Author's Note: Number 46 of the Don't Blink series set after A Love That's Divine. I said I wouldn't do another multichapter for Rachel's pregnancy, but here we are. Mostly a series of vignettes hopping through the months to the big event. Basically five chapters of fababy the second earning her name with a little smut and a lot of fluff and maybe a small pinch of angst.
All mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em.
All This Longing For Beauty Unnamed
Holy water from my own veins
Come and save me where I lay
All this longing for beauty unnamed
It has broken me open to welcome the hope that you bring.
This Angel, Jennifer Nettles
Part I: Who is This Angel Sent Here to Change Me?
At nineteen weeks and five days, Rachel cries.
It's the end of July, and none of her pre-maternity clothes fit anymore, and her emotions have been on a high speed roller coaster doing occasional loop-the-loops for months now, leaving her uncomfortably disconcerted. It's hardly the first time that she's cried during this pregnancy, and it certainly won't be the last, but this time marks the cathartic release of weeks of nervous worry over the baby and her own complete failure as a mother to be able to recognize its movements. Quinn has been adamantly reassuring her that all those little gassy bubbles that she's been feeling on and off are really the baby, but Rachel hadn't fully believed her until right this moment, lying prone on a less than comfortable gurney bed with her shirt rucked up under her bra and her belly slathered with cool gel beneath the even cooler ultrasound wand.
On the monitor next to them, they can see their baby's gentle movements, perfectly in sync with the faint little pulses in her tummy that Rachel has absolutely been mistaking for hunger pangs. (Possibly because she's always hungry these days and craving a multitude of meat products that she absolutely refuses to eat because she is still very much a vegetarian, thank you very much baby Fabray.)
So she cries. She cries because their baby is moving and has a strong heartbeat and healthy organs and limbs, and everything is okay. She cries, and Quinn cries too, and she's just so relieved that she doesn't even care when Quinn laughs through her tears and says, "I told you our bunny was hopping around in there and you just didn't realize it."
She also doesn't care when Doctor Barnes chimes in with, "Bunny? That's such a cute nickname."
Quinn grins wetly down at Rachel, arching that eyebrow of hers in a way that perfectly, silently says, see, I told you so. Rachel can't even be a little bit irritated about it. Quinn's hand is warm around hers, and they're here in this moment together, and it's Quinn's baby inside of her and on that screen, and she doesn't even care if it's a blue bunny or a pink bunny—except that she suddenly really does because they aren't any closer to choosing a name, and they still need to adequately prepare a nursery, no matter how temporary it may be in the interim before they start looking for the perfect house for their growing family because it is, with very little remaining doubt, growing.
"Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl?" Rachel asks their doctor. She indulges in Quinn's insistence on that silly nickname in private (and only in her own thoughts does she agree that it's a little bit cute) but she refuses to call the miraculous little angel inside of her bunny in public.
Doctor Barnes offers them a warm smile. "Oh, I think we can. Just let me find the winning angle again." She moves the wand around, pressing low against the side of Rachel's belly. "There we are. She's being very cooperative today."
"She," Rachel whispers reverently, gaze locked on the monitor. There's a quiet gasp from Quinn, and the grip on her hand tightens.
"She," Doctor Barnes confirms. "You can see both legs right here," she points to the monitor, where the two little limbs are spread wide in a vee, "and the notable lack of an additional appendage between them," she adds with humor. Then she moves her finger to the space between the vee, pointing out two faint lines. "And here's the formation of the labia. You've definitely got yourself a little girl, and she clearly wants us to know it."
Quinn laughs through happy tears. "Already showing off for the cameras. She's definitely your daughter." Lifting their entwined hands, she presses a kiss to the back of Rachel's.
Rachel barely manages to rip her eyes away from the image on the screen to smile tearfully up at her wife. "She's ours." Those idle fantasies of a little boy with blond hair and hazel eyes who'd become her permanent leading man slip away with no regrets, joyfully replaced by another beautiful little girl; one that looks just like Quinn. With Steven as the donor for Quinn's egg this time, it's nearly a guarantee, and Rachel couldn't be happier.
"Ours," Quinn echoes in a reverent whisper.
Something settles inside of Rachel; a welcome release of tension that she's been unwillingly carrying for the last five months. She knows, of course, that something could still go wrong—she can't allow herself to completely disregard the many perils that could befall an otherwise healthy pregnancy in the later months—but she's made it halfway through, and she can see with her own two eyes and hear with her own two ears that her daughter is alive and growing inside of her, just waiting to be born. It's such an immense relief to her.
