V
Quinn is busy studying the contents of her fridge when she hears a truck pull into the driveway. With a sigh, she closes the door, checks that Max is suitably occupied in the front room and goes to open the door before someone rings the doorbell.
She steps onto the front porch to see a crew of three emerging with a selection of tools. They're all young, late teens, maybe early twenties. All boys, too, and Quinn would probably prefer it that way.
They introduce themselves as Jake, Bruno and T, all of them trying a little too hard to appear macho. They also all openly check her out, and she finds it in herself to roll her eyes and ignore it. She can handle a few children.
As long as they do the work, she doesn't care if they look. She's aware she's the left side of attractive, but she draws the line at touching. She will break fingers if necessary.
Quinn leads the way into the kitchen area, which she's carefully primed for them. In her mind, they should be able to get what she needs done in less than three hours, which is a calculation she makes based on how long it would take her single pair of hands to get it done.
Some painting, returning the cabinet doors, cleanup and sanding. Most of it is time-consuming, tedious work that she isn't a fan of doing herself. She also wants them familiar with the space for when the countertops arrive next week.
Once she gets them set up, she leaves them to it, peeking in at Max, who is playing with a stuffed elephant in the pillow fort she built for him, and then going upstairs to make sure Hugo and Lex haven't killed each other with excitement. Their voices carry, loud and happy, and her heart aches with how much she wants this.
She stops in the doorway of Lex's room to find both boys spread out on the carpet, comic books and action figures laid out between them. She watches them for a moment, waiting for them to notice her.
Hugo looks up first, and he grins widely. "Hi, Quinn," he says.
Lex startles, and then beams at her, too, and she's lucky she has the doorframe to lean against, because her heart can barely take it. "Mom, look, I'm telling Hugo all about Wolverine. He didn't even know half the stuff."
"That's because half the stuff probably isn't age appropriate," she mutters to herself, but won't stop them. She's gone through the comics herself - telling Lex she just wanted to be able to understand what he was so excited about - and she had to censor quite a few issues. At least Lex has something to look forward to when he gets older.
Though, what she has learned is that Cyclops is her favourite, and Louisa calls her a fake lesbian because of it. Asshole.
"I'm thinking we'll just have sandwiches for lunch," she says. "Any requests?"
"Tuna mayo," Lex says immediately, which Quinn could have predicted.
Hugo wrinkles his nose in mild disgust. "Are there options?" he asks, shifting until he's sitting cross-legged.
Quinn takes a moment to recall the items in her fridge. "Well, I'm probably going to have a grilled cheese," she says. "Does that interest you?"
Hugo nods eagerly.
"Cool," Quinn says. "Other than that, you two okay? Need anything?"
Hugo shakes his head, and Lex says, "We're good, Mom."
Quinn blows them each a kiss, enjoys the sight of Hugo's blush, and then heads downstairs again. Max is now sticking plastic keys in his mouth, and she can't resist scooping him up and carrying him into the makeshift kitchen with her, delighting in the excited shriek she gets in response.
Max can crawl, but he doesn't seem to want to. She also knows he can just barely lift himself to his feet, but he rarely does. She's very curious as to why, so she sets him on the dining room floor and quietly observes him while she works.
Bread and butter and cheese and a hot pan. Can of tuna and mayonnaise and slices of cucumber.
She doesn't even realise she's singing until Max is gurgling along with her, tugging at the legs of her cotton pants. She keeps her feet planted, even as she shimmies in place, watching as his little fists close around the fabric. She worries a little that he'll actually pull down her pants with his grip, and she feels them slide a little down her hips as he lifts himself to his feet.
And then promptly drops to his bottom.
Quinn shouldn't laugh, but his face is priceless: a mixture of surprise and petulance. It's honestly the cutest thing, and she feels herself falling very dangerously in love.
"Try again," she tells him, and then refocuses on the sandwiches she's making. She's making a handful for the crew, even though she's not required to, and she sets out a tray with some glasses of iced tea that she'll take across once she has the boys fed.
Max tries two more times before Quinn has to move, clearing off one end of the dining room table and setting out the plates and sandwiches for herself, Hugo and Lex.
Quinn looks down at Max. "What about you, huh?"
Max just blinks at her.
"You're in luck," she says. "I went to the store yesterday in preparation for your imminent arrival, so somebody here is going to be treated to some pretty epic, fresh baby food."
Max smiles.
"You're welcome."
