"Just give it up already."
Rachel glares defiantly at Quinn. "Oh no. I can still win this if I can just get you to land on one of my hotels."
Quinn glares back, watching as Rachel rolls the dice. They've been playing Monopoly for the better part of the Sunday afternoon with the Berry parents. Leroy had gone bankrupt at around the two-hour mark, and Hiram had followed shortly after, leaving Quinn and Rachel to duke it out. The game has brought out both of their competitive natures, and Rachel lets out a low grumble when she lands on one of his properties and begrudgingly hands over the rent. He smirks. "Or you could just make this easier on everyone and forfeit now."
"That's not going to happen." She smiles victoriously when he lands on one of her properties, and he forks over just about what Rachel had paid him in her last turn.
Quinn raises an eyebrow, glancing at Hiram and Leroy, who are watching them play with some amusement. "Is she always this competitive with Monopoly?"
"Yep," Hiram confirms. "And most other games and contests."
"She doesn't really take losing too well," Leroy admits. "Competitive little thing we raised."
"Sure, laugh it up," Rachel grumbles, rolling the dice and sighing with relief when she lands on her own train station. "One day when I'm accepting my fifth Tony Award, I'll be sure to mention that it was my parents' snide little comments that gave me the drive to succeed." Quinn smirks, highly amused by the interplay between Rachel and her parents. He'd never be able to banter like this with his own family. Rachel looks at Quinn hopefully. "You know, if you give me Atlantic and Pacific, maybe I could give you Short Line."
Quinn frowns. It's a tempting offer, since he already has the other three railroads, but, "Then you'd have the entire two sides of the board. No thanks." Rachel pouts, looking at him with her brown eyes. "Oh no. You are not tricking me into losing with those puppy eyes of yours. No."
"Please?"
They stare at each other for a minute before he caves. He really can't help himself. "Fine." Rachel grins, fishing out the deeds. Quinn sees the Berry parents exchange an amused glance, but ignores them.
It's a terrible decision. Rachel makes short work of setting up houses on most of her properties, and after a slew of unlucky dice rolls, Quinn is forced to forfeit. Rachel breaks out into a ridiculous victory dance, and Leroy shakes his head. "So much for raising a gracious winner."
Quinn just sighs, smiling. He does like winning, but seeing Rachel happy is nice too, so he doesn't mind all that much. Leroy comes back into the living room from a trip to the kitchen, carrying a tray of drinks. Quinn accepts one when it's offered. "Thanks, Mr. Berry."
Hiram trades a glance with his husband. "You know, you should really drop it with the 'Dr.' and the 'Mr.' I think you've been hanging around us long enough to use our names, huh?"
Leroy nods encouragingly. Quinn's a little startled, though Rachel is smiling widely at both her dads. Once that surprise sets in though, he's surprised again by how good it makes him feel. Hiram and Leroy's invitation makes him feel more accepted, and he can't help but feel like he's gained some ground somehow. So he nods, smiling slightly. "Okay, I'll keep it mind."
"Good." Leroy stands up. "I almost forgot, I have something to show everyone." He steps out of the room, returning with an envelope. It turns out to be full of prints of the pictures Rachel and Quinn (mostly Quinn) had taken on their New York trip. "I've been meaning to pick these up at the printer's, but I just got around to it today," Leroy explains as the four of them eagerly gather around the photographs he spreads out on the coffee table. "It's my first time seeing them too, I wanted to wait until everyone was here."
"Oh, that one's going up on the wall," Hiram says, smiling appreciatively at a photo of Rachel in Union Square Park, the wind blowing through her hair as she laughs at something off-frame. Quinn smiles too as he remembers taking the picture after lunch with Shelby their first full day in New York.
"You two look so cute here," Leroy gushes, picking up a photograph of Rachel and Quinn, his arm wrapped around her shoulders in Battery Park. This one was taken by Shelby while they were waiting for the ferry to Liberty Island.
"I like this one better," Rachel says, holding a picture Quinn had taken of the both of them, the camera held a bit awkwardly at arm's length. It's a little lopsided, but both of them are grinning wildly, and Quinn has to say that's one of his favorites too. He'd taken it that morning in Central Park, just after they'd said those three magical words to each other.
Leroy flips critically through the other photos Quinn had taken of various sights around Manhattan. "You're pretty good at this, Quinn," he compliments. "Rachel told me you took most of these."
Quinn shrugs, pleased. "I'm just glad they turned out well. Thanks for loaning us your camera."
"You don't have your own yet, right?"
"No, but I'm planning on saving up for one. I had a lot of fun taking those photos in New York." They have an old digital camera at home, and he's been tinkering with that. It's not a very good one though, and he's interested in the hobby enough for him to consider investing in a better model.
Leroy smiles. "I'm a bit of an amateur photographer myself. I don't have as much time for it as I'd like, but I like going out on the weekends to take some shots. You should come with me sometime."
Quinn nods politely, though the suggestion makes him a bit tense. "That sounds nice."
"Well, this is for you." Leroy produces another envelope. "I took the liberty of printing copies of the photos for you too."
Quinn takes the envelope, taken aback. "Oh, thank you. I, uh, I'll pay you back if you want."
Leroy waves him off. "Don't be ridiculous. I have a discount at the printer, and besides, they're your photos. You should have a copy."
"Thanks." He smiles faintly, appreciating that Rachel's father had taken the time and thought to give him this.
Today has been surprising, to say the least. It's rare that Hiram and Leroy are able to get the same day off, and when they do, they often spend the time with Rachel as a family. When Quinn had found out that they had today off, he'd been more than prepared to let them have their time. But to his surprise, Rachel had told him her parents wanted him to come over anyway. It's like they're starting to include him in their small family, and it means more to him than he can ever say.
