A/N: Trigger warning for eating disorders.
...
Rachel just marches right up to her and says, "You're coming over," with an expression that just screams 'and if you say no I'll drag you there by your ear anyway, so just say yes and make all of our lives a little bit easier'.
Lucy just raises an eyebrow and then adjusts her backpack on her shoulder and shrugs an, "Alright."
…
"I'm not getting in the car." Lucy says, and she grips the railing of the stairs so hard that her knuckles turn white. Rachel's hand is insistent on her wrist, trying – and failing – to tug her along.
"Lucy." Rachel huffs. "It's just my daddy."
"It's – " Lucy can't help but puff out a laugh at 'daddy', but she quickly recovers. "He won't like me."
"He likes everyone." Rachel whines. "Come on." She glances over he shoulder at the silver car waiting patiently in the middle of the parking lot. Lucy follows her gaze and gulps, thinking it looks more like her deathbed than a Hybrid.
"No one likes me. He won't like me."
"Sam likes you. I like you." Rachel states, impatiently.
Lucy's stomach hops a little bit. "Um – thanks."
Rachel halts for a second, slightly startled, before she smiles. "You're welcome."
"I'm still not getting in that car." And then Lucy's hand squeezes the railing again when Rachel's hand tightens around her wrist and tugs some more.
"You're acting like a child."
Lucy corrects, "We're both acting like children," which makes Rachel laugh and agree.
"If you stop acting like a child, I'll stop acting like a child, and then we can both get on with our lives."
Someone coughs behind them, and Lucy's neck almost breaks in half when she whips her head around to find the source of the noise.
"Um. Hi. Have you guys seen Finn Hudson around here, by any chance?"
It's a tall, thin boy, and Lucy has to tilt her head up a little bit to look him in the face.
"Uh." She says, and then turns to Rachel, hoping she has an answer.
But instead, she just stares at Rachel while Rachel stares at Tall Thin Boy, and Lucy's almost positive that if this were a cartoon, Rachel's pupils would turn into hearts and bug out of her eye sockets.
"No." She states, half-frowning at Rachel and then turning and full-on frowning at him, because for some reason that's what her facial muscles are telling her to do. "No, we haven't. And we um. We actually have to go, so."
"Okay." He says, and then smiles at Rachel's trying-but-failing-to-be nonchalant stare. "Um. Yeah, okay. Thanks anyway, I guess."
They both watch him retreat back into the school, and then Lucy is pulling Rachel over to the car while muttering, "Close your mouth. You're drooling."
…
Lucy is sat in the very middle of the back seat, hands on her knees and shoulders tensed. She'd caught Rachel's eye in the rear view mirror and when she'd tried to smile, it came out as a look of moderate to severe anxiety.
Which she hopes Rachel understood, because her 'Daddy' was a tall, actually semi-muscular, African American man, and if anyone could induce even the slightest anxiety in anybody without even trying, it'd be him.
"So Lucy." Is what Leroy says, and she jumps a little bit in her seat, taking her suddenly sweaty palms and rubbing them on her jeans. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Oh?" And after it's out of her mouth, she feels the need to slap herself.
"Mhm." He hums and Lucy watches him smile slightly. "Chatterbox here talks about you quite a bit."
She doesn't even need to look at Rachel to know that she's probably blushing and ducking her head in embarrassment. She smacks Leroy on the arm lightly. "Daddy."
"What? You do."
"Um, good things, I hope?" Lucy asks, and he nods.
"Always good things." And Lucy smiles and pokes Rachel on the elbow while Rachel bats her hand away with a, "Stop it," that Lucy is 100% positive she doesn't mean.
…
Lucy doesn't really know what she expected Rachel's room to look like, but it wasn't this; a Wicked poster on one wall, with various scribbles in Sharpie that Lucy guesses are names, playbills stacked neatly (and if she looked closely, in alphabetical order) on the white desk in the corner, along with a hairbrush, a jewelry box, and a lamp with a bedazzled shade.
