an (1): so i've been traveling and everything, but i wrote this while we were driving from brown to yale to columbia today. and now i'm in nyc and it's so fun. so yay! you'll probably have to wait a little while for the next update too—because i'll be in the city for another five days and probably be very busy adventuring—but hopefully this will hold you over :)
also, as it's faberry week, this includes a tiny bit of drunk!faberry and also a lot of college!faberry (obviously).
an (2): title from hospitality's 'all day today,' which is so good i'd eat it up. you'll love it. Xx
eleven. all day today i saw you, saw your arms, saw your eyes (that were flashed like a street light, don't you know?)
.
"Hey," Hazel says, closing their door and dropping her bag, shaking a dusting of snow off of her boots.
"Hello," Quinn says. She smiles as Hazel comes over and sits on the end of her bed, bouncing a few times. "How're you this beautiful Monday morning?"
"Fantastic." Hazel plays with Quinn's toes, which are covered with argyle socks. "But I have something to ask you."
Quinn closes her book. "Shoot."
"Well, my family is coming up to Boston this weekend because my dad is going to a gastrointestinal conference there, and I'm meeting them there on Thursday, for the weekend."
"Cool."
"I have a whole hotel room to myself, and I know it's Valentine's Day stuff, but if you and Rachel wanted to come, it'd probably be way more fun for me. I'm just taking the train, so you know, no cars or whatever." Hazel tickles the bottom of Quinn's foot. "My parents keep asking if they can meet you, too. And my brother's convinced you'll fall in love with him."
Quinn laughs. "Poor guy. Let me call Rachel, okay?"
Hazel grins. "Yeah. Okay."
A few minutes later, Quinn hangs up with laugh and an, "I'll tell her, Rach. I promise." Quinn tosses her phone on the duvet. "She says she'd love to come as long as you let her sing a little."
Hazel rolls her eyes. "When have I ever made Rachel stop singing?"
"I think that may have been a euphemism. I'm not sure though."
Hazel groans. "All you two do anymore is have sex. You're no fun."
"Sure, sure," Quinn says, waving her hands. "We actually haven't slept together yet though."
"Really?" Hazel's brows raise.
Quinn shrugs. "We do stuff, but I mean, I just—I waited so long to be in this relationship and I just want it to be really, really special."
Hazel smiles softly. "I'm sure it will be. I think that's nice. And logical."
"Me too," Quinn says, then pats Hazel's hand. "So, what time do we leave?"
.
Hazel's parents, Tony and Margaret, meet them in the lobby of the hotel, and Hazel hugs them happily, introducing everyone. Hazel, it turns out, is a carbon copy of her mother, and her father is warm and funny, with trim white hair and lively grey eyes. Hazel's brother, Dexter, who is tall and thin and very clumsy looking—although Quinn thinks he's probably going to grow into his limbs soon—tries to be nonchalant, leaning in a way against the wall that very much reminds her of Puck.
"So, Quinn," Dexter says, taking her suitcase, "You and Hazel are having a good semester? Hazel says you're a writer, right? I've been thinking about studying English, you know."
Quinn smiles at Rachel, who is holding back laughter. "Have you? Who's your favourite writer?"
"Probably James Joyce."
Hazel scoffs.
"Ulysses, huh?"
"Simple, really," Dexter says, holding open the elevator doors.
Rachel nudges Quinn with a giggle.
"Rachel's never read Ulysses," Quinn says.
"Nope," Rachel says.
Dexter's brows raise. "And how do you two know each other again?"
Quinn licks her lips, leaning down to meet Rachel's lips in a short kiss. When she opens her eyes and straightens back up, Hazel and her parents are grinning, and Dexter looks like he's about to faint. "Rachel's my girlfriend," Quinn says.
.
Boston is beautiful and cold, and Quinn's breath mixes with Rachel's as they hold hands and wander around with Hazel, Margaret, and Dexter in the snow. They go shopping and visit Paul Revere's house, and Rachel insists on taking pictures of Quinn everywhere, and when Tony meets them after his conference ends, he pays for their dinner with a little wave of his hand. They spend their Valentine's Day weekend laughing, and Quinn flirts with Dexter shamelessly, which makes everyone laugh. Hazel's parents invite them anytime to visit their home in Phoenix.