He's still a bit wary of overstepping his bounds though, and he declines their invitation to join them for dinner. They're going to a restaurant a couple of towns over, and Quinn thinks they should probably have some time for themselves. So he heads home, wondering idly if his mom will be there. She's usually out most weekends with friends, and he doesn't expect today to be any different.
It's been a little more than a week since that painfully awkward chat with his mom, and he hasn't quite been able to work up to another attempt. He hasn't brought it up with Rachel either. He knows she's not the biggest fan of his mom. It's fine with him; they've already met and that's enough for now.
To his surprise, his mom's car is in the driveway when he gets home, and there's another unknown car parked on the curb. He's suspicious, because their last unexpected visitor had been his father a few months ago. That hadn't been a good visit. He ventures into the house, hearing his mom's voice in the living room.
"Whose car is that in the…" He trails off when he sees just who the car belongs to. His mother is in the living room, and seated opposite her is… "Frank."
His older brother nods at him with a smile. "Hey squirt."
"H-hey. I, uh, didn't know you were visiting." Quinn shakes himself, taking a closer look at his brother. He hasn't seen Frank in a while, not since Judy and Quinn had moved to Lima at any rate. While Quinn takes more after their mother's slim build, Frank has inherited Russell Fabray's stockier physique, standing a few inches shorter and several pounds heavier than Quinn. He's also inherited Russell's ice blue eyes, which Quinn sometimes (like now) thinks are a little too similar to their father's for comfort.
"Yeah, it was a spur of the moment decision," Frank says. "I'm heading up to my company's Boston office, we're negotiating a buyout. I thought I'd stop in for a few days. I'm leaving on Wednesday."
"Callie's still in LA?"
"Yeah, she booked a couple of commercials. They're filming this week." Frank's wife and soulmate is a (mildly successful) actress, and Quinn lets himself smile for a moment at the similarity between his soulmate and his brother's. It doesn't last long though, because he's still reeling a little from Frank's sudden appearance.
Judy ends up cooking a nice family dinner for the three of them. It's a little disquieting though how similar this dinner is to countless ones from Quinn's childhood. The conversation is mostly dominated by Frank, and it reminds Quinn unpleasantly of their father. Russell had always been the biggest presence in their family, and while Frank isn't as imposing or intimidating as their father, the two are a little too similar for Quinn to be completely comfortable. It doesn't help that Judy falls back into her old persona, mostly agreeing with everything Frank says as she sips at a glass of pinot.
Quinn shakes his head. He's still a little off-kilter from his brother's sudden appearance. He's probably just seeing things.
"So, Luke, Mom says you got into Columbia," Franks says, looking at Quinn. "I gotta say, I didn't see that one coming."
Quinn tenses, and he focuses on pouring himself a glass of water, meticulously filling it two-thirds of the way. "I've got the acceptance letter to prove it, you want to see?"
Frank shrugs. "I'm just saying, your grades weren't all that great before. But you should have applied to Yale and Harvard, if you're planning on going east for college. I mean, Columbia's great and all, but you know Harvard and Yale are better. That's why I applied, and I got accepted to both too."
"Did you apply to those schools, Quinn?" Judy asks, dabbing a napkin at her mouth. "Or did you not get in? It's okay if you didn't."
His chest tightens. "I didn't apply." He'd probably never live it down if he hadn't gotten in. Better to never find out. "And if Harvard and Yale are so awesome, why'd you go to Stanford?"
"Callie wanted to study over there." Frank quirks an eyebrow at Quinn. "Is that why you're going to New York? Is your soulmate there?"
"No, she's not," Quinn replies shortly. Not yet, anyway. He knows it's probably a good opening to tell his brother about Rachel, but he's reluctant to share.
"Oh well, at least Columbia's in the list of top ten law schools. Or maybe you can go to Harvard for law, if you're dead set on staying on the east coast."
Quinn starts cutting into his roast a bit harder than he intends. "Maybe I don't want to study law."
Judy turns to look at him, eyes wide. "You're not going to study law?"
"Don't be stupid, of course you're gonna study law," Frank dismisses. "Don't tell me you're going to Columbia for your art stuff?"
Quinn scowls. Ever since his talk with Rachel after they'd toured Columbia, he's been toying with the idea that maybe he doesn't really have to be a lawyer. Maybe he isn't going to be a professional artist, but there are other things he could do. Besides, "Would it be so bad if I were?"
Frank scoffs. "Come on, Luke, that's just kid stuff. You need a real job."
Judy nods in agreement, picking up her wine glass. "I'm sure your art is lovely, Quinn, but it's not very lucrative, is it?"
"Your soulmate's not going to want a guy who just draws pictures for a living," Frank adds. "I mean, what kind of life are you going to be able to give her?"
Quinn's jaw clenches. His family has a point. He's known all his life that he's expected to have the wife, the kids, and the house with the white picket fence. Part and parcel of that is the high-paying job required to keep all that. Rachel says she wouldn't care if he wants to be a starving artist, but maybe he cares. What kind of man would he be if he can't provide for his own family?
"Look, all I'm saying is that you've wanted to be a lawyer since you were a kid, right?" Frank continues. "And it brings in the money. You know what I'm making right now? It's big, Luke. And the best part is, all you have to do is pass the bar. You wouldn't believe the kind of idiots that make it into law these days, so you can too."
Quinn honestly can't tell if Frank doesn't hear the insults in his words or if he simply doesn't care. Frustrated, he opens his mouth to fire back, to call him out on it, but the words don't leave his mouth. Instead, what comes out is, "I got into Columbia as an English major. Pre-law."
It's the kind of answer he would have given to appease his father, and Frank nods approvingly. "That's the spirit."
All of a sudden Quinn loses his appetite. He abruptly pushes his chair back. "Well, this has been great, but you know, I've got school tomorrow, so…"
He escapes to his room, barely resisting slamming the door shut behind him. He takes a deep breath, feeling suddenly drained of energy as he tries to sort out his emotions. Dr. Miles says it might help if he tries to put names to his feelings, and right now, he feels hurt by his brother's dismissal, both of his intelligence and his art. He feels worried that he might not be able to take care of Rachel the way he's supposed to. And finally, he feels angry with himself, because as much as he wants to believe he can stand up for himself now, he apparently can't do so against his own family.
