds, “I like you, Rachel.”
“So I gathered,” Rachel replies, starting to drag the zip southward, “I like you too. It’s a little confusing.”
“Hm,” Quinn makes a noise of agreement as Rachel abandons the zip and starts to slide Quinn’s dress up, “We can wait… until you’re less confused. If you want.” Quinn lets her lips drift over Rachel’s, biting gently. Rachel’s moan indicates that waiting is the last thing on her mind.
“It’s not that confusing,” she insists, “The emotions of hate and love are closely related and can be often confused for each other. Your incessant name-calling and slushie-throwing was clearly a manifestation of your ulterior feelings towards me.” Rachel succeeds in yanking Quinn’s dress over her head, tossing it onto the floor.
“And your attempts to steal my ex-boyfriend?” Quinn asks arching an eyebrow as Rachel runs a hand over Quinn’s belly, massaging small circles with her fingertips.
“Well I liked Finn,” Rachel says. The use of the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by Quinn, “Hence the confusion.” Rachel ducks her head to the bump and presses a kiss against the taut skin, “Your pillow talk leaves a lot to be desired by the way… bringing up exes.” Rachel turns her eyes up towards Quinn, batting her eyelashes at the blonde.
“My apologies,” Quinn says with a laugh, “I just don’t want you to rush into anything that you don’t feel ready for… since I know you weren’t ready with Jesse…” Rachel rolls her eyes now, “Sorry.”
“Quinn, you need to understand something,” Rachel says, sliding her hand down Quinn’s bump, playing with the elastic of her panties. Quinn feels her mouth run dry. “Whatever I feel for you isn’t some sort of rebound thing. Now I need you to stop talking. Can you do that for me?” Quinn bites her lip and nods feverishly as Rachel’s fingers make quick work of her underwear.
**
Later that week, Rachel and Quinn arrive at Glee arm in arm. The others stare at them as they take seats next to each other, Rachel’s arm slung casually around the back of the blonde’s chair, whispering in each other’s ears and giggling. Even Mr Shue is agog at the new development.
“Have we entered the twilight zone?” Kurt whispers in Mercedes’ ear.
Finn sits tight-lipped watching the pair, feeling confused and a little hurt. Santana just glowers in Rachel’s direction while Brittany stares off into space, wondering what she’ll have for lunch, even though it’s half past three.
“Um… Rachel…” Tina pipes up. Rachel twists around in her seat.
“Yes?” Rachel asks, a smile on her face.
“Just… um… nothing,” Tina says, glancing at Artie who shrugs.
“Doesn’t look like a robot,” he comments and Quinn rolls her eyes. They go through the routines, without Quinn due to her inability to dance, and at the end of the rehearsal, everyone leaves, still stunned.
Part Four - One Week to Go
Quinn is lying on Rachel’s couch, unable to do anything else because it’s unseasonably hot outside. Rachel has all of the doors and windows open and has just returned from Home Depot with two pedestal fans which she sets up so that Quinn constantly has at least one onslaught of cold air on her at all times. Rachel on the other hand is frozen and wearing four layers of clothing plus a scarf.
“You’re being a complete wuss,” Quinn points out as Rachel returns from the kitchen with a hot chocolate for herself and a pint glass of iced water for Quinn.
“Quinn, it’s really not that hot outside,” Rachel says, lifting Quinn’s feet up onto her lap so that she can massage the blonde’s swollen ankles. They’re watching a marathon of Grey’s Anatomy.
“I don’t think I could be a doctor,” Quinn grimaces, turning away from the television when blood starts spurting from one of the patients onscreen.
“Well, you’re terrified of blood, so I wouldn’t suggest it,” Rachel says grinning over at the blonde, “And you call me a complete wuss.”
“You are,” Quinn says matter-of-factly, “And anyway, some of us haven’t had our entire life plan’s mapped out since we were in Kindergarten. Some of us are still trying to decide what to do with the rest of our lives.”
“Who says you have to pick one thing?” Rachel asks, “You can do anything you want, Quinn. And I’ll be there to support you.”
“Jeez Rachel, you’re making life sound like an after-school special,” Quinn sticks out her tongue and Rachel rolls her eyes in response. Rachel finishes massaging one foot and moves onto the next, ignoring the television as thoughts swirl around her head, “What’s wrong? You look as though you’re trying to decide what to say but there’s too many things in that impossibly large brain of yours.”
