XIII
I don't suppose you're free tonight?
Quinn grins at the message, because Rachel already knows she doesn't have plans. They even discussed it the night before.
When they managed to squeeze in words between kisses, that is.
I could probably move things around, she texts back. What's up?
My Dad has been nagging me about having you and Lex over for a barbecue. Like, constantly bugging me about it, and I think he might actually combust if I don't at least try to make it happen.
I'm assuming it would be in poor form to hold off as much as possible, just to see if he does combust, right?
The wait for a reply is a little long, and Quinn can only imagine Rachel's laughter. Eventually, though, her phone buzzes, and she automatically smiles.
Just say yes, you idiot.
To what? There was no question.
This is a formal invitation to a summer barbecue at my parents' house this evening. Do you accept?
Time?
Quinn!
Quinn laughs out loud, just picturing Rachel's adorable frustration. God, she wishes they were together right now.
Of course we'll be there, Strawberry, she sends, and then follows it with a string of kiss emojis, before asking if there's anything she needs to bring.
Just your cute butt and that ridiculously cute son of yours.
Sash?
Oh, definitely. My Daddy is going to go crazy for her.
Cool :) But, seriously, what time?
Four-thirty.
I'll be punctual. Need to make a good impression and all.
You realise they've met you before, right?
Quinn rolls her eyes, because it's obvious Rachel doesn't realise just how stressful this could all prove to be.
That was before they knew for sure we're together, she sends back, and then adds, Also, we have sex now - what if they can tell?
Then they'll know just how satisfied I am.
You're not helping.
See you tonight, lover.
Yeah, yeah... Later, Berry ;)
Which is really how Quinn finds herself standing on the Berry family's deck some hours later, beer in hand and easy smile on her face. It was a little awkward when she first arrived, given that she's more of a stranger than Lex is.
LeRoy had also very formally held out his hand for her to shake, which she knows was a test. She can only hope she's passed.
The evening, so far, is going well.
Hiram reintroduced himself as Rachel's father, and then took her on a tour of the house before depositing her right here with an ice-cold beer and declining her offer for help.
She wanders over to where LeRoy is at the grill, doing her best to appear confident, even if there's a part of her that doesn't feel it. LeRoy appears a lot more reserved than Hiram, and she reasons it's going to be a bit more difficult to earn his acceptance.
Parents are weird.
She met only Blair's mother once, when she visited New Haven from Florida. It was an accident, if anything, the two of them visiting Blair at the precinct at the same time. It was surprising to Quinn, seeing her there, and then hurtful having Blair pretend she was just a friend.
They had a rather big fight later that night, Blair claiming it was just better not to get her mother involved in their lives, and the two of them didn't speak for four days before Quinn sucked it up and texted a reminder that Lex had a soccer game on the weekend.
Blair showed up, and they never did discuss Blair's mother again.
It didn't even matter in the end, because Blair ended up leaving two months later, and Quinn still feels the sting of it.
Relationships are weird.
LeRoy glances over his shoulder at her approach, smiling softly. "Hey there," he says. "Come to make sure I'm not burning anything?"
"I hear you're the cook in the family, so I'm not worried," she says.
"I'm probably going to be overtaken by Hugo one of these days," he says. "It's all he can talk about."
She blinks a little stupidly.
"Cooking with you, Quinn," he says, eyeing the grill for a moment. "Thank you for taking the time to help with that."
"Of course," she says, because it's really no sacrifice on her part. "I reckon I have more fun than he does, most of the time. I love getting to witness the boys learn and experience new things. Their brains are fascinating."
LeRoy looks at her for an uncomfortably long time. "Lex is a lovely boy," he says.
"Don't say it too loudly," she says with a slight grin. "It'll go straight to his head if we're not too careful."
LeRoy laughs, his shoulders relaxing enough for her to accept she might just stand a chance with this man. She doesn't normally place any importance in what men think of her, but Rachel is important, which means all the men she's related to are also important.
So far, she's managed to win over Hugo and Max, Hiram probably, and now LeRoy seems to be warming up to her.
Hopefully.
Quinn eventually moves on to where Lex, Hugo and Sasha are running around on the lawn, the three of them burning off their lingering energy from the day. She doesn't get involved, choosing rather to stand and watch and enjoy their happiness.
It's where Rachel finds her, appearing at her side with a smile she's sure matches her own.
Rachel slides an arm around her waist and reaches up to kiss her cheek, which makes her smile grow. "Did you want another drink?"
"No, thank you," she says, lifting her beer bottle to show Rachel the level. "I actually like this; whatever it is."
"My Daddy gets it from Cincinnati," Rachel says. "It's actually where he's from."
"How did you guys end up here?"
"Who knows?" she asks. "Really, I wish I knew, so I could figure out just what possessed two gay men who wanted a child to settle in this backwards town."
Quinn winces. "Not a fun time, huh?"
"The worst."
