AN: This is the third story in the Taking Back What is Mine and Back Where I Belong verse. Please note that this is crack-a-lack. I mean no disrespect to any real life persons mentioned in this story. Everything is, of course, built upon embellishments and meant as entertainment and chuckles.

Quinn had a lot of down time on the set of American Horror Story. Something about elaborate stage sets and costumes and, really, blah, she never cared about the reasons. Right now she was much more enthralled with Rachel's face.

She was trying to play it coy. She was feigning relaxation. Glancing over at her co-star, Cory, she established that she was still floating in safe waters. He was too busy chatting with a female extra – using his one consistent pick up line about how he could drum his way into her heart – so Quinn looked back down at Rachel's face. And she smiled. She liked what stared back at her.

Quinn was able to admit – readily so – that this kind of thing took practice. She'd botched her first attempt pretty badly. But Quinn Fabray was an expert manipulator. And ideas – much like people – came naturally under her supervision.

She wouldn't even be sitting on set, laptop balanced firmly on her knee, creating a family photo album of Cory and Rachel if it weren't for Rachel's insistent nagging and petulance.

Quinn could map out the beginning of her obsession for photo shopping Cory and Lea together with a baby to the night she arrived home from set high as fuck and horny enough to wonder if she might actually be in heat. Rachel had demanded – because Rachel never asked, she commanded – that Quinn wear a strap-on. In her addled state, Quinn forgot how to buckle the fucking thing around her hips. Rachel took over. Rachel was never denied.

Maybe it was the snug fit of the strap-on – Rachel had not been gentle with the tugging – but the damn thing felt so…real. Was it plausible that she'd grown a penis? Was this some type of side effect from the copious amounts of Xanax she'd consumed? In her slightly more panicked state, she begged Rachel to get her a condom.

A baffled Rachel asked why she'd ever require the use of a condom. And Quinn had confusedly, disconcertedly uttered the words that doomed her: "I don't wanna get you pregnant yet, Rachel!"

Rachel had stormed out of the room not unlike a spoiled child who realized she couldn't play with her favorite toy. Quinn heard her shout, "Quinn Fabray, you know how badly I want to start a family with you, how dare you make jokes about such a sensitive subject for me!"

Rachel left their home in a flow of tears and curses of Quinn's name. Quinn exhaled her relief. The hurricane had moved on to terrorize someone else. Most likely Cory would be Rachel's next victim. Quinn instinctively knew that Rachel would not come home that night. So she fucked herself three times and eventually succumbed to a sleep that gifted her with dreams of Cory, Rachel, and multitudes of tiny, big-headed babies.

Rachel stayed vanished from their apartment for three days. Quinn barely noticed that she was missing in action. She was too occupied living out her dream. Her Photoshop skills were rusty. But that was certainly not a detriment to her in the least. She had a much more difficult time finding a picture of Cory in which he wasn't smirking. It wouldn't look good for a father to leer when holding his newborn child. Every time she scrutinized Cory's face, it legitimately fucked her over how very much he resembled a slightly heavier, denser Finn Hudson. Often, she had to knock back a couple of Xanax to recover from those hideous thoughts. Lately, she'd powered through in the name of her cause. She located a picture of him on Google, smiling broadly while leaning in to two girls. And she was off.

She'd chosen a picture of Rachel looking pensive. She imagined that's how the mother of a newborn would appear. Worried over the safety of the baby. Protective in nature. Still, it also appeared as if Rachel's head plastered over that of an actual mother cradling a baby made her seem disembodied, fractured. Cory ended up appearing as if he was the one breast-feeding the baby.

Quinn was okay with these design flaws. This was not a one-time endeavor. This was a full-hearted commitment.

She quickly created a Tumblr account – cohelscritters – where she posted the photoset as well as tagging it on the CoHel page. And only then did she get her sweet ass to work.

Rachel called Quinn an hour later while Quinn was wasting time on set by stacking her Xanax one on top of the other. So far her record was ten and she was almost…about…to…reach…eleven when her phone belted out Sympathy for the Devil. That being Quinn's signature ring tone for Rachel's calls, Quinn sighed as her Xanax skittered across the table. She was aware of the consequences of not answering when Rachel was on the line.

"Good afternoon, Rachel, are you calling to apologize for your outburst?"

"I most certainly am not! Did you know there's a photoset circulating online showing me and Cory with a baby? It has over 3,000 notes on Tumblr. Some people think it is real, Quinn! That I had a baby with Cory and we are now ready to tell the world!"

3,000 notes? Perhaps her Photoshop skills were more polished than she supposed. "Things like this are gonna happen if you agree to a PR romance."

"I only signed up for this so I could visit you on set and the media would think I was there for Cory!"

"No, darling, you are in this for your benefit, not mine. Never mine. Your show recently closed on Broadway. Cory has fallen into that dangerous trap of hero worship status. You're living a fairy tale by dating him. Be proud of yourself, Rachel!"