And then she nearly smacks herself upside the head, because it's just so Rachel Berry that she doesn't know how she could have imagined it anyway else.
"Do you like it?" Rachel asks, almost embarrassed, her lip between her teeth and her hands clasped in front of her while she stands in the middle of the room.
Lucy, still looking around, replies, "I – yeah. Yes."
Rachel expels a breath then, and smiles. "Yay." She sits down on the floor, and then crosses her legs, making sure to adjust her skirt, and then pats the spot next to her. "Come on."
Lucy moves over to the spot, but then just stands there looking down at her sneakers while brown eyes glance up at her expectantly. "Why are we sitting on the floor?"
"I don't know. Because it's not what people usually do."
"But we are people. Shouldn't we do what they usually do?"
"Would you just sit down? I don't bite."
"I know," and she complies, settling down next to Rachel and folding her hands over her shins, tapping at the rubber soles of her shoes. "So what now?"
"I think – " She fiddles with her hands for a second before she tucks them into her lap. "Let's talk about Halloween."
Haha. "Let's not."
"We really need to." Rachel assures, but Lucy shakes her head, and keeps tapping. "Lucy."
"Rachel."
"We are – "
"No, we're no – "
"Do you have a problem with gay people?" Is what Rachel shoots out, and Lucy snaps her head up to look at the serious, determined look on her face.
She laughs inappropriately. "Why?"
"Because your father obviously does – "
"I'm not my dad," and it comes out more biting and serious than she really means it to.
It's not that she means to be, and she knows that Rachel didn't mean for her to be, either, but she's offended. Because yes, she's his daughter, and yes, that's her blood, but even just the simple fact that Rachel feels the need to ask that question because of him sort of hurts something in her.
"Obviously." Rachel tries to joke, but her eyes stay firmly glued to the carpet underneath them. "Lucy? I didn't mean to – "
"I know." She says, even though she doesn't exactly know what Rachel didn't mean to do. "And no – to answer your question – I don't."
She's heard all the preachings, has heard her preacher the countless times that he's said, in that final voice, it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, read the verses about how man shall not lie with man, and that homosexuals will never inherit the kingdom of God and blah. Blah. Blah.
Except, she's seen the pictures of Rachel and her dads in her locker, their glossy faces always stretched out in wide smiles, and she knows that you can't fake that kind of love, and that Rachel's family is one of the best she's ever seen, regardless of any of their sexual orientations or not.
A door slams shut downstairs, and someone calls out, "Honey, I'm home!"
About .5 seconds later, Lucy whispers, a bit frightened, "Is that your dad?"
And Rachel laughs, "Yes. You should go and meet him."
"But I – " She furrows her brow and laughs at what she's about to say. "I'm scared."
"He's harmless."
"Well, yeah, to you, because he's your dad – "
"Just – " Rachel puts her hands on Lucy's shoulders, pressing her down and effectively halting the words coming out of her mouth. "Relax. And let's go."
"I – okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
…
"You're not relaxed." Rachel whispers out of the side of her mouth before she forks a bell pepper into her mouth.
"Sorry." She says back, half-sarcastic, and half-actually sorry.
"So, Lucy." Hiram – Rachel's Dad – starts, and he brings a napkin up to wipe his mouth. "How did you and Rachel meet?"
Which is kind of a weird question, the way it's worded.
"Oh, um – " She looks down at her untouched food, and she feels really bad after a second. Rachel made a comment a few minutes ago about how they usually get take-out and rarely ever cook. "Well I got, uh, slushied and she helped me – she sort of cleaned me up, I guess."
"Heart of gold, our girl."
"Mm, we raised her well." Leroy says, and leans over to peck Hiram on the cheek.
Lucy averts her eyes – to give them some privacy – and then pushes a forkful of food into her mouth.
But then she turns her head and sees Rachel look away with a small frown and it makes Lucy want to throw it all up. Right there.
"This is really good." She decides to say instead.
