Author's note: Just a little Faberry drabble in honor of the holiday. Hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving!
A Little Bit of Hope
Quinn's breath fogs in the cold, morning air as she lets out a bittersweet sigh. The small, mitten-covered hand encasing hers tightens, causing Quinn's mouth to involuntarily curve up into a smile as she gazes at the non-descript, brick building across the street.
This is the third year in a row that she and Rachel will be spending their Thanksgiving volunteering at the Bowery Mission, giving out meals and blessing bags to the homeless. Honestly, Quinn can't imagine doing anything else on this day, and it's something her girlfriend has been all-too-willing to do with her.
And she's so grateful for that.
Really, she's beyond grateful for Rachel and everything her girlfriend has done for her. Quinn knows that if it weren't for her, she'd likely still be in the same position as the people she'll be helping today.
"Ready?" Rachel asks, and Quinn melts a little as she turns her gaze toward the concerned expression directed at her.
"Yeah," she replies, her voice raspy from the cold she's been fighting. "Thank you for coming with me."
Rachel's brow furrows a little in confusion. "There's no need to thank me. Besides, this is our tradition."
"It's Thanksgiving, so I feel like I should say it," Quinn counters. "But even if it wasn't, I'd still be thankful for you."
That earns her a bashful smile, which Rachel tries to stop by pressing her teeth into her lower lip. "I'd be thankful too," she says, brown eyes shining with love, and for the millionth time, Quinn wonders how she got so lucky.
Offering Rachel one more smile and a brief squeeze of her hand, Quinn then walks with Rachel across the street and into the century-old chapel. Her eyes flit about as they walk through the room now set up with decorated tables and chairs, taking in the people she came here to serve—the people who don't have a Rachel to help them.
Quinn can only hope that what she does here today—and the other days she volunteers—will help them get to that place. Because even though things are good for her now, Quinn remembers what it was like—how it felt going to sleep on the sidewalk, cold and hungry and dirty and alone—and that's why it's so important for her to give back.
She doesn't have much to give in the way of money, but what she can give is time.
"Quinn?" a familiar voice sounds as she approaches the first table she's been assigned to, recognizing the Gulf War vet she met years ago in the East Village.
"Hey, Patches," she replies with a soft smile, setting a plateful of food in front of him as she catches sight of Rachel doing to the same for the woman sitting alongside him. "How are you?"
"Good, I'm good," he says with a crooked smile. "They found a job for me."
"Really?" she asks, trying to keep her tone positive despite her own trepidations. She's never quite gotten over her own bad experiences with DHS, despite her last caseworker actually coming through for her in the end.
"Yeah," he says with a nod before looking down at his plate. The smile that graces his face is enough to momentarily make Quinn forget every injustice in this world, and for a few seconds, she feels like she's finally done something right in her life. He shovels a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth before lifting his one good eye back up to meet Quinn's. "You doing okay?" he asks after he finishes chewing and swallowing.
Unbidden, Quinn's eyes shift toward the girl at her side, only to find Rachel gazing at her with what Quinn can only describe as wonder, causing warmth to blossom in her chest.
"Yeah," she replies with a smile and a soft nod. "I'm doing okay."
Patches looks between Quinn and Rachel then, and his left eye twinkles. "I'm happy for you."
Quinn doesn't quite know what to say to that. Part of her feels guilty, because she got herself off the streets and he hasn't—and yet, she knows she wouldn't have been able to do it without the support of others—namely Rachel.
"Did you get your blessing bag?" Rachel asks Patches, holding a plastic bag filled with what Quinn knows to be very important necessities and breaking her out of her thoughts.
He shakes his head, taking the offering of goodies, and Quinn flashes back to those autumn mornings when Rachel used to give her brown paper bags filled with food.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Patches says as he takes hold of the bag. "You take care of our Quinn, okay?"
"I'll do my best, sir," she promises with a smile and a two-fingered salute. "It's the least I can do, considering she's the one taking care of me most of the time," Rachel adds, her brown eyes shifting to meet Quinn's, and Quinn wonders if it's possible to ever stop falling for this girl.
"Hardly," Quinn retorts with a slight shake of her head, but she can't stop her lips from curving up into a smile as she brings her gaze back to Patches. "Happy Thanksgiving, Patches."
"Happy Thanksgiving," he replies, gesturing with his forkful of turkey. "To both of you."
"I meant that, you know," Rachel says quietly as they go to gather more plates of food and blessing bags. "You really do take good care of me."
"I try," is all Quinn can say, once again shaking her head in disbelief, but knowing from experience that arguing with Rachel is a fruitless endeavor. Still, Quinn is grateful for her girlfriend's stubbornness, along with her compassion, because without that, who knows where she'd be.
Certainly not living in a tiny, studio apartment in the East Village with her girlfriend, working two jobs—one as a waitress and one assisting in set design. Quinn's honestly never been happier—or more thankful—and as she and Rachel continue serving warm meals and distributing blessing bags alongside the other volunteers, she hopes they're able to give these people a little bit of hope for a better tomorrow.