She's ready to take that final leap into planning for the future. The leap is purely metaphorical in this case, of course. Her burgeoning belly hardly allows her the dexterity (or the energy) to perform any kind of vigorous gymnastic feats. (This sonogram that once again proves that there's just one baby in there is also a welcome relief. Even with previous assurances, some part of her has been suspicious that there might be a second one hiding in there with just how much weight she's been gaining.) She doesn't recall Quinn being nearly this big at this stage. Her wife keeps assuring her that it's only her petite stature that makes her seem bigger than she thinks she should be, but Rachel is convinced that her stature should, in fact, result in her showing less.
She's not complaining, of course. Well, not much. She's far too grateful that their baby is growing so beautifully to dwell on her own vanity for very long, though she's definitely understanding exactly why Quinn had been so sensitive about her own pregnancy weight. Their baby bunny is healthy (and certainly has a healthy appetite already if her effect on Rachel's is any indication) and every pound that Rachel gains is one step closer to holding her baby in her arms. The last few weeks have more than made up for the general aversion to food that she'd experienced early on in her pregnancy, so she will silently recite every reassurance that she'd offered to Quinn as an addendum to each one of Quinn's poetic accolades to Rachel now: glowing, beautiful, miraculous, beloved. She's a freaking fertility goddess, and she will not think too deeply about the clothes that no longer fit her or the impending pain that she'll need to endure in order to push Quinn Fabray's gigantic progeny out of her poor, petite body.
(Even in her own delicate, needy state, she knows better than to comment on the more questionable Fabray genes out loud to her wife.)
Rachel is so very blessed in so many ways. She has a supportive, loving wife and a happy, eager daughter, a caring family, and wonderful, encouraging friends. Her morning sickness has been on the mild side by all accounts—she would doubt the veracity of that had she not borne witness to Quinn's head in the toilet bowl at all hours of the day and night—and it's thankfully over now. Her appetite is back in force, and she's finally feeling a little more energetic—at least enough to (almost) keep up with Calliope and not fall asleep on Quinn the moment they're alone. And now, they know that they're having another little girl (unless or until their bunny tells them otherwise), and Rachel can actually feel her, and it's everything.
Her soggy gaze finds its way back to the monitor. "She's beautiful." The words are every bit as quiet and reverent as Quinn's had been.
"She's exactly where she should be at this point," Doctor Barnes confirms, removing the wand from Rachel's belly. The abrupt disappearance of the image on the screen is entirely unwelcome, pulling an involuntary whimper from Rachel. Their doctor grins knowingly. "Don't worry. You'll be taking a recording of that home with you," she promises, wiping the jelly from Rachel's skin. "You can play it on loop if you'd like."
Quinn sniffles, wiping at her wet cheeks with the fingers that aren't otherwise entwined with her wife's. "Oh, we will." She laughs and squeezes Rachel's hand. "Callie will definitely want to watch it right away."
"I want to watch it again right away," Rachel admits unabashedly, tugging her shirt back into place before she struggles to sit up, grateful for Quinn's sure hold to help her. She can't wait to tell their daughter that she's getting a little sister.
There's a tiny twinge of regret that Calliope isn't here right now. She's at home under Beth's watchful eye, completely unaware that today is ultrasound day. She thinks it's just another boring checkup. Rachel and Quinn had spoken at length about bringing her along, both wavering back and forth countless times on whether or not to include their daughter in this appointment, but ultimately, caution had won out. If they'd gotten bad news—well, neither one of them could bear to have Calliope be here for that. They wouldn't have been in any state of mind to even begin to explain what was happening to their daughter, so safer to do it this way, just Rachel and Quinn and the fate of their unborn child. Their unborn daughter, who is healthy and growing and right on track to arrive on the fifteenth of December.
(Rachel is still mildly irritated with herself for failing to calculate the timing of this whole thing better. Her due date is uncomfortably close to her own birthday, not to mention Cristmukkuh, and really, there'll just be a lot going on in December.)
"We'll have a flash drive ready for you at the desk when you check out," Doctor Barnes assures them with a smile. "Make sure you schedule next month's checkup. I want to see you back here no later than August 25th. And since we know that baby bunny is right where she should be, I expect your blood pressure to not be dancing quite so close to the borderline at your next appointment."
Rachel cringes at the reminder. Doctor Barnes had taken her pressure three times before she'd been satisfied that the first reading was probably just nerves and worry about potential bad news. A moment of the deep breathing exercises that had gotten her through numerous opening nights had brought her down to a reading that their doctor (and Quinn) had been mostly happy with.
She rests a hand on her belly and aims a confident grin at their doctor. "I'm already feeling a thousand percent less stressed."
"Even so, you may want to invest in a blood pressure cuff if you don't already have one." Doctor Barnes turns her eyes on Quinn. "Keep an eye on it over the next few weeks and give me a call if it starts creeping up."
Rachel frowns a bit at being talked around, even as Quinn promises, "We definitely will," with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. "Rachel's health is the most important thing." And the look in her eyes when she glances down at Rachel, concern mixed with a healthy dose of overprotective head-bitch, silently dares Rachel to object.