When his alarm clock blares to life the next morning, Quinn wants nothing more than to curl back under the covers. He'd been unable to sleep the previous evening, and had ended up taking a midnight drive to clear his head. He'd been tempted to see if Rachel was awake last night, but had decided against it. While she's told him to call her if he ever needs to, he doesn't want to bother her unnecessarily.
He drags himself out of bed, mechanically going through his morning routine. This isn't going to be one of his good days. Frank is staying in the guest bedroom for the next couple of days, and Quinn finds him and Judy in the dining room having breakfast. Quinn picks up a banana and is out the door before they can attempt to start a conversation.
He'd texted Rachel last night that he run late, and she's waiting for him at his locker when he gets there. He's still in a bad mood, and he wordlessly opens his locker.
"Good morning," she greets. He gives a mumbled reply as he pulls his books out, and she frowns. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Well, I am, okay?" He shuts his locker, wanting to do the same with this conversation. But it seems Rachel is in a persistent mood today.
"Did something happen this morning?" She pauses, eyeing the bags beneath his eyes that he knows are darker than usual. "Did you get enough sleep? Are you feeling okay?" She reaches up to feel his forehead, and Quinn snaps.
"Would you just stop fussing for one second?" he hisses, batting her hand away.
Rachel recoils, surprise and hurt flickering over her face. "That's not okay, Quinn," she says firmly, quietly. "If you're having one of your bad days, then tell me, but don't take it out on me."
He immediately feels like an absolute jerk. This is exactly why he doesn't deserve her. The thought just makes him feel even worse, and he pushes the thought away. He's been working on these things, his temper and his low self-esteem. Rachel has been working on things of her own too, like her tendency to let people walk all over her in matters not pertaining to glee. It confuses Quinn a little how she can be so assertive in the choir room but rather unconfident and uncertain when it comes to more personal situations. Nevertheless, they try to help each other out as much as they can, and he takes a deep breath, trying to reorient himself.
"I'm sorry. That was – that was uncalled for. I'm sorry. I just –" He exhales. "It's not a good day."
Her face softens slightly, and she nods. "Okay. I forgive you." She starts to reach out to touch him, but pulls her hand back. "I guess I was being a little pushy. I'm sorry too."
"It's okay." The bell rings, and Quinn tentatively reaches for her hand. To his relief, she lets him take it, and they head to class together. "We – maybe we can talk, later? After school?"
It's a relatively new thing, him actually requesting to talk, and Rachel smiles, gives his hand a squeeze. "Of course, Quinn. Whenever you're ready."
..
Quinn is quiet for the rest of the day, but it goes by relatively fast. He has lunch with Rachel and Mike and Tina, and by the time they get to Rachel's house after school, he's feeling a bit better. He follows Rachel up to her room, where they settle down on her bed, pulling out their homework. Eventually, he clears his throat.
"Hey." He waits until she looks at him. "I'm really sorry again. For snapping at you this morning."
"It's okay."
"Thanks for calling me out on it."
She smiles at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. "Anytime."
Quinn takes a moment before speaking. "Frank's in town."
Rachel looks surprised. "Frank, as in your brother?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Is he here for your birthday?"
The question brings him up short. He's almost forgotten that his birthday is this Friday. "Uh, no. He's leaving on Wednesday. He just… showed up, I guess."
She frowns. "Is that why you were upset this morning? I thought you two got along alright."
Quinn sighs, fidgeting with his pen. "Sort of. I mean, he left for college when I was nine, then he stayed in California and he was only back for holidays and stuff." His mood starts to sink again as he thinks about his brother. He's barely told Rachel about Frank, and it's mostly because his feelings for his brother are mixed, at best. "I couldn't do anything without being compared to Frank, and it always… wasn't enough."
"What did Frank have to say about it?"
Quinn sighs. "Mostly nothing, I guess."
"He didn't… try to stop your parents, or anything like that?" Rachel asks, each word measured. Quinn shakes his head.
"He was just… really good at everything, you know? School, sports, all that. Football team captain, high school valedictorian. Top five in his classes at Stanford, graduated magna cum laude. And I was just… me." He can't help cringing at how pathetic that sounds.
Rachel hums, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I think you're pretty awesome."
The words make him smile, albeit weakly. "Yeah?"
She leans over to kiss him on the cheek. "Definitely." His poor mood eases a little. Being around Rachel always helps, and he's glad he has her now.
He sighs again. "Don't get me wrong, Frank had his moments. He's the one who taught me how to ice skate, how to ride a bike. But…"
"But?"
"He's never been one to hold back on telling me what I'm doing wrong," he says slowly. "He always thinks he knows best, and he doesn't –" He lets out a frustrated breath, standing up. "He says things, sometimes. Like last night, he made this comment on how he surprised he was that I got into Columbia. Like he didn't believe I was smart enough. Then when I said maybe I didn't want to study law, he just acted like it was so stupid that I wanted to do something else, and how my 'art stuff' wasn't a real job. And my Mom…" He lets out a sharp laugh. "She acted just like she did when my dad was around, and –" He sinks back onto the bed, suddenly tired. "I'm pretty sure Frank still talks to our dad."
Rachel frowns. "If I had a sibling, I can't imagine being on speaking terms with someone who almost killed them."
"He's always been close to Dad," Quinn admits. "To both our parents, really. But he's closer to Dad than to Mom. Way closer than I am." Which wasn't really saying much, seeing as he had practically no relationship with either of his parents. "I guess it's only natural. He's almost ten years older than me, so they had all that time to bond and whatever."