Quinn presses a kiss to her temple. "It's changed, though, right?" she asks, only slightly worried. It's something she's always worried about when it comes to Lex, but she's done a lot to prepare him to be able to deal with bigots and prejudice.
"I think it's improved, yes," Rachel says, looking thoughtful. "I've never really had to pay that much attention to it, in regards to my own kids, but I guess it's different now."
Quinn winces. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
Quinn sips at her beer. "I don't know," she says. "I just get the impression my arrival has made your life more complicated."
Rachel squeezes her waist in soft rebuke. "That is both an accurate and inaccurate statement," she says. "Your arrival has definitely stirred things up, but I am so happy, Quinn. So happy. This past year has been so difficult. It's made me question everything I've ever wanted; forced me into a life that was lacklustre and dull beyond my children. But, now, you're here, and you're everything I had no idea I ever wanted or needed."
Quinn pulls her into a hug, because she can't think of what else to do. She just needs her close, in her arms, forever.
"Hey, Lovebirds," Hiram eventually calls out, interrupting their moment. "Dinner's ready."
"So, Quinn, what exactly do you do?"
Hiram asks the question, trying to keep his tone light, even though Quinn and Rachel both know this is going to be a mild interrogation.
Quinn hesitates. "Um, I'm a writer," she says.
Hiram's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Anything I would have seen?"
"I'm not sure," she lies, knowing full well she saw a handful of her own books on the shelves in the living room when she came in. She's not one to brag, and she chose a pseudonym for a reason.
"Are you successful?" Hiram asks.
"Dad," Rachel says, sounding a little scandalised.
Quinn can find it in herself to be amused, but she has no time to respond before Lex is speaking.
"They want to make her books into a TV series," he says, squeezing some ketchup onto his burger.
Quinn's eyes widen, because he's definitely not supposed to know that. LeRoy and Hiram both look surprised, and Rachel looks thoughtful. "Have you been talking to Lindsey?" she asks Lex, momentarily forgetting their audience.
Lex shrugs. "She wants to know why you won't agree."
"Oh, my God," she growls. "I'm going to kill her. She's even using my own kid against me."
Rachel places a hand on her leg under the table. "That sounds like a big deal, Quinn," she says.
"We must have heard of you, then," Hiram muses.
Quinn wants nothing more than to switch topics, and she almost manages it by bringing up the food again, but the traitor that is her son decides he's suddenly very talkative.
"Her books are about Detective Matilda Swanson," Lex says, finally taking a bite of his burger, and Hiram actually gasps.
LeRoy actually looks shocked and Rachel's fingers dig into her thigh, making her squirm in her seat.
"Tilda is yours?" Hiram asks in a near whisper.
Quinn takes a breath, and then nods. At the moment, there are only three books out in the series, with the fourth currently being edited and thoroughly reworked.
They can't know how much it's taken out of her to keep writing about a woman who reminds her so much of Blair. They can't know how hard it's been to separate her life from her art enough not to make Matilda bleed she's sometimes wanted Blair to.
"So, you're Lucy Quinn," LeRoy says, and he sounds impressed.
Quinn doesn't blush, but she comes close.
"I'm a fan of your earlier works," LeRoy says. "The rawness behind the story in Your Soul really struck something with me."
Quinn audibly swallows. "I - I wrote that one while I was pregnant," she explains. "The first draft was my Undergraduate thesis."
"Amazing," Hiram says.
Quinn does blush now, and she makes a point of taking a bite of her burger to hold off any further questions. Her reluctance to give some production company the rights to her work isn't something she's willing to talk about at the moment. Or ever.
As much as Quinn is currently disillusioned about Matilda Swanson at the moment, the character and universe is still dear to heart, and she can't just hand it all over to someone else.
Or, she could, and just be done with all of it.
It's a relief when conversation moves on to other things, though she knows this isn't the end of it. The rest of the meal is gentle on her, though. The questions are mild, and she reasons it has a lot to do with the presence of their children.
Quinn is still a little wary, though, because she wants Rachel's parents to like her and accept her. This woman is her future, and that's something not to take lightly.
She helps clear the table once they're done, while Rachel sets the boys up in the living room with a movie and some ice-cream. Hiram hovers near Quinn, both of them working rather efficiently.
"Fancy a night cap?" Hiram offers once the last dish is safely packed in the dishwasher.
Quinn shakes her head. "Not if I plan on driving," she says. "Do you have anything else?"
She ends up picking some iced tea, and then the two of them go back out onto the back deck, finding Rachel standing and watching LeRoy have what seems like a rather animated conversation with Sasha.
Quinn moves to stand at her side, casually slipping an arm around her shoulders.
"She's a responsible one," Hiram tells Rachel, standing at Quinn's other side.
"I know," Rachel says, even though she doesn't know the context.
"Me thinks you've picked a good one," Hiram teases them, his eyes looking onto the grass where LeRoy is now throwing Sasha's tennis ball.
Rachel leans into Quinn. "I think so, too."
"At least we'll be supportive when you marry this one," Hiram jokes, and Rachel stiffens.