At least baby food doesn't require much work, she thinks, as she prepares a chicken, butternut and turmeric mixture that actually smells decent.
"I hope it tastes nice," she comments as she sets a small bowl on the table. "Think you can go call the boys for me, huh?"
With a laugh, she scoops him up and does just that, sending them to wash their hands before the four of them sit together at the dining room table.
"Why is all your kitchen stuff in here?" Hugo asks, looking a little confused.
"Mommy's building a new kitchen," Lex answers around a bite of sandwich.
"Manners," Quinn says lightly, carefully holding Max in her lap and slowly feeding him. "And, yes, we're redoing our kitchen."
"Why?"
"It was so old," Quinn complains. "It looked like an old lady lives here."
"But an old lady does live here," Lex says cheekily, and Quinn flicks his ear with her finger.
Hugo laughs.
Quinn looks at him, scandalised. "You too?"
"You are old," Hugo says. "At least two times my age."
Quinn laughs, because wow, she wishes. "Barely," she says anyway. "And, I don't appreciate you two ganging up on me, when I so nicely made you sandwiches."
"Thank you, Mommy," Lex says, giving her a toothy grin.
Hugo looks more thoughtful, serious, when he says, "Thank you, Quinn," and Quinn gets the feeling he's thanking her for more than just lunch.
"Anytime, you little monsters," she says, and then focuses on Max for a while, trying her level hardest to make sure all the food ends up inside Max's mouth. Which is more of a feat than she realised.
"Done," Lex says a few minutes later. "May I have some juice please?"
Quinn nods. "I set out some glasses for you and H-Man there," she says. "Make sure you dilute it."
Lex gets to his feet, carrying his plate to the other end of the table.
Quinn looks at Hugo, who's quietly nibbling on his sandwich, looking contemplative. "You okay there, Kiddo?"
Hugo nods, shifting slightly. "I'm just trying to figure out what you put in the sandwich."
"Uh, cheese?"
"No," he says. "There's another flavour in here."
Quinn's eyebrows rise, caught off guard. "Oh, I, um, spread a thin layer of Dijon Mustard on the bread," she tells him.
"Ah, that's what it is," he says, looking irritated, as if he should have known. "And these are green onions, right?"
Quinn isn't sure what's happening right now, but she still nods. "I kind of just made yours the way I make mine," she says. "Do you not like it?"
Hugo's eyes widen. "What? No, I love it."
Quinn leans forward. "Humbug, are you interested in food?" she asks. "Like, preparing food?"
Hugo ducks his head a little, blushing. "Yes."
Quinn gives that a bit of thought. "Tell you what, okay, tonight, you and I are going to cook dinner for all of us, okay?"
"Are we staying for dinner?"
Quinn hesitates. "Uh, I think so," she says. "If your mom gets here before then; she'll just join us."
And, really, Quinn has never ever seen Hugo smile that wide before - she is not prepared for it. He looks positively elated at the very idea, and Quinn really hopes she hasn't said something wrong.
Still, to see that look on his face, she would say just about anything.
With Lex and Hugo back upstairs with a plate of cookies and Max down for an afternoon nap after a small bottle of milk from Rachel in the front room, Quinn finally makes her way into the work site, ducking under the tarp with her tray.
Now, Quinn has a certain expectation in mind, and what she finds is definitely nowhere near that. Bruno and T are actually fiddling with their phones, and Jake is standing with a paintbrush, smiling at Quinn in a way that isn't any way good.
Sigh.
Quinn takes a careful look around, tallying what they have and haven't done. She makes casual mention of how much they still have to do, but Jake assures her they'll get it done in time. She doesn't think they will, but she's choosing to give them the benefit of the doubt, given she doesn't know them, but she knows she's going to be placing a call to Noah Puckerman about it, regardless.
She's not paying them to sit around and do nothing, and it sure as hell isn't her responsibility to supervise grown men who are supposed to be doing a job.
"Well, let me leave you to get back to work," she says, a little tense, and then exits the way she came, pausing just outside when she hears them burst into laughter.
"Dude," Bruno says; "this is the best gig, ever."
T lets out a whoop. "We haven't done shit, and the sexy lady brings us fucking food. We keep this up, she'll totally have to call us back, and we get paid for every hour, no matter what. Why didn't we take Puck up on this ages ago?"
"It's not like she'll ever know," Bruno says. "These dumb bitches never do."
Quinn shifts her stance, already preparing for the inevitable. It was good while it lasted, but there's only so much she's willing to endure.