She can, admittedly, be a tiny bit high-strung at times, and the fitful bouts of anxiety that she's experienced over the last several months haven't done her any favors. But hearing their baby's heartbeat and knowing that she's okay is such a relief. Rachel can practically feel the tension drain out of her.
"I promise that I will remain completely calm and stress free for the next twenty weeks," Rachel vows, frowning at Quinn's snort of disbelief. She sends a brief look of admonishment Quinn's way. "My blood pressure is always perfectly fine when I'm not near a doctor."
"That's actually an issue for some people," Doctor Barnes confirms, surprising them both. "We call it white coat hypertension." Her lips quirk as she levels her gaze on Rachel. "You have tended to be on the higher side of normal at your yearlies, which is why I redid your pressure today after you had a chance to settle down, but even so, it's not something to mess around with while you're pregnant."
"Yes, doctor," Rachel acknowledges, cupping her belly protectively. They do already have a cuff at home. She supposes she'll need to check it more often. She won't take any unnecessary chances with this pregnancy, and Quinn certainly won't let her. She suspects her wife is going to personally check her pressure everyday now.
Doctor Barnes offers an encouraging smile. "I'll see you next month." And with that, she's out the door and off to her next patient.
Quinn turns to her, eyes still glistening and a crooked, besotted smile on her lips. "Another little girl," she murmurs, pressing her hand to Rachel's belly.
"You're on a streak," Rachel informs her with a grin, still giddy with the news.
Quinn shakes her head. "Your genes got us Callie."
"You carried her," Rachel needlessly reminds her, "and my statement still stands. You're two for two even if we just count your genes."
"I don't really mind," Quinn admits, tipping her forehead down to rest against Rachel's. "Girls are perfect," she whispers, and it's clear how much she loves their daughters. "You're perfect. I love you so much."
"I love you too," Rachel echoes, tearful all over again. Damn hormones. "And it's about time you acknowledge that I'm perfect," she jokes.
"Perfect for me," Quinn amends tenderly, bestowing a soft kiss on Rachel's lips before pulling back just far enough to meet her eyes and she rests her other hand over their unborn child. "Perfect for our girls."
Rachel closes her eyes, chuckling wetly as she endeavors to regain her composure. "Speaking of our girls…how about we get out of here and tell Calliope about her sister?"
Quinn lifts one hand to Rachel's cheek, gently brushing away a stray tear of happiness with her thumb. "That sounds like the best way to spend the afternoon."
Rachel lifts her own hands to her cheeks, clearing away the moisture. "Help me down?" she prompts, extending her arms to Quinn, and of course, Quinn's own strong arms are under hers in an instant, steadying and supporting her as she carefully slides off the exam table.
Quinn hugs her then, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I'm so happy right now, Rach. You don't even know."
Rachel chuckles again. Hugging her back. "Oh, I think I do."
Laughing, Quinn lets her go—slowly, to make sure she still has her feet fully under her. "Let's go get that flash drive."
Nodding happily, Rachel grabs her purse and takes Quinn's hand as they make their way to the checkout window to collect their sonogram and schedule their next appointment. Flash drive safely in hand, and after a much needed stop in the restroom for Rachel to empty her bladder, they exit the office and then the building into the bright summer sun.
Rachel is immediately hot and sweaty—yet another reason she wishes she could have timed this better. She'd witnessed first hand how miserable Quinn had been experiencing the most uncomfortable part of her pregnancy in the hottest months of summer, and while Rachel will hit her third trimester when the weather has blessedly started to cool, she still has to suffer through this summer with bloating, back pain, and ever-increasing weight gain. Of course, if she really thinks about it, there isn't actually a good way to time a pregnancy for only the cooler months outside of moving to Alaska. She supposes if one conceives in July or August, then it's only the first month or two (possibly three) that the heat would be a factor adding to one's discomfort, but remembering the miserable nausea and exhaustion of her first trimester, Rachel wonders if that would be any better. She's thrilled to be experiencing this pregnancy, obviously, but really, the whole process is an awful lot of unpleasantness for a woman to go through. There really should be an easier way.
Maybe someone should work on inventing an artificial womb.
Rachel immediately scrapes her hair up into a hasty ponytail as they begin to walk. She almost always has a hairband of some kind on her person since the weather turned hotter, and there are certain moments in this pregnancy—like now—when she seriously considers cutting her hair off. She completely understands why Quinn generally prefers to keep hers short. Rachel doubts she'll ever do anything quite that drastic, but a nice trim back to shoulder length is sounding better everyday.
Aside from her own personal discomfort, it really is a gorgeous day. One might even say the weather is perfect if one wasn't carrying a whole other human around inside of them. If they lived closer to Doctor Barnes's office, she might even be tempted to walk home and get in her daily exercise quota, but even when they'd lived in midtown, the distance hadn't been walkable.
