Still off the Key of Reason
Chapter 24: Like Starlight Crashing through the Room
"We're surrounded by idiots, Rachel. Why did you choose the most illegitimate hospital in New York?"
Rachel fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Quinn, stop."
"Why do they even put us in a room if we're just going to be waiting for another forty-five minutes? It's like a psychological test. They're playing mind games."
"They seem busy today." Rachel kept her tone mild.
Quinn scoffed like it was a preposterous idea.
"If we were lions, we could maul them all. Lions wouldn't stand for this."
Quinn seemed to be drifting further and further away from civilized society. Rachel stood by the wall in the exam room and watched her warily, ready to intervene and reel her back and act as a buffer for the doctor.
Quinn sighed heavily, employing some vocal cords so that it filled the room.
"Baby, I know you're tired-"
"I'm a doctor. I can perform an ultrasound myself." Quinn completely ignored Rachel. "Probably better than these people. These morons-"
"Quinn. Stop, honey."
Quinn exhaled sharply out of her nose and twisted onto her side in the exam chair.
Rachel stepped forward and crouched down in front of her, watching her cautiously. Quinn hadn't been able to sleep. For a couple weeks, she'd been getting less than five hours a night. She'd toss and turn and steal all the blankets, accidentally knock Rachel in the shin or a dog in the face, and then whine in frustration, slide out of bed, and walk around until Rachel dragged her back to their room.
Her legs hurt. They tingled, and her ankles were starting to swell, and there seemed to be no such thing as a comfortable position. A tired Quinn was a grumpy Quinn. A grumpy Quinn was always surrounded by idiots.
"We'll have a nap when we get home, okay?" Rachel murmured.
Quinn clenched her jaw.
"Cocoa and marshmallows and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It's Sunday tomorrow. Plenty of time to catch up on sleep."
Quinn shut her eyes and rolled so that her face was pressed into the chair. Rachel smiled sadly and ran a hand through her hair.
"And lions wouldn't be sitting in a doctor's office, bear."
"Lions have better things to do." Quinn's voice was muffled and miserable. "I'm having a bothering sort of day."
Rachel chuckled softly.
The doctor strode abruptly into the room, and Quinn sat up dizzyingly fast. She had a sheet of vitamin supplements in her hand from their last visit, and she held it up with a sleepy-eyed scowl, eyes fixed on Dr. Clarke's collar.
"You don't need an apostrophe here." She said bluntly when she saw she had the doctor's attention.
Rachel opened her mouth, prepared to run interference.
"It's not possessive or contractive." Quinn continued sharply. "It's plural."
Dr. Clarke raised her eyebrows and glanced at Rachel, amused.
"And when you spell effect, like side effect, it's with an E, not an A." Quinn's eyes dropped to the floor. "Did you-did you not take English composition classes in undergrad? Basic grammar in high school? It's not that-"
"How are you, Dr. Clarke?" Rachel asked loudly, trying to drown out the last of Quinn's sentence.
Dr. Clarke smiled wryly. "Very well, thank you, Rachel." She turned to Quinn and ducked until Quinn was forced to meet her eyes. "A nurse actually wrote that out, Quinn. I'm sure they were just in a hurry."
Quinn puffed out her cheeks and nodded shortly.
Rachel stood next to her head and brushed the blonde hair out of her eyes.
"How have you been sleeping, Quinn?"
"Not very well." Quinn said quietly, smiling slightly when Rachel tugged on her ears.
"Insomnia is actually very common with pregnancy. Have you found anything that helps you fall asleep?"
Quinn shook her head, eyes closed.
"She's tried hot baths before bed, slow music, white noise, specialty pillows and different pajamas, and none of that works." Rachel described. Quinn seemed to be falling asleep. "I try to feed her in the middle of the night though. That helps. Bananas and Jell-O, usually. Then she'll fall right back to sleep."
Dr. Clarke smiled. "Well, there's your cure right there."
Rachel hummed vaguely. "She's just…uncooperative in the middle of the night."