And Quinn dreams of her chest this time as a window, and her lungs are lanterns: Two if by sea.
Quinn kisses Rachel in the snow that falls silently, and their footsteps leave a trail along the red line that traces old cobblestones, proof of revolution.
.
Quinn talks to Frannie and Judy on the anniversary of her accident. She's riding in a cab on the way to Santana's apartment—which usually makes her feel jittery and nervous—when Frannie calls, but when Frannie says, "I love you," she feels very safe.
.
"Are you sure this looks good?" Quinn asks.
Santana rolls her eyes, flopping back against her bed. "Quinn. You look beautiful, okay? Just wear that stupid dress. It's nauseatingly perfect."
"I just—"
"—Want Rachel to know how special this night is for you? Let me tell you, Q." Santana sits up, leaning forward. "She hasn't really shut up about it, how 'special' it is for you to be there, and blah blah blah."
"San," Quinn says, pulling the zipper down.
Santana stands up, holding Quinn's hand to steady her as she steps out of the pretty dress. "Hey," she says softly.
"It's just—it's been a year since—and it's Rachel's first New York performance, and—"
Santana squeezes Quinn's hand. "I know. I understand, okay?"
Quinn nods. "I know you do."
"Come on," Santana says, handing Quinn her sweater. "You have a salon appointment, after all, you and your crazy fast growing hair."
Quinn smiles, wrapping a warm scarf around her neck. "I haven't gotten a haircut since October."
"Whatever you say. You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think this was just an excuse for you to pamper yourself."
"But you do know better."
"Unfortunately," Santana says with a laugh.
.
The stage is dark when Quinn and Santana get there early, the curtain drawn. Quinn has a bouquet of gardenias, and Santana has yellow roses—Quinn hadn't even really had to insist that Santana buy them—and when the usher shows them to their seats, Hiram and Leroy stand up with smiles.
"Hi, girls," Leroy says, allowing Quinn to give him a hug before she shuffles past him.
"Hi, Leroy," Quinn says, then greets Hiram, who kisses her cheek.
"You look more beautiful than ever," Hiram says.
Leroy nods. "It's a good thing Rachel won't be able see you past the stage lights, because she'd probably forget the words."
Quinn blushes. "You both look wonderful too."
Santana rolls her eyes. "As if Rachel'd ever forget the words to anything."
Hiram and Leroy laugh, so Quinn does too. And then the curtain lifts and there's Rachel, more talented again by her leading man, and Rachel's on stage in New York, and Rachel's singing, illuminated with a literal spotlight, and it reminds Quinn of a lantern, the rest of the cast moths.
Except this time Quinn is sure this has nothing to do with revolution or war or warnings. Rachel is brilliant, and it's a beginning, one that's been waiting patiently: a wick set in a candle, finally lit by a simple match.
.
Afterward, Rachel rushes out from backstage, a ball of energy and happiness. She hugs Hiram and Leroy with easy, free tears, and then Santana, who says, "At least you didn't suck," and wipes a few tears herself.
And then Rachel's standing in front of Quinn, and she's wearing a Yale sweatshirt and a pair of tight yoga pants, and her face grows serious in an instant. Rachel doesn't say anything, and neither does Quinn. Rachel puts one hand against the base of Quinn's skull, threading her fingers through the short hair there, and the other hand against the small of Quinn's back, and then Rachel presses her forehead against Quinn's. Quinn nods, then kisses her gently.
It's beyond words, the shattering of glass, the act of peace treaties and the detonation of chests. She feels very, very full, and for maybe the first time in her life, she thinks she understands poetry, because the beats of silence finally matter just as much as all of the words between.
Hiram and Leroy take them for pie, and then Quinn and Rachel go back to her dorm. Hiram gives them a bottle of champagne with a wink, and Rachel spills about half of it all over her dorm before they manage to pour some into plastic cups.