"Still, I would have thought he'd be more understanding of your feelings. I mean, you grew up with the same parents. He knows what your dad's like."
Quinn sighs, picking at a corner of the quilt covering Rachel's bed. "That… might not be entirely true."
Rachel tilts her head. "What do you mean?"
He takes some time to think. "It came up in therapy once," he says. "We were talking about my father, and family stuff." He smooths his fingers over the cloth of the quilt. "He wasn't always – abusive, you know." It's still hard to talk about, and he practically forces the words out. "Critical, yeah, but not – when I was little, he could be fun. He'd have barbecues in the backyard, he took me and Frank to baseball games, football games… He and Frank had that in common, they were both really into sports. He drank, and he could get mean, but it wasn't often."
"What changed?"
"I don't know," he admits softly. "He started drinking more, and he started… hitting me… I was around ten. Then when I was eleven, after the summer…" He swallows, and he feels Rachel's hand creeping into his. "My grades dropped for a while, and sometimes I would get angry about stupid things, or I'd – I'd space out, and then he'd get angry." He clears his throat. "Frank was gone by then, and Dr. Miles suggested maybe he remembers Dad differently. Which makes sense, because after he left for college he didn't really come home for long periods of time. He didn't see the way Dad was later."
"You didn't tell him?"
He shakes his head, and they're both quiet for a long moment. "I just – they're always telling me what I should be doing. Like everything I am doing is wrong." He sighs. "They just… make me feel inferior, I guess. That's it."
Rachel stays quiet for a few moments longer before a tiny smile appears on her lips. "You know, my dads tell me sometimes that no one can make you feel inferior without your permission."
"That sounds like it's from a movie or something."
"It is," Rachel agrees with some amusement, "but I doubt you've seen the movie it comes from. Still, I think it's true."
Quinn takes a second to ponder it. "Maybe. But it's not really that simple."
"No, it isn't." She frowns. "And I imagine it's a lot harder to convince yourself if it's your family telling you you're inferior." She puts a hand on his arm. "But it's not true. You're an amazing person, Quinn, and I can see how hard you try to be better. I've seen you learn from your mistakes, and I know how strong you've had to be to overcome everything you've been through. You're not inferior to anyone, Quinn Fabray."
Her eyes blaze with determination as they bore into his, and Quinn can't look away. It's overwhelming, sometimes, how much she believes in him, and it terrifies him sometimes that even if he tries his best, he might fall short of her expectations. Trying his best isn't always enough, after all. Even so, something about her makes him believe that maybe he won't fall short.
Maybe for once, he'll be enough.
"I don't really feel qualified to advise you on this," Rachel admits. "My family is everything to me, and I can't imagine…" Her eyes are sad. "It kills me, knowing that you didn't have that growing up. But you've got my support now. I believe in you. And like I've told you before, I'll keep reminding you as long as I have to. Until you see yourself the way I see you."
She pulls him into a hug then. It takes him a moment, but eventually he lets himself melt into her embrace, a shuddering sigh leaving his chest. He doesn't know if it's because of their bond as soulmates, but it's just so easy with her. He's never talked to anyone about his feelings about his family like this. He's never let himself be as vulnerable as he is with Rachel. It's scary, but she's just slipped under his guard so easily. And really, he doesn't mind. So he leans his head against hers, whispering, "Thank you."
Rachel gives him a smile as he pulls away. "Are you seeing them again later?"
Quinn hesitates. His mom had called earlier to tell him that the three of them had dinner reservations at some restaurant, but, "I don't want to."
"I can come with you, if you want. If that wouldn't be imposing."
He blinks, surprised by the offer. He'd certainly like her support if he has to go for another dinner with his family, but… "No," he says. "I mean, no, you wouldn't be imposing, but you don't have to come to dinner."
"You don't want me to meet your family?"
"No, I –" He sighs, unsure how to explain. "It's more like I don't want you to meet them."
Rachel nods thoughtfully. "I can't say I really want to meet them either," she admits. "But I probably will, at some point. Whenever you're ready." He relaxes, smiling at her gratefully. "Would you like to stay over for dinner instead? I'm willing to provide an alibi to your family if they ask."
He brightens. "I don't think the alibi will be necessary. But yeah. I'd like to stay, if that's okay."
"It's perfectly okay. You know you have a standing invitation here." Rachel grins. "You can help me make dinner, and afterward, you can give me your thoughts on my NYADA audition piece."
"Deal."
..
They end up making a vegetable stir fry, with tofu for Rachel and Hiram and chicken for Quinn and Leroy. The Berry fathers are appreciative, and conversation flows easily around the dinner table. Quinn is still a little withdrawn, but he does his best to contribute, and it strikes him just how different everything is from his dinner last night with his own family. The Berrys laugh and joke with each other, and they actually listen to what everyone (Quinn included) is saying.
As promised, he listens to Rachel's shortlist of songs for her NYADA audition after dinner, and tries to make constructive comments. He's not a musician, so he's not really sure what he's doing, and he thinks Rachel sounds amazing singing anything, but she appreciates his comments nonetheless.
They head downstairs where Rachel coaxes Hiram into accompanying her on his grand piano, and after a few minutes, Quinn decides it's time to head home. It's getting late, and he wants to beat Judy and Frank home so he can be in his room before they get there.
"I can walk you to your car," Rachel says, trying to shuffle some of her sheet music into some semblance of order. "Just give me a second."
"It's fine, Rachel, I can see myself out." He smiles, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek (her dad is watching). "I'll pick you up tomorrow?"
She beams at him. "Okay. Drive safe."
Quinn starts to head out, but Leroy emerges from the den. "I'll walk you out, Quinn."
Quinn blinks. "I, uh, that's okay, Mr… Leroy, I'll be fine."
"I'm sure you will," Leroy smiles. "But it's only good manners." He gestures toward the front door, and Quinn obeys after a moment's hesitation, leaving Rachel and Hiram in the living room.
