Flashback of Fluffyness!


Freedom.

Sweet, blissful freedom.

It was day five of the Fabray-Berry family vacation in the bucolic world of rural New York State. The trip back from the appropriately named Main Street and the tiny grocery store was like being on set for an old TV show.

There was a throwback diner, an actual general store instead of a convenience franchise, and locally owned businesses that thrived as much as the residents. Rachel adored how everyone was so welcoming, too. The diverse community was used to the rental vacationers from the hill and was pretty accommodating toward out-of-towners. People smiled and greeted strangers as easily as they did long-time friends.

This place could be renamed from Mountain Dale to Mayberry. Truthfully, it was so much better than The Andy Griffith Show. Mainly because it wasn't full of old white Christian Southerners from the 1960s. It was a young town and full of life. Started as an off-shoot of the Sanctuary Movement, with a community of people of from different ethnic backgrounds and a strong LGBTQ+ presence, this was the perfect place for a multiracial, inter-religious same-sex couple to relax with their family.

With a content smile, Rachel pulled into the driveway and the automatic gate closed behind the Chevy Libretto. It was a perky little car and she adored its name. Which may have been the deciding factor in purchasing it, but she'd never tell Quinn that. Not like she'd have to. Her wife was pretty smart. Still, they were going to need a bigger car soon.

The pace was slow and steady as she cruised along the pavement, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to a mental sing-through of a number in her upcoming show. She shook it out of her head. Rehearsals were set to begin at the end of this getaway, but for now she wanted to focus on having fun with her family instead of work. Broadway was her dream and she loved it, yes, but if Quinn promised to leave her job at home, then she should do the same. Having her wife all to herself instead of sharing her with Dr. Jonah Saulke and the rest of the research team (though he was a lovely man and generous enough to offer them his summer home for two weeks), was Rachel's idea of Heaven right now.

Nearing the end of the serpentine driveway, she slowed the vehicle to a crawl as not only the house came into view, but also a two-and-a-half-year-old child riding out of the open garage on his lowrider tricycle. Its giant blue wheels slowed as well. Joshua half peddled, half scooted alongside the Libretto as Rachel reached him. Putting the car in park then locking the emergency brake for good measure, she rolled down her window and folded both arms on the edge of the door, resting her chin on her forearms.

Big green eyes stared up at her from a completely blank face with round, pink cheeks. "Hi Mama."

She held back the easy smile that always appeared when she saw her son and raised an eyebrow.

"Hi. What are you doing out here?" she questioned, adding "alone and unsupervised" in her head.

He blinked at her. "Go-in datebug systm."

Ahh, of course. The Dagobah System. Joshua's trusty plastic hockey stick that doubled as a light saber ever since his Tia released her inner sci-fi geek and sat him down for an extensive and in-depth tutorial on the original Star Wars saga sat tucked between his back and the upright seat of his Playskool trike. Skywalker was on a mission.

"I see," Rachel said in mock seriousness. "And just where is your mother, young Jedi?"

"N'side. Her died-ed."

Blood drained from her face and her skin went clammy. Rachel swallowed harshly. "What?" She couldn't have heard him right. "Joshua, where's Mommy?"

"Kitchnen. Ond the floor."

The brunette momentarily froze in shock. "Stay here."

She cut the engine and catapulted out of the car, not worried about Joshua. The whole ten acre property was surrounded by a seven feet tall fence and equipped with an imposing security system complete with cameras. He'd be safe. But what about Quinn? Quinn, and —

Fear ripped through her petite frame as fast feet propelled her toward her wife. Bursting through the door, she raced to the kitchen.

"Quinn?" she shouted, catching herself with both hands on the door frame. "Baby?"

There, on the other side of the island counter and in front of a sink full of popping soap bubbles, she spotted bare feet and sprawled legs as her wife lay motionless on the floor.

"Oh God — QUINN!"

Rachel rounded the counter and fell to her knees, grasping the sides of Quinn's face and shaking the blonde a bit until hazel eyes opened in surprise.

Water-pruned hands gripped hers and pried them away.

"What? What's wrong?" Quinn sat up with help. "Is it Josh? Is he okay?"

The diva's arms were around her wife, crushing her in the tightest hugged they'd ever shared. "Oh thank God!"

Rachel's chest heaved from panic and the mad dash into the house, but she managed to answer the confused woman beneath her.

"Joshua's fine. He said you died and were lying on the floor and I came running in and here you were and I was so scared, baby." One hand absently fell to Quinn's stomach and the other cupped her cheek.

A puzzled eyebrow arched up and Quinn eyed her skeptically. "Josh is okay?

Rachel nodded. "He's fine."