Leroy smiles. "If you're just being polite – "
Lucy stammers, "No, I – of course not."
"You've hardly touched your food, is all." Hiram glances at her plate. "Not even a dent."
"I just – I – um. Had a big lunch."
Rachel scoffs next to her, and then she's trying to figure out how to tell Rachel to not even try and touch on that right now without actually saying it and without making it completely obvious.
She nudges her calf into Rachel's harshly and then feels the glare that Rachel shoots her on the side of her head. "It's delicious. Really. I'm just – yeah."
Leroy chuckles. "No need to be nervous, kiddo."
That makes her falter a bit, that kiddo, and she doesn't know if it's because she's a senior so she's really obviously not a kiddo, or because of something else.
"I'm not, I – I'm not."
Rachel wipes her mouth and then grabs her plate, scooting back from the table. "Can we be excused."
Hiram nods, "'Course."
She takes her still mostly-full plate and follows Rachel into the kitchen. She sets the plate on the counter, pretty sure that throwing all that food in the trash would be a little more than impolite.
"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
Lucy snorts. "I was a stuttering idiot."
"You were nervous, it's – "
"No, it's not." She doesn't mean to raise her voice; it just sort of does it itself. She rubs a hand over her face and then rubs at her eyes under her glasses. "I'm – sorry, I – shit."
"It's fine."
No, it's not fine, but Lucy is just going to blame it on the fact that her stomach is rumbling for the plate of food on her left that she's not going to let herself eat. "Okay."
Rachel grabs her hand and gently tugs her towards the stairs. "Come on."
Lucy follows, and then watches when Rachel shuts the door behind them before moving over and sitting on the bed. Her eyes wander to the corner and she laughs. "Nice elliptical."
"Thank you. It's an important part of my morning routine."
Lucy tries not to look at Rachel's skirt – and fails – before "It shows," falls out of her mouth and she has to physically restrain herself from reaching out and somehow trying to shove the words back into her mouth. "I mean – well, it does show, I don't mean that it-it doesn't, but I – "
"It's okay." Rachel says, and then laughs lightly. "Thank you, though."
"Yeah," and when Rachel doesn't say anything she says, "So. Um, what was that guy's name?"
Rachel's cheeks pink for about a millisecond before she schools her features into something remotely resembling mild confusion and asks, "What guy?"
"Rachel." Lucy says, and then Rachel huffs a moment later and crosses her arms over her chest.
"I...have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hey, come o – "
"Lucy."
Her smile falters and she's worried that she's actually upset her. "I – shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – um. Are you mad?"
Rachel sighs. "No, I'm not mad. It's just – I mean obviously, it's just a little crush and nothing is going to come out of it – but, thinking about it just makes me a little...well."
Lucy sucks in a breath at crush, and then almost sits down next to Rachel before deciding to just stand awkwardly in the middle of her room. She shoves her hands in her pockets. "So...I don't get to know his name?"
Rachel rolls her eyes. "Matt Rutherford."
…
She leaves about an hour later, and is about to get out of the car with a smile, but not before Hiram and Leroy shove a Tupperware container full of food into her arms while she shakes her head and tells them that she really can't accept it (like it's some expensive gift instead of some leftovers) but they shake their heads and insist.
Rachel gives her a high five and then smiles and says, "See you tomorrow," before Lucy closes the door and walks up the driveway.
She fishes her key out of her pocket and then waves when the silver car starts backing out into the street.
None of the lights are on, and when she steps up the stairs and past her parents room, the door is closed, and there aren't any muffled voices (or tipsy slurrings) so she just figures that they've gone to bed early.
The fact that they didn't even bother to call and ask where she was kind of hurts her feelings a little bit, but when she locks the bathroom door behind her and steps on the scale, it completely slips her mind.
She can't help but smile a little bit when she sees 158 staring up at her.
But then her stomach growls, and she winces.
…
A/N: I'm not really getting much response from this – or, well, not as much as I'd hoped – so, I'm kind of debating on continuing this or not.
R&R.