It's rare that Rachel leaves him alone with her dads. In fact, he can only recall one time, and it had only been for a minute while she went to get something in the other room. He knows he's being ridiculous; Rachel's right inside the house, and Leroy isn't going to hurt him. Leroy isn't like –
No. Don't think of him.
He manages to shove those thoughts away, but he can't stop himself from tensing when the front door closes behind Leroy, and he immediately shifts so he can see the older man. Leroy raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I just wanted a quick word. Don't worry, it's nothing serious."
Quinn nods, still a bit tense. He knows he's overreacting, and he's a little annoyed with himself. "Okay… uh, what is it?"
Leroy studies him for a moment. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay."
"I… what?"
"Hiram and I noticed you were a little jumpy tonight. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but…" The older man sighs. "Look, you're smart, Quinn. I know that you know that we know the gist of your family situation."
Quinn flinches at that. Of course they knew. They were Rachel's parents; they had probably seen most of the marks his father had given him reflected on her. But it was one thing to know that they knew, and another thing to hear it out loud. "Did Rachel say something to you?"
"No, she didn't. I don't think she'd tell us anything you didn't want her to. You can trust her."
"I know."
Leroy nods. "I'll keep it simple. I know Hiram set you up with a therapist. But we wanted you to know that if you ever want to talk to someone else, we're available."
Quinn opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's not entirely sure what to say. "Why?" he asks finally. "You don't have to – just because Rachel and I –"
"It's not just about Rachel," Leroy tells him. "You're a good kid, Quinn. You deserve a support system, and we'd like to be part of that, if you'll let us. Regardless of whether you and Rachel end up together, you're family now." Leroy smiles at him gently. "Just keep it in mind, okay?"
Quinn swallows thickly, nods because he doesn't know what to say. "I will." He hesitates. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Quinn."
The next day passes by uneventfully. Rachel has a meeting with her vocal teacher for her NYADA audition, and after dropping Rachel off at her house, he returns to his own. It's empty for now, and he's happy not to have to deal with his family just yet. He doesn't have much homework to do, so he retreats into the basement to work some of his feelings out on his punching bag. He pulls on a set of gloves, and the punch he lands on the sandbag makes a satisfying smack.
His family is… confusing. They're his family. Of course he still cares about them. But he's not under any illusions. He's seen the way his parents treat Frank and the way they treat him, and it's different. He can admit that some part of him resents his brother for being so perfect. Maybe it isn't Frank's fault that he's good at practically everything, and it's mostly their parents' fault for comparing them so much. But it's still not fair, and he can't help it.
He thinks back to dinner the other night, and he scowls, landing several solid hits on the punching bag. It still smarts how dismissive his brother was, and it's frustrating because he doesn't even ask what Quinn wants to do with his life. Frank just assumes that Quinn's going to go along with the status quo, and he acts like anything else Quinn wants to do is somehow inferior.
Frank has… well, he's changed. Quinn doesn't know his brother, hasn't known him since he was nine years old. And he has the sinking feeling that over the last nine years, Frank has become more like their father than Quinn can deal with.
He sighs, a hollow feeling in his chest. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to come home. Being alone makes him morose, and being alone in this house makes him brood. It's not a good combination, and his mood sinks even further.
"Hey Luke."
Quinn spins around to face the door, blinking when he sees Frank standing at the foot of the basement stairs. "Hi." It's just the two of them, and he pushes down his sudden frisson of nerves, because it's just Frank. Still, he shifts around the sandbag, angling himself so he can keep his eyes on his brother.
Frank moves to one of the boxes lying against one wall of the basement. They contain the things Quinn and his mom have decided to put off unpacking, and Frank fishes out an old football. It strikes Quinn again how similarly built he is to Russell, and it makes him uncomfortable.
"Spend a lot of time down here?" Frank asks, tossing the football lightly.
Quinn flushes, immediately defensive. He likes spending time here. It helps him think, and it's an outlet when he's upset (like he has been since Frank showed up in Lima). "It's good cardio. You should try it."
Frank shrugs, tossing the football in the air and catching it. "Not a lot of time with work." He grins suddenly. "Hey, Mom tells me you found a girlfriend. That was fast." He smirks. "Do you need me to give you the Talk?"
Quinn scowls at the suggestion. "No." He pulls off his gloves, giving up on his workout for now.
"Oh, come on, Luke, it's just a joke. And don't worry, it's just us guys here. You've probably already done the deed, right? I mean, Callie and I did it when were sixteen."
Quinn's heart sinks a little at the reminder that and Rachel are moving at a slower-than-normal pace (mainly because of him). But he hasn't even talked about it with Rachel, and he's not about to talk about it with his brother. He covers it up with, "Wouldn't you like to know."
Frank smirks, throws the football at him in a low arc. Quinn catches it on reflex. "Why didn't you come home with Mom for Christmas?"
"In case you haven't noticed, this is our home. We live here."
Frank smirks. "Misinterpretation. Interesting tactic." Quinn shrugs. He knows he's being difficult, but he's not really in the mood to be otherwise. Frank considers him. "Were you scared of running into Dad?"
The question makes Quinn's teeth clench. He isn't scared of Russell Fabray. He isn't. And the fact that Frank thinks he is rankles. But his father isn't something he wants to talk about, and he tamps down his anger, throwing the football back to his brother a little harder than he means to.
Frank catches it easily. "You know, I talked to Dad last week."
Quinn stills. He'd suspected that Frank still talked to their father, but actually hearing it makes him angry. It feels almost like a betrayal.
"He's looking for a new associate at the firm," Frank continues. "You know he's always wanted us to go into the business with him."
The idea of working with his father makes Quinn sick. "How is good ol' Dad?" he asks viciously. "Still keeping the criminal element of Springfield out of prison?"
Frank rolls his eyes. "Grow up, Luke, you know that's just the job."
