Title: Catalyst
Author: neveraworsename
Rating: M
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric
Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.
Author's note: This one is on time for once! I just finished this, so point out any errors if you see any, please?
Chapter 11 –
Quinn woke up just after five in the morning and barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. The hall had never seemed so long. In between her retching, she heard the soft footfalls of Rachel, before she kneeled next to her and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Rachel kissed her temple and yawned softly, before wiping Quinn's brow with the edge of her pajama sleeve.
"It's almost over," Rachel reassured her, and rubbed her back gently while she started to dry-heave. She couldn't even remember if she'd eaten dinner yesterday. Lunch, yes, but then Rachel had come over, and she'd moved again. She was hungry, and found that yes, there were a few things left in her stomach to end up in the toilet. Rachel left her momentarily, and came back with a wet cloth she patted her forehead with, and then wiped her neck as well.
When the morning sickness finally stopped, Rachel gestured to the Listerine and Quinn rinsed her mouth out. Rachel was putting on a pair of small cotton shorts and an exercise shirt, putting her pajamas in the hamper when she went back to her room. The light from the window was sparse, but her eyes had adjusted from the trip, and she could see the light gray of Rachel's form covered in clothes that were slightly darker. Rachel exercised in gold. Of course.
"I'm going to work on the elliptical," Rachel said. "It's two doors down to the right, on the left hand side, if you want company. My father's might or might not be home, I don't know if they came in."
Quinn scratched her throat, "I think I'll just go back to sleep, Rach. It's five in the morning on a Saturday."
Rachel shrugged, "One man's loss is another's treasure." She frowned while walking backwards, "Or perhaps the adage should be person. More gender neutral."
Quinn yawned, and the door closed behind Rachel. Quinn climbed in the bed again and snugged against Rachel's pillow. Underneath the Old Spice was still a scent uniquely Rachel; light, pleasant, almost spicy in a way. She drifted back off to sleep and didn't wake up until it was a more appropriate time. She half way woke up at some point, hearing the shower start, but only rolled over.
Sunlight filtered in, making dust motes individual through the canopy, and she pushed herself out and to the bathroom. After a moment, she realized she didn't have a toothbrush and went into the hall to get to her room. She emerged with her bathroom kit, and went into the bathroom again. Teeth brushed, face washed and much more pleasant now that she'd had more sleep, and she changed into a dress and pulled on socks. The Berry's had wooden floors and she didn't want to wander around in her ratty bedroom slippers with the floors so cold.
Quinn smelled pancakes. Rachel was singing in the kitchen, and then a male voice joined in. It sounded familiar, but she didn't notice until she was all the way inside that it was Puck. His register was lower, here, and it blended more agreeably with Rachel's than Finn's did. Or her's would, she mentally pouted, as they stopped.
Hannah and Puck were sitting on the stools of the breakfast bar again. Rachel was flipping a pancake onto a plate leaden with them, each circular and golden-brown, and all roughly the size of the plate. There were two smaller ones on top that she gave to Hannah, and poured a little bit of syrup over them. Hannah pouted up at her and Rachel closed the cap firmly, with a click. Puck seemingly speared half the stack onto his plate and Rachel scolded him, "What if Quinn wanted more than that?"
He shrugged, shoving one in his mouth. Quinn grimaced at the sight as he talked, pancake showing repeatedly, and "You can make more. It's not like you ever run out of flour in this house."
Quinn shifted a little in the doorway. Rachel had been glaring but at seeing the movement, turned to see Quinn and smiled at her. "Good morning, Quinn." She had heard the shower, then. Rachel was wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. The house was kept a little on the warm side, so she could see why Rachel's shirt wasn't long-sleeved.
She smiled as well, "Morning everyone."
Puck and Hannah waved, and she took a stool. There were four, and Rachel said, getting the orange juice out, "Take however many you want Quinn."
She looked at the formidable stack and took two of them. She didn't think she'd be able to finish more than those two. She took a bite and held in a moan. Hearing Puck's snicker and Hannah's giggle, she saw she wasn't very good at it. They had more texture than regular pancakes, and were a little thicker than her mother's were, soaking up most of the syrup. She didn't even like syrup, but apparently, what the Berry's saved in eco-friendly products they used on food, because it was some Vermont mountain thing.
Rachel started eating last, taking three of the pancakes for herself. Breakfast was quiet, again, and this time there were no weird conversations about babies or fucking or anything really.
After they were done - and somehow, all of them had gone for seconds, and finished the stack - Puck turned to Quinn and asked, "Do you play Mario Kart? I'm tired of beating Ray again and again."
Rachel, of course, protested that he wasn't beating her; she was just practicing on him.