The preparations are simple. Quinn creates a direct line out of the house, shifting anything discernible out of sight. She's tense, but she's trying not to let it show. She texts Louisa about it, which eases her mind a little, but she's still on edge. Confrontation isn't something she normally looks forward to.
At three-thirty, Quinn carries Max upstairs, still sleeping, and sets him up in Lex's room, telling the boys, "I'm doing some drilling downstairs, so I'm going to close you guys in here, okay?" She's as casual as can be, ruffling Hugo's hair. "I'll come get you when I'm done, okay? Just stay in here until I do."
Lex gives her a curious look, but she just maintains her smile.
"See you in a little bit," she says, and then leaves the room, making sure to close the door behind her. She spends a moment just standing there, gathering herself, and then she goes back downstairs, gently saying Sasha's name and stepping under the tarp with her trusty German Shepard in tow.
Benefit of the doubt, out the window.
They've done nothing, and she's unsurprised to find Bruno and T laughing over some video in the corner and Jake using a balled up plastic as a makeshift soccer ball. Quinn takes a quick look around, seeing that her cabinet doors are at least inside the room, though none of them is installed. The painting isn't finished, and the sander is still in the corner, not even plugged in.
Well.
Quinn clears her throat. "Done already?" she asks.
"Not quite," Jake says, smiling innocently. "We're probably going to need to come back tomorrow."
Quinn walks into the kitchen area, taking a look around. "That won't be necessary," she says, not looking at any of them.
Jake sputters, clearly not expecting that. "But we haven't finished the job."
"I can see that," she comments, shifting a can of paint along the floor. "Believe me, if I'd known you were going to get so little work done, I wouldn't have bothered hiring you in the first place."
"Hey now."
"But, what would I know, right?" she says, almost conversationally. "I'm just a dumb bitch who knows nothing, right? Was that it?" Her gaze lands on Bruno. "Did I get it right?"
Bruno says nothing, just holding her gaze.
Quinn clears her throat. "Well, now that you've wasted my time, I think it's best we just call it. I'm sure you remember the way out."
None of them moves. "But we're not done yet," Jake protests.
"Again, I'm very aware," Quinn says. "If I know anything, and I can assure you I do, I'd wager you've done nothing at all today, so I'd thank you to get out of my house before I have words with your boss."
"You wouldn't."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "And, why wouldn't I do that?"
"It's not like you can prove anything."
Quinn almost laughs. "Sure," she says. "Let's gamble on that, okay. Regardless, I'd like you to take your things and leave now. I seem to have a lot of work to do to make up for this wasted day of renovation."
They stare her down, but she's unaffected. She has Sasha and a substantial amount of training in her arsenal, so she would almost dare them to do something.
"You're supposed to pay us," Jake suddenly says, obviously the mouthpiece for this trio.
"Am I?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.
He nods, smirking a little.
"I'd be very careful," she says. "I might be a woman, but I can assure you I know all the Labour Laws inside and out, so I'm going to ask you again whether you want to pursue trying to trick me out of money we both know is supposed to come through your boss, based on the contract we both signed."
Jake looks stumped, as if he hasn't understood a word she's said. Which might be true, for all she knows.
"You ain't paying us?" Bruno asks, standing a little taller.
"For what exactly would I be paying you?" she asks. "I already have three children to look after, without tacking on the three of you."
"Fuck, you're a MILF?" T asks, his voice dipping slyly.
Quinn turns her eyes towards him, critical. "Is that any way to talk to your employer?" she asks, her voice icy.
It escalates quite quickly from there, though Quinn tries to keep a handle on it. It's almost as if they want to exert some kind of dominance. They want her to cower and be apologetic, which is something she'll never do. She faced her father; these boys don't scare her.
Only women have really had the power to hurt her, anyway.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Quinn says when Bruno starts to advance on her.
Bruno pauses, which is the smartest thing he's done all day. "And why should I listen to you?"
"Well, I'm not entirely sure what you expect to happen," she says, and she's genuinely confused. "Is it your intention to 'rough' me up to get your money; send some kind of message? I'm confused."
"You would be," T snarls.
Quinn glances at him. "Oh, is that some kind of blonde joke?" She shakes her head. "I'm going to tell you one more time to get out of my home before this gets out of hand, because I can assure you I will make life very, very difficult for you."
"Oh yeah, you and what army?" Jake asks, scoffing.
