Crack!fic.

"Leave the door unlocked!" Quinn shouted up the stairs to her daughter, Claire.

Claire had brought her girlfriend, Bailey, over once again. And while Quinn was quite relieved that Bailey was indeed a girl—darn that gender confusing name—she still treated the girl like she would have if she was a guy. Gruffly and suspiciously. For her own amusement, of course.

Rachel was appalled by her thinking when Quinn slipped up and revealed them to her.

"Why would you do that!" she had said.

Quinn scoffed.

"Because it's funny!"

Rachel, though, was not amused.

"Do you know what you're doing to the child!? The girl is terrified by you! And—"

"As she should be!"Quinn boldly interrupted.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. Quinn shrunk back.

"Is that what you want? For Bailey to be traumatized? Because if it is, then congratulations!"

Quinn looked fearfully into the eyes of an angry Rachel. Nothing was more scary than an angry Rachel.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Quinn?"

"Uh . . . . is it that time of the month again?"

Whack.

Quinn chuckled to herself as she recalled the memory. The conversation had ended with Quinn giving in and promising to be nicer to Bailey from now on. Rachel doubted Quinn would actually keep her promise, and she had voiced so.

"Psshh, yeah right."

"Baby, cross my heart and hope for pie," Quinn said as she rubbed the back of her head. So it was that time of the month for Rachel.

"That's not enough," she pouted in that cute way Quinn found irresistible.

"Rachel, baby . . ." Quinn was about to reassure her with a pinky promise, but then Quinn came up with a better idea. "How about a bet?" She grinned wickedly. Rachel eyed her, waiting for her to continue. "If I'm ever mean to Bailey, I'll . . . become vegan for two weeks!"

Rachel perked up at that.

"Really?"Her eyes filled with hope. Maybe she could finally convert Quinn to the deliciousness of a vegan lifestyle. Yes! She was already flipping through her mental cookbook.

Quinn thought for a second. Images of bacon popped up in her mind. One juicy strip of bacon in particular grew eyes, a mouth and screamed, "You can't do this to us!"

Quinn closed her eyes in pain.

"One week," she whispered.

Rachel squealed in delight and tackled her.

Quiet enough for Rachel not to hear, Quinn whispered to her imaginary bacon babies, "I'm sorry . . ."

Quinn bit her bacon in disgust. How could she be so weak? What possessed her mind to suggest such an idea? But thoughts of her prize placated her. If she could go through three visits of being nice to Bailey, Rachel would let her use those handcuffs Quinn had bought. Quinn smiled to herself. But her rated-r thoughts were soon interrupted when she heard something that chilled her bones.

A loud groan. From upstairs.

. . . What? Quinn wasn't sure she heard right. Yeah, that must be it. She didn't hear it at all.

But then she heard it again.

"Ugggghhh!"

Quinn shot up from her seat on the couch, throwing the plastic plate of bacon across the room dramatically. Quinn charged up the stairs, her heart filling with dread as the sounds grew louder.

Giggles. Panting. Squealing.

Oh my God. Quinn couldn't believe this. They were having sex while she was in the house!? The nerve of them!

Quinn stopped an inch shy from her daughter's door, and pressed her ear to the door.

"You take that back!" Her daughter, Claire, shouted.

"No," Quinn heard Bailey weakly protest.

"I. Said. Take. That. Back. Now!" Quinn heard the thump of a pillow at each enunciated word.

"NEVER, you fatty!"

That's it, Quinn thought. Never mind that it sounded like they weren't actually having sex or that Bailey obviously didn't mean it, no one was allowed to insult Claire, except well, Quinn.

Quinn threw the door open and was shocked at what she saw.

There, on the bed, was Claire straddling Bailey and pressing a pillow on Bailey's face. Claire looked up in alarm at her mom with a flushed face (presumably from her play-fight with Bailey) and her pressure on the pillow lessened enough for Bailey to push the pillow off her face and straddle Claire instead. Claire's expression turned from surprised to fearful.

"Huh, what's wrong?" Bailey asked, oblivious to the fact that Quinn just witnessed her daughter be straddled by her girlfriend.

"Um, Bailey . . . I think you should get off . . ."

"Huh?" She turned her gaze to the direction of Claire's, yelped, and immediately flew off Claire and crashed to the floor, as if Claire was a burning hot kettle that she accidentally touched.

Quinn's eyes narrowed dangerously. Bailey looked like a deer in headlights. Claire watched the scene play out in half-amusement and in half-fear. In amusement because she found Bailey's reaction absolutely adorable. In fear because while she knew that Quinn just messed around with Bailey, this situation was different.

"What were you doing to my daughter?" Quinn calmly asked.

"I—I—We—She—" Bailey fumbled with her words. Quinn kept her stare even, as Bailey stuttered. Eventually, Bailey settled with a tiny "I'm sorry!"

"Oh are you! Are you sure you're sorry! It didn't look like you were sorry when you were on top of my daughter!"

Bailey squeaked.

"You know what, I should—" Quinn was interrupted when she heard a loud clearing of the throat behind her.

Quinn stiffened.

She slowly turned around and Rachel was there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with one of her eyebrows raised.

Oh no.

"Quinn? May I speak to you in the living room please?" Rachel didn't give Quinn time to respond; she spun around and went downstairs.

Quinn slumped her shoulders in defeat.

Claire laughed at her mom. She coughed out a "whipped!"

Quinn scowled at her daughter.

"No visits for a month!"

"What!"

"Quinn!"

"Coming, honey!"