“I’m worried about what’s going to happen to us after the baby’s born,” Rachel says quickly, not meeting Quinn’s gaze.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Quinn says, “I’m going to give birth, she’ll be handed over to two wonderful and incredibly grateful people and then I’ll have to study my ass off for exams otherwise I get to spend the summer in school instead of spending it with you.”
“You say it like it isn’t a big deal,” Rachel says, still not meeting Quinn’s eyes.
“It is a big deal,” Quinn says, “What do you want me to say, Rachel? She isn’t my baby. She’s going to belong to someone else. It would be completely unfair of me to try to raise her on my own.”
“You wouldn’t be alone,” Rachel says finally looking up at Quinn, “Puck would help and I’d help too. And my dads…”
“Stop,” Quinn says softly, “I’m well aware of how I might feel after I give birth to her. I’ll probably be a mess but right now, I don’t want to think about it. I want to try and think about having a normal life. I want to think about going to college in a couple of years and having fun and spending time with my friends. And you. I’m not keeping her, Rachel.” Rachel nods resignedly.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she says.
“Besides, your dads will probably like me more when I’m able to take you out instead of lounging on their sofa all day long,” Quinn says.
“Where are you going to live?” Rachel asks, clearly not done with her questions.
“I don’t know,” Quinn says with a shrug, “Puck’s mom has said that I can stay until my parents come to their senses. Since that’s unlikely to happen in the next century or so, it looks like I’m stuck there.”
“We have a spare room,” Rachel says, “You already spend most of your time here outside of school…”
“Rachel, we’ve barely been together for a week and you’re asking me to move in with you? I think this takes u-hauling to a new level,” Quinn says with a grin.
“No more L Word for you,” Rachel says, “And it wouldn’t be u-hauling. You’d have your own room. And if you felt like it, you could sleep over in mine a couple of nights a week.” Quinn frowns.
“Only a couple?” she asks, “Maybe we should talk to your dads about it first, okay? I do like the thought of being able to jump you any time, day or night. And I believe it was your idea to watch The L Word. For research.”
Quinn smirks at Rachel’s blush before leaning over to give the brunette a kiss on the cheek. They turn their attention back to the TV, Rachel’s hands still massaging Quinn’s feet. It feels like heaven to Quinn. She wonders, glancing at Rachel, if things will change after the baby, if she’ll be different, if it will be possible to remain detached from the baby. She shifts slightly as Rachel’s hands start to travel up her calves. Quinn smiles at the television, trying for as long as possible not to look down at Rachel. Rachel’s hands become more insistent as they travel up the blonde’s thighs.
“Your dads will be back soon,” Quinn comments, her voice already uneven, her breathing a little of out rhythm. This doesn’t deter Rachel, who pushes Quinn’s legs apart and slides her head up between them. She presses soft, delicate kisses to the inside of Quinn’s thighs, her tongue trailing a path northwards. Quinn’s hands slide into Rachel’s hair and without a word, Rachel pushes Quinn’s underwear to the side, breathing in the scent of the blonde. She exhales a little and watches Quinn shiver with a grin on her face.
**
“Rachel!” Quinn’s voice calls from the bathroom. Rachel is sprawled on the couch, completely exhausted and still completely frozen despite all of her physical exertion. She pushes herself off the couch and heads down the hallway. The bathroom door is open and Quinn is staring at the ground, a pool of water below her, spreading outwards.
“Oh my god,” Rachel says.
“I think you broke my water,” Quinn says, glancing up at the brunette.
“I didn’t break anything!“ Rachel says, her voice high-pitched.
“My water was perfectly intact before you… and that tongue…“ Quinn looks accusingly at Rachel who flounders for words.
“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time! Quite the opposite actually!” she finally retorts, hands on her hips. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before bursting into laughter. Then Rachel goes into business mode, ushering Quinn out of the bathroom and leading her back into the lounge. Her dads arrive home as she’s helping Quinn out to the car after closing all of the windows and doors.
“I’ll drive,” Alex says, taking Rachel’s keys, “Quinn, how are you feeling?” He gives Quinn an encouraging smile as he slides into the front seat. James, Rachel’s other father, is given the task of picking up Quinn’s overnight bag from the Puckerman’s and telling Puck to get to the hospital. In the backseat of the car, Rachel grasps Quinn’s hand tightly, whispering in the blonde’s ear to breathe.