Quinn frowns. "This one?"
Hiram laughs heartily. "Try talking a teenage Rachel out of marrying Finn Hudson in high school," he says with a decidedly-fond shake of his head; "only for her to go and marry her first boyfriend in college."
Quinn feels as if someone's just dumped a bucket of ice water on her. She looks to Rachel, almost expecting her to laugh the entire thing off, but she's studiously avoiding Quinn's gaze.
"You're - you're married?" Quinn asks, suddenly feeling sick.
Rachel opens her mouth, and then closes it.
Quinn blinks once, twice, and then abruptly drops her arm from Rachel's shoulders as if she's been burned. "You're married," she accuses. "God, you're married." She steps back, stumbling, this moment taking her back to a certain office at Yale, her telling Professor Patrick Caulfield she's pregnant and his telling her he's married.
She'd been sick then, and she's going to be sick now.
She's going to throw up right here.
"I - I told you how it felt," Quinn chokes out. "To - to be the other - I can't - why would - " she stops quite suddenly, turns sharply and stalks into the house, quickly locating the closest bathroom. She has just enough time to close the door and get the seat up on the toilet before she's expelling her dinner - and probably her lunch, as well.
She's overreacting, perhaps, but it's just so jarring. The idea of Rachel - her sweet, sweet Rachel - being married to someone else makes Quinn burn with embarrassment and hurt worse than anything else.
Rachel could have told her.
She should have told her.
Quinn vomits again, and, yip, that's definitely her breakfast.
She's a cheater all over again.
It's even worse this time, because Rachel knows. She's known all along, and -
There's a knock on the door, and a soft voice says, "Quinn?"
Quinn is both relieved and disappointed it's not Rachel. Though, LeRoy is the last person Quinn wants to be talking to about any of this. Well, no, there are probably a list of people ahead of him, but she's trying not to think about that.
"I - I'll be right out," she forces herself to say.
"There's no rush," he says. "Just making sure you're okay."
Quinn almost snorts, because she's definitely not okay. How is she supposed to be okay? Her girlfriend - partner, or whatever she is - is married. Married. Rachel said 'I do' to someone else, and just conveniently thought to leave that out of their entire relationship.
Jesus Christ.
Quinn slowly gets off her knees and onto her feet. She flushes the toilet and then walks to the sink, not daring to look at her reflection as she rinses out her mouth. Her heart rate has slowed, thankfully, but her head is whirling.
It's time to go home. Just take Lex and go, and maybe she'll be in the right state of mind to talk about it tomorrow. Or the next day.
Or never.
Quinn sighs heavily, and then turns off the water. No use wasting that precious resource while she tries to figure out her life. She moves to the door, rests her hand on the handle and takes a breath. She can do this. All she has to do is be polite enough to get out of here - hopefully without Lex figuring out something is off - and then she can give it all some more thought.
Which is a plan that gets completely derailed when she opens the door and finds a nervous Rachel Berry standing there. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth and her fingers are twisted in front of her.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says, almost blurting out the words, and Quinn has the childish urge to close the door again.
Rachel pushes forward, forcing Quinn back into the bathroom. She closes the door behind them and leans against it, trapping them both.
"I'm so sorry, Quinn," Rachel says. "I should have told you. God. I definitely should have told you."
"Why didn't you?"
Rachel drops her gaze. "We got married a few months after Hugo was born," she explains. "At City Hall. It was - it wasn't romantic or meaningful or - " she stops, shakes her head and sighs. "It was meant to give Hugo safety." She shakes her head. "By doing it, I just gave up my own."
Quinn can barely look at her.
"When I left New York, I filed for divorce," Rachel says. "Brody's been sitting on the papers, because he's convinced it entitles him to live in my apartment and not have to pay any child support." She takes a breath. "That night, when you told me about what it was like for you, I had my lawyer serve him again," she explains. "I - I haven't had a reason to push for him to sign until now. It was just easier to be separated the way we were, because I won't drag my kids through some custody battle or whatever shit Brody might try when he figures out he's entitled to nothing."
Quinn waits for her to say more, but it's as if she's finished. "That still doesn't explain why you never told me," she points out, because they are definitely not finished.
"I - I don't know," Rachel confesses. "I just didn't. I didn't know how. I didn't want to. I didn't want to create an awkward situation. You - you told me how it all made you feel, and I was scared I would lose you if I told you. I didn't want to break us. There are so many reasons, and any one of them could be true, but my truth is I just don't know."
Quinn feels lightheaded, and she takes a step back to sit on the edge of the bathtub. "You still should have told me."
"And, what would have happened if I did?"
"Don't do that," Quinn snaps. "This isn't about my potential reaction. Don't use it as a damn excuse."
Rachel says nothing.
"We've had sex," Quinn says, more to herself. "We're together in every sense of being together. Your kids are like my own. You're - you're supposed to be - " she stops.
"Quinn?"