"Quinn, if it helps you sleep, you should have no qualms about eating at odd hours."
Quinn said nothing, and Rachel knew she was just choosing to ignore this because she wasn't actually asleep yet. Rachel smiled apologetically at the doctor.
"Let's see what you're expecting." Dr. Clarke continued easily, sliding over to the ultrasound machine. "A little boy or a little girl."
Quinn opened her eyes at that, glazed and a little red, and Rachel leaned over and kissed her forehead.
"It's like when Pooh tries counting Heffalumps to fall asleep." Quinn drawled, and Rachel wasn't even sure if she was completely awake. "It's supposed to bore the mind to sleep, but all he saw were Heffalumps heading straight for his pots of honey."
Rachel bit her tongue.
"And then Pooh reached the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump, and the Heffalump was saying how good the honey tasted, and how could Pooh possibly sleep when that's all he could think about?"
Quinn was going around some kind of bend of exhaustion. Doctor Clarke smiled fondly, and Rachel helped her lift up Quinn's shirt, marveling at the growing bump, like always. Quinn shook her head for a moment and tried to focus.
"I don't count Heffalumps. Maybe I'll eat more Jell-O."
"That sounds like a great idea." Dr. Clarke approved, grinning.
It only took her a minute to find the baby, and she looked at Rachel and Quinn with a pleased smile. Rachel's heart sped up. This was a landmark moment. She bent over a little to hold Quinn's gaze, making sure she was fully awake.
"Say something intelligent, bear." She whispered. "We can't let this go by and have you forget it all."
Quinn frowned. "I'm awake."
"You've spoken a lot of nonsense today."
Dr. Clarke looked amused.
"I'm fully awake, Rachel. I promise."
Rachel quirked an eyebrow.
"You know that lion-tailed macaque that came in last weekend?" Quinn questioned, eyes brighter. "Well, he's presented with acute bilateral pelvic limb paralysis. I'm performing an extradural hemilaminectomy tomorrow to-"
"Okay, I believe you." Rachel cut her off with a laugh.
Quinn looked pleased. She let Rachel take her hand and met Dr. Clarke's gaze with clear eyes.
"Are you ready?" Dr. Clarke checked, smiling excitedly.
Rachel nodded. She took a deep breath and Quinn squeezed her fingers.
"Quinn, Rachel…You're having a baby boy."
Rachel squealed. She would've squealed with anything that came out of the doctor's mouth. If she'd said girl instead of boy. If she'd said alien. Puppy. Tomato. Rachel was incredibly excited.
Quinn's smile was wide. She laughed lowly and pulled Rachel down by her sweater to kiss her face, her cheeks, her lips. It was the best way to contain Rachel's noises, and Rachel just pressed her nose into Quinn's hair and tried not to shriek.
A little baby boy.
Their little baby boy.
~ooooooooooo~
Rachel watched Brittany cartwheel off the diving board and wondered if she should attempt it herself. She'd probably slip and break her neck. Land on her pregnant wife. Break her pregnant wife's neck. Rachel really didn't need to be attempting aquatic acrobatics. She swam away from Brittany's splash and stood next to Santana in the shallow end.
Santana was watching Sam determinedly trying to mount an inflatable shark. Rachel had no idea where he obtained all of his inflatable animals.
"Call him something food-related." Santana suggested when Quinn's head emerged from underwater. "It'll have positive connotations, so you'll always love him."
Rachel snorted incredulously. "We'll always love him anyway, Santana."
"More so if he's named Taquito. Or Burrito."
"Nachos." Sam drawled, draped over the shark. "Nachos and cheese."
Santana nodded, delighted. "Alfredo, Bacon, Pepper. All viable names."
Quinn swam around Sam and caught Rachel's eye. Her blonde hair was slicked in all the wrong directions and her eyes were reddened from chlorine. "I don't…really like that idea." She said quietly.
Rachel smiled at her. "Me neither, baby."
"Good!" Sam declared breathlessly, clinging to the shark's dorsal fin. "Cause I'm naming my kid Nacho. No stealing it."
