Chapter 2: Meaningless Dialogue and Shenanigans
She woke to her alarm blaring just a few hours later, rolling over and swatting blindly for the snooze button. Her mouth stretched into a yawn, hand reaching over to find solace in her mother's warmth one last time before getting up. She frowned. Apart from a few rumpled pillows, Shelby's side of the bed remained totally empty. She groaned and moved to sit up, rubbing at her eyes, stopping when the sound of her mother's soft humming came over running water. A lazy smile played over her lips. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood to stretch before padding over. She rapped lightly on the door, pushing it open without waiting for a reply. Shelby stood propped up against the sink, robe open, catching Rachel's toothy grin in the mirror as she strode in behind her.
"How'd you sleep?" she asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.
"Thanks to you," she said brightly, "very well. Much better than before."
And no more psycho dreams about Quinn, thank friggin' goodness….
She hissed as her ass met the cool, hard surface of the toilet seat, Shelby's brow arching slightly at her through her reflection before she bent over to spit and rinse.
"Hope it was worth it," she quipped.
"Always," she insisted, the grin never leaving her face in spite of the pain.
She shook her head and shrugged out of her robe. "You are the only person I know who can still be this randy at the crack of dawn. It makes no damn sense."
"Oh, come on! I know you had fun." She sure as hell had enough handprints on her ass to prove it.
"About as much fun as one can have at goddamn three in the morning, Ray!"
Rachel yawned and scratched behind her ear. "Thought it was two?"
"Whatever," Shelby groaned with a roll of her eyes, turning and starting the jets for a shower.
"You takin' another one?"
Her mother swiveled on her with an incredulous glare. "Are you kidding me? After that, hell yes."
Rachel flushed and stood to lean against her. "Mind if I join you?"
Shelby pulled back and eyed her warily, her tone dropping instantly from scolding to concerned. "Okay, what's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I know you can get a little… feisty sometimes. But this is a bit much."
She thought of how to answer before giving up. It was far too early to divulge all the dirty details of that dream, of being shared between her mother and Quinn, rendered helpless and unable to stop them. Her eyes fell to the floor.
"It's nothing. I'm sorry. I know you're tired."
Shelby studied her for a minute, the steam rising and permeating the air around them. "Must've been a rough dream," she said, bringing her in close and kissing the top of her head. "Alright, you can come in. But," she warned, just before Rachel had the chance to rile herself up. "We have to actually shower, Ray. We still have school."
"But it's Friday," Rachel whined.
Shelby's eyes narrowed. "Wednesday, actually."
"Does it even really matter?" she grinned, taking her mother's hands and leading her into the billowing mist.
Shelby leered back, knowing full well she'd soon be convinced to forgo her earlier resolution not to fool around.
"Alright, Finn," Mr. Shue sighed audibly, rubbing the back of his neck, his frustration visible even from Rachel's spot overhead. "Let's go over this one more time and then we're done."
"For the day?" Finn perked up.
"No, no. Just 'til after school," he replied, clapping him twice on the back, Finn's shoulders slumping in defeat.
His back raised again, one hand running through his slick, sweaty hair. "Fuck!"
"Hey, now," he warned, his voice softening as he placed a comforting hand on Finn's shoulder, looking him square in the eye. "We got this. Just follow my lead." He stepped sideways to demonstrate yet again. "Just focus on your hips this time."
Rachel giggled as Finn's clunky feet followed awkwardly along.
"No, no, no. Come on, just," he came up behind him and tried again. "I'm gonna invade your personal space here for a minute. Now, just spread your feet a little wider for me," he motioned, nudging Finn's feet apart with his own for good measure. "Come on, just loosen up a bit—"
"God, just fucking blow each other already…"
Rachel gasped and threw a hand over her mouth, barely managing to stifle her building laughter as none other than Quinn Fabray hunkered down in the seat next to her. Over time, it seemed Quinn's derisive comments were growing nastier than usual, a far cry from the former reserved, Christian, type-A prep she once knew.
She leaned over and caught her arm. "If they see us…" she whispered harshly.
Quinn lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you spying on Finn." She grinned as Rachel's tiny elbow jabbed her in the ribs.
"Ugh, please," she groaned. "Like I'd waste my goddamn time."
"Then, what are you doing here?"
She shrugged evenly. Wanting nothing more than peace and quiet over lunch period, she'd retreated to the upper balcony of the auditorium where an unsuspecting Mr. Shue and Finn just so happened to be. The latter attempted to master the routine the rest of New Directions had nailed down over a week ago. More importantly, she'd gone there in hopes to purge her mind of her most recent dream of this place, reconnect herself with it in a far more wholesome light, even if it meant subjecting herself to watching Finn's god awful dance moves.
"I don't know," she said, emulating a slow, somber, dream-like tone. "The closer we get to graduation, it just brings back memories."
Like that time I almost went down on my mother after a duet.
"It just feels like the place to be…"
She caught Quinn's skeptic glance out of the corner of her eye, the two of them exploding in sharp ripples of laughter. They ducked low as the pair on stage turned to inspect the noise.