Her gaze scrutinized the taller woman's form searching for injuries before looking about the room for evidence of an accident — anything to explain why her wife had been flat on her back in the kitchen. "What are you doing down here? Did you slip? Are you hurt?"

Quinn shook her head, a few wisps of hair falling from her ponytail onto her face. Rachel brushed them away unconsciously, needing to touch Quinn. Needing to confirm she was here and alive. "No. Josh and I were playing."

"Playing?" Disbelief covered Rachel's features. "Playing what?"

"Star Wars," Quinn said plainly. "I was doing dishes, but he wanted to be Luke Skywalker and I had to be his family. Then I found out he meant his burned-to-a-crisp-by-the-Empire family, so I had to play dead for him to come home and find me." She looked around, stretching up a little and trying to spot if their son was on the opposite side of the counter.

Rachel blasted out a half hysterical but wholly relieved laugh. A gruff, loud, grateful laugh.

"Really?" She wiped at her eyes, wet from both terror and now humor. "Well I hate to break it to you, Uncle Owen, but Luke Skywalker is halfway down the drive on his Big Wheel."

Hazel eyes narrowed. "That little shit."

Another, gentler laugh bubbled up and she pulled her annoyed wife closer. Pressing their foreheads together, she calmed as the adrenaline gradually dissipated but the worry remained. "I was so scared, Quinn," she whispered.

The hand resting on the blonde's belly stroked circles over smooth skin after slipping under an old, faded McKinley High t-shirt. Quinn kissed her cheek and reached to intertwine their fingers.

"I'm okay." She held their joined hands tightly to her abdomen. "We're okay."

"Yeah?" Rachel sniffled.

Whispering, Quinn nodded. "Yeah."

Tender kisses sprinkled Rachel's face and coaxed forth a faint smile. Soon the tiny pecks turned into something more. Their lips and tongues met with unwavering reassurance and physical affirmation of what Rachel intellectually knew was true, but still feared may not be: everything was all right. Quinn hummed against Rachel's mouth and they eased apart — their faces happy, their eyes shining, and their hands melded together upon the doctor's bump of a stomach.

"I'm not going anywhere, Rach."

Suddenly hauled to her feet, she was enveloped in warm, secure arms. The shaken actress exhaled deliberately and settled against her wife, laying additional kisses to her lips and banishing thoughts of the unspeakable.

"You're never going to lose me, baby." Quinn took Rachel's hand and fiddled with the ring on her finger, a silly smile spreading across her beautiful, full face. Hugging her closer, the taller woman rested her lips against Rachel's ear. "Baby, I'm yours…"

Untrained, out of formal practice, but still sweetly smoky, Quinn's voice carried on breathy whispers and Rachel didn't care if a few sharps or flats might weasel their way in because her wife was singing to her.

"And I'll be yours, until stars fall from the sky." Silky lips drifted up to kiss her temple. "Yours, until the rivers all run dry."

She sighed and snuggled further, absolutely loving the impromptu serenade but unable to refrain from teasing the usually serious doctor just a little. "You're so cheesy. Mine. But cheesy."

Quinn jumped back, excited. "Ooh, speaking of food! Where's my bacon, woman?"

"Ugh!" She was aghast. "For someone who once accused me of setting back the feminist movement fifty years, you're awfully quick to objectify me."

"I'm good at it, too." Quinn waggled her eyebrows, then spanked her.

Alas, she married a scoundrel. Their moment of sweetness evaporated and Rachel deflated. "Yes, I got you your strips of butchered swine."

"It's not just for me, you know," the cad defended.

Cravings couldn't be helped, true, but she didn't have to like it. However, ethics and religious beliefs were bypassed in favor of being happy Quinn was all right. Happy their children were all right. Easing down to her knees, Rachel lifted Quinn's shirt and planted a small kiss on her stomach. "You're mine, too, boychickel."

A soft chuckle sounded from above. Loving hands met her shoulders and guided her to her feet. "So sure it'll be another boy, huh?"

The shorter woman pecked her pregnant wife on the lips before nuzzling into Quinn's neck. "Sshhh. I'm psychic."

Quinn smiled against her cheek and Rachel wanted time to cease, just let them have this forever.

The slap of bare feet pitter-pattering restarted the clock, and Joshua galloped toward the stainless steel refrigerator, smearing tiny fingerprints all over as he tried to open it. He turned to them with expectant, curious eyes.

"What doin'?"

It would have been inappropriate for her to say she was practicing phenomenal self-control by not yelling at him for saying his mommy was dead because he wouldn't understand what he did or how much it upset her. Instead she sighed and shook her head. "Nothing, sweetie."