They still haven't invested in a car. It hasn't seemed wholly necessary up to this point. They know enough people with vehicles if they ever truly need to borrow one for whatever reason. Even Santana had broken down and bought a nice, safety-rated SUV after Sofia was born, but her building has an underground parking garage while theirs, sadly, does not. So car services and public transit usually suffice when walking isn't an option. Luckily, Calliope's preschool had been within a fairly easy distance of their apartment, and they've decided to enroll her in the Anderson School for kindergarten in the fall, which means that they'll still be within walking distance—at least until they eventually move into a house. At that point, Rachel expects they'll also need to invest in a car (or two) of their own, but for now, it's car services, rideshares, and, like today, taxis. Quinn still prefers the old-fashioned yellow cabs to rideshares because she claims the drivers are less chatty, and Rachel can't really argue the point. These days, most taxis can be ordered through an app just like the rideshares, and that's the method they'd used to get them to their appointment this morning, though it will likely be just as easy to flag one down from the street to take them home.
Any street but this one, that is, since Doctor Barnes happens to have her office in a building on the 14th Street busway. They'll need to walk a little ways to find a more convenient spot to hail a taxi, and it doesn't take many steps at all for them to end up at Union Square. If Quinn were less protective of her, they could easily take the subway, but Rcahel knows better than to even suggest it to her wife.
They're in no particular hurry to be anywhere except home, so they opt to walk beneath the trees in the square on their way towards Park Avenue South. They're still basking in the joy of seeing their unborn daughter, so when they're lucky enough to spot an open bench, they decide to stop and bask a little more. Quinn helps Rachel down onto the bench before sitting beside her, knees angled toward her, and Rachel sighs in relief as she leans back, resting a hand on top of her belly, happy for the shade and the weight off her feet before they'll need to move again. Next to her, Quinn echoes her sigh, planting her left elbow against the back of the bench and resting her cheek against her palm as she gazes at Rachel with a particular smile on her lips. That smile has been on her lips since they'd seen their daughter. It's that smile—the proud motherly smile; the one Quinn wears whenever she looks at Beth and Calliope—but somehow more right now, because it also carries traces of the smile that's just for Rachel.
Her wife is practically radiating love and happiness in every direction.
Rachel suspects that she is too.
"You look very pleased," she comments.
That smile turns playful, inching towards a smirk. "Aren't you?"
"Mmmhmmm." Rachel reaches out with her right hand—the one not on her belly and, incidentally, the one closest to Quinn—and snags Quinn's hand where it rests in her lap, directing it to the side of her belly. "Very pleased."
Quinn's palm contours the curve of her baby bump. "Now that we know our bunny is a girl, we could actually name her Bunny."
Rachel's eyes narrow. "You'd better be joking," she warns. The smirk that Quinn is still sporting indicates teasing, but Rachel isn't taking any chances with their angel's name.
"How about Bonnie?" Quinn suggests, arching that eyebrow of hers. "It's Bunny adjacent."
Rachel is not amused. "I'd rather name her Stella."
It's almost comical how quickly Quinn's chin comes off her palm as she sits up straighter, eyes wide. "Really?" she asks, an unmistakable trace of hopefulness in her voice.
"No." Rachel shuts that notion down fast. "They're both terrible names."
The arch of Quinn's eyebrow this time is sardonic. "I think all the Bonnies and Stellas in the world would take offense."
"I don't care about them, Quinn." A harsh truth, but truth nonetheless. "I only care that we find the perfect name for our precious little angel, preferably one that goes with Lucy and complements Calliope."
Quinn sits back in surprise, her hand slipping away from Rachel's belly. "We're trying to complement Callie now?"
"Of course. It's important that siblings have names that go well together," Rachel proclaims. She thinks it should have been obvious by the names that she'd allowed to remain on their possibilities list. Nathaniel but not Caleb because having two Cals is just ridiculous. Emily but not Elena because there's no way they were having both a Callie and an Ellie since everyone but Rachel insists on using nicknames! (Stella had only been allowed to remain on the list solely to humor Quinn.)
"What exactly does that mean?" Quinn asks, looking just a little wary all of a sudden.
Rachel ignores her wife's dubious expression. "It means that we need a name that matches in consonance or at least has a similar presence. Clashing names will only encourage disharmony. Look at you and Frannie."
Quinn scoffs, taking offense. "Okay, you know that's not why Frannie and I didn't get along."
"But you can't be sure it wasn't a contributing factor," Rachel points out stubbornly. "Maybe if her name had been Lily to your Lucy, she'd have been more nurturing to you."
Quinn barks out a laugh, shaking her head. "Doubtful." Her expression turns thoughtful. "Lily is a nice name though. The flower symbolizes purity."