"Seriously, though," Quinn said, peeking over the rails and coming back up as they resumed the dance. "What the fuck kind of rehearsal is this?"
Rachel rose up along with her. "Finn needed a little extra help. Again."
"So, he needs more private sessions instead of just practicing with the rest of us? As usual?"
"Mr. Shue is optimistic," she said with a light smile. "Hopefully, it'll help this time."
"We've had booty camp for, what, half a year now? If he can't get this shit down by now, we're fucked for Nationals."
"I wouldn't go that far. He was struggling before Sectionals and we pulled through just fine."
"Haha, nope! Sectionals, we made it by the skin of our fucking teeth. Regionals, Corcoran bent us over backwards and fucked us."
Rachel cringed inwardly. That was definitely not an image she needed in her head at the moment. Especially, not after last night.
"You know," Quinn continued, "kinda like what Mr. Shue's doing to Finn right now."
She squeezed her eyes shut, clasping a hand to her forehead. "Oh, my god. Shut up."
"No lube. No foreplay—"
Rachel moved to catch her arm again. "You know they can probably hear us up here, right?"
"Doubt it. Knowing Finn, he'd probably squeal the whole time. He wouldn't notice a thing." She paused and met Rachel's unamused glare. "Oh, come on! I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Who the fuck else would schedule this many private rehearsals every week?" She gestured at them with open hands. "Or get that fucking close?!"
Rachel followed her gaze, noting, indeed, just how physically demonstrative Mr. Shue was with Finn, the poor boy's feet still clopping miserably out of step. Quickly, she caught on to how Finn, albeit still flustered at the routine, appeared to be fairly receptive to such an intrusive form of instruction. If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn she noticed him backing into Mr. Shue's strange advances. She shook her head in effort to clear it, the aftereffects of her wet dream still very real.
"They've been going at it since, what, sophomore year?"
A wistful smile tugged at Rachel's lips, visions of Shelby filling her mind.
Eh, they're not alone….
"Jesus, you'd think they'd be a little more discreet by now," Quinn scoffed.
Down below, one misplaced step sent Finn flying off into a blind rage.
"Goddamn it!" He stormed off and disappeared into the wings, Mr. Shue madly chasing after him. A random chair came soaring out and crashing center stage, a loud clatter and Finn's own hammering voice following closely behind.
"We should go," Rachel said, gathering up her books. "Bell's about to ring anyway."
Quinn stood to join her. "Whatever. Let's hope for Finn's sake, he's not a virgin."
Rachel grimaced before pushing open the door. "No comment."
"We still practicing later on today? Your place?"
"Yep," Rachel piped up, bouncing over to her locker, Quinn leaning on the one adjacent to it. "You ready?"
"I guess," she shrugged, idly watching her exchange a few books. "What's the assignment again?"
"Musicals. Our choice."
"Does it matter what song?"
"Nope."
"You got this one? I picked last time."
"Sure."
"God, you'd think closer to graduation he'd try to give us something more on point, more inspirational."
"Maybe he's just tired."
"After humping Finn all day, yeah I can imagine."
She slammed her locker shut before strutting off. "Bye, Quinn."
"Can I go now?"
Shelby glanced up from her notes to glare back at a scowling Santana Lopez slouching in the first seat across from her.
"Sit up straight, Santana," she lectured before returning to her work.
A little after lunch, Will approached her with news that a thick coat of baby oil had been slathered all over the choir room floor, his voice levying more than enough blame she could reasonably tolerate. She didn't want to believe one of her own girls had been the culprit. Hell, she would've chalked it all up to his bitterness over New Directions' loss at Regionals. Anything to try and shoot down the competition. That is, until she spotted Santana dumping a backpack full of empty bottles out by the dumpster.
She groaned, slumping further into her seat. "Can I please go now?"
"I don't know." She smirked without looking up. "Try asking again."
"Oh, my god. Can I please fucking go now? I'm missing practice! Coach is gonna fucking kill me!"
"Because adding profanity to your request will totally help your case, right?"
"Funny. I don't remember you getting pissed off at Vocal Adrenaline for TP-ing the room a couple of years ago."
"Oh, okay," she said, finally dropping her pen and reclining back to fully meet her gaze. "So, because I had a couple of terrible people in my class years ago, that totally means I should let you act like them, right?"
"Oh, come the fuck on! People throw slushies and shit here all the time and no one says a goddamn thing! Not even you!"
"Because everyone else sucks at being a person, that means you get to suck too, am I right?"
"It's fucking before Nationals—"
"Which is the only reason I haven't reported you to Figgins," she reminded her quickly.
Her quick retort fell short as she pondered her teacher's words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "Whatever. It's just a stupid prank. Everybody has one before graduation."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she chuckled mirthlessly, holding up her hand in protest. "Just a harmless, little prank? Is that what we're calling it? Honey, I don't know what kind of stupidity you got into with the Cheerios, and I really don't care. You don't bring that garbage over here, understand? I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before. Months ago, if I'm not mistaken."