"Well, for starters, you should know my best friend is a homicide detective and she's been listening on this entire altercation while I've been recording it."
Jake seems to falter, but Bruno looks unaffected. "That's a fucking lie."
"Are you willing to take that chance?" she asks, patting her pant leg where her phone comfortably sits.
"You're bluffing," T accuses.
"I'm not," Quinn says, entirely too calmly. "But, I figured you wouldn't believe me, so the second thing you should know is that dog standing right there - yip, that one baring her teeth at you - is a trained police dog, and she definitely doesn't like the way you're talking to me. Right, Sash?"
Sasha barks menacingly, and all three men shift uncomfortably.
"She's just waiting for my signal, really, so I wouldn't tempt me," Quinn says. "One last time. You ready? Get the hell out of my house. Now."
Sasha barks once more for good measure, and all three of them spring into action, stumbling over themselves to get out of the house with their practically unused tools. The door slams in their rush, and Quinn bends to pat the top of Sasha's head.
"Good girl, Sash," she murmurs. "You did good."
Sasha licks her hand, which, okay.
"Is that your way of saying 'You're welcome,' huh?"
Sasha just stares blankly at her. "We're not telling Lou about this," she murmurs, and then straightens to her full height, retrieving her phone and ending the recording she's just made.
Well, maybe she was half bluffing, but they don't need to know that.
Quinn lets out a soft breath once she hears the truck pulling out of the driveway. She peeks out the window to make sure they're really gone, and then forces her heart rate to slow to a steady rhythm.
She texts Louisa an update, and then drafts and sends a strongly-worded email to Noah Puckerman, explaining the situation as it is. Her stance is firm, and she would rather they not involve any external parties.
Once she's got that all sorted, she goes upstairs to check on the boys, unsurprised to find Max awake and moving around. "Hey, Bambinos," she says. "You guys keen to get some fresh air, maybe kick a ball around in the backyard?"
Lex rolls onto his back and stretches his limbs, yawning in the process. He looks at Hugo. "You game?"
Hugo nods once, and then looks at Quinn. "I'm not very good at sports," he confesses.
Quinn shrugs. "As long as you're having fun, nobody cares," she tells him. "And, plus, you're young, so you're only going to get better."
Lex jumps to his feet, wriggling out his appendages and actually clicking a few times. "Mom played soccer in college," he tells Hugo. "Well, until she had me, I guess, but she was really good."
Hugo's eyes go wide. "Really?"
Quinn rolls her eyes. "He's just exaggerating," she says, deflecting. "Get your shoes on. You boys have been cooped up long enough and the weather is lovely."
Lex starts moving immediately, and Quinn bends a little to urge Max to move towards her.
He doesn't.
Instead, he just sits there and stares at her as if she's the most ridiculous person in the world. Which, she really might be.
"Come on, Maxi-Pants," she says seriously. "You can crawl if that'll be easier."
Nothing.
"Ooh, burn, Mom," Lex teases.
Quinn shoots him a playful glare, and then gives up; just lifting Max off the ground and into her arms. "Do the balls need air?" she asks Lex.
"They should be good."
"Awesome," she says; "meet you at the back door."
When Hugo admitted to being 'not very good' at sports, she really didn't expect him to be underselling it. 'Sports' is probably a blanket term, surely, but the boy struggles with running.
It's his coordination, Quinn realises; just his limbs not working the way he needs them to, and she wonders if it's just something he's going to grow into. Still, she's patient and supportive as the three of them kick a ball around on the grass, Max happily occupied with Sasha in the cooling sun.
The afternoon sun is lowering slowly, and Quinn wants to capture this moment for what it is. As a result, she snaps a few pictures of the boys running around, of Max lying across Sasha, of all of them just being silly. She's going to struggle to pick one for her wallpaper.
She sends a few pictures to Louisa and Jane, just wanting to share this moment with them. She thinks over it for a few moments before sending a few to Rachel as well, realising that she would want pictures if it were the other way around.
She's standing on the back deck watching the boys fall over each other when she hears the doorbell ring. She checks to make sure they'll be fine for a few minutes, and then makes her way through the house to the front door, pausing to check who it is through the side window.
Well.
With a heavy sigh, she pulls open the door to find Noah Puckerman standing in her doorway, his expression unreadable.
"Ms Fabray," he says, voice a little strained.
"Mr Puckerman," she returns. "To what do I owe this visit?"