"I've just about wrapped my head around the fact your sons have an actual father," Quinn says. "It's going to take me a lot longer to get used to the idea that you also have an actual spouse."
Rachel flinches. "I'm sorry."
"What does this mean for us?" Quinn suddenly asks.
"What?"
"What does it mean for us that you're married?" Quinn asks, and her voice is tense.
"It means nothing," Rachel says. "Nothing changes."
"That's not true, and you know it."
"I'm getting divorced, Quinn," Rachel says. "Nothing changes."
"You talked about custody," Quinn says. "Does the fact we're in a relationship jeopardise that?"
"Of course not," Rachel says. "Brody's been in relationships since before I even left New York. I'm not worried about whether I'll get custody of my children. I'm more worried about what he'll say and do to make sure I don't."
"And you don't think he'll use me against you?"
Rachel audibly swallows. "Is there something to be used?"
Quinn's gaze hardens. "I'm not hiding a marriage from you, if that's what you're asking."
Rachel sucks in a breath. "Quinn."
Quinn gets to her feet. "I'm not willing to do this right now," she says. "I'm going to take my son home now, and we can talk about this at a time when I don't feel blindsided and something akin to betrayal."
Rachel doesn't move.
"Please," Quinn says. "I'm feeling a lot of things at the moment, and I would rather not add guilt to it when I end up saying something I'm likely to regret."
"I am sorry," Rachel says again, but does move away from the door. She walks towards the sink, leaning against it and watching Quinn with wide, apologetic eyes.
Quinn clenches her jaw, wondering how everything's just managed to go so wrong. They were fine. Right? They were just fine, and now -
Quinn hesitates, and then shakes her head, moving towards the door. She thinks she should be saying something, but she can't think of the right words.
So, she says nothing and leaves.
Somehow, she still ends up with regrets.
Quinn waits until Lex is tucked in his bed and asleep to slide into her own bed and call Louisa. She has a feeling her best friend is still awake, so she doesn't feel as guilty as she probably could calling so late.
"Please tell me you got laid," is the way Louisa answers the call, and Quinn closes her eyes, suddenly stricken by the truth she's now had sex with two married people. "Quinn?"
"She's married."
Louisa's mouth snaps shut.
"She's married, Louisa," Quinn repeats, and it hits harder actually saying the words out loud.
"Quinn."
"I don't - I can't - why - what am I supposed to do?" she starts and stutters. "She's fucking married."
"Quinn."
She forces herself to take a deep, calming breath, but it still hurts.
It hurts.
"What do you need?" Louisa asks. "Q, what do you need?"
"I don't - I don't want to be this person again," she says, and her voice is doing something she absolutely hates. "She - she lied to me, Lou. After I told her how it felt to find out about Patrick's wife; to be some other woman, to be his damn side piece. She sat there and listened to me go on about it, and the whole time, she's - she's - fuck."
"Quinn."
"She's supposed to be the one," Quinn continues. "She is the one. I can't - why did - why wouldn't she just tell me?"
Louisa doesn't respond, which really tells Quinn that they both already know the answer to that question. Rachel already answered it, anyway.
"Lou," Quinn breathes.
Louisa sighs. "What do you want me to do? You know I can make her life difficult the way I've been doing with that Puckerman asshole," she says, which gets a tiny smile from Quinn.
"No, don't do that," she says, because that would just be a disaster. "And I'm pretty sure she's not wanted for questioning over a robbery in Columbus."
"The man is truly a national treasure," Louisa says sarcastically. "We're really doing the world a favour here, you know?"
"Oh, definitely what I set out to do," she quips, and then groans. "Falling in love was never in the plans."
"Since when do plans ever work out, Q?"
Quinn thinks there's probably some philosophical answer she could come up with, but she's just so exhausted - physically and emotionally. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asks, her voice cracking. "What do I do?"
"Just take a breath," Louisa says, trying to sound as calm as she possibly can. "Take lots of breaths. There we go. Breathe in, and out. Again."
"I knew it was too good to be true," Quinn says after a moment.
Louisa sighs. "Don't say that," she says. "It's not the end of the world, and you know it. I'm assuming you talked?"
"A little, yeah."
"What did she say?"
"She's been trying to divorce him for over a year, but he's not budging."
"See," Louisa says, a little too loudly. "It's not as if she's planning on staying with him. I'm pretty sure she would happily let him know she's been seeing you."
"She hasn't even told her friends," Quinn points out.
"Hmm, well, it seems to me that's even more of a complicated situation than a potential estranged spouse," she says. "It's not the same, Quinn. We both know it's not the same."
"Then, why does it still hurt?"
"Oh, babe, it was always going to hurt," Louisa whispers, and there's something particularly pained in her own voice. "Still, I'm sorry it does."
"It's best I know, right?" Quinn murmurs.
"I - yeah," Louisa softly agrees.
"I hate this."
"I know, Q."
Quinn sighs. "What do I do now?" she asks.