She stayed in Quinn's embrace as they rocked together for no reason other than they could; it was comforting and natural for them to cuddle into one another. "Do you need something, Bubbas?"

"I have chocklit milk?" he asked, complete with a beguiling grin and a "pease" at the end.

Ever the one to indulge him, Quinn tried to wiggle free from Rachel's hold to get his sippy cup from the fridge, but she was having none of that.

She held her wife fast and answered their son. "Yes, you may have chocolate milk with lunch, Joshua. Please make sure your blankey and hockey stick are in your bed, first."

He didn't have stuffed animals. He'd shunned them all and took naps with the miniature piece of sporting equipment. And she did not want to have to go looking for those items later when World War Only Child was on the horizon.

A knowing frown puckered his face. Rachel remained impervious. The silent exchange between mother and son stilled the air of the room. Both knew what was coming after lunch. And both knew that he could throw the biggest tantrum he wanted but he was going down for a nap. Most importantly, both knew that Joshua never failed to listen to his mama and would cave. Eventually. After he had a fit.

Unhappy and unafraid to show it, he put his little fists on his nonexistent hips and stomped his foot forcefully.

Brown eyes wanted to roll so badly, and Rachel dared not acknowledge how much he resembled her high school self, and perhaps her Broadway self. Their staring contest lasted three more seconds before Joshua inhaled an enormous breath to explode and tell her just how upset he was about going "sleepy-bye" once he finished eating. Detonation in 5, 4, 3, 2 —

"I dunno, baby. I think Josh is too big for naps now."

Bewildered, the brunette gaped at her wife. Did she not just see il divo about to pull an Enola Gay and drop a Terrible Twos bomb of colossal proportions?

"Ex-excuse me?" she stammered, positively baffled. "Of course, he needs a nap, Quinn! Look at him." She jerked her head in the boy's direction.

The boy who was rubbing his eyes and yawning through his ire.

"Nope," Quinn said, popping the "p". "He's fiiiinne." She sniffed haughtily. "I think you're wrong."

Oh screw that, Quinn was not about to pull this shit.

"I beg your pardon?"

That hazel stare locked on to hers then shot to Joshua before returning to meet appalled brown eyes. "I. Think. You're. Wrong."

Oh. Well then.

Rachel stood up straight and dramatically jerked away, stepping back and crossing her arms. "I. Know. I'm. Right."

Joshua moved closer, looking back and forth between the two of them, tired and confused. "What doin'?"

Quinn swiftly picked up her cue. "Nothing, Joshy. Just telling Mama she's wrong."

"And I'm telling Mommy that I'm right."

"Wrong," the blonde goaded.

"Right."

"Wro-ong." Was sing-songing it really necessary?

She chimed back just as childishly. "Riii-iiight."

"Wrong!"

"No!" Joshua's voice cut off Rachel's volley. "Mama right!"

"Oh?" Quinn leaned down to Joshua's level. "Your Mama says you need a nap. Is that true?"

"Yes! Nap! I gon nap, Mommy!"

Nodding with a melodramatic sigh, Quinn bowed out gracefully. "Okay Joshy. You're right—Mama's right. You may take a nap after lunch. Now go get blankey."

He stomped his foot again. Surely out of pure spite. Then the imp scampered off to retrieve his designated sleepy-time supplies.

Objective achieved, meltdown avoided, Rachel released a sigh. She was too drained to face-off with a toddler after her earlier shock.

"Would you look at that?" The triumphant smirk on the blonde's face should not be sexy. Shouldn't be, but so was.

"Well played, Mommy."

Darkening green eyes twinkled with victory. "Not bad yourself, Mama." Quinn winked.

Rachel blushed. "Well, I am an actress, you know." A single step later she was back in her wife's embrace. "And you're a fantastic scene partner."

"Mmm, I'm a fantastic partner in other ways, too."

She shivered as Quinn's voice caressed her. Yes, Rachel was very well aware of exactly how fantastic Quinn could be — in all ways. Jumping from a sharp nip to her ear, she swatted the blonde's arm. "How on Earth are you turned on right now?"

The hum of a sexy chuckle rumbled against her neck as Quinn progressed lower, answering while leaving open mouth kisses along the diva's throat. "One, I'm pregnant."

Okay. She had to give her that. Quinn damn near broke her while carrying Joshua. After all that, Rachel re-forgave Quinn her bitchiness during their sophomore year when she was pregnant with Beth. "And two?"

"Arguing with you riles me up. Always has."

"Goodness, so much of high school makes sense now," she muttered sarcastically.

A hot tongue licked from Rachel's collar bone up to trace the shell of her ear. "Glad you finally caught on, baby. Only took ten years, but good job."