"What did I just say about clashing names?" Rachel exclaims with a frown.
"Lily doesn't clash with Calliope," she defends immediately and just as immediately frowns. "Okay, yeah, it's maybe a little heavy on the double els with her full name," she admits a little sheepishly, "but Callie and Lily have a nice flow."
"Say their names again," Rachel demands, glaring at her wife.
"Callie and Lily," Quinn recites obediently.
Rachel waits a moment for her to hear it, but Quinn remains frustratingly unaware. She huffs, looking at her wife expectantly. Quinn's brows furrow in confusion, but there's still no moment of epiphany. Rachel sighs. "Callie Lily. Calla lily," she finally says, voice flat
Quinn looks up to the sky and exhales sharply through her nose before shaking her head. "Fine. I see your point." She's clearly not happy to admit it.
Rachel smiles triumphantly." Besides, Lucy does not work as a middle name for Lily. And no," she says quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at her wife and successfully cutting off the objection she can already see forming on her pretty lips. "We are not dropping the Lucy. My body, my choice."
"You're really not using that slogan appropriately," Quinn grumbles, crossing her arms. "But I still have time to change your mind about that name."
Rachel shrugs, grinning. "You can try." She will fail, of course. Rachel has already decided that some variation of Lucy will appear somewhere in their daughter's name.
Quinn sags against the bench again. "So I guess we're focusing on names that start with Cee?"
"Not necessarily." Although she does intend to pay particular attention to names that start with that letter, Rachel would also like their second daughter's name to mean something to them the way Calliope's does. "Calliope is a musical name, so we could look for something with a similar meaning. Or even just a lovely, musical sounding name that doesn't clash."
A teasing grin appears on Quinn's face. "Like Melody?"
"Yes, but not that," Rachel refutes with a frown. "I won't have Santana calling our girls Cal and Mel."
Quinn laughs, looking delighted, and her arms fall back to her lap, relaxed once again. "She absolutely would."
"And you'd let her," Rachel grumbles, crossing her own arms. "Calliope is never going to be free of that nickname."
Quinn shakes her head indulgently, still smiling. "I'd hate to break it to you, Rach, but Calliope likes that nickname. She likes all her nicknames."
Rachel sighs in resignation. "I know." Calliope even seems to love the munchkin she gets from Santana and the pookie that Shelby insists on calling her for some unfathomable reason. "All the more reason to be extra careful with this one," she determines, patting her belly.
"Bunny is going to love her nicknames too," Quinn teases with a wicked smile.
Rachel levels her with an unamused look—even if she is mildly amused. "You do know that I'm not calling her that once she's born?"
Her smile turning fond, Quinn reaches over and rests her palm over Rachel's belly once again. "I can live with that." Rachel covers her wife's hand with her own and moves it just slightly. Quinn's smile widens. "Is she moving now?"
Rachel bites her lip, face heating. "I think so." It's still a little hard for her to be absolutely certain, but she recognizes the little bubbles she's currently feeling as the same ones she'd felt during the ultrasound.
That smile is back again. "I can't wait until I can feel her too."
"It shouldn't be long now." Quinn had been about twenty-two weeks when Rachel had felt that first little kick. She realizes that every pregnancy is different, but she expects that Quinn will be sharing that part of this pregnancy with her within the next month or two.
There's a sigh of contentment from Quinn, despite the fact that she can't yet feel their daughter moving under her hand, and she gazes at Rachel adoringly. "Have I mentioned that I love you?"
Rachel's heart flutters along with the flutters in her belly. "Once or twice." And she never gets tired of hearing it.
"What do you think of Carmen?"
Rachel blinks at her wife. "That's a non sequitur."
Quinn laughs again, light and airy. "We were talking about names for Bunny," she reminds her needlessly, "and I'm still thinking about it. Carmen means song in Latin." Her brow arches haughtily. "And it's a cee name."
Rachel is not unimpressed with her wife's cleverness, but, "It's also the name of the protagonist in a very tragic opera. I'd rather not saddle our daughter with that unfortunate connotation."
Quinn's smile slips away in disappointment. "Yeah, you have a point there."
"Good try, though," she offers, patting Quinn's hand in consolation.
Quinn shrugs. "There's always Clio."
"Like Cleopatra?" Which is also another tragic heroine, but at least she was also a powerful queen as well.
Quinn shakes her head. "Clio with an I," she clarifies. "She was the Muse of poetry and history."
"Not music?" Rachel challenges with a grin, tickled that her not-so-secret nerd of a wife would come up with another Greek Muse to compliment Calliope.
"That was Euterpe."
"Ew." What an awful name.