He rolled his eyes, "It's okay to be bad at video games."
"I'm not bad at video games," She argued, placing the dishes in the sink, and starting to wash them. "I'm simply less than astute at Mario Kart. I've beat you multiple times at 'Grand Theft Auto.'"
He nodded a placating look on his face. "Yeah, well. C'mon, Fabray, I'll show you the ropes."
They walked into the living room, and Puck flopped in front of the TV before setting everything up and handing her a Wii remote. There were pictures above the TV and all over the room. It would have been nosy to look all over the room, so she just looked at the ones on the TV. They were mostly of Rachel, in various states of dress, and one of her as a very small infant with a mess of dark curls, bare naked on what appeared to be a shag rug. She was a sort of fawn color at the time, definitely lighter than she was now. Solo pictures of her were on either side, still young, but definitely at a talking point. One was her in a little sailor suit, looking slightly uncomfortable but beaming anyways. Her hat was crooked. Another was of her dressed as a princess with a wand. She was much less enthused, staring off to the side at something when the picture was taken.
She'd never been much good at video games, and generally preferred to just watch Brittany trounce Santana, but it seemed as if this was something Puck was into. She took a pillow from the couch and sat down next to him. He quickly explained the rules and how you moved with the Wii remote in general.
Puck scooted over a little bit and said, "Trust me on this, we'll need the space."
At first, she was rather ambivalent towards it. It was just a game, and she didn't see what the big deal was. After her second loss, however, and hearing his muffled sound of happiness - she suspected if this wasn't her first time playing, he'd have said something to the effect of, "In your face, Fabray!" - She hunkered down, and came in second by milli seconds.
"Beginner's luck," Puck scoffed. "Bet you can't do that again."
She didn't make second again. She was first. Rachel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wet hands on her shoulders briefly, and from then on was cheering her on from the couch and after a moment, so was Hannah.
"All or nothing," Puck said, and they played again. She forced her car to go as fast as possible and get all the stars once she was in front. She was too far ahead for the typical shenanigans to work with Puck, and at the last checkpoint, caused an oil slick that made Puck swear and swerve.
She put on an innocent face as she beat him again and said, "Must have been luck again."
He threw his controller down in mock disgust. "Yeah, yeah."
Hannah wanted to play a video game after that, so they set up a learning adventure thingy, and Quinn moved to sit next to Rachel. Her back was hurting a little, and Rachel massaged the muscles there gently, pressing her thumbs into her lower back in a soothing way. It was apparent that the Messer's Berry weren't home yet, and Quinn held in a sigh of relief. They'd notice the room, probably, even though it had been empty of anything and bare of designs. They'd notice, of course, when she didn't leave the house. Saturday was a good day for it, though. They had time throughout the day.
After video games, everyone worked on homework. Quinn didn't have much, but sitting at the kitchen table, watching Rachel explain to Puck the usefulness of attending a math class, was more like the life she'd imagined as a child, when those scenes came on TV. Everyone doing homework, a plate of cookies in between; it had seemed like the ultimate ideal.
Hannah finished first, as she had to write sentences with her list of words and then sat impatiently as the teenagers finished their homework. After homework, Puck decided that he'd take Hannah home and again ruffled Quinn's hair in parting. Hannah hugged her around her waist and asked, shyly, "Are you gonna be here again?"
She smiled down at her, "Yes."
"Good," The girl then said, "Noah, c'mon, home!"
He shook his head, "You got it squirt."
They left the house and she heard the roar of Puck's truck.
"How long have you guys known each other?" She asked.
"All our lives. He's a year older than me," Rachel said. "High school isn't the best example of our relationship, and the only reason I went to McKinley instead of another private school was because he was there and Principal Figgins assured my parents that I'd be treated with respect. My fathers thought I'd have less bullying that way, with him there as well. By the time they realized my complaints wouldn't be listened to, the school had stopped taking students for the year and said to try again, and then I was in so many clubs the other school didn't have, they decided that public high school would just be a stepping stone for college."
Quinn nodded, and after a while, Rachel stood up, opened the side door and let Toto in. The dog lumbered in and immediately flopped in front of the island. Rachel crouched down and started rubbing his side, cooing, "You are the worst, you big lug. Yes, you are, yes, you are."
He rolled onto his back and waved his paws. She scratched his chest and stomach, and Quinn could see and feel his tail thumping against the stool she was sitting on.
After a few minutes, he rolled over, placed his paws on Rachel's shoulders, and pushed her to the floor, where he proceeded to lick her face. She laughed and continued to stroke his ears and rubbed her head against his with a growl. "Off," She said. He stood and she said, "Well."
