A/N: This is going to be the first in a series of Schueberry oneshots. They'll each be rated differently, so I'm putting the whole thing as M just to be safe. Let me know what you think!
1) In which someone at school calls out Schuberry on their relationship and upsets their six-year-old son.
Whoever this recess monitor was, she clearly had no idea who they were.
"Owen became upset on the playground today, and when we intervened, he was so distraught that we couldn't get him to calm down, so we had to call. The other little boy — "
"There's another child involved in this?" Will interrupted. The woman sent him a disapproving stare, but he ignored her, waiting impatiently for her answer.
"Yes," she said, rather coldly. "That's what I was getting at. Nathan often is the source of a bit of contention, but it's always rather harmless — just an attention seeker, you know. Usually we're able to put a stop to it and explain why pulling the girls' pigtails is wrong, but this was rather a different case, and technically speaking, we're not allowed to correct him because of freedom of parental opinion, and all that." She didn't look even remotely apologetic, as though this conversation was all part of a day's work and wasn't particularly significant.
"Just what in the hell exactly — "
"What we mean, Miss Schaffer, is that we don't quite understand," Rachel broke in smoothly from beside Will. One hand slipped down through curly hair to rest on the shoulders of the little boy whose tear-stained face was pressed against her leg. "What couldn't you explain to Nathan, and why?" At the intervention of this more measured but still firm questioning, Miss Schaffer grew slightly flustered. Will was blustery enough in his agitation to be dealt with fairly effortlessly, but she seemed to accurately sense that there was something about this tiny woman that would make her particularly difficult to bully.
"Just that — well, you know, if their parents tell them something about — well, about religious beliefs, or political opinions, or views about . . . families . . . we're not allowed to contradict that." She faltered slightly at the look that came over the parents' faces.
"And what, exactly, did this Nathan kid say?" Will's voice was low and dangerous. Ever more nervous, Miss Schaffer gestured towards the little boy between them.
"Why don't you ask Owen?"
Rachel's eyes lifted up to Will's momentarily before darting down to the little boy between them.
"Owen, sweetie, look at Mommy and Daddy," she cooed, rubbing his back soothingly. "You're not in trouble, honey; just look at us and tell us what Nathan said." A sniffle sounded. For a moment, there was no movement, but when Will's hand fell to rest atop his wife's on their son's back, Owen raised his head. His big brown eyes were brimming with tears, and Will felt his heart clench. Apart from hating to see his son upset, that look did something to him; it always had. How many times had those eyes pleaded with him in the exact same fashion after a lost competition or a slushy attack? Owen may have inherited his chin and curly hair, but sometimes Will equally cursed and praised genetics for making his boy so much like his wife. How on earth was he supposed to resist that face on two people he loved?
"It was mean," Owen whispered. Both parents leaned in closer to listen. "Nathan said his Mommy and Daddy said that you're lots younger than Daddy and that Daddy's a — he said a big word with a p and I didn't know it but it sounded really mean. He said it wasn't right and that I shouldn't have happened because Mommy had to have had me because of that — that bad thing that Auntie Q said happens when you say no but the other person doesn't listen and does it anyway."
Without hearing another word, Rachel lifted her gaze from their son, her dark eyes burning with fury.
"Here's a parental opinion for you." Her voice, though level, was low and dangerous. "We're leaving. Now. Don't expect Owen back any time soon." Without waiting for a response, she bent down and hefted their little boy into her arms. Will, equally infuriated and also knowing that his wife had made up her mind, placed a hand on the small of her back and guided his family from the office.
"Did that happen?" Owen asked, his voice very small. Rachel met his eyes through the rearview mirror.
"Did what happen, honey?" she asked gently. In his bucket seat, Owen's face was scrunched up as though he were about to cry.
"That thing that Auntie Q said. That didn't happen with you and Daddy, did it, Mommy? You didn't say no and Daddy didn't listen?" In front of him, Rachel choked out a little sob and reached for Will, placing a hand on his arm. Will thinned his lips, frowning.
"No, buddy," he replied quietly. "I would never do that to anybody, ever. Only bad people do that."
"Then I'm not here because of that?" Silently, Rachel cursed other parents for their lack of understanding and their inability to keep out of other people's business.
"No, baby, you're not," she denied. "You're here because Daddy and I love each other very much and wanted to have you. That makes you special, sweetie; not everyone has a Mommy and Daddy who love each other that much." Owen nodded.
"Okay. So Daddy's not a whatever-Nathan-said?" This time, both of them let out a full-body wince, but in the motion of it Rachel didn't remove her hand.
"No." Her voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "Definitely not, though some people think so."
"Why do some people think so?"
"Because they're ignorant and awful," Rachel muttered through clenched teeth.
"What?"
"Because some people don't understand that love works in different ways," Will amended, rubbing a hand down Rachel's arm to calm her and shooting her a glance. "That's very sad for them because it means that they might not get to have it in all the ways that we do."
"Oh," Owen said simply. For a minute, he was quiet, watching the houses pass outside the window. Then —
"Mommy? How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine," Rachel responded.
"How old are you, Daddy?"
"Forty-two," Will answered quietly. Frowning contemplatively, Owen attempted to do the math before quickly giving up.
"So you're — how do you — "
"Subtraction, baby," Rachel supplied, momentarily distracted by slipping into parent mode. "It's a big number, so I'll help. Forty-two minus twenty-nine. Do you want to try?" Thinking about it for a moment, Owen shook his head. "Okay. Forty-two minus twenty-nine is thirteen."
"So Daddy was thirteen when you were born?" Owen concluded.
"Yes, baby." Looking sideways at Will, Rachel winced a little in preparation. Sure enough —
"How did you meet?" Will met her eyes for a longer moment as they stopped at a red light, studying her expression hard before replying.
"I was her teacher," he finally responded carefully, before hastily adding, "But we didn't get married then. We didn't even start dating until Mommy was in college." Owen hummed, kicking his heels against the front of the carseat.
"And then you went to dinner and fell in love and got married." He posed it as a statement rather than a question. A small chuckle escaped Will at the much dumbed-down version of the story.
"Basically," he agreed. "It's not okay to date someone when they're in school and you're a teacher, but after, it was okay, because Mommy and I loved each other very much." Both adults shot each other a look, bracing themselves for the potential of a reaction. There was a reason they hadn't brought this up yet; they'd been hoping to wait until he was older, or if they were lucky, not at all. Rachel was old enough now that they didn't often receive any comments aside from people who knew their story, and really, a thirteen year gap wasn't that much in the scheme of things, but they had quite enough of it without their son involved.
Owen, though, settled back into his seat with a satisfied expression.
"Okay then," he said simply. "That's fine." Rachel hiccuped a little; beside her, Will allowed himself a small smile. Never, fifteen years ago, would he have thought that the future would show him beside Rachel Berry, explaining the concept of an age-gap relationship to their six-year-old son. It had taken him enough time of his own to get used to the idea, but Rachel had never been one to act her age, and with time, he'd found that it was easy to see her as the adult that she was.
"That's fine?" he echoed as he turned the corner onto their street. "You don't care?" Now looking out the window, thoroughly distracted by a passing dog, Owen shrugged.
"No. Nathan said his Mommy and Daddy say that you're bad, but Mommy's nice and you're nice, so I think his Mommy and Daddy are wrong," he explained. Rachel, by now, had composed herself somewhat, and quirked her lips a little as she glanced behind her.
"So Daddy and I are right?" she asked; Owen nodded stoutly and returned to gazing out the window. Reaching over to squeeze his wife's hand, Will smiled.
"Very right."