Santana said nothing, face mottled red, glaring daggers into her until Shelby rivaled her with an equally dangerous look. She caved in and looked pointedly away.
"This is fucked," she grumbled at the floor.
"No. What's fucked is pouring baby oil all over the competitions' floor. What's fucked is nearly injuring your classmates before graduation. What's fucked is that you have the nerve to come in here and act like you've done nothing wrong."
"You made me come in here! You're the one who gave me fucking detention!"
"Which is the least harmful thing that could happen to you at this point," Shelby countered, pushing back and rising from her desk, shocked and slightly amused at how brazen the girl could be in times of wrongdoing. "You have five weeks before graduation. You wanna spend that time acting like a moron, then by all means, I will treat you like one. And believe me, I could do a lot worse. I could hand you over to Figgins and have you suspended. I could kick you out of the Troubletones. No Nationals, no letter of recommendation. Nothing."
With each and every word, she edged closer and closer to her until she came face to face with the unruly cheerleader, gripping the sides of her desk and towering over her. If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn she saw Santana shrink deeper into her seat, even heard her give a subdued gulp. She nearly lost her composure and smiled.
"You think Coach Sylvester can run your ass raw at practice, believe me, I can do better. I'm sure my students from Carmel could attest to that as well. This is only the beginning of your punishment. Do not make it worse."
"Wait, what?! You're already keeping me from practice! What else are you gonna fucking—"
Suddenly, the door burst open behind them, Brittany ghosting into the room in a long, flowing black cloak and top hat, brandishing a straight, black cane.
"I've come to whisk you away," she proclaimed, victoriously smacking the cane against the ground.
"Brit, I told you to wait in the car!"
Shelby raised a hand to her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Brittany, what are you doing?"
"Santana didn't do it," she protested. "Her alter-ego Snixx was summoned by the gargoyles and corrupted her soul. She was forced to do it against her will."
"Brit, this is a really bad time to bring Snixx into this…"
"I don't need to teach here anymore," Shelby sighed, palm never leaving her face.
"You should totally let her go," the tall, elvish blonde persisted.
"Brittany," Shelby began calmly, hand falling away to fold over the girl's shoulder. "You can't be here right now."
"Why not?"
"When Santana is in trouble, you can't be here. It's incredibly distracting."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Well," she explained slowly in a distant, lofty tone. "It's been mandated in the fine print of the charter Mr. Shue and I drafted after the War of 1812. Whence Santana enters the realm of eminent stupidity, thou art banished." She ignored the dubious looks Santana sent over her shoulder, hoping to Streisand this would suffice in getting this crazy kid out of her classroom.
"Wait, you were in the War of 1812?"
Shelby blinked, at a loss for words. "Brittany—"
"Wait, so does this confirm my theory that you're a vampire?"
She extended her arm towards the door. "Out."
"C'mon, think about it. You're pale, scary and you've been around for hundreds of years."
"I'm getting a headache," she said, taking her firmly by the shoulders and leading her out. She paused midway and turned back. "You." Santana's head snapped in her direction. "Go grab some towels from the locker room. You're cleaning that crap up today. Effective immediately."
"That'll take forever," she complained. "I'm not a fucking janitor!"
"Not my problem," Shelby called on her way out.
One she'd gotten Santana situated cleaning up the choir room, Shelby set off on one last trip to the teacher's lounge. She hesitated in the doorway, Will standing by the coffeemaker with his back turned. She sighed. The last thing she needed was any last minute awkwardness or conflict between them before Nationals. The kids' sporadic bouts of idiocy were more than enough to handle before then.
She blew out a short puff of breath before striding in.
Oh, well. Here goes nothin'!
"You're becoming an addict," she said casually, sitting down.
He turned halfway and offered a smile, a fresh mug ready in his hand. "After that little surprise this afternoon, I'm gonna need it."
She winced. "I'm sorry. I've got her cleaning it up now. Was anybody hurt?"
He shook his head and grinned. "Nah, everyone was fine. We didn't get very much work done today, but they had lots of fun."
"Oh, yeah?"
"I was gone for ten minutes and the place was a mess. Like, worse than before. Puck and Finn thought it'd be funny to bowl Sam into the drums. Rachel and Quinn were figure skating all over the room. Footprints were everywhere. Mike and Tina just left. I don't know where they went, but yeah. Blaine fell asleep. I think the only ones who were as pissed as I was were Kurt and Artie."
"Jesus," she chuckled, images of her daughter slipping and sliding all over the room playing through her mind. "End of the year hijinks, I guess."
"You'd think by now they'd be a lot smarter, but—"
"Nope! Not at all. You should've seen Brittany trying to defend her earlier."
"Oh? Was it the gargoyles or centaurs this time?"
Shelby's brow quirked in disbelief. "Does she even know what a centaur is?"
"I don't fuckin' know," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. They shared one last laugh before he cleared his throat. "So," he said carefully, "you still gonna let Santana compete?"
She arched her brow, shooting him a look that soon made him regret asking in the first place. She should've known full well where this was going, but she'd hoped to avoid it anyway.
