Hi! This is just a little something I wrote with the prompt: The story is set in a living room. The story takes place in mid-winter. A character borrows money, but it is done for different reasons than people would expect. A character is disoriented throughout most of the story. This is what I came up with. I know it might be a little OOC for Rachel, but she's drunk, and people do wacky things while drunk. I hope you enjoy!

I'm woken up at three in the morning. Sleep deprived and used to it, I make my way over to the crib. "What do you want, baby-girl?" I ask with a yawn. When I hear no cry or coo in reply, I rub the Sandman's sand out of my eyes and snap out of my zombie-like state. Beth isn't crying at all. Actually, she's peacefully out of it, which is good for her (though no doubt she'll be up and rearing for food in an hour).

I'm startled by a rapid banging at my front door. Grumbling, I slip on my robe. The knocking continues. "I'm coming...I'm coming..."

I open the door and see none other than a hysterical Rachel standing there. She's clad in boyshorts, fuzzy knit hat, and a 'Dalton Warblers' tee-shirt. She throws herself at me, her cold body making me glad I have the robe between us. "Mommy!"

As touching as it is, I am completely thrown off by the sudden affection (not to mention the pure fact that my estranged teenager is standing half-naked in my apartment). I pull her inside so she can start defrosting and close the door. When I turn back around, she's just standing there, tearstained, slightly teetering. When she hiccups, I ask, "Rachel, are you drunk?"

She starts bawling again and I hug her awkwardly. When she calms down, I repeat my question. She sniffles, then slurs, "We were at a party...we drank...then we decided to walk in the park...then we started making out...then we started having sex...police found us and arrestted him...please help him..."

"Who's this 'him'?"

"Blaine Anderson. Kurt's boyfriend."

I don't know if I should scold her for having drunken sex, having drunken sex in a park, or having drunken sex in a park with a guy's boyfriend (even if I have no right to). But that pitful look on her face melts my hardassness and rub her back a little. "What do you need for me to do?" I ask.

"Neither of us can get bail money without our parents finding out...please, Shelby, I'll pay you back...I-hic-promise."

I sigh. "How much is bail?"

"Fifty-thousand dollars."

"Do what!" I yell, and I hear Beth's shrieking ring out. I look at Rachel, tell her, "Stay put.", and grab Beth from her crib. As she was just startled, and is a mellow baby, it only takes about a minute of being rocked to calm down. Unfortunate for me, she doesn't want to be away from her mommy, and wails whenever I lay her back down. Since Rachel is waiting out and the living room and Mr. Blaine Anderson is waiting in jail, I just bounce her on my hip and trail back to the couch.

As soon as I sit back down, Rachel points at Beth. "Is that Drizzle?"

"Drizzle...?"

"Quinn's..."

"Oh. Yeah."

Rachel unsteadily strokes Beth's dirty blond hair (it's getting darker by the day). "She looks like her daddy."

We sit in silence. Neither of us knowing what to say. That is, until I remember why she came here in the first place. "What did he do that's fifty-thousand dollars? Surely it's not indecent exposure."

She hiccups again. "No...rape." When blood boils up to my face Rachel cuts in. "Because I'm drunk! I wanted it...I told him yes."

I take a deep breath and look at Rachel, wanting to leave her in suspence for doing something so stupid. "Okay, Monday."

"Monday? You'll make him wait that long?"

"It's Saturday-well, Sunday now-and I want for you both to be sober so you'll remember it when I chew you two out."

Rachel's face grows angry. "So you'll just skip out of my life without a second glance, but you jump on the chance to fuss at me?"

"For fifty-thousand dollars?"

"Oh...right." Rachel looks down at her bare feet, and it takes me a minute to realize she's crying again.

"Rachel..."

"I'm sorry...I didn't think straight...It seemed like such a good idea at the time..."

"So does getting a tramp stamp, but my thousands of dollars investing in laser tattoo removal says otherwise."

Rachel giggles. Then grimaces. "I feel sick..."

"Alcohol will do that to you. Seriously, never do that. It's bloody murder for your vocal chords."

She looks horrified. "...I-it is?"

"Yep. Plus it kills your memory. Do too much of it, you won't be able to remember your name, let alone lyrics and lines." Okay, now I'm being melodramatic. But she needs to be scared. And someone as ambitious as her will be traumatized (teaching a National Champion Show Choir does wonders for the ole' discipline skills). As she quietly mumbles to herself, I smirk. "I guess I'll call your dads and tell them to come pick you up."

Rachel snaps out of her mantra and says, "They're out of town. There's no reason for them to know."

"Do you want to sleep here? The couch pulls out. It's pretty comfortable."

"Oh, okay...I guess, if you don't mind."

I nod, then bring some pillows and blankets out as Rachel clumsily tries to pull out the matress. I step in and help when she swears loudly and tosses a cushion down (holding a baby, calming a drunk teenager, and making a bed all at the same time; I'm that good).

Beth starts whimpering as we start to spread the sheets. "Would you mind if I go give her a bottle?"

When Rachel shakes her head, I give Beth some milk, burp her, and tuck her back in her crib in record time. I come back out to see Rachel passed out, head first, on the couch-bed. I smile, pull the blankets over her, and, knowing she'll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, place an aspirin bottle on the floor next to the bed. I glance down at her, and I can't resist, I give her a little kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, babe."

Walking back into my bedroom, I give a chuckle. "Well, Beth, you sure have one interesting sister."

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