That was it. Well.
The brunette held out a hand, "I'm going to wash my face, just so you know. Want to go to my room?"
She stood up and took Rachel's hand. "Yes, but don't kiss me until you are completely clean."
"Dog saliva is cleaner than a human mouth," Rachel protested.
"Yeah, well, not when he's licking his anus."
Toto was, in his defense, licking his leg, not his anus.
"That's his leg."
"Go clean up," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. She was tugged up the stairs and Toto followed them. Quinn entered the room while Rachel went to the bathroom, and Quinn had gotten settled down when Rachel came back and laid next to her. Her face smelled like melon, and it was scrubbed clean, leaving pink spots on her cheeks and forehead. She kissed her nose and Rachel grinned at her, before kissing her mouth.
They moved into a soft embrace, Rachel's arms around her shoulders, Quinn's arms around her waist pulling them closer and closer to one another. It was one of the first times they'd made out with only the intention of making out. During school, they kissed because they couldn't bear not to, it was a long promise. It was a promise of later, to be exact. Later in life, later than this. Kissing cemented that they had something together that was more intimate than just friendship, and it could now move into a full-body romance, if that's what Rachel wanted.
Apparently, this was what Rachel wanted. Her mouth strayed, gently, to the edges of Quinn's lips, and her nose blew warm air across her face gently, as she moved to kiss her chin, her jawline, licking behind her ear. Quinn yipped. It was the best name for the sound she made and Rachel raised her eyebrows at her.
"Shut up," She complained, and bit Rachel's jaw just hard enough to hurt in revenge. Rachel yipped, then flushed, and buried her face in embarrassment at the space between Quinn's neck and shoulder.
"You smell like me," Rachel said.
Quinn responded, "I used your soap last night."
She could hear Rachel's snuffling inhales, and squirmed a little as she began to leave open mouthed kisses along her neck.
"What're you doing?"
There was a nip to her shoulder in response, and after a moment of being ignored, she pinched Rachel's side. Rachel didn't move, continuing to nose around her neck and clavicle with soft kisses and flicks of her tongue. It was unfairly arousing, and she pushed Rachel onto her back before rolling on top of her. Not now. Yes, they had the time, but they hadn't made anything official yet. Rachel deserved official after all the shit Quinn had put her through. She nuzzled her ear, sighing, then kissed her earlobe. Rachel began to rub her back and Quinn laid her head on Rachel's chest. Her breasts were just below her eyes and the memory of the last time they'd been so close - the choir room, which really could have been awkward if everyone wasn't always so eager to leave after school - and her breasts had been covered then. Her nipples had been visible through her bra, if that meant anything, but Quinn quickly decided that it didn't and there was no way they were doing anything now.
Asking her out now would be stupid. She'd look like some pathetic girl, even with their relationship being very unofficial in the months leading up to it. Two months and two weeks, still in the first trimester. Great, she was thinking of them in pregnancy terms.
She decided to ignore her thoughts and asked, "When do your dads come home?"
Rachel frowned, "Normally, they'd have been here by now. They might have gone antiquing or with some friends, though. They're very spontaneous."
"And you're not?" Quinn asked.
Rachel's tongue swept along her bottom lip. Quinn watched it, cursing her depraved sense of honor. "I don't think I am," She said. "I've been known to do some spur of the moment things, but I don't think I qualify as spontaneous. Emotional, though, yes. Reckless, yes."
She couldn't imagine Rachel as reckless. Even during lunch, she always forced herself to exactly however many grapes at once, even when she looked like she wanted to put them all in her mouth, like Mike, and Mike was one of the neatest people she knew. Not like Hummel, who was neat to the point of fussing in the mirror more than most girls she knew, or standing in class to adjust exactly how his sweater fell the way he had in French all of last year, but Mike was neat enough. She'd have probably had to suffer this year as well, but Mrs. Palm had some mental breakdown during the first day of school or a seizure or something, and Figgins panicked, so she was "on suspension for her mental health", and she'd been put into Spanish until they could find a replacement. At this point, she'd rather suffer through his clumsy Spanish then conjugate French verbs for the rest of the year.
She didn't even know if Rachel took French or Spanish or what.
"What language class are you taking?"
"German. So far all I've learned is frauline for miss. Michael and I play hangman when we aren't doing homework. What are you learning in Spanish?"
"Conjugating 'ser' and 'estar' with actual conversation sprinkled throughout."
Rachel hummed and kissed the top of her head again. Quinn wrapped a few strands of her long hair around her finger, then unwound them. Her hair felt silky, and she'd straightened it today. She wondered if the baby would have Rachel's hair, then said, "Maybe we should work on a list of names for the baby."