"Exactly," Quinn agrees with amusement. "Clio fits your requirement for consonance and theme. And I think it actually means praise or glory, and so does the more common spelling, if you prefer the E. "
Rachel rolls it around in her head for a moment. "I don't hate it," she decides, thinking Calliope and Cleo (she does prefer the E) actually do complement each other nicely. "It's not ideal with Lucy, but I'm willing to consider it." Especially since there's really no way she can think to shorten Cleo into something undesirable.
"So we're putting that one on the list?" Quinn asks with a delighted smile.
"I think we are." They still have nearly five months to decide, and she's sure there will be other names that they both like now that they know they're having a girl, but this baby deserves to have an abundance of strong, solid choices for her mothers to consider.
"Yay," Quinn exclaims, doing an adorable little shoulder wiggle in her seat. "Progress."
Rachel giggles at her wife's antics and nods in happy agreement. "It's been a day for that."
"It has." Quinn leans close and catches Rachel's lips, kissing her thoroughly enough for Rachel to feel it but somehow still chastely enough for public consumption. She pulls away just in time to keep Rachel's damnable hormones from switching into bedroom mode with nary a bedroom in sight. "What do you say we go share our progress with Callie and Beth."
Rachel puffs out a slightly shaky breath, thinking the sooner they get home and celebrate with their family, the sooner they can maybe celebrate alone. "I say haul me up, baby. Let's go home."
Smiling brightly, Quinn jumps up from the bench with childlike energy and extends her hand to Rachel to help her stand, and she keeps holding it as they make their way out of Union Square to the crosswalks at East 17th Street. As expected, Quinn doesn't need to use the app to find a vacant taxi once they're on Park Avenue, and in no time at all, they're seated in the back of an air-conditioned car, zipping uptown towards their West Side apartment.
When they arrive, Quinn dutifully helps Rachel out of the taxi, and within a matter of minutes, they're crossing the threshold into their apartment to be met with the sounds of laughter and the annoying trill of a toy laser gun battling the increasingly familiar woosh of a lightsaber. Calliope is standing on the sofa cushions, waving the plastic toy around while Beth crouches behind the adjacent chair, firing the toy blaster at her precious little star.
Rachel is seriously beginning to regret ever agreeing to buy their daughter those toys. This is all Teresa's fault. Santana's too, since she'd let this whole Star Wars thing happen under her watch. Rachel had finally made peace with the toy bow and suction cup arrows from Calliope's Merida phase, and now there's this.
"What is going on here?" she demands, crossing her arms over her belly. Quinn comes to a stop beside her, hand pressed over her mouth. Rachel would like to think it's a display of her horror, but she suspects that her wife is attempting to conceal her laughter.
"Oh, crap," Beth mutters, jumping up to quickly snatch Calliope off the sofa and tuck her under her arm. "The First Order's here, kiddo. Time to make for the rebel base." Beth swivels her body in the direction of Calliope's bedroom, and the little girl squeals with laughter, lightsaber dangling from one hand.
"You freeze right there, Obi-Wan," Rachel commands, pointing an accusatory finger at Beth, and of course, Quinn loses it then. Calliope hasn't stopped laughing since they'd walked in, but Beth, at least, is doing her best to stifle her snickers. Probably because she knows she's in trouble. Sighing, Rachel recrosses her arms and waits for her family to regather their wits. "You were tasked with babysitting, young lady," she addresses Beth once the laughter dies down, "not waging war on top of our furniture."
"Sorry, Rachel," Beth apologizes, carefully lowering Calliope to the ground. "We got a little carried away. I promise she only jumped up there, like, a minute before you got home. I'll make sure her feet stay firmly planted on the ground from now on."
The Fabray genes have been especially kind to Beth. At eighteen, she's every bit as stunning as Quinn, even in frayed jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt with a messy ponytail, and unfortunately for Rachel, those doe eyes of hers have the same effect on her as Quinn's do. It's impossible for Rachel to ever stay mad at her—not that she's mad now. Really, the whole scene was ridiculously adorable, but she'll be damned if she lets them know that. She prefers not to have their sofa springs rupture from Calliope's exuberance.
"Just don't use too much force with her," Quinn quips, grinning conspiratorially at her eldest daughter.
Beth groans right along with Rachel. "Really, Quinn?"
Quinn laughs, shrugging. "Couldn't resist."
"I won the battle, Mama," Calliope declares, striking a pose with her lightsaber. "I'm a Jedi."
Rachel bites back her smile. "I can see that. You're still my little star though, right?"
"Uh huh," Calliope nods, skipping over to her with the lightsaber dragging along the floor. She reaches out with one hand to touch Rachel's belly. "Is Baby okay?"
Rachel covers her daughter's hand with her own, unconsciously humming in the affirmative as she glances at her wife with questioning eyes. Quinn's smile goes soft, and she nods.
Biting her lip, Rachel looks back down at Calliope. "She's perfectly okay."