The patronizing tone infuriates Quinn. His family has talked down to him his whole life, and he's just so sick of it. "So you're here to talk him up? What are you, his spokesperson now?"
"Oh, I'm sorry for wanting our family back in one piece," Frank says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, it's been two years. You have to get over it sometime."
Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. A disbelieving laugh leaves his lips. "Get over what? Hmm? You want me to get over the fact that he almost killed me? He put me in a fucking coma and you want me to get over it?! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Extenuating circumstances," Frank fires back. "You know how Dad gets about his perfect family image. He thought you'd gotten your girlfriend pregnant, what was he supposed to do?"
"Uh, how about not try to murder me?!" His voice rises in a shout, and this is exactly why Quinn didn't want to talk to Frank. He stares at his brother, a dull roaring in his ears. It's almost like staring at his father again, blaming Quinn for things that aren't his fault. "Extenuating circumstances, my ass. So it's my fault, is that what you're saying? You think I deserved it?"
"You think you're the only one who got hit in that house?" Frank challenges. It brings Quinn up short. "Yeah. Back when I was nine. And after that, he stopped. You know why? Because I got it together. I adapted. You just – you just needed to learn how to keep your head down."
Well, that answer the question of whether Russell had hit Frank too, but right now Quinn is too angry to care. "So you do think I deserved it. Good to know."
"Don't be stupid, Luke, I'm not saying you deserved it!" Frank reins himself in, glaring at Quinn. "All I'm saying is, you know how he is about the family reputation. He acted in the heat of the moment." He exhales. "Fine, maybe 'get over it' was a poor choice of words. But he's still our dad. Are you seriously going to hold a grudge forever?"
"You know what, yeah, maybe I am! How can you even talk to him? After what he did to me, after what he did to Mom?" Quinn scoffs. "Tell me, is he still screwing his secretary? Or is it the receptionist now? Or is he doing one of his new interns again? Maybe if he cares about his precious reputation so much, he should stop fucking anything in a skirt!"
Frank's face screws up in disgust. "That's none of our business. He's a grown man, he can do what he wants."
"Is that what you tell your wife?"
Quinn immediately knows he's crossed a line. Frank drops the football and strides up to him, glowering, and he's never resembled their father as much as he does now. "I really hope you're not implying what I think you are. I would never cheat on my wife."
"Is that right?" Quinn knows he should stop, he knows he's being an asshole, but he's just so hurt and angry and he can't help himself. "Are you sure this 'business trip' to Boston is just for work? I mean, that's what Dad always used to tell Mom, and we all know how that turned out –"
He's cut off by a fist slamming against his jaw, and yeah, maybe he should have expected that. The blow knocks him sideways, but he stays up, smirking maliciously at his brother through the pain. "Huh. Looks like you turned out exactly like Dad after all."
Frank glares at him, shaking out his hand. "Grow up, Quinn."
He stalks out of the basement, and Quinn stares after him, the side of his face throbbing. The front door slams distantly. Quinn's left feeling a little lost. Mostly numb. Part of him isn't entirely sure what just happened.
It takes an eternity for him to move, and when he does, he goes straight to his car with a single destination in mind.
..
The door flies open before he can even knock. "What happened?" Rachel demands, reaching out to touch Quinn's chin, her fingers light as she inspects the damage. There's a hint of a beginning bruise on her own jaw, and Quinn sighs, just deeply, inexplicably tired.
"I did something stupid."
Rachel's frown deepens. After a second, she tugs him into her house, pulling him into the kitchen where she produces an ice pack. "Here."
Quinn obediently takes it, presses it against his jaw. The cold feels good. "Where are your dads?"
"Running errands. They'll be back with dinner in an hour or so." She bites her lip. "Quinn, what happened? Who did that to you? You really need to stop getting into fights, this makes the second one this year, and –"
"It wasn't a fight," he says dully. "Not really."
Rachel stares at him for a moment. "Did your brother do that to you?" she asks, putting things together.
His jaw clenches painfully. "Can we go upstairs?"
"Fine." They head upstairs to her room, and Quinn sits down on the edge of the bed, still holding the ice pack to his face. Rachel sits beside him, gently pulling it away to look at the bruise. "It doesn't look too bad," she decides. "Not as bad as the one from the fight with Finn, at least. Now, tell me what happened."
Quinn sighs, then recounts his conversation with Frank. Rachel is oddly quiet when he finishes, and when he looks there's a blank expression on her face.
"Is he still at your house?" she asks calmly.
"No, he left before I did." He looks at her sideways. "You're not going over there."
Her voice rises. "Quinn, he needs to know that this is not okay, he can't just hit peoplewhen he gets angry, he can't just hit you –"
"Leave it alone, Rachel, okay?" he says tiredly. "It doesn't matter. Besides, I was being a jerk."
"What are you talking about? Of course it matters!" Rachel shakes her head vehemently, standing up. "No, you shouldn't have said that to him. But that doesn't give him the right to hit you!"
"It doesn't matter, okay? It's nothing, I'm used to it."
"That doesn't make it any better, if anything it makes it worse!"
Quinn drags a hand down the side of his face, falling flat on his back onto the bed as his eyes shut. "He's leaving tomorrow, just – just leave it."
"But –"
"Please."
The room is still for a minute. Then he feels the bed sink, and he knows she's sitting next to him. He doesn't open his eyes. She's silent, and he lets out a breath.
The empty, shameful resignation in his chest is painfully familiar, but he hasn't felt it in a long time. Not since he was living with his father. It's been almost two years since the last time his father hit him, and he's almost forgotten how it feels afterwards. But it was his own fault, wasn't it? He shouldn't have said all that, shouldn't have gotten so angry.
"It wasn't your fault."
Quinn eyes open, and he tilts his head to the side. Rachel's lying next to him, looking at him in concentration. His lips twitch into a smile. "Are you a mind reader now?"