They toast to the things in the spaces, and, in the blur of champagne, they hold each other gently and Rachel undresses Quinn with sure fingers. She kisses each of Quinn's scars.
"Not tonight," Quinn says when Rachel's hands drift down past her belly button, because too many firsts at once is overwhelming.
Rachel sighs into her skin and nods.
"This—" Quinn motions between their naked forms— "needs to have its own moment. You deserve that."
"We deserve that," Rachel says.
"We do."
.
Classes go well for the next few days, and Quinn dances with David and walks around freezing cold New Haven to shop with him.
On Friday, though, Quinn wakes up confused. Her chest is so tight and she feels like she's burning up and she can't focus on anything, and she throws up on and off for an hour before Hazel gets back to the dorm from a run. She hurriedly helps Quinn back to bed and then sticks a thermometer into Quinn's mouth.
When it beeps, Hazel brushes aside Quinn's bangs and then her eyes widen in alarm. "103. Goddamn, Quinn."
Quinn tries to push her away and also somehow summon more blankets, because she's freezing. "I don't feel very good." Her teeth chatter.
"You don't say," Hazel says. Quinn hears Hazel talking, but it doesn't seem to be directed at her, and Quinn starts to fall asleep.
Then warm arms—David's, because he smells so nice—are lifting her from bed, and then she's in the backseat of Marcus's car. Quinn's awareness after that is splotchy at best, blips on radar: She gets put into a hospital bed and then she's wearing a hospital gown. A cold stethoscope gets pressed against her chest. She wakes up during the middle of a CT scan, but the tech talks her through a few moments of panic before she realizes where she is and calms down. Finally, someone helps her sit up and they stick a needle just below the scar on her chest from surgery. The needle is connected to a little tube, which is connected to a little bag. It doesn't hurt too badly—she can't really feel anything right there in her chest for some reason—and then yellowish fluid starts to swish into the little bag. They take the needle out and put a stark, white bandage over its evidence in her skin, and then Quinn feels warm. She falls asleep, and her dreams make absolutely no sense at all.
.
"I don't think it's fair at all to expect someone like Tim Burton to make—"
"—That isn't even the point, Leroy."
Quinn, even mostly asleep, wants to laugh, although when she opens her eyes, she knows she's in a hospital. She fidgets a little and then someone—Leroy—is holding her hand while she blearily blinks up at him.
"What are you—" the whole left side of her chest aches, and Quinn fights off a rolling wave of nausea.
Hiram scoots a little closer to Leroy and says, "Well, your friend Hazel called Rachel to tell her about your little escapade to the hospital—"
"—Again—" Leroy adds sternly.
"—and Rachel was very upset because she couldn't miss her show to come see you. However, Leroy and I were already in New York, and then Judy called us."
Leroy nods. "She was worried because her flight won't get here until tomorrow morning—it's just Friday afternoon, by the way—and Santana has a callback, and we were informed that Hazel is apparently going out of town to ski with your other friend."
"David," Hiram says.
Quinn nods.
Leroy says, "So you'd have been here by yourself tonight."
"But you were going to see Rachel's show," Quinn says, her voice barely above a whisper. It hurts.
"And now we're spending our evening with you, dear," Hiram says gently. "Besides, we've already seen Rachel's show three times, and we've never seen you in New Haven."
Leroy smiles at Hiram's joke, then grows serious. "You're going to need to have a chest tube inserted because you have fluid built up around your lung, and the doctors want to do it in the OR, and when we found that out, Rachel really wanted us here."
Quinn feels tears well up in her eyes before she can try to stop them.
"Oh, honey, don't cry," Leroy says, wiping Quinn's cheeks gently. "I know it probably hurts and that it's scary, but you're going to be fine. It's been a tough year, but you're strong and you're just going to do great."
Quinn shakes her head. "It's not that." She tries not to sniffle because it hurts. "I just—you're both just, and Rachel—"
Hiram frowns and walks around to the other side of Quinn's bed, so that he can hold her other hand. "Quinn, when we saw the way you treated Rachel, the way you looked at her, after you two got together—you're reverent, do you know that?"
Quinn looks down at the starch hospital blanket.