"Yeah, I guessed as much," he muttered with a nervous scratch of his chin.
"Look, I don't condone any stupidity my kids get into. But I'm not an idiot. Santana's one of our best."
"Can't say I blame you, I guess," he added begrudgingly, sliding his finger along the rim of his mug.
"She's being held accountable," she assured him firmly. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure this doesn't happen again."
"No, no. It's all good." He raised a hand calmly. "Honestly, I think I've got a bigger problem on my hands right now."
"Like what?"
He hesitated. "I've, uh, still gotta practice with Finn later today."
"Oh, yeah? How's that going?"
"It's, uh… it's a mess. I've been trying to give him a little one-on-one. See if that'll help…"
She did her best not to laugh, not even bothering to go into a lengthy spiel over him having so many private, unsupervised meetings with a student. "Sounds… promising."
He swiped a hand over his mouth and sighed. "I'm doing my best. He almost destroyed the auditorium earlier."
"I didn't think his feet were that heavy," she said, unable to contain her laughter this time.
"Oh, he can dance. Believe me. He just gets a bit clumsy sometimes, forgets where he is. He seemed to be doing just fine last year. I don't know what the deal is now. The closer we get to graduation, the more distracted he gets."
"I think that's everyone, lately. It's just one of those things."
"Hmm, maybe. You and Rachel ready for New York?"
"I think she's ready more than I am," she laughed.
"Find another job already?"
"Yep."
"Well, that was fast."
"With my credentials from here and Carmel, it was easy enough." She smiled softly. "It's weird. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm actually gonna miss this place."
"I'm sure you will. I think it's safe to assume that everything worked out better than you expected?"
"Absolutely," she said fondly. "I'm glad to have her back."
"Things gotten any better with her dads?"
Her smile faded. "A little, yeah. Better than before, I guess."
Hiram and Leroy were slightly more tolerant of her reconnection with Rachel than they'd originally been. Then again, she wasn't sure they had much of a choice. They were hardly around to object anyway. She tried to keep things as civil as possible between them, though their ongoing work-related distance from Rachel made it difficult for her at times. She'd barely succeeded in convincing them to organize more time with their daughter after graduation. Just thinking about it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Yeah, I've never really asked you about that before."
"Believe me, you don't want to."
"That bad, huh?" Will grinned into his mug before taking another sip.
"A bit of an understatement, but yeah."
"So, what are you gonna do for graduation?"
"I don't know yet," she murmured, angry tears forming, Will reaching over to place a comforting hand on her back. She blinked them away, switching gears before she could get too emotional. "I almost forgot. Congrats on the engagement!"
His eyes narrowed. She could've laughed, knowing damn well he had his own personal issues to work out before the end of the year. Issues he obviously didn't want to get into any more than she'd wanted to divulge her own. "Smooth transition, Corcoran," he remarked wryly, withdrawing his hand. "Well played."
"I can do better, Will," she said evenly, her lips curving into a sly smirk. "Just wait until Nationals." And she meant every word. She'd bested him once, and she'd gladly do it again.
"Sure." He rose and moved to the sink, taking one last sip before dumping the rest down the drain. "Thanks anyway. I'm glad everything's working out well. Glad we could bring out the best in each other this year."
"You sure about that?" Shelby grinned. "Slushies and baby oil aside?"
"Even then," he scoffed. "This is probably the friendliest competition we've had in years."
"I'm glad we could keep it civil… for the most part."
"We've still got some way to go. Cross your fingers." He nudged her shoulder before starting off. "I'm gonna go find Finn. Wish me luck."
"Have fun, Will," she called after him.
"This is by far the strangest day I've had up here. And that's saying something for this place!"
Rachel stopped to ponder the last couple of years at McKinley, slushies, storm out sessions, and shenanigans galore. The slippery incident after lunch didn't even come close to half the pranks she'd experienced since joining New Directions. "Not sure I can say the same, but okay. I'll take your word for it."
"We going straight to your place or what?"
She shook her head. "Still gotta find sheet music. It'll just be a quick stop on the way."
"You decided on anything yet?"
"I thought 'Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend' might be good. We can change it if you want, though."
"Did you just all of a sudden have some hard-on for Marilyn Monroe?"
She scoffed, rummaging through her purse for her keys once they'd reached her car. "No. It just sort of came to me at the last minute." She stowed her backpack in the backseat before turning back to Quinn. "You wanna just trail me or ride with me?" She stole a quick glance around the parking lot. "Where'd you park anyway?"
"Mom needed the car today, so I just took the bus."
"You rode the bus?" Rachel remarked with feigned shock. "Quinn Fabray actually ventured amongst the commoners?!"
"Fuck you," Quinn groaned, bumping her shoulder on the way to the passenger side. "It's funny. I never really imagined you driving yourself up here."
"Why not?" Rachel laughed, buckling herself in.
"I don't know. I guess I always thought Corcoran would drive you up here."
"Sometimes. We started having different rehearsal times, so she figured I could use my own car."
