a/n: soz for having the authors note at the top but… finally a quinn pov chapter – and a long one at that! yay! This was really really fun to write. Finally getting to describe matt from quinn's pov and having sharing a little kiss is just *chef's kiss*! I apologize for any mistakes, I'm sleep deprived rn
Lyrics credit – we'll never have sex, leith ross
~ Depollute me, gentle angel (and I'll feel the sickness less and less)
Come and kiss me, pretty baby (like we'll never have sex) ~
Quinn couldn't wish for regional's to come fast enough.
She was sick of it – sick of all of it. Sick of the looks of pity she'd get in the hallways. Sick of the way Finn Hudson avoided her gaze. Sick of the way she couldn't stand straight anymore without having a sore back by the time school ended.
She wanted to wear a barely appropriate Cheerios skirt and tight ponytail, not be relegated to wearing maternity blouses and loose buns.
She wanted the hallways to part like the Red Sea for her, not to become relegated into being one of the lowly fishes.
At least she had Glee, Quinn thinks.
It's not a nice thought to have, her old-self would have scowled at such a realization – and here she was, at the bottom of the pecking order, forced to derive joy from show-tunes and shitty choreography.
screw her life.
And yet…
She was not a quitter. Okay, fine. She wouldn't win any cheerleading competitions this year, she supposes, winning Regionals with the Glee Club would just have to do.
And so, she practices and practices and practices. Taking note of every solo in Glee Club, watching – examining – to see how she could improve her own voice.
She studies so damn hard. Putting her pregnancy-insomnia to good use, she reads 3 chapters ahead for her Spanish class, and is even able to help Mercedes with her Algebra homework – it's the least she can do after all, given she's staying with her.
Hell, she can even find time to gaze over at lowly linebackers during Glee recital, hoping - wishing - that their eyes meet by "accident".
But they never do. His brown eyes are furious with her green ones – and she understands, given the ferocity of their last exchange.
Quinn still keeps hoping though.
When it happens, finally happens, she's talking to her mother after a killer Glee performance.
It was the last place she wanted to see the older woman – especially after what had transpired between the two of them.
She doesn't register her mother's words, not really anyway – instead, she's more focused on the shift she feels below her belly-button. It's unlike any pregnancy cramp or ache she's ever felt before.
Her eyes widen – god, she knows what is happening.
"… mom, I think my water just broke."
Quinn can see the eyes of her friends widen as well - she thinks hell must've broke along with it.
"Do you wanna keep her?"
The mohawked-boy next to Quinn leaned lightly on the glass window, admiring the little child in the cot on the other side.
Quinn raised a brow, unsure if she had heard him right. She was tired and hungry and sad – but she supposes she can chalk the last one up to post-partum hormones.
Puck looks back with conviction, and Quinn figures that she must've heard him correctly.
"No," she replies, looking back at the baby – their baby. "Do you?"
He doesn't respond, and yet, in his silence she finds her answer. "Do you love me?"
Puck nods, "Yes, especially now."
Quinn tugs the corners of her mouth, like his love was enough.
… but it isn't.
She wonders why it isn't enough.
"Ugh, how much longer do I have to do this?"
Quinn Fabray groans, poking and prodding at the breastmilk pump attached to her chest – the *whirring* noise from the tiny machine was nearly giving her a headache.
Mercedes peers up from the cover of her book, "Give it 15 more minutes, and then we can take it off."
Quinn sighs – peering over at the clock by the door, her face settles into a grimace.
1:13 A.M. read bright red lights – Quinn should be sleeping, and instead here she was.
She had been in the hospital for nearly a week now. It was a pre-cautionary stay if anything, just to make sure that she was healing properly following the birth. But Quinn was ready to lose her mind – she thinks if Mercedes wasn't here with her, she probably would've already.
She had been in the same hospital gown for the past 3 days, her hair was a greasy mess, she was sleep-deprived, and just about everything below her bellybutton hurt.
She leaned back into her hospital bed, and glanced to her side – Mercedes sat in a chair next to her, deeply engrossed in some parent's guide.
While at the foot of her bed lay a sleeping Beth.
Beth – it was a pretty name. For a pretty baby – and Quinn hopes, prays, that she is never ever made to feel like anything less than perfect.
Quinn hopes Beth is smarter than her. Smarter to know that being Cheerios Captain isn't everything. Smarter to know that she should never cheat on her sweetheart of a boyfriend. Smarter to know that-
-her train of thought is interrupted by a loud knock at the door to her room.
She is nearly irritated by the sudden interruption, ready to give whatever nurse or doctor who walked through the door a piece of her mind – that is, until she catches a glimpse of him through the tiny windowpane.
Matt Rutherford peers through the window, trying to catch a glimpse of inside the room. Something in her flutters – and she isn't sure if it's just the post-partum nausea or not.
Quinn looks over to Mercedes; her friend was still deeply engrossed in her book, unaware to the little situation that was brewing – a situation that Quinn couldn't help but find slightly humorous.