Rachel huffed, puffed, and nearly blew out Quinn's eardrum when she screamed her response. "I AM NOT DATING HIM! THIS IS MERELY A RUSE!"

"And might I add that it's one that's working beautifully if a doctored photo can get 3,000 notes."

Rachel paused, gasped. "Oh…my…Moses, since I've been on the phone with you it has gotten over 2,000 more notes!"

"That's democracy in action for you, Rachel."

"Okay, okay, I traced the actual Tumblr that originally posted this nonsense. Cohelscritters! What does that even mean?"

"Well, CoHel is the shipper name commonly…"

Rachel interrupted her. "I know what shipper name people have adopted for me and Cory. I hate that portmanteau! Sounds like it could easily mean Go Hell."

"Fitting, then."

"Don't sass me, Quinn Fabray! I'm trying to figure out how critters fit into that Tumblr name."

"Uhm…I believe it's a cute term for a baby. Like, 'Ah, what an adorable little critter you are.' Something like that."

Rachel sighed heavily once more. "I'm going to have to teach you so, so much about child-rearing when we have our baby."

Rachel disconnected the call without allowing Quinn the opportunity to reply. Quinn detached herself from reality with a handful of Xanax without bothering to give a fuck.

By the time Rachel graced Quinn with her presence since the night of Rachel's blow-up, Quinn had concocted a back story for the loving couple and their precious offspring and had posted several fake gifs of CoHel gushing about their child. Their love. The love that they wanted to carry on through their child. She even went so far as to name the baby Sophia.

That name managed to set Rachel's teeth to clattering and her knuckles to pale in sheer anger. Quinn remained outwardly placid. Her insides rattled with unadulterated giddiness at the consequences this was having on Rachel's well-being.

"I fucking despise that name!"

"I doubt who ever runs that cohelscritters account is privy to that knowledge. Anyway, your dislike of that name is irrational."

"It very assuredly is nothing of the sort! I've told you how much I despise the character of Sophia on The Golden Girls. She always belittled Dorothy. I identified with Dorothy! I, too, felt like the ugly duckling that no one would ever love!"

"I just think you have some sick mommy issues, that's all."

That statement was sufficient enough to have Rachel charging for the door again. She texted Quinn later that evening to let her know she'd be visiting her fathers in Lima for the next few months. Rachel's stunt caused Ryan Murphy to pay for Cory to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland to keep up the illusion that he and Rachel were still an item. Rachel refused to leave Lima but enough captions that accompanied pictures of Cory indicating that he was waiting for his girlfriend (not pictured) to emerge from a restaurant/museum/store proved enough.

Now, Quinn found herself on set, listening to Cory telling the extra about his spacious bedroom, and creating a post about Sophia's first birthday party. Rachel had not contacted her in five months. Yet, every week she mailed Quinn her supply of Xanax. Bonus win for Quinn.

She finished her post. Noted that over a hundred people were lurking on the cohelscritters Tumblr. Posted her crème de la crème gif set. Trudged through her scenes for American Horror Story. Wondered again how she won an Emmy last year for her crappy performance. Drove herself home whistling Sympathy For the Devil. Saw Rachel hovering on the porch of their house. Stopped moving, thinking, breathing.

Rachel's smile was tranquil, damn near beatific, as she rubbed her stomach and beckoned Quinn forth. Quinn could not oblige.

"I understand that you're startled by my appearance, Quinn."

Quinn blinked, hard. Had she taken so much Xanax that she was hallucinating?

Rachel spoke again, "We've discussed for months the possibility of us having a child. You agreed to it so long as we could get the timing right. I think now is the perfect moment, what with the intense interest in me having a baby. That cohelscritters site even got a mention on E! News the other evening. I'll say that I am, in fact, carrying Cory's child. The fans will probably declare a CoHel holiday and promise to tell their children where they were when they found out I'm pregnant."

"Wait…you let Cory get you pregnant for the publicity?"

"Of course not, silly girl. While I was in Lima I asked Puck if he'd consider being our donor. He's Jewish. I'm Jewish. Seemed like a perfect selection. I'll simply allow Ryan to use his connections and spread the story that the baby is Cory's. I'm bound to get an exclusive interview in People magazine. "

Rachel reached for Quinn's hand and placed it on her stomach. Quinn stood mute, brandished forever by the feel of Rachel beneath her palm.

"You know, Quinn, if it hadn't been for the massive response to that Tumblr, it might have taken years for me to even conceive of us getting pregnant. I assumed it would deter my career. We really should find out who runs cohelscritters and send them flowers."

She had never in her entire life needed a fistful of Xanax more so than while listening to Rachel ramble on about how Quinn's fucking future was rapidly going to change. As if interpreting her inner dialogue, Rachel stated, "You're going to have to kick your drug habit, sweetheart. I won't have my child raised by a junkie."

Quinn again rested her fingers against the subtly visible bump above Rachel's belly-button. She glanced up at her unholy God and cursed her good fortune.