"Now, I suppose you get some sleep," Louisa says, quiet and purposeful. "Just let yourself breathe and get some sleep, okay? Things will be clearer in the morning."
"Clearer?"
"You'll be able to see through the haze of the hurt," Louisa explains. "You'll be able to make more sense of it all."
Quinn closes her eyes. "I wish - " she starts, and then stops.
"I know, baby girl," Louisa says, her voice low and soothing. "Everything is going to be okay."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Louisa says, and Quinn has always been inclined to believe her.
Quinn wakes what feels like two seconds after finally managing to fall asleep to find fifteen separate texts on her phone, ten from Rachel, three from Louisa and two from Jane. She can barely bring herself to check any of them, but she does manage a thumbs-up to Louisa, which she suspects the redhead will pass on to Jane.
Quinn isn't even going to touch anything Rachel's sent.
Not yet.
If Lex can tell something is off with her, he doesn't mention it. She makes him pancakes, mainly because she needs the comfort of them. She doubles up on the chocolate chips, wanting to spoil them both for no other reason than her heart is hurting.
After they've eaten, she does the dishes and then spends a few minutes on the phone to Jane, the two of them talking about absolute nonsense, while Lex watches cartoons.
Jane doesn't mention Rachel at all, which Quinn definitely appreciates. Instead, she discusses the new plans she's been working on for a potential house they're considering flipping.
"We can come help," Quinn offers, wondering if getting out of Lima for a little while would help her heartache. "I could probably use some demo."
Jane sighs. "I'm sure breaking some shit would help with a lot of things, but we both know you're eventually going to talk to her."
"What makes you so sure of that?"
"Because I know you, Fabray, and you're not dumb enough to let a good one like her go, even if she has done something stupid."
Quinn scoffs. "Stupid," she mutters, and then clears her throat. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you don't want me visiting you."
Jane laughs, and, if it's tinged with a hint of nerves, Quinn convinces herself she's imagining it. "I don't even know where you'd sleep, to be honest," she says.
"Why?"
"Your best friend kind of went a little crazy at an antique road show over the weekend."
"Oh, my God," Quinn laughs. "Again? I thought you capped the antique spending."
"Apparently, there were many things on sale," Jane says, the exasperation clear to hear in her voice. "It isn't even about the money at this point. We just don't have the space, and I think she wants to put a shed in the backyard to store all her crazy pieces."
"Maybe you should design an entire antique house," Quinn offers, greatly amused.
"I will strangle you if you so much as suggest such a thing to my wife," she says. "We would never sell it."
"I mean, I'm sure there's a niche buyer out there, looking for exactly something like that."
"Quinn, be serious," Jane laughs.
"You're right," she jokes; "Louisville would want to live in it, not sell it."
"Can you actually imagine?"
Quinn hums softly, sobering slowly. "Did - did Lou tell you what happened?"
"In bits and pieces," she admits. "She still struggles with what to tell me, on most days. We share everything, but it's all a little sticky when it comes to you."
Quinn audibly swallows. "I don't want to be a reason you keep secrets from each other."
"I know, Sweets, but the reality is that there are things you discuss with me that you don't with her, and vice versa. We've accepted our roles in your lives, and I know I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You know I appreciate you both, right?"
"Of course, Quinn," she says. "Of course we know that."
"I don't know what to do."
"Now, now," Jane muses. "We all know that's a lie."
"It is?"
"You know exactly what you're going to do," Jane says, and she sounds all-knowing. It's the way she always sounds when it comes to Quinn, borne of years of friendship that started out as something antagonistic.
"And, what is that, exactly?" Quinn asks, desperate to know.
"You're going to talk to her, and you're both going to figure out all of this."
Quinn sighs. "What if I don't want to?"
"It doesn't have to be today, or even tomorrow," Jane says, patient and understanding. "But you're not an idiot, Quinn. I know it hurts, but Rachel isn't Patrick. She's not. She's also not Blair. She's Rachel, and she made a mistake, but she loves you and Lex, and that's not something she's just going to give up. You shouldn't, either."
Quinn doesn't say anything.
"Give yourself some time," Jane adds. "There's no rush."
"Because we have the rest of our lives?"
"Only you would know that."
The calls start promptly at noon, as if Rachel has decided enough time has passed and Quinn has probably had her morning coffee.
Only one of those things is correct, and Quinn can't bring herself to answer the phone. Nor can she do it the second, third or fourth time.
Rachel works on a schedule after that, calling every fifteen minutes, and Quinn is tempted to switch off her phone, because she just can't handle it.
No.
She's trying to be a mature adult, and she doesn't want to hurt Rachel by ignoring her so thoroughly. The problem is she's not ready to talk, which isn't being helped by Rachel's pestering, so she sends it all in a text, letting her know she'll call when she's willing to talk.
The reply arrives instantly, and Quinn actually manages a smile.
Sorry. You're right. I'll be here whenever you're ready.
It takes two days.
Almost three, but Quinn accidentally presses the Call button while she's staring at Rachel's contact on her phone, and it all kind of snowballs from there.