“Don’t leave me,” Quinn tells her urgently.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rachel says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s temple. She notices her dad watching them in the mirror and they share a quick smile.
“Rachel, honey, is there a reason you’re dressed for an Arctic expedition?” Quinn chuckles while Rachel pouts before launching into a diatribe that lasts until they reach the hospital.
**
“She’s trying to kill me,” Quinn says, grabbing Rachel’s hand as a contraction wracks her body. Puck’s taken a break from the labour room and has gone to get a quick dinner and to update his mom and Rachel’s dads in the waiting room (a message had been left for the Fabray’s when Quinn arrived at the hospital but no-one expected them to turn up).
“You’re doing really well,” Rachel says, stroking the blonde’s forehead as the pain dissipates, “The doctor thinks she’ll be ready in an hour.”
“I’m never having sex again,” Quinn says. Rachel fixes her with a look, “With men, Rachel. With men. You should go get something to eat. You must be hungry. And tired.”
“I said I wasn’t going to leave,” Rachel says with a smile.
“You’re no good to me if you keel over due to lack of food,” Quinn says, “When Puck gets back, I’m forcing you to take a recess.”
“I’m not five, Quinn,” Rachel says, “And you’re not really in a position to force me to do anything.”
“Why won’t she hurry up?” Quinn asks, “Seven hours. Seven. You’d think she’d want to get out and see the world, meet her mom and dad.” Her face screws up again as another contraction comes along, “Owfuckinghell,” she cries out, “Where’s Puck? I want to punch him in the face. Or castrate him.”
“I don’t think that’ll help you now, Quinn,” Rachel says, “Just breathe, okay? You’re doing really great.” Rachel does the breathing along with Quinn, causing the blonde to laugh through the tears that have started to fall.
“Dork,” she gasps. Rachel wipes the tears from Quinn’s face.
“Your dork though,” she says and Quinn nods, pressing her lips to Rachel’s.
**
After Puck leaves, Rachel lies down next to Quinn, wrapping her arms around the taller girl, feeling her body shake as tears start to stream down her face. Rachel can’t think of anything to say so just holds her girlfriend until she falls asleep, exhausted after nine hours of labour.
In the morning, Quinn wakes up momentarily forgetting that she’s in hospital. She takes in her surroundings quickly and notices the small brunette curled up in a chair next to the window, a blanket draped over her. She looks exhausted too. A nurse comes into the room.
“Morning,” she says quietly, glancing over Quinn’s chart, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Quinn says yawning, “Sore. Has she been here all night?” She gestures to Rachel who still hasn’t stirred.
“She refused to leave,” the nurse chuckles, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Is she… is the baby gone?” Quinn asks, looking up at the nurse. The nurse nods a couple of times, “They’ll be good people, right?”
“Yeah,” the nurse says, placing her hand on top of Quinn’s, “It’s probably not too late if you do want to see her…”
“No,” Quinn says, “It’s fine. I just want to go home.”
“Well, let’s get some breakfast in you first,” the nurse says, “I’ll get some for Rachel too.” She disappears from the room and Quinn leans back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through her emotions.
“Quinn,” her eyes shoot to the doorway, her dad is standing there.
“What are you doing here?” she asks loudly enough to wake up Rachel, who’s on her feet in an instant going to the bedside to take Quinn’s hand. Russell Fabray stares at their linked fingers and turns a dull shade of red, taking a few steps inside the room.
“We’re taking you home,” he says, eventually looking back up at his daughter. The nurse comes back with two trays of food and stops in the doorway.
“Excuse me sir, visiting hours aren’t until eleven…” she glances between the man and Quinn, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” When he doesn’t move, the nurse steps out into the hallway and tells the nurse at the desk to call for security.
“Dad, please go,” Quinn says, her voice strong, “I have nothing to say to you. I’m not coming home.”
“You’re my daughter,” he says, “We raised you for sixteen years and now you’re going to throw that in our faces…”
“You threw me out,” Quinn explodes. Rachel has seen Quinn angry but never like this, “You threw me out when I needed you most. I found more compassion in a girl who I’ve been torturing for years than I could find in my own parents who ‘raised me for sixteen years’. Just because you’re my father doesn’t make you my family.”
“Your mother cries herself to sleep every night,” he says weakly.
“She did that a long time before I got pregnant, dad,” Quinn says, “Stop pointing fingers and sort out your own goddamn life before you try to ruin mine further.”