Matt knocks the door again, and then after fiddling with the doorknob, opens it, "H-hello? I brought the coffe-"
That seems to get Mercedes attention, as she jumps up instantly from the hospital chair, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Matt, leave!" she exclaims, as she quickly closes the tiny gap of the door that the linebacker had opened. "Quinn. Is. BREASTFEEDING!"
"Ah! Sorry!" exclaims the linebacker. His voice is muffled from the other side of the door, and yet Quinn can still hear the nervous panic in his tone.
Quinn bites her lip to keep from laughing, "I'm guessing I can take the pump off now?"
Mercedes sighs, moving back to Quinn. She helps the blonde take off the machine and examines the amount of liquid inside – after which, she gives a satisfied nod towards Quinn, like a proud mother.
Placing the bottle of breastmilk on the nightstand, she begins helping Quinn cover herself up.
"I am so sorry, Quinnie!" Mercedes says, adjusting Quinn's hospital gown back on her, "I swear that boy has a few screws loose."
Quinn laughs – really laughs. God, she hadn't done that in a while.
A dejected voice mumbles from outside the room. "I-I heard that…"
Mercedes rolls her eyes, and then walks back to the door – opening it for Matt Rutherford. Quinn can't catch a glimpse of her friend's face, but given how scared the linebacker looked – it must've not been a good one.
Matt Rutherford stood tall (or as tall as one can be, when Mercedes Jones is staring you down) in the doorframe. He wore his signature varsity jacket, and in his hands was a tray of coffee cups and a bag of what Quinn could only guess were pastries.
"Uh, h-hi Mercedes…" murmured the linebacker nervously. He shifted in place, until finally tugging the corners of his mouth into an apprehensive smile. "I-I uh… brought the coffee you asked for!"
Mercedes examines the tray of the drinks, unimpressed she asks, "Where is my cold-brew, Matt?"
The linebacker raises his brows in confusion, looking at the tray of drinks in his hands, almost as if he had forgotten something. "Cold… brew? I, uh…"
Mercedes pinches the bridge of her nose, and looks back Quinn with a look that screamed: 'can you believe this guy? He's a moron!'
"Of course you forgot my cold brew." She mutters, and then turns to Quinn once more. "Quinn, I need to figure this coffee order out. I'll be gone for… like 10 minutes max!"
Quinn bites her lip, "I didn't know cold-brew was more important than me, 'Cedes." She teases.
Mercedes chuckles in response, quickly grabbing her purse. "I'll be back soon, Quinnie!"
Mercedes gives one last glare towards Matt, and then rushes out the door – off to find her elusive cold-brew.
The room goes silent for a moment – as it becomes just the three of them; Quinn, Beth, and Matt.
The linebacker is still stood in the doorframe, uncertainty fixed on his face.
"You can come inside." murmurs Quinn, peering over at him.
He nods, and visible relief washes over him. Walking towards her, he places the coffee tray and bag of pastries on a table next to her bed. He takes a cup of coffee for himself and extends one out for Quinn to take – she wasn't exactly in the mood for caffeine, but felt it would be rude to turn the linebacker down, and so grabs a cup as well.
Matt sits down in a nearby chair. His brown eyes are hesitant to meet her own – and she wonders just what he is so scared of. "So, how have you been?" he finally mumbles.
It's a big question – loaded question. And something tells her that he wasn't just asking about the labour and birth. He was asking about more – so, so much more.
"I've been fine," she lied charmingly, "You?"
Matt fiddled with the plastic lid of his coffee cup, and Quinn knew that he was trying to buy time - but like any good lady, pretends not to notice. "Good. I've been good." He replies back impassively – and sometimes tells her that he was lying as well.
A silence lulls between them, and it's here Quinn Fabray finally sees him eye her – his brown eyes examining her, brown eyes searching for something... someone.
She wants to look back at him, but is afraid to scare him away, she's cautious the way a hunter is with a deer – so instead she simply asks, "What are you doing up this early? Doesn't the football team have early practice tomorrow?"
Matt shrugs, taking a hesitant sip from his cup. "Just doing some late night-studying. Mercedes then texted me, asking to bring over coffee… or her cold-brew, or whatever." He replies, a bit exasperated and a bit tired. "I'm guessing your newborn-schedule is the same?"
Quinn opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, she hears the quiet groans of a baby waking up – her baby. As if right on cue.
The very next moment, shrilling cries erupt from the cradle which stood at the foot of her bed.
Quinn groans. She glances over at the door for a few moments, hoping Mercedes would magically appear and help quiet the child back to sleep. But she wasn't there – and Quinn figures she is left to deal with this all on her own.
She makes an attempt to get up from the hospital bed, but it is a misguided one. Pain shoots through her thighs and up her abdomen – a sign that she had not fully healed yet. She groans slightly in pain, abandoning her attempt to get up.