She purposefully neglected to mention how Shelby had mainly bought it on the off chance Rachel be tempted to grope her on the way to and from campus as she had countless times before.
"Wait, Corcoran got you this?"
"Yeah? Why?"
"Nothing," she said with a light shrug. "Just surprised it's not a Range Rover."
"Overrated," she chuckled.
"Does she miss Vocal Adrenaline at all?"
"The group, yes. Driving three hours to Akron for work, not so much."
"Fair enough," she agreed, staring absentmindedly out the window as Rachel cranked the engine.
As they ebbed their way out of the student section of the lot, she spotted a familiar figure in the choir room window. She let out a little squeal of surprise, Rachel instantly pumping the brake.
"What?" She glanced around frantically.
Quinn pointed straight ahead, a huge grin stretched across her face, Rachel following her gaze. "I should've known. There was no way in hell Corcoran would've let her get away with it that easily."
Rachel peered into the distance, suddenly remembering the strong scent of baby oil lingering on the scuff of her shoes. There, hunched over on hands and knees, knelt Santana, scrubbing furiously away at the floor, a heap of dirty gym towels piled behind her.
Quinn reached over to honk the horn, Rachel shoving her away with a reproachful jab to the ribs. "Are you trying to get my car keyed?!"
Santana looked up almost immediately to inspect the noise, catching their gaze easily enough. Rachel gave a half smile with an awkward wave. Quinn pushed out her bottom lip, tracing an imaginary tear down her cheek. Santana threw her a sour look and raised her middle finger, Quinn returning the favor with both hands and howling as Rachel made a hard right turn and veered out of the campus parking lot.
She made quick work of finding the score for their duet before heading straight home, making a mental note to text her mother a reminder that Quinn was coming over.
"We on our own?" Quinn asked as they pulled into the garage.
"For a little while, yeah" she answered. "Mommy doesn't usually finish rehearsal until about six."
Quinn gave a twisted smirk in her direction. "Mommy?"
Rachel flashed her a hard stare before getting out. "Fuck off."
She flipped on the kitchen light as they made their way in, disappearing upstairs to freshen up while leaving Quinn alone in the living room. She returned to find the blonde lingering by an array of framed photos on the top shelf by the television.
"You ready to get started?"
Quinn didn't seem to hear, much too caught up in one photo in particular. She lifted one black framed shot of Shelby.
"Damn," she murmured to herself, eyebrows shooting into her hair. "That's Corcoran?"
Rachel peered over her shoulder, smiling faintly at the picture in question. It was a close up shot of Shelby taken a little after curtain call when she'd first been cast in West Side Story. From the looks of it, it had been taken a little over a decade ago, though Shelby never specified when exactly. For whatever reason, Shelby had opted to take the picture leaning back against the props table, one leg hiked up behind her, her rouged lips curled into a coy smile Rachel would later come to inherit in some of her own pictures. Shelby later recanted it was one of her happiest memories on stage before coaching.
"Yeah, that's her. Way back when…"
She looked sideways, studying Quinn's expression as she all but ogled her mother's picture. Granted, it was indeed a remarkable photo, a flattering glimpse into Shelby's humbler days. She'd often found herself stopping to glance at it every once in a while. Still, there was a twinkle of something she noticed in Quinn's eyes as she gazed on, a look all too familiar to her. It was enough to make her stomach turn.
"Wow," Quinn carried on. "She's uh… damn!"
Rachel came to stand in front of her, her protective streak coming to light. "She's what?"
Quinn's eyes never left the photo. "Nothing. It's just you look a lot like. That's all." She frowned as Rachel plucked it right out of her hands, planting it face down on the shelf.
"That wasn't what you were about to say," she said, regarding her suspiciously.
Quinn stood, dumbfounded. "What? I can't compliment your mom?"
"That depends," Rachel replied with an icy tone, one sculpted brow raised in a way oddly reminiscent of Shelby's in Quinn's eyes. "What were you going to say?"
Quinn shifted uneasily, a bug under a microscope. "I don't know. I was just gonna say that she—"
She paused to see Rachel's eyes narrow with every word. She tried again. "I mean she—"
She was cut off again by the sound of Rachel's nails drumming expectantly against the wood of the shelf.
She sighed impatiently. "Do you actually wanna know what I was gonna say or are you just trying to be obnoxious?"
She set her lips into a thin, grim line before answering. "I promise you, whatever it was, positive or negative, it would not have ended well for you."
"Okay," she scoffed, turning away. "What the hell's your problem?"
She softened, offering an apologetic smile. She hadn't meant to be so testy, but the recurring visions of her dream still left her nerves on the fritz. Still, it wasn't Quinn's fault she was left a horny, confused mess. And her mother had sure as hell warned her about projecting more than once before. Just thinking about it brought to mind the harsh discipline she'd been subjected to in her nightmare. She pushed her fingers through her hair and exhaled sharply.
Could be a long fucking day….
"I'm sorry," she said, shuffling past her to the piano. "Here, why don't we just—"
"Warm up first?"
She nodded frantically. "Sounds good." Anything to take her mind off of things.