He clears his throat. "Well, I have some conflicting statements I need to clear up," he says. "I was hoping we could talk about this face-to-face."
"That really won't be necessary," she says. "If you have some kind of conflict you'd like to address, I'll happily receive it in writing."
Noah sighs. "Look, okay, this crew is young, I get that, but I've never had trouble with them before."
"That's probably because dumb bitches like me don't realise they're extending the job by doing minimal work per hour," she says tensely.
Noah falters.
"I don't even know what you're doing here."
"Your email said you weren't going to pay me, which means I won't be able to pay them."
"That is true, yes," she says. "The deposit I paid to you should cover the time it took to drive out here, but it isn't in my interest to award lack of work and lack of manners. I could have done the work and then some, and I suppose it's my own fault for working with an untrusted contractor."
Noah bristles, and steps forward. "Listen, lady, you're the one who came to me looking for labour, which you're going to pay for. I don't know what you think you know about being a contractor, but, if you don't like the work, there's no need to - "
"Uncle Noah?"
Noah stops speaking quite suddenly at the sound of Hugo's voice, and Quinn freezes, caught off guard by the recognition.
"What are you doing here?" Hugo asks.
Noah blinks, surprised to see him as he approaches behind Quinn. "What are you doing here?" Noah asks. "Did she kidnap you again?"
Hugo frowns. "No," he says, moving to Quinn's side and gripping her pants in his left fist. "Mom dropped us off. What are you doing here?" He glances at Quinn's stony expression for a moment, before looking at Noah again. "Why were you being mean to Quinn?"
Noah looks stumped. "We were, uh, just talking, Hugo," he explains.
"You were being mean," Hugo argues. "That was your 'bully' voice. The one you use at work."
Noah has no idea what to say in response to that.
"What are you doing here?" Hugo asks for the third time, his gaze hard in a way that Noah's never seen. It's as if he's charged himself as Quinn's protector, even against a man who's known him most of his life.
Noah looks between them, trying to figure out just what's happening. Hugo is here, with this woman, and it looks as if it's willingly. But that can't be possible.
It's not.
There's no way.
"I'm taking you home," Noah suddenly says, the next course of action obvious to only him.
"No," Hugo says, at the same time Quinn says, "Not going to happen."
"This doesn't concern you," Noah snaps at Quinn, who is stoic, even when Hugo flinches at the raised voice.
Quinn settles a hand on Hugo's back, silently letting him know it's all going to be okay. "Actually, it does," she says, very purposeful. "I don't know who you think you are, but I can assure you nobody is leaving this house today."
"Who I am," Noah scoffs. "Who are you?"
"I'm Quinn."
Noah glares at her. "And I'm Puck, Hugo's uncle."
Hugo leans into her. "He's the one you punched," he informs her, which is information Quinn can work with. "That night, at the diner."
Quinn's left eyebrow rises. "That's good to know," she says. "Now that we've all been introduced, I'd like you to leave."
"With pleasure," Noah says, shifting forward. "Hugo, let's go," he forces out, reaching for Hugo's arm, who springs back, looking frightened. "Hugo," he says in disbelief. "What are - "
Quinn steps in front of Hugo, looking Noah square in the eye. "Mr Puckerman, if you wish to take this labour issue further, go for it, really. Just, bear in mind that I have photographic evidence of the work that wasn't done, all time-stamped, and a wonderfully clear recording of your crew threatening me in my home." Her eyes are hard. "So, I would really like you to leave now. I'll deal with this in writing, or you really will be hearing from my lawyer."
She attempts to close the door in his face, but Noah sticks a hand out to stop her, his brain not quite catching up and his body reacting.
"Hugo, let's go," he says again.
Hugo crosses his arms over his chest. "No," he says as sternly as he can manage. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Hugo."
"I'm staying with Quinn," he declares stubbornly. "Especially since you're using your 'bully' voice."
Noah falters again, his arm growing slack.
Quinn uses the opportunity to close the door, slamming it a little unnecessarily, and then letting out a long breath as she turns the lock, the sound almost echoing.
For a moment, neither Quinn nor Hugo says anything, but then Hugo is hugging her hips tightly, visibly trembling. She rubs his back soothingly, wondering what she did in her life to be this person who apparently protects him from the men in his life.
"Are you okay?" Quinn asks softly.
Hugo nods against her. "Are you?"
"I'm just peachy," she says lightly.
Hugo holds on for a few more moments, and then releases her, saying, "I really, really suck at soccer."