Hiram continues. "You love her, and it's so easy to tell, and that's wonderful. You're smart and independent and strong, and you make her so happy, and that's all we've ever wanted for her."
Leroy nods. "So, you're part of our family too. And when you're scared or hurt or sick, we're going to be there. Okay? There'll be no convincing us otherwise."
Quinn smiles, and she knows shining stage lights within her chest. "Thank you," she says, although the words aren't nearly enough.
A doctor comes in a few minutes later and explains to Quinn that her recent pulmonary issues have culminated in what they call a plural effusion—a build-up of fluid around her left lung—and that draining it will resolve the pain and soreness in her chest, and that her fever will go down. After a few days, they'll remove the chest tube. She'll most likely need more procedures in the future, but this should make things better for a while.
Quinn nods and tries to remember everything, although she isn't worried, or even angry; it's frustrating, but it's not necessarily unexpected.
Another doctor files into her room and starts changing her meds, and Quinn feels sleepier than before.
"We'll see you soon, Quinn," Leroy says, and Hiram smiles softly and kisses her forehead.
She doesn't hesitate to tell them, "I love you."
They pat her shins as her bed gets wheeled out of the room. She feels their fingers clearly, soft and reassuring.
.
When Quinn wakes up, she's curled up on her side, and the room is dark. She feels carefully with her left hand, hazily, until it catches on a little tube poking out from between two of her ribs, surrounded by soft white gauze.
Then a gentle hand is wrapping around hers, and Leroy whispers, "Don't mess with that."
"Okay," Quinn mumbles, fighting to keep her eyes open.
"Everything went great," Leroy says, and she feels his fingers run through her hair a few times. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
Quinn shakes her head. It's true—she feels floaty.
"Good," Leroy says. "Hiram's at the hotel, but I'm staying with you tonight."
Quinn doesn't bother to argue. She just smiles and lets Leroy keep holding her hand as she falls back asleep.
.
The next time she wakes up, more concretely this time, it's sunny. She hears Rachel and Santana arguing over a colouring book and Hiram offering to buy more crayons. Her little stuffed lamb is tucked into her side, and Judy offers Leroy coffee.
Even though Quinn is in significantly more pain now, she cherishes these moments. Santana's the first to notice she's awake, and then Rachel immediately sits on the bed.
"Hey," she says, kissing Quinn's cheek.
"You guys make me want to say cheesy things." Quinn's words slur.
Judy smiles, sitting down on the chair closest to Quinn's bed. She pats Rachel on the shoulder.
"We do?" Judy asks.
Quinn nods.
Santana sits a little roughly next to Rachel, and Rachel glares when Quinn grimaces. "Even me?"
"Even you, San. Because you're my best friend."
Santana squeezes near Quinn's ankle. "What cheesy stuff do you want to tell us?"
"Like, I love you to the moon and back and also Paris infinity times. Or, my chest feels excited like the fourth of July, even when my lungs aren't wanting to work right. Or, you make me feel like I have the best family in the world, even if we're a little weird."
Quinn expects people to laugh, but even Santana looks like she's about to cry.
"Those things are lame," Quinn says. "Sorry."
Rachel shakes her head and kisses Quinn gently on the lips, and Judy says, "Oh, Quinn, those things are beautiful," and Santana only nods and leans into Leroy's embrace when he sits down at the foot of Quinn's bed.
"We love you too, Quinn," Hiram says.
When Quinn dreams that night, there really are fireworks in her chest, celebrating peace treaties and the victory during revolution, an entirely new country, vibrant and sparkling.
She's in more pain when she wakes up the next morning, but Santana makes sit up and hook the bag collecting yellowish fluid around her lungs to the IV pole.
"I meant whatever I said yesterday," Quinn says as Santana helps her climb out of bed.
Rachel smiles.
Santana says, "We know, Q."
Santana hooks an arm around Quinn's waist steadily, and Rachel cheers them on. Quinn coughs, but she shuffles two laps around the floor.
...
references. i walked the entire freedom trail in boston (the red line) because my friends are nerds and they really wanted to. just so you know, it was hot.
