While they were picking out the puppy at Sam and Mercedes's house, Quinn didn't know why she was so opposed to the idea of having a dog. Rachel and Claire looked so happy, being mercilessly attacked by a pack of three-month old puppies. And if Rachel and Claire were happy, then she was happy, too.
Claire giggled as one of the puppies licked at her face.
"Mom! Can we get this one?" Claire looked between the pup's legs. "Can we get her? Please? She's so cute!"
"Ha! Like we need another girl!" Quinn piped up from her seat on the couch. The last thing they needed was more blood in the house. She could barely handle Rachel's moods, let alone Claire's. "Pick a boy."
"Awww . . ." Claire put down the girl.
"Your mom's right, Claire. We could use some testosterone at home." Rachel scratched the chin of one of the pups.
Claire's disappointment vanished when another puppy tried to crawl into her lap. She lifted it excitedly and looked between its legs to make sure it was male.
"Oooh! How about this one?"
"It's kind of chubby," Quinn commented.
"I like it. It makes it even more cute." Claire rubbed her nose against the puppy's. "Mommy," she turned to Rachel. "Can we have this one?"
"Are you sure you want that one?" Rachel gave her a dubious look. "There's no turning back, you know."
After a quick inspection of the puppy, Claire said, "I'm sure."
"Really sure?" Quinn questioned.
"Like really, really sure."
"All right." Rachel turned to Sam. "Sam, we'll be getting this one."
"Okey-dokey!" Sam went over and tied a blue ribbon around the puppy's waist to mark it apart from its brothers and sisters. Wouldn't want Claire to get confused with which one she picked later.
"Thank you, Uncle Sam!" Claire hugged their new puppy in gratitude.
"Yes, thank you America," Quinn remarked.
"You're very welcome," Sam said in his Sean Connery voice.
Sam and Mercedes told Rachel and Quinn all the necessary information in taking care of a dog while Claire drowned herself in the pack of puppies.
"Number one rule: socialize him a lot. You don't want him to hurt an innocent stranger."
"Let him know who's the alpha in the house."
"You gotta potty-train him."
Rachel and Quinn nodded through all the advice, asking a few questions here and there. Eventually, it was time to go, and Claire sadly kissed all the puppies goodbye, except for one, which she kept cradled in her arms.
The drive back home consisted of Rachel and Claire eagerly coming up with names.
"I'm thinking of Valentino," Rachel suggested. "Maybe Mr. Arnstein? How about Lord Chubbington?"
"God, please don't name it after Brittany's cat," Quinn put in.
"How about Quincy?"
"You are not naming it after me, Rachel. Take your role-playing fantasies somewhere else, preferably when our daughter's not here. Then we'll talk."
Rachel punched her shoulder.
"What about Bailey!" Claire chirped.
Quinn almost veered off the road.
"We are not naming it after your girlfriend!" Quinn shouted furiously. "You sick child! What is wrong with you?"
"Okay, okay, I was just kidding . . . kind of."
They continued like this the rest of the way, with Rachel and Claire trying to come up with the perfect name that Quinn wouldn't reject. Eventually, they settled on Dug, after the movie Up. Claire was in love with the movie, and the puppy did look a lot similar to the fictional Golden Retriever, so Quinn agreed it was fine.
—
After only three days after getting the puppy, Quinn suddenly remembered why she didn't want to own a dog, especially a puppy. Rachel gave it more attention than Quinn liked. Like she was doing right now.
It barked happily as Rachel rubbed it behind its ears.
"Rachel?" Quinn called.
No response. It was as if she wasn't even there.
"Rachel, do you even know who I am anymore?"
"Huh? Did you say something?"
"Nothing," Quinn muttered.
Quinn didn't appreciate Dug stealing the spotlight. Rachel should've been fawning over Quinn, not some furry little beast. It was Rachel's duty after all, Quinn reasoned, to maintain fidelity.
—
A day later, Quinn decided to confront the pup about her wife. Tell it to back off her woman. It could go after Claire (hopefully it would make Bailey insanely jealous), but not Rachel. Rachel was hers.
"Hey there you little mongrel," Quinn cooed, as she rubbed Dug's neck with fake enthusiasm. "You like that? Stealing my wife? Huh? Why yes you do! Yes you do! You little home. wrecker!"
Dug bit her finger, not liking the tone at the end.
"Ow! You little—"
Dug yelped as Quinn grabbed it by the scruff of the neck.
"Say you're sorry! Say you're sorry! If you value your short, doggy life, speak!" Quinn shook the bundle of fur. Dug did a dog version of a sob. "I know you can speak, you did it in the movie! Now say you're SORRY!"
Dug howled pathetically.
"I suppose that will do. Maybe it's because you don't have your special collar," Quinn relented as she dropped it to the floor, not wanting to alert Rachel or Claire to its cries. "I hope we understand each other, mongrel."
Dug ran away, in search for the nice two ladies. Anyone except this horrible person.
—
Rachel found out about Quinn's ill treatment of Dug one day when coming home from work. She unlocked, and then opened the front door to be welcomed to the sight of Quinn vigorously shaking Dug up and down.
"Quinn! What in Barbra's name are you doing!"
Quinn jumped, dropping Dug in the process. Dug fled to cower behind Rachel.
"I was just—you know—"
"What! What! What excuse do you have for me now?"
"I was . . . checking to see if it swallowed something?" Quinn offered meekly.
"First it was Bailey, now you're being mean to a puppy? What next, Quinn? Are you going to get jealous when I put a fork in my mouth? Get all angry at the poor fork who did nothing wrong to you?"
"I wouldn't do that!"