Quinn chuckles, using the hand on his back to lead him back through the house to the yard. "Don't worry," she says; "we'll find whatever you're good at."
Lex perks up at the sight of them. "Mom," he shouts from where he's holding onto Max's arms and helping him take unsteady steps. "Look at Maxi go."
Quinn laughs, loud and happy, as she takes out her phone to take a quick video. "Go, SuperMax, go."
Max giggles, concentrating really hard.
Quinn nudges Hugo forward. "Go on," she says. "At least show your brother you know how to walk."
Hugo looks at her, scandalised. "I can walk."
Quinn winks at him. "Prove it."
Once they've exhausted themselves in the backyard, Quinn ushers them back into the house, declaring it, "Bath time."
Lex rushes to the bathroom to get the water running, but Hugo lingers, looking a little lost.
"Hey, Kid," Quinn says, standing at his side. "What's up?"
"Bath time," he repeats.
Quinn nods. "Lucas over there takes an eternity, so I think you should call dibs," she says, all casual.
"I don't have any clothes," he finally blurts out.
Quinn frowns. "You sure about that? Cause I'm pretty sure there's a second set in the bag your mom packed."
Hugo looks at her, eyes a little wide.
Quinn gently urges him forward. "Why don't you ask the rat to borrow some pyjamas?" she suggests. "I think you'll be more comfortable."
She has to do little more convincing after that, and the next half hour is spent supervising Lex and Hugo's bath time while letting Max splash about in the bathroom sink.
It's a bit of a whirlwind, really, and she's relieved Hugo and Lex are old enough not to go running around wet and naked, and that Max can't quite walk yet.
"I'm digging these pyjamas," she tells them both once they're all ready, leaving a freshly-dressed Max on Lex's carpet. "I'm going to get ready, and I'll meet you in the front room in a few minutes, okay? See if you can find a movie for us to watch later."
Quinn doesn't really realise she's exhausted until she's alone. Her brain has been functioning full-tilt for hours now, and she really doesn't know how other single parents handle more than one child. She takes her hat off to them, especially if they have actual jobs they have to go to.
Quinn rushes through a shower, all while brainstorming what she's making for dinner. It has to be something relatively simple, if Hugo is going to help her. The fact he's showing an interest at all is lovely, and she's all for cultivating his desire to learn more.
Choosing what to wear is a little tricky. Pyjamas seem like the best route, but she really doesn't want to be in her ratty old sleepwear for when Rachel arrives. It's a vain thought, she knows, but she's trying not to think too hard about it.
Whatever feelings she may or not have for this woman are moot, anyway. Especially after the events involving Noah Puckerman today, surely, and that's not even taking to account she might not even be interested in women.
Quinn eventually decides on a black pair of joggers and a white New Haven Police Department t-shirt that fits a little loose on her frame. It's one of Louisa's old ones, stolen back when the redhead was still just an officer.
Quinn got rid of all of Blair's things a long time ago.
There's a lot of giggling going on when she finally descends the stairs, her bare feet soundless on the wood. She steps into the front room to find Hugo and Lex tripping over themselves trying to lug in numerous blankets and sheets she knows they've stolen from the linen closet.
"What's going on here?" she asks, her voice a little stern.
They both freeze.
Lex drops the blanket in his arms. "We're, uh, making a fort?"
"Is that a question?"
"You always said it's easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission."
Quinn rues the day she painstakingly explained what that phrase means. "How are you planning on building it?" she asks. "Do you have drawn plans?"
Lex's eyes light up, and then he sprints from the room without a word. Quinn looks at Hugo. "Ready to cook?"
Hugo nods eagerly, setting his armful of fabric on the couch. He bends to lift Max off the floor, and follows Quinn into the makeshift kitchen.
"Now," she says. "I'm afraid our options are a little limited, because this isn't exactly the kitchen, so we're going to have to be creative. We'll do something extravagant next time."
Hugo looks at her with wide eyes. "There's going to be a next time?"
Quinn hesitates. "If your mom allows it, of course," she answers diplomatically.
Hugo sets Max on the floor, watches him for a moment, and then asks, "What does extr - extrava - "
"Extravagant?"
Hugo nods, repeating, "Extravagant. What does it mean?"
Quinn gives it a bit of thought. "Over the top," she explains. "Almost fancy," she tries.
Hugo nods in understanding. "So, what are we making?"