She knows Calliope probably won't catch on right away, but Beth certainly does, and she freezes from where she's tidying up the cushions on the sofa, straightening to look at them with wide eyes. "She? You're having a girl?" she asks excitedly.
Quinn slips an arm around Rachel's waist, laughing happily while Rachel nods, feeling her eyes fill with tears again. "We are," Quinn confirms before her eyes fall to Calliope. "You're gonna have a little sister, Callie." Then she looks to Beth. "You, too."
Their daughter grins toothily, dropping her lightsaber and hugging Rachel's belly. "Cool. I'm'a still call her Baby 'til we name her."
Rachel laughs, hugging her back. Beth makes her way to them in two bounding steps, throwing her arms around Rachel from behind Calliope, careful not to squash her, while she simultaneously tugs Quinn into the hug too. "I'm gonna call her Baby Sister Niece until we name her."
Quinn groans, poking her eldest in the side. "Don't you dare start that again."
Rachel laughs. "This time it's even more apropos."
"I'm so happy for you guys," Beth says, tears spilling down her cheeks as she pulls away. "Mom's gonna flip. She was so sure it'd be a boy this time. Can I tell her?" she asks hopefully.
"No, you can't," Quinn refuses, not unkindly. She glances at Rachel to make sure they're on the same page, and Rachel nods. She would like to be the one to tell her mother that she's having another granddaughter, just like she knows Quinn will want to tell Judy. "But we're probably going to do it very soon so you won't have to keep it a secret for long." She bends down to scoop Calliope up into her arms, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "And so you don't have to try to keep it secret, baby bear." Calliope giggles, settling happily onto Quinn's hip.
"Aw, you're no fun," Beth pouts, wiping away her tears. "I'm probably not even gonna be here when she's born. The fall semester doesn't end until the fifteenth. I'll still be in Boston unless Rachel ends up overdue."
"Bite your tongue," Rachel warns, snagging Beth's hand and giving it an admonishing squeeze. "Why don't you call Shelby now and ask her if she wants to have dinner with us? She can be the first…well, third," she amends, "to know."
Beth bites into her lower lip as it curves into a wicked smile, highlighting her resemblance to Quinn even more. "Awesome." She's already reaching into her back pocket for her phone. "I will absolutely get her butt over here," and then she's dialing while she paces a few steps away from them.
Quinn nudges Rachel with an elbow and raises a questioning brow. "You sure about that, sweetie?"
Rachel shrugs. "She was the last to know with Calliope." The last to know about everything actually—the pregnancy, the gender, the birth. "Our relationship is in a better place now." She tips her chin towards Beth, who's already gotten Shelby on the line and is quietly offering the invite. "And you know Beth is never going to be able to keep it secret."
"I don't know. She can be sneaky."
"No, they didn't get bad news," Beth says, voice rising slightly. "Why would they even want us to have dinner with them if it was bad news, Mom? It's obviously good news." Her eyes widen and dart back to Rachel and Quinn guiltily. "Or just news. Like, normal news. Normal check up news," she repeats, borderline rambling now. "Not good or bad or anything special at all."
Quinn sighs. "Guess she got her total lack of chill from Noah."
Rachel laughs. "Yes, because you are such a meticulous liar, baby. A certain hot tub might disagree."
Quinn's eyes narrow on her. "Hot tubs don't spill their secrets," she argues, turning to Calliope with a wink. "Do they, sunshine?"
"Tubs don't talk, Mommy," Calliope giggles.
"What about tubs?" Beth asks, slipping her phone away.
"Nothing," Quinn shuts down quickly. "No hot tubs here."
"So much chill," Rachel murmurs to her wife before smiling at Beth. "So what time is our mother arriving?"
Beth ducks her head sheepishly. "Oh, probably, like, within the next hour, depending on how bad the tunnels are." Rachel's eyes widen at the announcement, having assumed Shelby would still be at work for a while. "She, uh, remembered you were probably finding out the gender today, and she maybe, definitely already guessed why you invited her." She holds her hands up in surrender. "But I swear I didn't tell her it's a girl."
"Nanna's coming?" Calliope asks happily.
"I don't even have anything prepared for dinner yet," Quinn laments, placing their daughter back on the floor. Knowing her, she's probably mentally cataloging every ingredient she has in the apartment and is about to make a break for the kitchen.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Beth dismisses, waving hand. "Mom said she's fine with delivery. Whatever her grandbabies want."
"Pizza!" Calliope shouts, throwing her hand in the air triumphantly.
"Why is it always pizza?" Rachel wants to know.
"I'm cool with it," Beth informs them, grinning.
Quinn wraps a reassuring arm around Rachel's waist. "Is Bunny craving something else?"
Much to Rachel's dismay, she isn't. "She wouldn't mind the zucchini artichoke pizza from Pizzeria Romana," she reluctantly admits.
