It's not romantic or happy one shot.

He was standing in front of the entrance door since 5 minutes and heard the loud music coming from their little house. He was waiting with his hand lent against the door frame. He had no idea what for, but he was waiting. He knew what he is going to find there, dreaming of something a little bit different this time. He could always go back to the club and ask Kaya to put him up for the night. Again.

He wiped his eyes and came in. Just as he thought. Quinn was dancing in the middle of the room, pressing a bottle of vodka to her lips. He came up to the CD player and turned it off. She looked at him furiously, and then turned her back and locked herself in a bathroom.

'Quinn, for God's sake!' he yelled at her and got close to the bathroom. He stumbled over something and looked at the floor. 'Seriously? You packed my stuff? Again?'

He sat next to the door and was waiting for any words from her.

'Quinn, I'm talking to you!'

'Leave me alone!' he finally heard her gibberish and the sound of flushing the toilet. 'Get out of here!'

'Don't say that...' he hid his head in the hands.

He was sick and tired of this. At least once she could spare herself.

After the next long period of silence he stood up and sat at the couch. He loosened his tie, took off the shoes and looked at the ceiling.

A few more minutes and it will be over. It is always the same.

He wasn't wrong. The door opened but something wasn't ok.

'You do this again! You grope them all!'

The trousers, which he had left yesterday in the bathroom, flew over his head, together with the toothbrush and a pack of tissues.

Instantly, he found himself lying on the floor and using the couch as a shield.

'Are you completely mad?' he yelled, trying to avoid the flying belt. 'What's wrong with you?'

'You're late again! Sure, you grope them! Do you sleep with them as well?'

'WHAT? NO! Relax!'

Actually, that wasn't true. He was sleeping with them, but...

Everything was so damn not right.

He stuck his head out of the couch only to see Quinn going to the kitchen.

'I don't believe you!'

'Quinn, can you hear yourself? This's my job! I sing there, so it's obvious I also talk to the girls! What's wrong with this, you idiot?'

'What's wrong with this? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!' she opened a cupboard. 'Only your talking is linked with undressing!'

She started to cry, while he lent out of his shelter and petrified.

'You won't do this!'

'Is it a bet?' a vase with flowers whistled over his head and broke in million pieces. 'There's always someone more important than me!'

She held two plates in her hands which flew across the room at dizzying speed.

'You're talking rubbish! How much have you drunk?' he didn't even look at her. He liked his life and this attack was just dangerous.

'Enough to see everything more clearly!' a bitter-sweet thing landed on the floor. He was sure it must have been his favourite jam. 'Berry, Lauren, Santana! Even that lesbian was better than me!'

'Have you completely lost your mind? Do you want to drag the seven-year-old story out?'

'I wish I hadn't loved you! she growled, throwing the holiday photo on the floor.

'Bravo, you're going to break the record! I hear it for the fourth time this month and it's only fifteenth today!' he shouted back, crawling to the desk and sitting behind it. He lent his head against it and again looked at the ceiling. In other circumstances, he would split his sides with laughter. In other circumstances...

'It's a girl...' he heard her quiet voice, when there was a moment of silence.

Bingo. Finally he knew the reason.

'I know, I spoke to him today.' he answered gently, hoping the storm has passed.

Wrong. Suddenly, the suitcase's lockers banged and more clothes flew towards him.

'I moved to Miami for you, you son of a bitch! I left everything I had in Lima to spend the rest of my life with you!' a shirt, socks and jeans flew next to him and landed on a flowerpot with a bamboo. 'And they're expecting another baby! A fucking girl! And Abby is five-year-old!'

Abby? Oh yes, Artie and Britt's daughter.

He closed his eyes. Yes, he was able to understand Quinn's frustration, really. Since she found out she cannot have children anymore, everything got out of control. Alternately, she had hysterics, euphoria, she wasn't able to differentiate days, months. Sometimes he had the impression that her depression would take control over their whole life. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the desire of having a baby. They weren't even a married couple! And the fact that Britt had a baby, Finn had the second one and Sam was expecting the twins turned things upside down. There were days that everything seemed to be alright, but when he was coming back from work, he was finding her acting and doing things like today. She became a different person, she stopped caring about herself or going outside. She didn't want to sleep with him. So he was finding a replacement in the club. And then he was coming back to her, feeling like the worst asshole in the world. Over and over again. Since three years.

Sometimes the times were good, really good, and when he got used to the situation, Quinn was finding out that one of their friends is expecting a baby. Every single fit like that was worse from the previous one. At first, she was only crying a lot and was reluctant to go outside. Then, she started taking pills. The other time, she was washing the medicine down with alcohol. And he never knew what was going to happen during the next fit.

Suddenly, Quinn sat next to him. He didn't hear she was coming. They were sitting in silence, arm next to arm, lent against the desk. She looked like her shadow. Dark circles under her red eyes made her look like a mad person.

'Make love with me.' he heard her hoarse voice.

So he did it. And there was nothing romantic, beautiful or full of love in it. This was one of these times when you do this to stifle the pain, although you know it won't help you. Life won't turn into a fairy tale. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will be easier. So he kissed her neck, shoulders, breasts, hoping she will stop crying. He was begging God, Yahweh, or whoever was taking care of him, for releasing them from mistakes and all wrong decisions they had made in the past.

When her breath went back to normal and her tears on his chest dried, everything he could do was to hold her tighter and lull her to sleep.