"Already?" Rachel asked. "You're in the tenth week."
"Rachel, you were named for a Friends character and I have my grandfather's name because he had colon cancer. We don't have a good track record."
"Really? Is he okay now?"
Quinn said flippantly, "Yeah, he's fine. He's too evil to die, I'm pretty sure the colon cancer ran off or something in the face of him."
Rachel giggled, then slammed a hand over her mouth, "That's not nice."
"Names," She insisted.
Rachel sighed, "Fine, fine. We'll make a list of gender neutral names and then decide if we want something more or less feminine or masculine as the pregnancy continues. Deal?"
Quinn kissed her mouth, "Deal."
Rachel wriggled from underneath her and went to a small bag by her closet door, where she pulled out a laptop. She came back with it, and started it up. Quinn looked away while she input her password, and tried not to hover as she went to Google and typed "gender neutral names."
She clicked the first link and then enlarged the text.
"Cameron?" Rachel asked.
Quinn shook her head. "No."
"Dakota?"
"No."
"Ew, not this one. Jesse?"
"No. Only jerks are named Jesse."
She laughed, "Your name is on here."
Quinn gave her the finger, and Rachel continued to snigger, "Emerson."
"Are we having a baby or a dead guy?"
"Charlie?"
Quinn thought about it. It wasn't a terrible name, but no, not for a first name.
"Not for a first name. Possibly a middle name."
Rachel pulled up a spread sheet, and quickly made a short note: Middle names. 1) Charlie
They went back to the website and Rachel asked, almost incredulous, "Finley? What in the world is a Finley?"
"Isn't that a park or something? No."
"Phoenix?"
"No. Everyone's going to call them names."
"Sidney?"
"Like Australia? The place founded by convicted felons and lunatics?"
Rachel muttered, "That's a no, then. Um, Casey?"
Quinn thought. "That could work. Possibly."
"Possible names," Rachel said under her breath as she typed it into the spreadsheet, and then put Casey there.
"Hayden?"
"No. Maybe Hadrian if it's a boy." Rachel added it to the list.
"Tatum?"
"Hell no. Channing Tatum looks like his face is bashed in."
"Alexi?"
"No."
"Z- okay, no. I'm not naming my child after a mountain."
Quinn peered at the screen. "Angel is out."
"Good. Least favorite Buffy character of all time."
Quinn was confused. Quinn remained confused because she wasn't going to listen to a rant today about character development and terrible acting.
They went through the entire list, then focused on more compacted names on different websites. It took two hours to come up with a feasible list, and even then, some names Quinn felt like crossing out.
And then came the hard question, "My last name or yours?"
Rachel blinked, then frowned, and bit her bottom lip. "I can't sign it. My assigned gender is female."
Quinn swallowed, "Oh."
Her smile was thin, "Yeah. At least we won't have to argue about which last name goes on the birth certificate."
Quinn croaked out a sound, then stared just to the left of the screen. Rachel's little hands were so pretty, hovering over the silver keys. Her nails were painted apple green.
Rachel looked away and back to the spread sheet, before saving it "Baby Fabray."
Quinn smiled widely, then head-butted her shoulder gently, "That should read Fabray-Berry."
Rachel's grin was beautiful.
Rachel put the laptop off to the side just as her bedroom door opened. Jeremiah and Gerard stood in the doorway, looking huge and intimidating. Seeing her, they both smiled and Gerard said, "As nice as it is to see you, Quinn, I'm afraid you'll have to go home. We need to have a small family chat with Spencer."
She glanced at Rachel. Rachel's eyes were wide and she was still, as if she'd turn invisible. Seeing that she hadn't turned invisible and Quinn's look turned desperate, Rachel quickly stood and said, "I think Quinn should stay here. If it's small, no need for her to leave."
Gerard was going to answer, but Jeremiah had narrowed his eyes and asked, slowly, "Quinn, are those your bedroom slippers?"
She squeaked, then managed to get out, "Yes, sir."
"Which room?" Gerard asked.
"Two doors to the right of this one." Rachel was looking at her hands as she spoke.
"And where did you sleep last night?" They were looking at her.
Quinn managed to get out, "Here."
Gerard opened his mouth again, but Jeremiah said, "Quinn, go to your room, please. Spencer, come."
They glanced at one another as they went to their designated places. Quinn's rooms had windows on the west side, and looked over their backyard. She looked out the window. It was a beautiful fall day, and their backyard seemed huge. There was a maple tree with a well-maintained tree house settled in the middle. The tree was just starting to lose it's leaves, crisp colors, and she opened the window to let in some fresh air. She shivered a little, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms and rubbed them.