It's here where she notices the linebacker quickly rush up from his seat. He stands over Beth's cradle, looking down at the young infant with hesitance – as if he was asking for consent to pick up the crying baby.
Quinn nods her head with permission, and with that, the linebacker gently picks up the child. Big hands gently grasp the infant's little limbs, snuggly settling Beth's head on his shoulder.
The little baby's wails subside gently, as the linebacker rocks her back to sleep - a small smile etching onto his face.
Quinn pats an empty space next to her on the hospital bed, "Bring her over here, Matt."
The linebacker nods, slowly – carefully – placing himself on the bed next to the blonde. He gently places the sleeping child in her arms, smiling.
And for a moment, albeit a fleeting moment, Quinn can pretend that she was playing house – with a beautiful baby, a dorky linebacker, and herself. The perfect Lima family.
She fixes the little tangles in Beth's brown hair – swooping the little strands of hair to one side.
Quinn can feel Matt's gaze, and after a moment is almost compelled to look at him. He examines her – eyes darting between herself and Beth, and then he finally murmurs: "I didn't know brown hair ran in your family."
She glances back at him – her greens eyes looking into his own brown eyes - half expecting him to put two-and-two together already. "It does, Mattie." she simply says.
His eyes dilate slightly at the mention of that particular nickname – they always do. He cocks his head, searching her again. He's trying to find something, a piece of someone who she had long since hidden away. A piece of herself she's never sure she'd show again - least of all to lowly linebackers.
Quinn looks back down at Beth, her little breaths providing a sense of comfort. "Should I keep her?"
It was a silly question. Half because she had already promised a certain Shelby Corcoran her adoption. And half because she had already gone through this with a certain mohawked-boy, and had come to the certain conclusion that she did not wish to keep the darling little child.
But still… there was a persistence in her – she wanted to know what he would think.
Matt ponders over the question for a moment, forehead vein popping in concentration. "No." he finally says.
Quinn would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed. "Why not?" she asks, with the slightest hint of discontent.
"Because… she deserves the best childhood one can give." He starts, and then peers over at Quinn. "And so do you."
Just like that, Quinn Fabray no longer feels grown. She doesn't feel like a know-it-all adult who had just given birth. Rather, she feels like a 16-year-old who accidentally got pregnant.
A 16-year-old who was still just a kid.
She feels her eyes well up, and suddenly she's wary to how close they were together – arms touching. She could smell his deodorant and the coffee on his breath.
Quinn thinks that she's never been this close to a man, without him wanting her. Without him wanting to take her clothes off.
And yet here she was with the lowly linebacker. The linebacker who gazed at the little infant in her arms, rather than trying to peek into the crevasses of her chest.
Quinn moves closer to him.
She isn't sure if he notices – she doesn't look his way. Rather, she slowly tries to place her head on his shoulder. It's a request which he obliges to, as he slumps his shoulders to accommodate the weary blonde.
She takes a deep breath – feeling comfortable for the first time in... god knows how long. Suddenly, high school worries are far behind her; right now, in this moment, she could simply exist.
She could say all the things that she wants to – all the things she is never brave enough to say while in a Cheerios uniform.
"I'm sorry, Mattie…" she whispers, so quietly that she isn't even sure at first if he's heard her.
"For what?" he whispers back.
Quinn isn't sure. A little voice in the back of her mind echoes – 'for everything'. But Head Cheerios seldom apologize, and she wasn't going to let her first one be too big. So she simply says:
"For that conversation we had a few weeks ago. I wasn't the nicest…"
Matt nods his head slightly, "Neither was I. I-I'm sorry too."
She looks at him, her eyes open themselves up – holding secrets he is free to take. But he just can't reach them, he never can.
Quinn Fabray then does something no Head Cheerio should ever do. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe it was the post-partum hormones, or maybe she had enough of caring what anyone else had to think about her.
So she moves closer to the linebacker, who himself was busy admiring the patterns on the little infant's onesie, and plants the softest of kisses on his cheek.
When he realizes what she had just done, Matt gazes down at her - she almost nervous as to what he would do next. She's been in this situation before, she's seen moments that should've been tender turn rough and primate.
And yet... Matt Rutherford stays in place - with a peculiar glint in his eyes.
He doesn't reach for her face unwarranted. He doesn't smash his lips onto hers. Nor does he suggest taking things a bit further.
No, rather he smiles, as if that simple gesture was something grand – as if it was enough.
As if Quinn, just as she was in that moment, was enough.
It fills her tummy with a kind of warmth she knows won't last. Soon enough, they'll be back in McKinley High. Back on the football team and cheerleading squad. Back in the Glee Club. Back in their little cliques, creating illusions of themselves for people who don't give a damn about them.
Perhaps she'll never be as close to Matt Rutherford, as she was in this moment.
Quinn sighs, she wishes dawn never comes – she wonders if Matt wishes for that too.
~ if I said you could never touch me (you'd come over and say I looked lovely) ~