She rolls her eyes. "I think I'm just getting better at figuring you out."
"I was picking a fight."
"All right, it wasn't all your fault," Rachel amends. "He shouldn't have hit you." She sighs. "I really don't know what to say right now."
"You don't have to say anything." Just being around her is calming him down. He looks up at the ceiling, focusing on a patch of paint that seems a little darker than the rest. "You know, I idolized him when I was a kid," he says absently. Frank was smart, talented, good-looking, and he'd already found his soulmate. He was everything Quinn had wanted to be. "He reminded me of our dad."
Rachel hums. "I'm sorry."
"What if I turn out like him?"
"Like your brother?"
"And my father."
Rachel shakes her head. "That won't happen."
"I didn't think it would happen with Frank."
"You won't let it happen."
She sounds so certain, Quinn can almost believe her. But it's one of his worst fears, a tight band constricting around his chest. He doesn't think he could live with himself if he turns into anything like his father. And maybe Rachel's right; he knows what he doesn't want to be. But if it could happen to his brother… "What if I can't help it?"
"You already know what you don't want to be, right?" Rachel slips her hand into his. "And I'll help you. I won't let you turn into him." She tilts her head so that her cheek nudges against his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"
His breath catches at that, because yes, he trusts her. He's trusted her with his most hidden secret. He trusts her more than he trusts himself. He nods, and Rachel squeezes his hand, leans into him.
"I love you."
A choked laugh escapes his throat. "I love you." He feels the tightness in his chest loosen, and he takes a deep breath, resting his head against Rachel's. "God, I love you."
He stretches out an arm, and Rachel lifts up so she can rest her head on it, pressing more firmly into his side. He turns, burying his nose in her hair and filling his lungs with her calming scent.
"You're sure you don't want me to talk to your family? I'm sure I could say something to make them regret their behavior towards you."
Quinn's sure she could, but, "I just…" He licks his lips, trying to get his thoughts into words. "I always knew I wanted to leave my family behind, you know? I always thought that after I graduated, I'd leave and I'd never have to see them again. I just… they're my past. I want to keep things separate." He takes her hand. "You're my future."
Her eyes moisten at that, and Quinn's not sure he said the right thing. But then she blinks, and she smiles. "I suppose I can understand. But you know, I will have to interact with them eventually. Imagine how awkward it would be if the first time I met your brother was at our wedding."
Quinn quirks an eyebrow, masking his relief. "Oh, so we're getting married, are we?"
Rachel blushes a little but nods firmly, matching him with a challenging look. "I certainly think so."
He shakes his head, unable to help the corners of his lips from twitching up. He has some misgivings on the whole marriage concept (he doesn't particularly want anything like what his parents had), but the thought of marrying Rachel (someday in the far-off future) isn't unappealing. Besides, he doesn't think he and Rachel could ever be anything like his parents. "Do you already have a date in mind?"
Her lips curve into an amused smile. "Sometime around my twenty-fifth birthday."
"Is there something significant about 25 that I'm missing?"
"Oh, nothing important right now." She kisses him, slowly, and he sighs deeply, drinking her in. They hear the front door opening in the distance, and Rachel smiles at him before sitting up reluctantly. "We should probably go down."
Frank leaves the next day. Quinn runs into him and Judy before school. Quinn and Frank don't say anything to each other, and if Judy notices the cold tension between her two sons, she ignores it with her characteristic willful obliviousness.
Rachel is anxiously waiting for him when he goes to pick her up, and she greets him with a concerned smile. "How did it go?"
"Nothing happened," he says. "We didn't talk."
She studies him. "Are you okay?"
He considers the question. "Yeah. I'm okay." And he is. He's had a full night to think on it, and it had been completely different from when his father had hurt him when he was younger. In the past, he'd never had anyone to go to after his father had hurt him. Now he does, and it makes all the difference.
He doesn't expect anything from his family anymore. He's legally an adult now, or he will be in a couple of days, and he doesn't need them. He could probably forgive Frank for hitting him. He's taken enough punches that it doesn't really matter that much anymore. But he doesn't know if he can forgive his brother for siding with their father. It still hurts to think about, but when Rachel slips her hand into his as she pulls him into the house for breakfast, he thinks he'll be able to get through it.
Rachel makes sure to tell him to come to the Berry house early on Friday, and Quinn obliges, arriving an hour before he usually does. Rachel flings the door open as soon as he gets there. "Happy birthday!" she squeals, grabbing him in an enthusiastic hug. Quinn laughs, hugs her back. In all the turmoil with his brother this week, he'd almost forgotten it was his birthday, and Rachel had needed to remind him.
"Thank you." He tilts his head to give her a kiss, and she smiles, pulling him down to deepen it. It leaves him a bit dazed, and Rachel smirks as she pulls back.
"Come on, breakfast is almost ready." She drags him into the kitchen, Leroy is busy at the stove while Hiram reads a newspaper at the counter.
"Happy birthday, Quinn," they greet warmly, and Quinn smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. Rachel and her parents are the first people to greet him, as his mother was still asleep when Quinn left the house (she'd been out late with her friends the night before).
"Thanks." He sniffs the air, watching with interest as Leroy slides a pancake from the stove onto a large pile on the counter. Leroy is a wonderful breakfast cook (Quinn knows from experience). His peanut butter chocolate chip pancakes are Quinn's favorite, and it's touching that he'd remembered. "You really didn't have to do all this."
"Oh, we wanted to," Hiram says, folding his newspaper down to grin at him. "It's your birthday, and it's a family tradition. Our schedules don't always match up for lunch and dinner, but we always have the birthday celebrant's favorite breakfast."
Quinn doesn't quite know what to say, and Rachel grabs his hand, smiling at him. "Dad's birthday is up next, in May, so be on the lookout for that."
"Presents, while Roy finishes cooking." Hiram hands him a wrapped box. "Careful, it's fragile."