Blooms.
Quinn asks, "Do you want to come over?" to her rapid greeting, and Rachel arrives a half hour later with her sons in tow.
Hugo squeezes the life out of her before following Lex up the stairs to his bedroom, and Max clings to her legs until she lifts him into her arms and hugs him until he's squirming to be set back on the ground. He stumbles a bit, but then takes off towards the living room on steadier legs.
Then it's just Rachel, standing in her doorway, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, and a nervous look on her face. She makes no move to enter any further, and Quinn doesn't step back.
Quinn just stares at her for the longest time, and Rachel allows it, keeping her own gaze steady. Quinn isn't sure what she expects, but this all feels too heavy with the weight of something she's not sure her shoulders can carry.
Wherever they go from here, there's no going back.
She takes a breath, releases it slowly, and then says, "I'm thinking of getting a haircut."
Rachel blinks, clearly not expecting her to say those words. Frankly, Quinn is surprised, too, but they're out there and it's some kind of start.
"Like, chopping a lot of it off," Quinn elaborates, using her right hand to indicate a length to just above her shoulders. "What do you think?"
Rachel's upper lips twitches, and then she asks, "Will there still be enough for me to grab onto?"
Quinn laughs unexpectedly, blushing. "Uh, yeah, there should be."
"Then you should go for it, if you really want to."
Quinn hums. "There are many things I want."
"What do you want?"
"An explanation," she says. "The truth. Full disclosure."
"I'll give you anything," Rachel says, and she may as well be saying I'll give you everything.
Quinn steps back, creating space for Rachel to enter the house, and she does. She steps over the threshold, and Quinn feels all the discord that's been going on in her head and heart just settle.
They're going to get through this.
She just knows it.
Rachel leads the way into the living room where Max is spread on a mat, playing with toys Quinn already set out for him. Rachel looks over at her with the softest expression, and, yeah, they're going to be just fine.
"Coffee?" Quinn asks.
"Got anything stronger?"
Quinn blinks. "Espresso?"
Rachel bursts out laughing, and Quinn joins her after a moment. "Sure, Quinn," she says, her voice gentle. "I'll have an espresso."
Quinn feels a little bemused, and she's sure she must look it, too. "Right this way," she says, leading the way into the kitchen. The open floor plan allows them to be able to see Max while they're in there, and Quinn has never been more relieved.
Though, even she has to admit she enjoys the walls separating Rachel's kitchen from time to time, seeing as it's given them several opportunities to get frisky without being detected.
Pros and cons, and all that.
Quinn moves towards the Nespresso machine she purchased just the day before, suddenly eager to put it to use once more. "I have a Colombian blend," she says, moving through her kitchen with ease. "Does that interest you?"
When she receives no response, she turns back around to see Rachel standing there, just watching her.
"Rach?"
"We both know we're not in here for coffee, Quinn," she says, and Quinn deflates. "I just - I need to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and I'm doubly sorry you had to find out the way you did."
Quinn leans against the closest counter, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She doesn't want to appear closed, when she's here and willing to listen.
"My Dad thought you already knew," Rachel says, dropping her gaze. "And, you definitely should have. My parents weren't holding their punches when they let me know exactly that."
Quinn purses her lips.
"I wanted to tell you," she says. "I've wanted to tell you for a while. I just - I was scared. I still am. This all terrifies me." There's a silence that stretches between them, and Quinn remains perfectly still. "It got more complicated when I had to consider your past experiences," she says. "At a certain point, it stopped being something I could just tell you. It never even mattered to me, but I knew it would matter to you, and I - I like you so much, Quinn, and I didn't want to ruin us."
Rachel sucks in a breath. "Have I?" she asks in a whisper, her voice shaky. "Have I ruined us?"
Quinn doesn't immediately respond, because she's not going to rush any of her responses. This is a conversation. "No, you haven't," she says. "We're not ruined, but we're definitely changed."
Rachel nods, sombre. "In a bad way?"
"Just changed."
Rachel's shoulders slump. "What happens now?"
Quinn's fingers twitch at her sides, and she's weak. So, so weak. With a slight growl at herself, she crosses the space between them in three large strides and wraps her arms around Rachel, just needing to touch her. Hold her. Breathe her in.
Rachel tenses for just a moment, before she sags against Quinn, her fists grabbing onto her shirt and holding. Quinn closes her eyes and allows herself to set aside everything else and just enjoy this moment. They're going to figure everything out.
For now, she and Rachel are just going to stand here, together, and breathe.
Breathing actually turns into coffee, and then into actually talking and, before Quinn really knows it, everything starts to feel so normal and easy that she actively has to recall just what's so disjoint about their relationship.
Rachel makes no moves to touch her, which Quinn appreciates, right until the moment she just doesn't. It hits her quite viscerally that, if she were an idiot, she wouldn't allow herself the comfort of just being with Rachel. She would deny herself this simple pleasure.