Even though her door was closed, she could hear the sounds of their conversation, but couldn't make out the words, only the tone and volume. Rachel's responses weren't audible, but she winced at Gerard's booming voice. His very tone was piercing, echoing, and she threw herself on the bed. They were the same sheets from her home, and when she buried her face in them, they smelled like fabric softener. Carole had washed them, she knew, but now they didn't smell like anything in particular. She tugged at her cross, running her thumb across the back of it. Jesus' face was pressed to her index finger. She could feel the edges of his crown. She pressed harder.
Downstairs was quiet, suddenly, and then she heard footsteps up the stairs. Jeremiah appeared, and seeing her face, the hard line of his mouth softened and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he led her to the living room, "C'mon, honey. Rachel explained some things, but it's still going to be a little touch and go with my husband for a few weeks."
"Okay," She said. Her voice was small and high, mostly spoken into his side.
Rachel was sitting on the couch, and Gerard was pacing in front of her. She sat down next to Rachel and watched Jeremiah wrap his arms around his husband's waist frrom behind. Gerard was maybe a smidgen shorter, but his muscles were more evident. Rachel took her hand and squeezed. Normally, Rachel was very light in her touches with everything, but now she was holding on for dear life. Her knuckles were white. Quinn ran her thumb along the back of her hand and somehow, some of the tension of the room eased ever so slightly.
Gerard took a deep breath, then said in a clipped sentence, "You're pregnant."
"Yes."
"The other parent in this affair is our daughter."
"Yes, sir."
"You're absolutely positive that there is no other possibility?"
Rachel let out a shocked, "Papa!" but Quinn still answered, "I'm sure, sir. I haven't had sex with anyone but Ra-Spencer. Ever."
He nodded, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well."
The air whooshed out of her lungs. The truth was out to all relevant parties and so far they'd had one parent out of five reject her and call her a complete paragon of sin and what was wrong with the world. Eighty percent was still good.
Eighty percent was actually really, really fantastic.
Jeremiah kissed Gerard's neck. Quinn realized with a start she'd never seen her own parents do that. They'd been married twenty-odd years, and never something as simple as a hug from behind and a kiss on the neck. She tightened her hand on top of Rachel's, and felt her - her something, her other respond.
Other. That was a good word for them. Girlfriend seemed, suddenly, too high school-ish, too temporary, and partners was way too mature, but other was very good.
Jeremiah cleared his throat, "Still, even with that. We have some ground rules, okay, Quinn?"
She nodded, "Yes, sir."
"First, no sir's, we're Gerard and Jeremiah, or possibly 'Dad' if that's something you feel comfortable with. It's not a rule, it's a fact. You don't break facts."
"She can call me sir," Gerard glared.
Jeremiah ignored him, "Rule number one, if you go in a room with Rachel, open door policy."
"Two," Jeremiah continued, "We'd like for you to come to us if you need or want anything, and we'll see about it. You have a permanent OB/GYN?"
She shook her head, "No. I went to a clinic near Akron for my first trimester ultrasound. Everything checked out well."
"Still, we need to find you one, and a preferred hospital. Three is school. How are you doing?"
Rachel spoke up before she could, "She's the number one in our class."
"Very good," Jeremiah smiled. "That's a big accomplishment. We know it's hard, but we'd like for you to maintain either that spot or one just below it. What are your current academic grades?"
"All A's, but report cards haven't come out," She said.
He beamed. "Excellent. We'll put your report card next to Rachel's in the den when you two get them."
She found herself smiling back, "Okay."
"Good. Our diet is almost entirely vegan, although Gerard has been known to sneak in a pepperoni pizza every once in a while. We won't pressure you to join in, and if you want something in particular, we'll accommodate you. Do you have any food allergies?"
Quinn shook her head.
"We know that pregnant women can have some unusual cravings, and we'll try to find a healthy alternative to some combinations. Gestational diabetes is common in teenage pregnancies, so your diet is of the utmost concern. Her bedtime also applies to you, so get used to 9:30 on the weeknight's. That's about it."
"Abba-leh volunteers at the women's shelter," Rachel murmured into her ear. Her breath was hot and Quinn had to remind herself that now was really not the time to be having thoughts like that.
Jeremiah finally let go of Gerard, who moved to sit in a lone armchair. Jeremiah flopped on a love seat and threw his long legs over the side. His feet were bare and his toes were painted blue.
The TV had been on mute most of the time, but she could now see it was playing a movie. Matt Damon appeared to be running down a street, his face a mask of concentration. Gerard turned the sound on and the family watched The Bourne Identity.