"Well, we have options," she says, moving towards the fridge and opening its door. "Obviously, there's everyone's favourite, mac and cheese. There's spaghetti and meatballs, cottage pie, maybe we can make this chicken and broccoli pasta dish I've been meaning to try. Any of those interest you?"
Hugo seems to give it some serious consideration before he says, "I like broccoli."
"You're a man after my own heart, Young Chef."
Quinn is browning the diced chicken in a saucepan, Hugo breaking apart the florets of broccoli and Max hitting a plastic spatula against the floor when Lex returns, a wad of papers and some pencils in his hands.
Lex throws himself into his seat, sounding a little breathless. "So, I drew the room out how it looks now," he says, showing Quinn one of his pages. "It won't work well for our fort."
Quinn peeks at the paper, one eye staying on her chicken. "You'll have to change the layout of the furniture," she says.
Lex finds a blank piece and starts drawing the room out again, turning the page this way and that. Quinn smiles to herself, loving the ability to witness his brain at work. She turns her focus to their dinner, checking if her pasta water has reached boil yet. Almost.
"Chef Hugo," she calls out. "Those baby trees ready yet?"
"Yes, Chef," Hugo declares, carrying the bowl over to her. "Are these okay?"
"Perfect," she tells him. "Come stand closer. We're going to add some seasoning to the chicken, and then we're going to salt our pasta water. It's really important you do that, or your pasta will taste like nothing, regardless of what you eat with it."
Quinn doesn't realise it, but splitting her attention among the three boys is a little more difficult than she initially thought. It helps she's good at multi-tasking, but she can only wonder how much harder it would be if Max actually could walk around unsupervised. Wow.
Hugo and Quinn are done with dinner just as Lex declares his plan complete, and it's perfect timing.
"Set the table," Quinn tells Lex. "We'll eat dinner, and then you can put us to work, Architect Extraordinaire."
Lex blushes, but does as he's told, she and Hugo carefully plating up. She even lets him add diced chives and grated Parmesan as a garnish before she gets them started eating.
"This is really good, Hugo," Lex says between mouthfuls.
Quinn immediately agrees, popping a piece of broccoli into her mouth while Max swallows his latest mouthful of his own special blend of their dinner. She made sure to take out chicken and broccoli and pasta, pre-spice, and blended it enough to be easy enough for him to eat, and he seems to be loving it.
"Even ReMax thinks so," Quinn points out, and Hugo blushes a dark, dark red.
Lex softly discusses his plans for his fort, Hugo chipping in where he can and Quinn adding some structural insight. Lex wants it to be huge, and she tries to make sure he remembers that the blankets should be on the floor and the sheets up top, for mass purposes.
Once they're finished eating, Quinn sends the boys to the front room with Max while she cleans up as best she can, setting the dishes in the dishwasher and packing the food into containers. She can hear giggling and several thuds every few moments. She can't even imagine what she's going to walk into when she's done.
Well.
It isn't a complete disaster when she peeks into the room, which is always a relief. They're scrambling around to keep it all in place, which is doubly amusing to Quinn. And Max, who is giggling happily as he watches them act like maniacs.
It's okay.
They're cute maniacs.
Quinn stays in the dining room and out of the way while she checks her phone, reading the replies she's received from Jane and Louisa, who both gush in their respective ways. Jane's OMG, they're so cute I'm going to die, to Louisa's Don't take this the wrong way, but I could eat them - why are they so stupidly adorable?
It's totally on brand.
Quinn also has a text from Rachel that was sent more than an hour ago. She's checked in a handful of times throughout the day - which always gets a soft smile out of Hugo - and Quinn switches to that thread to read her latest text.
Oh my god, Quinn, I'm so sorry! We're supposed to be back in Lima already, but SOMEONE has misplaced the car keys and we've been searching the whole damn facility for them. (Kurt thinks they might even be in the mud bath, which is honestly the worst case scenario). Let me know if I should get my parents to pick the boys up, because this definitely isn't what you signed up for.
Quinn chuckles to herself, because of course there was bound to be some kind of disaster. With a soft smile, she types out her reply.
It's not a problem at all, don't worry. We're just about to watch a movie, so there's no rush. I hope you've found the keys - can't imagine that's been a nice way to end what was supposed to be a relaxing day.
Gosh, you have no idea. Thank you so much. You are actually the best!
And, to her immense horror, Quinn actually blushes. Like a fucking schoolgirl. What the hell? This is ridiculous.