"Thank you." Quinn takes the box, and Rachel quickly passes him another wrapped gift, telling him to open the box first. He takes his time pulling off the paper, and when it finally comes off, he stares for a minute. "Hiram, Leroy, I can't take this. It's too much."
"Nonsense, Quinn. It's your birthday. And you're part of our family," Leroy argues.
"Besides, it's your eighteenth," Hiram chimes in, wiping his glasses on his shirt. "It's an important one, and it's your first one with us. It's yours. No returns."
Quinn reverently runs his hands over the box of a brand-new Nikon DSLR camera. He's seen this model while window shopping, and it costs several hundred dollars.
"If it makes you feel better, it was on sale two weeks ago, and I managed to get an additional discount," Leroy offers, expertly flipping a pancake. "When Rachel told us you were enjoying the camera in New York, we decided it would make a good present. We've always thought that it's important to support kids' interests. If you decide photography isn't for you, that's okay. At least you'll have had the opportunity to try it."
"You should see the extracurriculars we've supported Rachel in," Hiram says wryly. "She's a good dancer, but a tennis player she is not."
Rachel glares at him. "We agreed not to talk about that." She pushes the other present at Quinn. "Open this."
He obeys, and finds beginner's guidebook to photography, as well as a certificate for a series of amateur classes at a nearby photography studio. "I… don't know what to say." He looks up at three smiling, expectant faces. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Leroy says pleasantly, setting the plate of pancakes in the middle of the table. "Let's dig in, before you're late for school."
Rachel piles pancakes high his plate, and Quinn swallows past the lump on his throat as he looks around the table. He's had birthday parties before, big affairs with all the bells and whistles, entertainment and ice cream and seven-layer cakes all for show, but he doesn't think any party his parents had ever thrown have made him feel as special as this.
Lucas isn't really much of a sports fan. He prefers staying indoors and drawing to running around outside, so when the annual Sports Day comes up at school, he just shrugs and tells Ms. O'Connell he doesn't care what he does. He ends up getting assigned to the track and field group.
He's given a slip to give to his parents, informing them of and inviting them to the Saturday event. When he gives it to his mom the next morning, Frank sees and asks, "What are you going to be playing? I thought you didn't like stuff like that."
"I don't," Lucas shrugs. "But Ms. O'Connell says I have to."
"You should be more like your brother," his dad says from behind his newspaper. "What kind of boy doesn't like sports?"
"That's the same day as my football game," Frank says, peering at the permission slip. "We're totally going to win division championships this year."
"Of course you are," Russell says proudly. "Fabrays don't lose." He looks at Lucas. "You've got a long way to go before you get to Frank's level."
Frank's the quarterback, and Lucas sort of idolizes him. Frank is really popular at school; he has loads of friends, plus he's already met his soulmate. He gets good grades, and he's great at football, as their father so often reminds him. It's frustrating at times, because no matter what Lucas does, he'll never catch up. But Frank is everything Lucas wants to be, and Lucas just nods.
..
Lucas participates in three races, and the highest he places is third. His parents come to watch, and his mom smiles lightly at him when he goes to them after the races. His dad isn't pleased though. "You should have won. Frank won all the events he joined, you know."
"I did my best," Lucas defends. His teacher says that you should just try your best, and it would be all right.
"Well, next time you should try harder."
Apparently his teacher had lied.
That evening, the whole family troops to the high school to watch Frank's game. It's a nailbiter; Frank's team is trailing by two points, but if they can get this next play, they'll win. Lucas knows his brother is in charge of calling the plays, and he watches wide-eyed as Frank winds his arm back, just like he'd shown Lucas yesterday, and hurls the ball. It flies high in the air, sailing across the pitch and into the hands of the running back. The running back races down the field, dodging once, twice –
The bleachers explode into cheers at the touchdown. The score is 38 – 33, and Frank's team wins the game. Lucas yells his lungs out in support for his older brother, and next to him he can hear his father bragging to everyone in the vicinity. He's never bragged about Lucas like that, and Lucas wonders for a moment if he ever will.
He's still proud of Frank though, and when Frank lifts the team's trophy in the air, Lucas' cheers are some of the loudest.
..
By the time he's nine, Lucas has all but given up on making his father proud of him. Oh, he tries, but he never measures up to Frank. His father has started drinking more, and Lucas tries his best to fly under the radar. Frank is at college in California, so it's just Lucas and his parents, and when his father has guests over, he knows by now how to make a good impression, so he smiles his way through conversations even when he'd much rather be anywhere else.
"So, Lucas, how old are you?"
"I'm nine, Mr. Grady."
"What year are you in at school?"
"I just finished fourth grade, Mr. Thompson."
"Good, good. Going to be a lawyer like your dad?"
Lucas plasters on a fake smile because no, he doesn't want to be a lawyer, but his dad will never accept that answer. So he says, "Yes, sir, that's the plan."
"That's right," his father says, grinning. "But we'll see. His grades aren't as good as his brother's. Frank was accepted into Yale and Harvard, you know. But he was dead set on heading to the West Coast so he's at Stanford now, and doing great, top of his class."
Lucas feels his ears burn at his father's dismissal, but he's accepted that his parents don't think he's as good as Frank, so he stays quiet with his smile pasted on his face.
After all, he's never going to measure up to his brother, and he knows it.
Hi everyone. I feel terrible for taking so long to put this up. I've been pretty much chasing school and work deadlines since November, and I've had zero time to write.
So, after the fluff of the last couple of chapters, we have a less cheerful one. I thought we needed a little insight into Quinn's family, especially since we've shifted to Quinn's POV. We'll be sticking with him for now, but we'll probably go back to Rachel at some point. There are still a lot of issues and things I plan to cover, I just really need to find the time. This chapter is unbetaed as always; hopefully it's up to par, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, they give me the motivation to keep writing, even little by little. See you, hopefully sooner than four months this time.