They watched Matt Damon's fairly impassive face for the next hour before Gerard stood up, "Anybody want Chinese?"
"I do," Jeremiah and Rachel piped up.
He nodded, "The usual?"
Rachel asked what she wanted from the restaurant and Quinn shook her head. She didn't have much experience with eating out and simply deferred to whatever they normally had. Jeremiah, Quinn, and Rachel watched another movie while Gerard was out, the next Bourne movie. Apparently, it was a Matt Damon kind of night. At some point, Rachel curled up closer to her and she nuzzled into her soft hair. Either the Chinese restaurant was having a busy night or he'd taken some time to cool off. She couldn't really blame him, and kissed the top of Rachel's head. Even if Rachel was insisting that her plans were fine, and that Quinn and the baby weren't going to stop her dreams of stardom and Broadway, realistically, it was hard to see that.
She was going to hold her back, as painful as that was. It really would be one of those things that she needed to see to believe, that Rachel could get out and help her take care of the baby too.
Gerard returned then, and put the bags on the kitchen table, visible if she turned just slightly, and shook off his jacket. It must have started to rain. Just as she thought it, she heard thunder outside.
"It's a little late in the year for thunderstorms, huh, babe?" Jeremiah said as the trio walked into the room.
"You'd think so, but you know how global warming screws stuff up," Gerard commented. He was getting cutlery down and Rachel took the plates out. The bags smelled great, and Jeremiah pulled the pints out. Just like the Hudson's, the Berry's didn't pray beforehand. They did lessen to a murmur when she bent her head and said a prayer, then returned to their casual conversation. The thunder stopped just before they finished eating. She was quiet, still unsure about them. Jeremiah was nice, nicer than she'd have expected from a near stranger who only knew her from the principal's office. She'd expected more of a response like Gerard's, with his silence and skipping over her when it came time to pass things.
The food was colorful. Yellow, orange, red and green peppers were chopped up into the brown noodles, and there were sugar peas and water chestnuts in the fried rice. It was also surprisingly tasty and it turned out that Gerard had bought two more, probably because he knew what would happen.
Quinn was waved off from the dishes, along with Rachel, and they went upstairs. It was apparent that the men needed to talk about something in private. Probably her. They left the door open to Rachel's room when they entered. Rachel handed her the book - her own, personal copy - with a slightly puppyish look on her face. She laughed a little, and climbed into the bed next to her before she started to read. Rachel curled up next to her until the chapter was over with. Toto was still on his bed of pillows, but there was a tennis ball that looked like it'd seen better days, and Rachel said to her, "Be back briefly, I need to f-e-e-d him."
Quinn raised her eyebrows, "You spell things out in front of him?"
"He's a very smart dog, Quinn. I'm surprised he's been in here the entire time, he normally needs more intellectual stimulation."
She patted her leg and Toto followed Rachel out the room. Quinn went to her own room after a moment, and looked out the window again. Rachel must have fed him already because they were running around in the backyard, spraying mud everywhere. She shook her head, watching them get muddy and roll around. It was obvious Rachel was going to be the fun parent and she was going to have to be a little more stern on the baby. Then again, Rachel's meticulous schedules almost entirely ensured that the baby would have some authority. And maybe they wouldn't have to resort to the "fun" parent and the "boring" parent stereotypes. The baby would love and like them equally as long as they loved and cared for him or her to the best of their abilities.
Gerard appeared outside as well, with what appeared to be a water hose. She could hear Rachel's laughter as she was sprayed with the water hose. Toto barked and then jogged over to him, and drank the water from the hose. Rachel climbed up to the tree house, clinging to the branches like a little monkey. She'd probably stink when she came back in. Quinn resigned herself from not to a big, enthusiastic, disgusting hug. She couldn't stop smiling at the prospect.
Rachel showered before she wrapped Quinn in a hug, and Toto was groomed in the garage until his fur was back to it's normal pristine white and brown. He seemed to find Quinn less interesting than Rachel, but still licked her face and hands when he wandered into her room in greeting. His fur was still poofy from the blow-drying and he hopped on top of her, laying most of her chest on top of her. He panted in her face and she pushed his head away. His smelled like oatmeal and vanilla, and she scratched his chest.
The next day, Gerard made breakfast. She got an omelet equal in size to Rachel's and two slices of facon. It wasn't as bad as she'd have thought, but she still preferred the taste of actual bacon. Something about it was just slightly off. Rachel played basketball with Puck for a while until it started to rain while Quinn read, and then Quinn taught Puck how to play speed with a deck of cards. He claimed to be a poker man, then promptly lost at that to Hannah. They were playing for pennies and chocolate and the elementary school student was hopped up before the day was over. She met Mrs. Puckerman the same day, who seemed very unimpressed with her. They ate out again that night, this time Thai Brittany called and she talked with her as well. She really only had to talk to one or the other, they always told each other everything.