"I think you're safe."
"I like Christopher Robin." Quinn stated abruptly, sloshing over to Rachel and then dropping down so that only her head was above the water.
Santana laughed loudly, and it echoed through the room. "Why not just go for it, Quinn? Winnie the Pooh. Or Tigger."
Quinn frowned and played with the string on Rachel's bikini bottoms, knotting it repeatedly. Sam rolled purposely off the shark and swung it in Santana's direction, and Brittany's booming laughter drifted over from the deep end of the pool.
Rachel glanced down for a moment to make sure that Quinn wasn't trying to strip her in public.
"I like Robin, bear. Maybe not Christopher."
Quinn struggled with the knot she'd just made. Rachel would be locked into her bikini bottoms for hours.
"Okay. Maybe…Edward? Tucker, Richard, John." Quinn listed. Rachel briefly wondered if she was just reeling off Robin Hood's merry men. "James, Toby, Alexander…"
Rachel fixed Quinn's hair thoughtfully. "They could be kings."
"He needs a strong name."
"They're better than anything Berry would come up with." Santana had apparently incapacitated Sam and decided that she wasn't finished with the conversation yet. "Javert, Zoltan, Agustin, Fosco-"
"You're just listing unfortunately named musical characters, Santana." Rachel huffed. She settled lower into the water so that she was at the same level with Quinn. And so that Quinn couldn't make the knots in her bikini bottoms any worse.
Sam floated on his back with his legs wrapped around the shark. "Nacho Zoltan Evans." He mused, fascinated.
"Burrito Fosco Lopez." Brittany happily joined the conversation, and Santana's grin faded when she realized what she'd done.
Quinn laughed loudly at her, and then trailed off at Santana's glare.
Rachel gripped Quinn's ears because their friends were ridiculous and there was nobody else who needed to be part of this conversation. "King John. King James." She tested them out loud, pleased with Quinn's idea to give their baby a powerful title.
A nice step out into the world. A good head start. Supreme ruler of the universe Alexander Berry-Fabray.
"Baby Jimbo." Quinn said softly, rubbing at her reddened eyes.
"We're not naming our baby Burrito, Brit!" Santana screeched. "You've got oxygen deprivation from jumping off the diving board over and over!"
Sam gasped. "Nacho Fosco!"
Rachel had lost control of the situation entirely.
Quinn rubbed at her eyes again, and Rachel gently intercepted her hand and pulled it away. "You'll make them worse, Quinn."
"My legs feel better."
"That's great!" Rachel enthused.
Quinn stood up straight. "Like hippo legs."
Sam snorted, paddling his way over on the shark.
"And if you like…Javert, or Agustin, or anything else, that's okay." Quinn continued obliviously. "We can-I don't think they're stupid. We can consider them."
If Quinn wasn't careful, their son would be called Barbra Streisand.
"And I also like Nacho Fosco." Quinn added.
"Hey, no!" Sam pointed the shark in Quinn's direction and kicked his way towards her. He knocked his toe on the concrete and an elbow in Brittany's head, and the shark was half underwater because really it was made for children, and Quinn laughed delightedly at his struggle.
King baby Jimbo. Borne of inflatable sharks. Lord of the water, ruler of the seas.
Quinn had probably gotten enough water in her eyes by now to chlorinate her blood. Turn him into a dolphin.
Santana was slowly explaining to Brittany why Bacon wasn't an acceptable name for their nonexistent baby, and Quinn was smiling so widely at Sam that she was choking on the water sloshing into her mouth.
And Rachel was one of them, so she seized Sam's ankles to rescue her wife.
~ooooooooooooo~
As soon as Rachel saw the sign for the "Meet a Greyhound" event at the pet store on the corner, she knew she'd end up inside. Quinn hadn't caught sight of it yet, too focused on untying the knots in the tassels of her scarf and preventing Barnaby from dragging them into the donut shop on the corner, so Rachel walked faster and looked for a distraction.