For now.
Troubletones rehearsal ended on a rather dismal note that afternoon. Even Sugar, for all her bright-eyed, bushy-tailed enthusiasm, had grown stiff halfway through the routine. Shelby didn't understand what the problem was. After all, they'd gone over the set list nearly a hundred times for the past several weeks to an exhaustive degree, showing nothing but growth along the way.
For what it was worth, the first half hadn't blown over that badly, though they definitely could've done better. The last three numbers, however, were reduced to a clunky, watered down mess. Mercedes, as per usual, tried to overcompensate her lack of vitality through belting it out at the most inappropriate times, complaining every time Shelby pushed her to sharpen her moves. Brittany appeared to be more distracted than usual, often times just stopping altogether in the middle of a song to simply stare off into space. Shelby tried everything, short of doing cartwheels in front of her, to get her moving again. Even the other Cheerios, who were typically on point at all times, seemed to slouch their way throughout those last few numbers. Santana's sulking from her earlier punishment did little to help. As if their dancing wasn't insipid enough, they all but butchered the notes to the final piece.
An hour and a half in, Shelby was fuming. If it had been Vocal Adrenaline, she would've kept them at it for another solid three hours until their feet bled. This time, however, she got up in the middle of the finale, threw her clipboard over her shoulder and stalked off without saying a word. Upon exiting through the backdoor, she could've sworn she overheard someone (Santana, most likely) remark, "Well, now you know where Berry gets it from…."
She switched off the stage lights, smiling as Sugar's screams carried and echoed around them, the rest of the girls barking over each other in the dark and bickering over whose fault it all was.
She drove around for a bit, debating on where to go and cool off before eventually heading home. She didn't want Rachel to see her this flustered. It would've killed the mood before their "nightly ritual" so to speak. She honestly wasn't sure what to call it anymore. They'd been going at it nearly every night for the past two years with very few exceptions. Shelby almost had a hard time believing it. Regardless of how tired they were, be it from school, rehearsal, or the session the night before, one thing always undoubtedly led to another. It never failed. She had to wonder whether they would be able to continue their ongoing trend once they moved to New York.
Shelby could count on one hand the few times they'd sacrificed intimacy out of blackout fatigue; once after Sectionals and twice before and after Regionals. Once their hectic schedules were over, and at Rachel's insistence, of course, they'd more than made up for it each time. Shelby couldn't bring herself to complain, for the most part. With a little minx like Rachel, it was nearly impossible to resist. It wasn't until Rachel had grown feistier, and sometimes sneakier, that she started to object to her daughter's unwavering appetite. Their brief sessions after the girl's nightmare and later on in the shower were only two out of many occasions as of late.
She sighed at the memory, a slow yawn building up just thinking about it. She'd insisted more than once how she desperately needed to sleep if they were to keep at it every day. Rachel barely seemed to notice, seemingly running on an endless supply of energy. At one point, Shelby had wrongly believed adding a few ounces of pain would hopefully drive her point home and potentially wear Rachel out, squelch her libido just enough to afford her some rest. A few bites and swats here and there; nothing too major.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
If anything, her endeavor had made Rachel twice as ravenous as before and, much to Shelby's chagrin, led her to engage in more subversive techniques to garner her mother's attention. Once midwinter, she'd woken up to find her little girl lurking beneath the sheets, tongue lashing feverishly between Shelby's legs as she slept. After she'd gotten over the initial shock and recovered post-coitus, she made Rachel pay for it, dearly. She'd, of course, begged and cried for a while before drifting off again, pacified with one of Shelby's nipples in her mouth, a newly-formed habit she never objected to as long as Rachel ultimately went back to sleep.
She'd thought perhaps, maybe then, Rachel might learn to settle down until the girl attempted to wake her in a similar fashion yet again. Once caught, she'd embraced her impending punishment with feigned distress, even going so far as to subtly suggest Shelby begin using instruments on her. Naturally, Shelby was horrified, temporarily stalling any further painful lessons after that and instead settling on just fucking her until she went back to sleep. It barely made a difference anymore. Even in the absence of pain, Rachel was insatiable.
In her reverie, she zoomed right past the Lima Bean. She swore, watching it fade behind her in the rearview mirror before giving up. It would've been too light-hearted of an atmosphere anyway. In no way did it match how she was feeling. She spotted the bowling alley and karaoke bar just a few clicks up ahead.
Eh, fuck that. Too campy.
Tucked right behind it was a plain local tavern. She took the next right and parked behind the building. She wandered in and found a seat at the far corner of the bar, ordering a tall glass of beer and wordlessly chugging it straight down. Ignoring the strange looks she received from the bartender, she stared blankly into the swirling oak patterns embedded in the counter, slowly twirling the glass in her hands. Just then, her phone buzzed to life in her purse.
Hey, Q's coming over to practice. You mind if she just hangs out here for a bit afterwards? I'll drive her home at about 9.