The Glee club finally had a set list and dances, and the last week was pure practice for Sectionals next Saturday. Gerard was ignoring her firmly in the house, but Jeremiah asked for her address that Wednesday. By the following Friday, Russell gave Gerard a manila folder and left without saying a word.
Jeremiah explained, "Because they kicked you out, we have to take legal responsibility for you. You go on our insurance, health and otherwise, we take care of you financially, we'll be on your FASFA, you go on our taxes, and we need to go to the school to change your emergency contacts. It's just technical stuff, mostly. We won't stop you from seeing your parents, but they have no legal claim on you, okay?"
She nodded, her lower lip trembling, "Okay."
He hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his chest. He smelled like Old Spice and books. He ran a book store in town entirely independently. There was a Marine tattoo on his bicep, she saw, above the whale. He'd been retired from active duty from a stray bullet to the chest. Gerard was a legal consultant, but most of his job could be done from home. His firm was actually in Columbus, but Lima was home for him. Jeremiah had grown up in New Hampshire and they'd met during college tours. Then they'd kept seeing each other virtually everywhere, it seemed, then they'd dated.
Rachel was the one that told her their story, showing her the photos of her fathers as young men. She always saw it as odd, that a photograph could take a picture and the same people could be looking at them years later. There was a flash as they looked at the pictures from above. They looked up to see Gerard with a camera. He went into his study. Quinn tried to flip to the baby pictures but Rachel pushed her over and sat on her ass. Jeremiah told them to quit horse playing. Horse playing, of course, meant "play" to Toto, who knocked over Rachel and licked her face enthusiastically as Quinn tickled her until she screamed with laughter.
Finn still wasn't speaking to her, and she didn't really care much. She was more upset that he hadn't forgiven Puck yet, but she knew she didn't have any business with their friendship. She was just happy he was keeping Rachel's secret to himself. He'd been cruel before, she knew, but this would reflect negatively on him as well. Letting loser Rachel Berry steal his girlfriend wouldn't make him any more popular, and would probably tank it, once they found out about her addition. To further avoid everyone, he'd quit Glee. They'd tried requiting but still, they were short a male until Dave Karofsky wandered in and asked, with a frown, "That Berry girl here?"
Mr. Schuester stuttered for a moment then said, "Not today, Dave. She has a job so she's here only on Mondays."
"Oh." He seemed a little bummed out, then asked them, "Anybody know how to get in contact with her? I need to talk with her."
Puck said he did and they spoke quietly. Everyone was so quiet, though, that they could hear Karofsky say it was something personal and then Puck gave him her number with the promise that if he harassed her, he'd personally bash his face in with a two by four. Karofsky smirked and left silently.
Karofsky did call that night just before dinner - take out again, and she was contemplating learning to cook just to get more variety - and Rachel called him afterwards. They talked that night, Karofsky and Rachel, and then afterwards, and pretty much every night for the rest of the week. Whatever he said to her was so personal that if she was in the room with Rachel, Rachel would go in her room until they were done. By the next Monday, he was in Glee and practicing with everyone else. He'd slacked off on the bullying and actually helped Hummel out of a dumpster. Karofsky had a good voice besides that, deeper than Finn's and much less prone to cracking. Between him and Puck, Glee club didn't seem to have suffered much.
Sectionals approached, costumes were tailored, and they were on the bus. She and Rachel shared her iPod on the long bus ride, forcing each of them to listen to Mr. Schuester's random pep talks, inspired by everything from the wind blowing through the trees to the sound of a car backfiring when the bus driver got lost in Lima Heights Adjacent.
And then once they got there, they were floored. Not by the talent, but that their set list had been stolen and dispersed to the other schools. They could try, but after the deaf kids' version, they'd sound way too good and lose points. They all felt it; the sudden flood of futileness, there was no way they could win now. Mr. Schuester tried another pep talk but they were so desensitized that they'd have reacted better if Miss Pillsbury tried a pep talk.
She didn't.
Sitting in silence, Rachel stood up, ran her hand over her face and asked, "Are we going to give up?"
No one said anything, then Mercedes said, "Well, yeah. They took our set list. Someone leaked our set list."
"I bet I know who," Kurt said, looking at Brittany and Santana. Santana bared her teeth at him and he quickly crossed himself. Brittany pulled Santana onto her lap to keep her still.