She pointed randomly in the opposite direction. "Hey bear, did you see that new-"
Barnaby abruptly forgot about the donut shop and charged toward the pet store instead, knocking into Rachel's legs. Rachel clutched a light pole with one hand and Barnaby's collar with the other.
She gave up. It was only a matter of time.
Quinn regained control of their dog, searched Rachel for any signs of injury or distress, and then glanced across the street to see what Barnaby was so excited about. Rachel watched her hazel eyes process and then light up.
She sighed resignedly. Frustrated, exasperated. She was looking for a crosswalk before Quinn even said anything.
"Rachel, they're having a Meet a Greyhound day at the pet store." Quinn's voice was low and excited. The leash turned her knuckles white.
"Are they?" Rachel asked brightly, like she hadn't known about it for the past ten minutes.
"Can we-" Quinn bit her lip and glanced across the street. "You know, the-the expendability of a racing greyhound is determined by its earnings?"
Rachel's eyes flickered across the road.
"They're not like horses. They're overbred and easily disposed of." Quinn flexed her fingers around Barnaby's leash and took a step towards the crosswalk. Rachel followed.
"It's not prestigious. It's not royal or powerful or historic." Quinn's voice grew sharper. "They're not looking for the next Secretariat. It's barely even federally regulated. It's trash. Awful."
Rachel hummed vaguely and focused on preventing Quinn from being run over.
Quinn turned to look at her in the middle of the street, eyes blazing. "You know five thousand are killed a year? Puppies included." Quinn threw up her hands and laughed humorlessly. "Oh look, we made too many, let's just kill some off!"
Rachel winced. She grabbed Quinn's flailing hand and unwound Barnaby's leash.
"Most of it's in Florida." Quinn was off on a tangent and Rachel waited for her to finish. "There was-I met-I met-there-" Quinn coughed and rubbed her hands against her thighs. "In-at Davis-I met a vet who'd treated dogs who tested positive for cocaine, multiple instances."
Rachel had wondered what it would be like to put a dog on drugs. It seemed like Cornelius was already there sometimes, demonic and high as a kite. But she'd never in a million years do it.
"That's no good." Rachel murmured. They stood by a small crowd in the pet store, gathered around several greyhounds and other breeds up for adoption.
Quinn's shoulders sagged slightly. She turned to Rachel and lowered her voice. "There are three things which are majestic in pace, yes, four which are stately in walk. A lion, which is mighty among beasts and does not turn from any, a greyhound, a male goat also, and a king whose troops are with him."
Rachel didn't know what was happening. She blinked.
"Proverbs." Quinn said softly, eyes fixed to the back of Barnaby's head.
Rachel made a noise of realization.
"I don't know." Quinn finally said. "I'm not very-I don't know how objective I am." She shifted on her feet and smiled at the dogs she could see.
Rachel looked up at her seriously. "How…How are goats majestic in pace and stately in walk?"
All Rachel had seen them do was head-butt small children and play dead.
Quinn laughed. She led Rachel around the edge of the crowd, keeping her eyes down, one hand on her belly and Barnaby firmly at her side, and stopped next to two pens, one full of Corgis and one housing what looked like a king-sized Husky.
He was four feet tall, literally, from head to floor where he sat, and Rachel briefly wondered why they had a bear penned up inside Petco.
A bear with bright blue eyes and a wiry mane and paws at least three times as big as Barnaby's. Barnaby was trying to climb into the Corgis' cage, too distracted to notice the beast on which Rachel was fixated.
"Rachel." Quinn said quietly, dragging it out. She pressed a hand to the pen and the dog sniffed it calmly.
"What-" Rachel was slightly unnerved. "Is that-that's domesticated?"
Quinn snorted a laugh.
"Seriously, is it on steroids, or-"
"He's a hybrid." Quinn informed. She traced the information sheet with her finger. "Snowman. A wolf hybrid."
Rachel's eyes widened.
Barnaby flung himself against the Corgi pen while Snowman watched him thoughtfully from his own cage. Rachel could hear his thoughts. Dumb, tiny dog. Tiny, red dog.