Quinn chuckles. "It's a special occasion." Her hand finds Rachel's belly again. "I guess we can let our girls celebrate with pizza." She glances at Beth. "We've got some menus in one of the kitchen drawers. We'll order after Shelby gets here. It should almost be a respectable dinner hour by the time it's delivered."
"Oh, no hurry," Beth assures them. "I made sandwiches for Callie and me before we defended the planet, so we can wait for the pizza, and I doubt Mom actually cares much about the food."
Rachel doubts that is strictly true, but she doesn't doubt that Shelby's first priority is finding out every detail about Rachel's health and the health (and gender) of the baby, and as long as that happens, she'll be willing to eat whatever they feed her. She's long past the days of admiring Rachel's life from a distance. Shelby is all too present these days, both as a grandmother to Calliope and a (trying to be a) mother to Rachel. Rachel isn't always certain whether she loves this new development or hates it.
Calliope bounces back over to her older sister, tapping her leg to get her attention. "Beth, can we play some more 'til Nanna comes?" she pleads with big eyes.
Beth grins down at her. "Sure, kiddo," she agrees, lightly ruffling her hair. "I saw some cool Disney Princess games for your Wii, and I gotta get my Callie time in before I head off to college."
"I like 'Punza," Calliope cheers, skipping over to the television where her age-appropriate (and mostly educational, thank you very much) Wii games are neatly filed at the very bottom of the storage tower.
Beth winks at Rachel and Quinn before following after the little girl. "I like her too. She swings a mean frying pan." She gracefully drops to the floor next to Calliope, crossing her legs as she inspects the game collection.
Trusting that Beth will make the appropriate selection, Quinn turns to Rachel with concern on her face. "Do you want to invite your dads over too?" she asks quietly. "They could probably make it here pretty fast." Her lips quirk into a wry smile. "You know how Hiram drives."
Rachel appreciates that her wife is thinking about her dads and how she'll feel to tell Shelby this news before them, and she really does considers it. Quinn isn't wrong. If given the incentive, Hiram Berry can certainly make it here from Fairfield in far less time than the ninety minutes it should take. But, "No. I think today can be just for the Fabray-Corcoran women." Part of that decision had already been made when they'd agreed to tell Beth that she's having another sister. "My dads will understand, especially if they don't have to share me or that flash drive with anyone else when we do tell them." Sharing Calliope's gender with their parents had happened in a similar way—one at a time, in person and over video calls—with Rachel's fathers finding out first. In that, at least, they'd managed to keep their nosy friends from forcing their hands with any unplanned announcements before their parents had known.
All their parents except Shelby.
In some ways, telling Shelby first with this baby is an attempt to make up for treating her like an afterthought the first time around, even if she had mostly deserved it at the time.
And Beth really cannot hide anything from her mother. She caves right in every time.
"As long as you're sure," Quinn agrees, her expression still clearly conveying that Rachel can change her mind at any time.
Rachel smiles and cups Quinn's cheek. "I'm sure." She rocks up onto her toes and kisses her wife, short and sweet since they have company. She glides her fingers down Quinn's neck, over her shoulder and down her arm, catching her hand with the intent of guiding her the remaining few steps to the sofa so they can sit and watch their daughter play with Beth. "But you'd better make sure we have some extra flash drives. I have a feeling Shelby will demand a copy, and I know my dads and your mother will want one too."
Quinn's brows furrow. "I think I've got at least one blank one somewhere, but I'll make sure to buy a few more." She helps Rachel settle down into the cushions, mercifully intact after being jumped on, before sitting next to her and leaning back with an arch expression. "I need them for my drafts anyway, since someone stole a few for music files."
"I don't know what you mean," Rachel demures, wearing her best innocent face. "What's yours is mine, and all that." And really, she can't be bothered to buy computer supplies when Quinn usually has everything she might need just laying around.
"I'll remember that the next time you complain about my clothes on your side of the closet."
"It's a walk-in closet, Quinn," Rachel points out testily. "You should have more than enough room in there without encroaching into my space."
"What's yours is mine," Quinn echoes, smirking. "Besides," she leans close, mouth close to Rachel's ear and voice dropping to low purr, "I had the impression that you like it when I encroach into your space."
Rachel feels the heat of every word brush against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, making her shiver. "Quinn," she whispers harshly, ducking her head in embarrassment at her reaction, "your daughters are right there."
"Right here too," Quinn agrees with an unrepentant smile, sliding her palm over Rachel's belly. "Also encroaching on your space."
It's ridiculous how quickly that simple truth has Rachel melting into a puddle of joy, any irritation with Quinn for being a tease completely forgotten. A happy sigh escapes her in the form of a breathy, "Yeah," and she leans her head against Quinn's shoulder, content to sit and watch Calliope play with Beth while their unborn daughter sleeps safely beneath her heart.