Because Rachel is here. She's here, and she's ready and willing and all those other things Quinn has always wanted in a partner. Rachel wasn't hiding her marriage for the same reasons Patrick was, and that makes a hell of a difference.
"Now who's doing the staring?" Rachel asks when Quinn hasn't said anything in a few minutes, her mind elsewhere.
They're still in the kitchen, Rachel casually scrolling through her phone for potential ideas for dinner as she sits at the raised island. Quinn's just finished perusing her fridge for ingredients they can use, and now she's thinking long and hard about how she's certain the worst part of the marriage revelation is over.
It's over. Done with.
Of course, there's still the whole divorce thing that Rachel insists her lawyers are handling, but none of that is stopping them from being together now and enjoying their relationship and their family and their lives.
"Quinn?" Rachel calls, sounding a little nervous. "Is everything okay?"
And, for the second time in the day, Quinn crosses the kitchen with purpose and invades Rachel's space. Something about kitchens, apparently. She peeks at Max for a moment, making sure he's occupied, and then she kisses Rachel.
Kisses her the way she's wanted to for days now. Kisses her the way they both deserve; desperately need, and Quinn feels her every muscle relax at the intimate contact. It's supposed to be easy, and it truly is.
It's terrifying, and Quinn gets it.
Quinn breaks their kiss, and smiles at the dazed look on Rachel's face. It's the perfect moment to reveal the depths of her feelings. She suddenly knows it, and a part of her is convinced she's going to have to be the one to say the words first. Especially after the past few days they've just experienced.
"There you go, staring again," Rachel murmurs, breaking into Quinn's thoughts.
Quinn kisses her again.
And again, and again, until she has to breathe.
"Can I ask you something?" Rachel asks, her own breathing heavily.
Quinn blinks. "Of course," she says.
"Are - will, uh, will we be okay?" she asks.
Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's, her eyes slipping closed. "I don't know if you'll believe me when I say this, but I think we already are."
"Really?"
Quinn kisses the tip of her nose. "We still have a lot to talk about, of course," she says; "but we're talking, and we're okay."
Rachel's hands slide to her waist, gripping her shirt. "We're okay," she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her tone.
Quinn shakes her head at the idea that Rachel probably expected the worst out of this situation; that she must have thought it was over. That Quinn would leave her over this.
The same way everyone else seems to.
"We're okay," Quinn confirms again, maybe redundantly, but not unnecessarily.
Rachel tugs her closer, hands sliding under her shirt and splaying across her back. "Can I ask you something else?"
Quinn just hums in assent.
"Can we please have pancakes for dinner?"
"Stay."
Rachel visibly startles at the word, looking at her with wide eyes. "Stay?"
Quinn audibly swallows. "Stay," she repeats. "Just, stay."
The boys are already asleep upstairs, Lex and Hugo in Lex's bedroom and Max asleep in a guest room, tucked away in the portable crib Rachel keeps in the back of her car. Normally, Rachel and her sons would be leaving about this time, so it's a surprise to them both when Quinn asks her not to.
"Are you sure?" Rachel asks, clearly hesitant.
"I am," Quinn says. "Only if you want to, though."
"I want to," Rachel immediately says, and then flushes darkly. She clears her throat. "I mean, of course I want to."
Quinn smiles, resisting the urge to tease her, and then resettles on the couch. She lifts her arm to invite Rachel back into her space, and she sighs in content when Rachel leans against her, an arm resting over her abdomen.
There's really nothing more for them to say, and they settle into a cuddle as a David Attenborough documentary finishes playing on the television screen. Quinn is barely paying attention, her eyes half closed as the narration slowly lulls her to sleep.
"Quinn," Rachel eventually says, sounding amused. "I think it's time for bed for you."
Quinn clears her throat, blinking her eyes open. "Just me?"
Rachel kisses her cheek. "I suppose you could convince me to come with you."
Quinn's eyes slide towards her. "And, how exactly would I do that?"
Rachel just chuckles as she forces herself to her feet and holds a hand out for Quinn. "Come on, sleepy head," she says; "let's get you to bed."
"I'm not even that sleepy," Quinn grumbles, slipping her hand into Rachel's and allowing herself to be pulled up. "I swear I'm not," she adds, and punctuates it all with a wide yawn.
"Uh huh," Rachel says, nodding. "Totally believe you."
"Shut it."
"It's because you pulled an all-dayer, isn't it?" Rachel teases, her fingers squeezing Quinn's for a moment before she releases her hand and reaches for the remote to switch off the television. "Didn't catch a nap today, did you?"
Quinn huffs. "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of getting through a day without needing a nap."
Rachel pats her chest, smiling indulgently. "Whatever you say, Quinn."
Quinn just shakes her head, and then moves to run through her bedtime routine. She checks the locks on the doors, makes sure the food is packed away and switches off all unnecessary lights.
Once upstairs, she and Rachel check on all the boys together, peeking into Lex's bedroom first and laughing at the way Lex is spread out like a star. Hugo is in a mess of blankets on the carpet, with Sasha dozing near his head.