"Of course you wouldn't. It's not like you have a history of hurting things that haven't done anything bad to you." As soon as the words came out, Rachel regretted it. Quinn's face fell and she was immediately reminded of how she had tormented Rachel in high school. The familiar onslaught of guilt made her want to hide in her own skin.
No matter how many years passed, no matter how much Rachel told Quinn that it was okay, that she had forgotten about those years, that she loved her, and that she was more than forgiven, Quinn never seemed to let it go. She had made Rachel's life a living hell. And Quinn couldn't forgive herself for that.
"Hey, hey, we've talked about this before, didn't we? I didn't mean it, I was just joking." Rachel reached out to delicately press her palms against Quinn's face. "I didn't mean it. You know how I like to tease you. How many times do I have to reassure you?" She gently moved her thumbs across skin. She had reopened some wounds that she really would have liked to keep healed.
"No, you're right. I've been such a child. I should stop." Quinn looked to the side in shame.
"No, that's not what I want!" She hadn't expected it to end up like this. "I said that because it was such a long time ago. I somehow brought it out casually, as a joke." She brought their foreheads together so that Quinn would meet her eyes. "The fact it's been nearly twenty years since high school and that you've been so kind to me ever since, it just made me think it was just a joke. Just that. A joke. Almost a dream, really . . . Actually, I was hoping that after all this time, we would look back and you would say, 'haha, remember when I was a mean cheerleader to you?' and I would say, 'oh yeah, you were so hot in that outfit.'"
Quinn still looked like she wasn't convinced.
"C'mon, I mean, 'Manhands?' 'RuPaul?' I could have come up with better insults."
"Those were Santana's."
"And what would you have come up with?"
"Cute. Smart. Talented."
Rachel smiled and put her arms around Quinn's neck. Quinn always pleasantly surprised her. Most of the time.
"Those aren't insults."
"Oh right. Um . . . Shortie. Tootsie roll. Fun size. Thumbelina. Stuart Little. Rachel and the Chipmunks. Itsy bitsy little—"
"Okay, I think that's enough." Rachel rolled her eyes before grinning at her. "You're so funny," Rachel said sarcastically.
"I'm hilarious." Quinn smirked.
Gone was the tension and back was the teasing, their earlier conversation forgotten. Rachel loved this about their marriage. Even after all this time, it still felt like they were dating again. Rachel had heard so many horrid stories about marriage, about couples who had started to hate each other. At one point in her life she was afraid the stories would come true to her and Quinn, but it had surely faded away across the years. Quinn treated her like a princess, attending to every little want and need she could ever have while Rachel fought hard to return the tenderness.
Glad that she and Quinn were one of those "rare couples," as one of her friends once said, and glad that Quinn was in a good mood again, Rachel decided to humor herself longer.
"Let's see just how funny you are Captain Hardy Har Har. Hmmm . . . Tell me . . . a gay joke. Quick. Go."
"Oh! Oh! I got this! I'm so good at this! Um, okay . . . why was a boy puppy humping another boy puppy?"
"This better not be about Dug," Rachel warned.
"It isn't! Now, why was a boy puppy humping another boy puppy?"
"I don't know, Quinn."
"He was watching Brokeback Mountain! Ohhhhhh yeeeahhhhh! Did I pass the test? Do I get a prize?" Quinn almost looked like Dug when he wanted a treat, Rachel thought.
"I can't believe you sometimes."
"You love me."
"Hmm, that I do," Rachel said, bringing their lips together. "So much."
"I love you, too."
—
"Ugh, they're at it again," Claire complained to Bailey on the phone. She had come downstairs for a snack, but after seeing her mothers' closeness, she twisted around and went back in her room.
"I never see my parents all love-dovey. It must be nice."
"Not really, I mean, yeah it's nice when they hold hands in the car and stuff like that, but when they start making out, nuh-uh. It's just. No."
"Oh, yeah, that must be kind of weird."
Claire digressed. She didn't want to sound like a brat that only talked about herself, especially not to Bailey. And besides, Bailey had said something interesting.
"Your parents never get all mushy around you?" Claire asked softly. She hoped it wasn't a sensitive topic.
"Far from it. They're . . . not really fond of each other . . . Uh, hey, I can't wait to come over again! I've missed you."
Bailey was clearly uncomfortable talking about her parents. And Claire respected that. She would wait until Bailey was more comfortable with her. She readily transitioned into the change of topic.
"Me, too. I can't wait to continue our pillow fight. You were so busted last time."
"Don't remind me, fatty." Claire wasn't fat at all, but Bailey liked seeing Claire flustered.
"Oh you are so lucky we're talking on the phone. Enjoy another living day, jerkface."
"I will treasure the gift, milady."
—
Quinn spurred from her seat when she heard the front door open. Rachel was finally home from work. She quickly went downstairs to greet Rachel. She couldn't wait to kiss her. Hug her. Maybe cop a feel or two.
Yes.
But as she approached the front door, she saw Rachel kneeling while it licked at her face.
"Hey, he stole my kiss!" Quinn stomped her foot. She didn't care if she looked like a five-year old. "I'm only supposed to do that! Rachel . . . Rachel! Pay attention to me!"
"Aw, of course you get a kiss," Rachel said as she got up, hugged Quinn, and did just that. "Here, you even get two." Rachel pecked her lips again.
"I want five-hundred."
Rachel chuckled.
"Feeling greedy, Quinn Fabray-Berry?"
"I want five-hundred kisses, Rachel Barbra Fabray-Berry," Quinn ordered.
Rachel happily granted her wife's wish.
—
"Rachel! Oh my God, what are you doing to it!" Quinn cried. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Even though she despised the damn thing, it didn't deserve this! Nothing deserved this!
"Don't call him 'it!' He has a name, Quinn!" Rachel scolded as she fed Dug some broccoli.
"You're turning him vegan!?"