The nurse returns flanked by another nurse and a doctor and two security guards.
“Sir, come with us,” one of them says.
“You’re not the girl I raised,” he says staring at her before brushing past the security guards outside. Quinn sinks back against the pillows, sobs erupting from deep in her chest. Rachel wraps her arms around the shaking girl and rubs circles across her back.
“Don’t let him near this room again,” she says quietly to the nurse who nods and leaves the trays of food at the foot of the bed.
**
Part Five: Due Date
Quinn drums her fingers against her stomach, much flatter than it was this time last week. It feels like a lifetime ago already. After her father left, Rachel’s dads arrived to take them home. Home. Quinn feels a slight tug somewhere deep inside when she realises that she’ll never go back to her house on Dudley Road. Her things had been left on the Berry’s porch a few nights ago.
Alex and James have been wonderful so far. They’ve hugged her more in the past week than she’s been hugged her entire life. They’ve taken her shopping to get furniture for her room and told her she can decorate it any colour she wants. Last night, they’d gone out for dinner together, the four of them. Her family. Quinn actually feels like a teenager again instead of the adult she’s felt like for the past few months.
There’s a knock on her bedroom door and she lifts her head to see Rachel standing there, a huge grin on her face.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey,” Quinn replies patting the bed next to her. Rachel bounces over but sits down a little warily, as though she’s afraid of hurting Quinn. They’ve barely kissed since leaving the hospital the week before, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Quinn, “I think I’ll go back to school on Monday.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel asks, still not touching Quinn. Quinn grabs the brunette’s hand and places it on her thigh.
“You’re allowed to touch me,” Quinn says, “I won’t break.” Rachel’s hand relaxes and Quinn smiles, “See? And yes, I’m sure. I can’t take any more time off without really destroying my chances of passing the end of year exams. Plus I miss Glee.”
“I miss you being there,” Rachel admits, squeezing Quinn’s thigh, “Want to come downstairs? Dad’s just finished making some brownies and I want to show you something in the basement.”
“The basement?” Quinn asks raising an eyebrow, “What is it?”
“It‘s an area habitually used to store things in a person’s house, but that’s not important right now,” Rachel says, taking Quinn’s hand and pulling her off the bed.
“Did you just quote Airplane!?” Quinn asks and Rachel sticks out her tongue, “Wait a second,” Quinn says. Rachel turns back to face her and Quinn pulls her in for a kiss. Rachel is hesitant at first but soon melts against Quinn’s body. It feels strange to her, not having the bump between them. Quinn lets her fingers trail along the bottom of Rachel’s shirt, the shorter girl sighing into her mouth. When they pull apart, Rachel sways slightly on her feet, “I missed that.”
“Um… yeah… me too,” Rachel says, blinking a couple of times, “Brownies. Basement.” She takes Quinn’s hand again and leads her down the stairs where they help themselves to a couple of chocolate brownies and then head down into the basement. Quinn hasn’t ventured into this part of the Berry household, figuring it was precisely like every other basement she’d seen. Not so in this house. The space has been converted into four rooms.
“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you? You’ve got a cinema behind one of these doors, right? Or a mini-theatre where you give impassioned one-woman performances of Barbra Streisand shows? Or another secret entrance to the magical land of Narnia?”
“No, no and close,” Rachel replies, “Actually, that’s a storage room,” she points to the first door on the left, “That is a tiny dance studio,” she points to the door next to it, “Bathroom,” she points to the third door before opening the last door. Quinn steps inside and grins.
“But of course, Rachel Berry has her own grand piano,” Quinn says turning back to her girlfriend, “Play me something.”
“It actually came with the house,” Rachel says taking a seat at the stool, “The previous owners managed to get it down here but couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of getting it out again so my dads bought it from them.” There are a couple of guitars strewn around the room too and an old record player, overflowing boxes of records sit next to it.
“This is Narnia,” Quinn says sitting down next to Rachel.
“Any requests?” Rachel asks, playing a few chords and arpeggios to warm her fingers up.
“Whatever you want,” Quinn says deciding she doesn’t want to sit on the bench. She slides under the piano and lies down, eyes closed, hands folded across her stomach.
“I have been working on something,” Rachel says, starting to play chords in an order that resemble a tune. Quinn nods her head along, a smile spreading across her face properly for the first time in a week. Then Rachel starts to sing and she feels that familiar shiver down her spine. And she feels like she’s home.