"I'm thinking of getting a bunk bed," Quinn says, whispering as they make their way to the guest room where Max is also a little spread-eagled in his crib. "I think the boys will like it."
Rachel catches her hand, linking their fingers. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it a beat later, blushing.
Quinn just kisses her temple, and then they make their way to her bedroom. It's not Rachel's first visit, but it's the first time she's staying. Just the thought of that rids Quinn's body of it's lingering lethargy and she's suddenly very wide awake.
With a slight spring in her step, she locates some clothes for Rachel to wear, and then disappears into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush her teeth. They swap places once she's done, and Quinn dashes downstairs to get a bottle of water - and actively stops herself from thinking about the reasons why she's suddenly thirsty.
When she gets back to her bedroom, Rachel is sitting at her vanity, removing her makeup, careful with her movements. Quinn wants her to stay for forever.
With a content little sigh, she sets her water on her nightstand, and then moves to gather some clothes for herself to change into.
"Can I ask you a question?" Rachel asks once her back is turned.
Quinn unbuttons her shirt, her eyes studying her closet for something comfortable to wear. "Sure," she says, eventually sliding her shirt off her shoulders and letting it land on the floor. She unclasps her bra next, keeping her back to Rachel and finding an old grey t-shirt that's definitely seen better days. She's already slipped it on when she realises Rachel still hasn't asked her question.
She turns to ask her what's wrong, only to find Rachel sitting and staring at her, lips parted and her pupils dark. Quinn gulps. "What was your question?" she prompts.
"You are so beautiful."
Quinn blushes. "Not a question, Porcupine."
Rachel rolls her eyes. "Take off your clothes and call me Rachel," she says, entirely too seriously.
Quinn licks her lips. "Soon," she promises. "But, seriously, what's your question?"
"Why Lucy?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your pseudonym," Rachel says. "How did you pick Lucy? Why? Was it random, or does it have some special meaning?"
Quinn quickly exchanges her denim shorts for some flannel pants, and then moves to her side of the bed, a thoughtful look on her face. "Uh, well, I mean, it's my name," she eventually says.
"What?"
"Lucy," Quinn says, pulling back the covers. "It's my name. Lucy Quinn Fabray."
Rachel stares at her, a little slack-jawed. "No way?"
Quinn rolls her eyes as she climbs into bed. "Totally way."
"Lucy," she says, rolling it off the tongue. "Why do you call yourself Quinn? Has it been long?"
Quinn licks her lips, shifting to lie against her pillows. "I started the summer before high school," she says. "I, uh, needed a change from the person I was." She blinks. "I hated being Lucy."
"Why?"
"Because my father hated her."
Rachel gets to her feet, then, and crosses the room to the bed. She barely pauses as she makes the decision to climb onto Quinn, straddling her legs and looking right into her eyes. "My sweet, sweet baby," she murmurs, kissing the tip of Quinn's nose.
Quinn's hands rest on her hips, holding her close. "He preferred Quinn, and so did I," she explains. "I just - I just wanted him to like me."
Rachel wraps her arms around Quinn's neck and hugs her tightly.
"It turns out it doesn't matter what I'm called," Quinn whispers.
Rachel kisses her left cheek, and then her right. "It has nothing to do with you," she says. "You know that, right?"
Quinn closes her eyes, and Rachel kisses each of her eyelids. "Logically, I know, but they're the people who raised me and were supposed to love me, but they kicked me out and threw me away like the trash they always expected I'd be."
Rachel hugs her again, so tightly that Quinn can barely breathe. It's obvious she doesn't know what to say, and Quinn appreciates the fact she's not trying to make her feel better with misplaced words.
She does try to make her feel better, though, with kisses, and Quinn allows herself to be distracted by Rachel's mouth and Rachel's hands and Rachel's delicious, glorious body.
Quinn takes control moments later, her heart pounding and expanding, because this is Rachel Berry, whom she cares for so, so deeply that being without her blood family is worth it. Being unwanted and hated for no legitimate reason barely compares to the feeling of Rachel's body arching against hers.
"You have to be quiet," Quinn warns, even more turned on by the sound of Rachel panting against her ear.
Rachel tries, though she's not particularly successful, coming just a few minutes later with the name Lucy on the tip of her tongue, and Quinn loves her.
God, she loves her more than she thought she ever could.
After, Rachel forces them to get dressed, because they have children who are prone to just bursting into their bedrooms first thing in the morning, and Rachel would rather not explain why she's naked.
Quinn kisses her a handful of times when they finally climb into bed together moments later. Rachel snuggles into her side, arm draped over her abdomen and her nose pressed into her neck.
It's not long before Rachel is asleep, and Quinn is halfway there. The fact she can even fall asleep to the sound of Rachel's breath right beside her, even against her, is everything she's ever wanted.
She's honest-to-God happy.
Which is exactly why the Universe decides to fuck everything up.