"So, we're exactly the losers everyone said we were?" Rachel asked. This question wasn't rhetorical either. No one answered for a while, before Tina asked, "W-w-w-w-w-w-hat are we s-s-s-s-s-"
"Stop talking," Santana commanded. "Your fake stutter is giving me a headache."
Artie piped up, "Her stutter is not fake!"
"Right," She rolled her eyes. "Her stutter's as fake as my cock."
"That's fake?" Puck murmured to Karofsky, and they dissolved into giggles.
Artie opened his mouth again and Santana moved to crowd his space, while Mercedes was starting to yell at Matt because he'd dropped something. The group dissolved into loud bickering for a few moments before Rachel screamed at a decimal that seemed unholy. Everyone clutched their ears.
She smiled perkily, "Thank you. Now, as I was going to say before this dissolved into Jersey Shore's Midwestern cousin, the show must go on. We've done some other performances, and the rules don't say anything about the entire group having to be on stage at once. We can do a group performance, a solo, and a duet."
"My solo's shot," Mercedes complained.
"Well, we'll have to find another. Any volunteers besides myself?"
Kurt cleared his throat and Santana said, "Here, Berry."
"My range is much larger," Kurt protested.
"My foot is -"
"Santana!" The teachers warned.
"Right," Rachel said, indifferent. "So, Kurt. Do you have anything you can do easily?"
He licked his bottom lip, thinking. Quinn noticed Karofsky watching the movement, and realized, suddenly, why he needed to talk to Rachel so much.
"Maybe something from Wicked. Ugh, but there's also -"
"Get on with it," Dave said. "We've got twenty minutes and if you keep going through musicals, we'll never be done."
He admitted, "No."
"Santana?"
She grumbled, "No."
Rachel nodded, "Very well. I have something I've been preparing since I was four, so that will have to do. Any one for the duet?"
Karofsky raised his hand and then, rather hesitantly, Tina.
"Tina, do your scales." Tina did as told, and then Rachel tossed Tina her iPod. She caught it.
"'Nine Crimes' by Damien Rice."
Karofsky and Tina bent over the iPod and talked genially.
"Group number suggestions?" Rachel asked.
They were quiet before Kurt grimaced, "I hate to say this, but Journey. The choreography is simple, everyone knows the lyrics."
"Everyone in agreement?"
They all were, then shuffled around in the small space to practice clumsily. Quinn hoped things would come together. She didn't like the club much, but even if they just placed, it'd be a sign to Coach Sylvester that she could do more than cheer, be more than just a pretty face. She could be a part of something special.
They were something special, out on stage. Everyone buzzed with excitement, but Rachel? Rachel glowed like sunshine as she danced and sang her heart out. When they got that standing ovation, the Berry parents were the loudest of them all.
Something about it was unfairly attractive. She wasn't sure if it was just the buzz from performing or if watching Rachel perform was what did it for her or what but they stumbled into a janitor's closet and her hands were everyone on Rachel. Her breasts - just barely contained, and then bare and brown and absolutely perfect, oh God, perfect for her mouth, but then Rachel's mouth was lonely, the poor thing - and her tight little stomach, then below and into her underwear, and Rachel gasped into her mouth as she held her firmly, thumb pressed against her most sensitive area, and then just a handful of pumps and warmth spread across her hand. She took her hand out, panting almost as hard as Rachel, and then licked most of her taste off. She was sweet, almost, a little bitter, but not overly so. Better than the dark chocolate she'd been eating, at least. Rachel moaned again, dropped to her knees and pulled Quinn's dress up. She didn't even lift Quinn's underwear out of the way, just descended on her like a starving animal; mouth, tongue, her hand when she could, and Quinn came unraveled as well, in a manner embarrassingly easy. They cleaned up and were kissing again, gently, when the closet door opened and most of the Glee club stared at them.
"Holy fuck," Was the general consensus. Mike fainted. A woman gasped as she passed by, probably at the language, when the announcement that they were the winner's came over the PSA. The group had a moment of stillness then picked up Mike's prone body, pulled Rachel and Quinn out of the closet, before they ran out to get their trophy. Quinn thought she passed a woman that looked a little familiar, but they were back on stage, someone had gotten Mike to wake back up and he was a little woozy so they propped him up between Puck and Karofsky.
They made sure that neither Puck nor Santana had the microphone, but Rachel and Kurt were sobbing into each other's arms, and Quinn glared when they tried to give it to her, so they let Artie stumble through a speech about adversity and overcoming issues.
As they walked away, Quinn was almost certain that someone was watching them. She forgot about it completely as Rachel crawled onto her lap, kissed her sleepily, and fell asleep promptly on the bus ride. Quinn watched her as the moonlight came in through the window and sighed softly into her hair in contentment before falling asleep as well.