She bristled, mentally slapping herself for even having such an undeserved reaction in the first place. She was well aware Rachel and Quinn had grown closer over the course of the year. It shouldn't have come as a total surprise to her that Rachel would eventually invite her over at some point. She pulled herself together before answering back.
No problem, sweetie. Probably won't be back in time for dinner. Let me know if you guys want me to order in for you.
Rachel messaged back with a quick thank you before listing off what they wanted from a local cafe, Shelby placing the order over the phone before ordering another drink for herself. She was definitely going to be there a lot longer than she'd anticipated. Part of her felt a bit silly. She could've easily gone back home if she really wanted to, fixed the girls something to eat while saying as little as possible to Quinn. She could've even retreated upstairs to work while they rehearsed at the piano. It wouldn't have been hard… right? She honestly wasn't even sure at this point, much too frazzled to sort through her own feelings.
Granted, she had very well expected them to get together and rehearse for a few weeks now. After all, Will had mentioned in passing that he had been planning on assigning the kids another duet a little after Spring Break. What she hadn't counted on, however, was the girls coming over to her house to prepare for it. For previous assignments, they'd stayed primarily on school grounds. She had no earthly idea what made Rachel all of a sudden decide to have Quinn over this time. In fact, for a long time, she'd been totally opposed to having her or anybody else over at Shelby's since the advent of their affair. They'd worked so hard to maintain their distance and lay low at school. There was no way in hell she wanted to risk anyone, much less her best friend, catching onto their dynamics at home.
She paused to consider Rachel's prior reasoning and bit her lip. On second thought, perhaps it wouldn't have been wise to go home while Quinn was there after all. She gave a light snort and sipped her beer. She didn't understand why she was getting so worked up over it anyway. It was just another fucking rehearsal. Wasn't it?
Oh, for fuck's sake….
Who the hell was she kidding? She knew goddamn well what was happening. All the obvious signs were there. Whatever animosity Quinn may have harbored for her daughter years ago had clearly blossomed into something more. At least that's what it looked like from her angle, anyway. Quinn had certainly taken a greater interest in her as of late. Rachel had even explicitly said so herself months before. Even then, Shelby had embraced it and encouraged it, knowing full well her daughter didn't exactly have the best track record in making friends, let alone keeping them. This was especially true when it came to other girls. For her to be on such friendly terms with Quinn for this long came as a total relief and surprise all at once. It was almost bittersweet.
Still, underneath it all, there was undoubtedly a subtle hint of attraction to be explored. She smirked knowingly to herself. She had, more than once, entertained the thought of the girls engaging in a relationship. After all, she'd caught a few glimpses of them together here and there, both on and off campus. It was amusing to her how little they seemed to notice.
The signs were all there. The lingering looks in the choir room, even if they weren't in the midst of a duet; how Rachel would link arms with her in the hallway; playful shoulder bumps she caught in the auditorium from time to time; parting hugs that lasted a tad too long to be considered in the realm of platonic friendships.
She downed the rest of her beer before switching to whiskey. The bar hand nearly protested until she gave him a look that challenged him to say something else. He uttered a subdued 'yes, ma'am' and scurried away.
Maybe she was just being paranoid. Given how she felt after such a rough rehearsal combined with the number of drinks she'd had thus far, she wouldn't have put it past herself. Still, she couldn't help but wonder. She'd guessed for a long time that Rachel liked girls, long before the Elektra complex ensued. Rachel later came to admit being bisexual, Shelby coming to the mildly unpleasant realization that boys could still definitely come into the picture should Rachel want to end their relationship in the near future. The thought of Puck, Finn or some hunkering, jackass frat boy coming along and corrupting her little girl made her feel slightly less guilty about fucking her.
She considered her skewed logic for a brief moment before emitting a dark chuckle, louder than she meant to, a slight hiccup escaping her throat. God, she was fucking terrible!
Quinn, on the other hand, had been a little bit harder to peg, at first. Up until she and Rachel had become friends, she'd never really paid much attention. Over time, though, judging from her interactions with Rachel, and to a lesser extent Santana, she'd definitely picked up on some slight, albeit closeted tendencies. Granted, she hid it well under that aloof, Catholic, ice-queen façade. None of the glee kids ever would've noticed and heaven knows, Will was much too oblivious. Even Rachel, for all the time she spent with her, never seemed to guess. Shelby knew better. Her experience with women far outweighed her daughter's.
She thought back ruefully to some snide comment Sue had made shortly after Santana came out.
Well, shit. Is everyone at this school gay now?
She nearly coughed up her drink.
She stopped to consider the seriousness of the situation, any further implications it could've potentially led to. What did this mean for the two of them now? In spite of Rachel's protests, she knew she'd have to end it sooner or later. It was one thing to try and have a semblance of normalcy in their relationship at home, but what about New York? She'd already accepted another job months ago, rented another apartment for them before then. They'd be set to move in by the end of the summer. She couldn't very well stay behind in Lima. Rachel would most definitely want the distance then, partly to punish her for ending it and partly to spend more time with Quinn or whomever the hell else.
She choked back the bitter tears brewing in her eyes.