"Twelve!" she squeaked as enthusiastic hands slid from her waist to paw and knead her bottom.

Quinn shrugged and kissed the underside of her jaw. "Ball park."

"You "ball park" how long we've been together?" She huffed.

"Oh all the time."

She was supposed to be upset, but a wet tongue was swirling down the column of her throat again and one hand slipped up her shirt, spanning the small of her back and drawing her nearer to her wife. The other kept roaming over her backside. "You're awful."

"I'm adorable. And horny."

Her fists bunched in the soft cotton of her wife's shirt as she let her head fall back, silently encouraging more kisses. And licks. Oooh, and bites. Arousal teemed through her veins as manicured nails dug in to her ass and her hips jerked forward. "Quinnnn."

"Seems you are, too."

Rachel was not about to protest that, especially since her mouth had captured Quinn's in a fervid kiss and she pushed her back against the sink, fastening her arms around the taller woman's waist. Tongues sparred, hands strayed from relatively safe zones and tapered fingers tweaked Rachel's nipple through her shirt and bra before they moved on, popping open buttons to get rid of everything altogether. She tugged at Quinn's ponytail, anxious to bury her hands in thick hair and direct that talented mouth everywhere on her body she pleased.

Then Quinn was inside her shirt, in her bra, cupping her breast in one very experienced hand. Rachel didn't waste time mirroring the action. Quinn's breasts were sore from pregnancy and it would pain more than pleasure her. As an alternative, she went right to the main event. She freed the metal button on the blonde's jeans and maneuvered her way inside.

While often a complete bitch, sometimes pregnancy hormones could be sort of awesome. They both moaned as her fingers met wetness and stroked sleek lips. Quinn gripped the edge of the counter with one hand then scraped the nails of her other down Rachel's chest and sternum. They broke apart, panting against each other's mouths, yet gathered enough breath to have a mostly coherent conversation.

"We — bedroom." A wayward fingertip dipped inside scalding, silky liquid.

"Yessss." There were whimpers and searching hips. "Josh?"

"Probably fell asleep. Can check".

Quinn nodded and kissed her again. Rachel's rational mind failed to restrain her movements, and she slipped fully into her wife's center. "Baby, you feel so fu — "

"What doin'?"

— uuccckkkking hell.

Horny, disheveled, and taken by surprise, the mothers went completely immobile. Rachel was knuckle deep in her wife while their son unknowingly interrupted really hot, spur-of-the-moment kitchen sex. Twat swatted by a two-year-old. He'd probably be traumatized now.

Her cheeks aflame, the winner of the Clarence Derwent Award for Most Promising Female, choked. Never had she known stage fright, but she imagined this was how it must feel. She wasn't breathing; sweat beaded her brow; her heart clobbered against her ribcage, while Quinn's eyes were far too amused.

Pale fingers blithely righted Rachel's bra and buttoned her shirt. They slid down her arms, one falling to her wrist and gently removing her hand from inside Quinn's — er, Quinn. They both shuddered and mourned the separation, but the blonde was strangely first to recover.

"Ready for your nap, Joshy?" She pecked the brunette on the lips then casually slipped out of the embrace.

He spoke through a yawn. "Chocklit milk?"

"After you wake up. Then we'll have lunch and play outside," Quinn quickly rewrote today's schedule.

There was grunting as Quinn lifted the boy and Rachel blew out a shaky, guilty breath. Her son just caught her with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Seep bye, Mama."

She finally turned and gave a small wave. "Sleepy bye, bubbeleh. I love you."

"Luv you."

He tucked himself into the blonde's shoulder, clutching his One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish print blankey under his chin.

"Let's go, Bubbas. Your mamas have to take a nap, too." Quinn rubbed his back and fired off a smirk at Rachel, then carried the boy upstairs to his room across the hall from theirs.

Rachel counted her breaths then was quick to get the groceries into the house and put away. Twenty minutes ago she'd been terrified out of her mind, afraid for her wife's safety. Quinn was okay. Joshua was okay. The baby was okay. Everything was okay. Except for the painful ache between her legs and the mad desire to love her wife until they collapsed breathless, sweating, and tangled in each other's arms. That needed remedying right away.

She listened on the stairway for the faint lullaby to end and Joshua's door to close.

Seconds later, she heard Quinn's quiet, "Now, are you ready for yournap, baby?"

Instead of speaking, she simply headed up the stairs to see a beautiful woman wearing nothing but a bra and jeans standing outside the master suite. With a grin, she watched Quinn undo the button on her jeans and walk backward into the bedroom. Rachel followed, stripping off her wrinkled shirt on the way. Nap time sounded splendid.