Quinn pockets her phone, and then moves into the front room, taking in the fort's progress. It looks quite stable, given what they have to work with, and Quinn is extremely proud of her little Engineer.
When Lex deems his creation complete, Quinn goes over it to make sure it'll stay up once they're all inside, and then she declares it safe for occupation.
"What movie are we watching?" Quinn asks, watching as Lex crawls through the dedicated door.
"It's a surprise," he calls back.
Quinn contemplates the idea of making them some hot chocolate or even popcorn, but she caught several yawns from all three boys, so she doesn't anticipate them staying up much longer.
Well.
Quinn is right.
They make it only half an hour into Mulan before Max falls into slumber against her chest. Lex goes next, nodding off with his head pillowed by her legs, drooling a little on her joggers.
Hugo takes a little longer, his head resting on her shoulder. "Quinn," he whispers.
"Hmm?"
"Do you like me?"
For a moment, Quinn wonders where the question's come from, but she realises quite quickly that this must be Finn's doing, convincing him he's not really wanted around, some kind of nuisance. Perhaps it's also something to do with his father, Quinn doesn't know.
What she does know is this, though: "I do, Hugo."
He lifts his head to look at her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "You called me Hugo," he accuses, surprised. "You never do that."
She smiles sadly. "Well, now you know how serious I'm being," she says, which is a truth universal to all the people in her life. Lex knows she's being serious when she uses his name, and Jane and Louisa are fully aware what it means when their given names leave her lips.
Jane, I was so careful. I don't know how this happened.
Louisa, it - it's over. He wants nothing to do with us.
Jane, I'm gay. I'm very, very gay.
Louisa, just know that I will make your life a living nightmare if you ever, ever hurt Jane.
Jane, I think she's the one.
Louisa, she's gone. She's just gone.
Jane, I think we're going to make that change I was talking about.
Louisa, do you remember when I thought Blair was the one? I was wrong. She doesn't even compare.
"You like me?" Hugo asks again.
"A whole lot," she assures him.
"You don't find me annoying?"
Quinn makes a mental note to punch Finn again the next time she sees him. "Not even a little bit."
Hugo studies her face critically, as if he's looking for an untruth. If he finds what he's looking for, she doesn't know, but he does resettle against her, snuggling into her side, and he's asleep within minutes.
Quinn Fabray, the human pillow. What has become of her life?
She lies perfectly still while they sleep, making various sounds and shifting around. Eventually, she lifts her phone and just about manages to send a text to Rachel with one hand.
Hey, the boys are asleep, so please don't ring the doorbell when you get here. Just text. Drive safe.
She doesn't get a reply, and that's okay.
Quinn thinks she falls asleep, because the next thing she knows the movie is back to the menu selection and her phone is buzzing in her hand. She blinks at her phone's screen, adjusting to the light to see she has a text.
This is the text, as requested. I'm at your door. Sorry I'm so late.
Be right there.
It takes a lot of manoeuvring and held breath for Quinn to untangle herself successfully. She makes sure the boys are all settled, and then crawls out of the fort, feeling her joints click when she's finally upright. She has enough vanity to run a hand through her hair a few times before she moves to the front door, peeking out automatically, to see Rachel standing there and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Quinn is smitten, and she doesn't think she keeps it off her face when she finally opens the door. She thinks she saves herself the embarrassment by immediately yawning, in lieu of a greeting.
Rachel lets out a laugh. "I didn't think it was that late."
Quinn waves a hand, waiting for the yawn to pass. "I too fell asleep," she confesses, stepping back to let the other woman inside. "They just left me alone. What else was I supposed to do?"
Rachel steps into the house, marvelling at the smell of home that wafts over her. She watches as Quinn closes and locks the door.
"They're all in the front room," she says, leading the way. "We kind of built a fort and crawled under there to watch Mulan."
"Oh, I love that movie."
"The soundtrack is amazing," Quinn agrees quietly, dropping the volume of her voice. "They're under there if you want to take a peek. I promise they're both still whole."
Rachel smiles crookedly. "I believe you," she says; "though, I have missed them." She starts to bend, but Quinn catches her arm to stop her. It's the first time they've ever touched, skin-to-skin, and Quinn gulps before taking her hand back.
"Uh," she starts. "I don't know if you've eaten, but there's some dinner leftover I can heat up for you. Hubert did all the cooking."
Rachel just stares at her for a long moment, blinking several times. Eventually, smiles. "Well, how could I say no to that?"