And what of the eventual separation? Rachel would, no doubt, initially object to it as she always did. There was no way she'd let Shelby go without a fight. And when Shelby remained firm and told her no, once Rachel finally realized she wouldn't get her way this time, then what? Would she pack up and leave before graduation? Would she even allow her mother to see her graduate at all? Would she even bother keeping in contact with her after that?
It took everything within her not to beat her fist against the counter.
As much as she'd wanted to end all this months, even years, before, she never would've forgiven herself for breaking Rachel's heart. Not when she'd just gotten her baby back only a few short years ago. They should've stopped sooner. Much sooner. Nipped it in the bud early on when they still had the chance to develop a somewhat normal mother-daughter relationship. Sure, it would've been far from conventional, but even so, given enough time, that first night would have hopefully dwindled into a distant, vague memory. Now what the hell was she going to do?
You let her go. Be the mother you're supposed to be… the one you should've been in the first place.
If Rachel would still let her.
She wiped furiously at hot tears gushing down her cheeks. "Get over yourself, for fuck's sake."
God, was she sorry for Rachel or just herself? Sorry that, because of her own pathetic actions, she could potentially lose her baby for good? Sorry that, once again, because of her, things would never be the same? Did she really expect things to stay this way forever?
Fucking cunt. What's wrong with you?!
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly, ready to claw her own eyes out. She'd admitted to Rachel once before that she didn't want to stop and to this day, she meant it. She bit her tongue in silent admonition. It was wrong to even admit to such a thing in the first place. What was the point anyway? Her little girl would eventually grow out of all this and leave, as she rightfully should. There was no use in holding onto this sick, little fantasy any longer. It was over. Done. Long before she even realized. She'd expected this to happen all along, but never this soon.
And then, Barbra wept…. You fucking idiot.
"Get it together, Corcoran. Jesus fuck's sake Christ," she seethed, one hand fiercely gripping the underside of the counter, the other shielding her eyes. The bartender turned respectfully away.
It's over now. Just accept it. If anything goes wrong, you have no one but yourself to blame. If she doesn't want to see you… or talk to you again, it'll be your own damn fault.
Her heart lurched, sharp pangs of guilt clutching her chest.
Suppose Rachel did ultimately choose to leave, whether it be out of heartbreak or finding someone else? What would she do with herself? She'd already missed out on so much of her little girl's life and had so little time to make up for it. And how had she made up for that lost time? Shameless fucking and occasional bouts of sadism. And there was no denying she'd enjoyed it every bit as much as Rachel did if not more. But there was more, so much more.
Long, honest conversations at dinner; late night baking over the weekend, watching Rachel's legs swing back and forth over the kitchen counter, often times dressed in nothing but one of Shelby's old nightshirts; curling up on the couch together as Yentl or Funny Girl played, the blush she caught on Rachel's cheek when she kissed her temple; singing at the piano, Rachel sitting in her lap as she played; waking up to Rachel snuggling into her after a bad dream; listening to her prattle on about her future, confide in her all her hopes, dreams, insecurities, fears.
She bowed her head, swept her hair out of her eyes, praying no one was watching her in her shame.
Heaven knows, she'd miss those small, gentle hands rubbing her shoulders after a long day, playing in her hair, palming her bare back; that shapely, hungry mouth whether it was smiling sweetly at her, whispering low into her ear, or colliding with her own.
She tipped her glass all the way back, wanting nothing more than to drown herself in it somehow.
Above all, she'd miss everything that was unabashedly Rachel. Her melodic voice, her fierce temper, her wild ambition, her bouncy, unending enthusiasm.
"Stop it," she whispered doggedly to herself. "Fucking selfish."
Everything would be fine. It had to be. She swore she would never leave her daughter again and she meant it. To hell with whatever their old relationship even was. She was still her mother, always would be at the end of the day. She didn't need to fuck her to show how much she loved her. In time, Rachel would move on and eventually, so would she. This was only the first step.
Her little Ray would finally have the chance to stop this and move onto something healthier for a change. And she would still be there, forever supporting her on the sidelines where she belonged. They would find a way to put it all behind them and everything would be fine.
"It'll be okay," she repeated firmly. "She'll be great. And you will be just fine."
Everything would be fine. It had to be. Even if she couldn't stop crying.
She paid the tab, leaving a hefty tip before taking a few wobbly steps to wander off and fix her makeup in the bathroom. She rinsed her mouth, remembering she still had to go home and face Rachel after this, pausing to stare long and hard into her reflection. Speckles of red still shone clearly around her glassy green orbs. She blinked a couple of times to clear them and failed. She sighed wearily, giving herself a few more seconds to compose herself before walking out. She fumbled through her purse for her keys when a familiar voice pricked her ears.
"In all my years…"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Never have I seen such a pretty, little mess."
Her stomach fell, jaw dropping slightly at every word. There was no mistaking that helium-induced voice anywhere. No. It couldn't be.
She turned slowly, paling at the revelation. "Oh, my fuckin' god." She could've died then and there. "April?!"
A/N: TBC
If anyone's still out there.