"They're fairly common." Quinn mused. She slipped her hand into Rachel's like she could sense her wife's anxiety. "I'd love to have one. A rescue, not to perpetuate the breed."
Rachel choked on her own spit. "What-you-we don't need a wolf in our house with a baby, Quinn!"
Quinn looked amused. "This isn't Little Red Riding Hood, baby."
"Quinn, wolves-"
"Hybrids have Husky temperments. And they don't eat infants."
Rachel shook her head. "We're not getting a wolf."
"I don't want a wolf."
"Well, we're not getting that either." Rachel nodded at Snowman. She had to admit his eyes were gorgeous. But if she came across him in the wild, she'd scream her face off and run in the opposite direction.
Not that it was likely Rachel would run into free-roaming feral wolves on her walk to Broadway in the morning.
Quinn grinned, pleased that she'd incited Rachel's "indignant" face. She spun around and pointed at the Corgis, halfway into the pen before Rachel could stop her.
"One of these, then!"
They were ridiculous. Short and energized, waddling and long and fluffy, and flipping out because Barnaby was playing with them. Rachel stepped reluctantly into the pen as well, if only to prevent the four enthusiastic Corgis from taking Quinn down.
Being buffeted around by clueless, fluffy dogs in a small pen was great for pregnant women.
Quinn dropped Barnaby's leash, bent down, and picked up one of the Corgis by wrapping her arms around his stomach. Rachel pressed a hand to her own forehead and glanced around.
"Look!" Quinn declared, shuffling up and pressing the dog's face against Rachel's chin. "He's lovely, right?"
Rachel scoffed and shoved them away. "His legs are three inches long."
"So are yours."
Rachel gasped.
Quinn laughed and stepped forward again, heaving the panting dog under one arm so that she could reach for Rachel with the other. Her hair fell in her eyes and there was a paw stuck in her scarf, and Rachel took pity and stood still for her hug.
"Your legs are longer than three inches, I think." Quinn murmured while Rachel untangled the claw from her scarf. "They're soft and splendid and delicious."
Rachel flushed and glanced around. Nobody heard, except the Corgis, who really looked too oblivious to do anything more than waddle and eat.
"They don't even look like they're sitting when they sit down." Rachel observed.
And they were so disproportionate. Rachel wondered what she'd look like if somebody chopped off her legs at her knees. Her eyes widened. What if people had legs that were only three inches long? What if they had giant, upright ears and fluffy tails?
What if Rachel became a Corgi?
She was interrupted by a crash. It was Quinn and Barnaby, because it was always Quinn and Barnaby. Quinn had tripped backwards over the dog, and then over a Corgi, and caught herself by knocking sideways into a metal shelf on the other side of the pen.
"Oh my-Quinn!" Rachel shrieked, once she was over the 'Good God, why does this happen everywhere?' stage of mental processing.
The Corgis took it as their cue for playtime. Barnaby nipped at their faces and lured them away from Quinn.
"Oh ffff-shhhhoot. Shoot." Quinn muttered, pushing away from the shelf with Rachel's help. She sat down inside the pen and rubbed at her upper arm. "That was…Oh my God."
"How's your side? How's your-is the baby okay?" Rachel ran her hands quickly from Quinn's shoulders to her ribs to her waist, and then over the small bump. "What hurts, baby? I can call an ambulance. Do you need-Yeah, I'll do that."
"No. No, no, no, Rach." Quinn smiled wryly and shook her head. She noticed a small group gathering and dropped her eyes to Rachel's boots. "I'm okay."
Rachel didn't know if she should believe her.
Doctor Quinn Berry-Fabray, injured in a pen of violently enthusiastic Corgis.
"It was just my arm." Quinn said quietly. Rachel swatted away the inquisitive Corgis. "Just my arm and my ribs. Everything's fine."
Rachel's hammering heart slowed slightly.
"Well…damn right it's fine." Rachel declared weakly. "Why are you always-you have to be more careful, baby. You can't-Oh my God, get off me!"
She spun around and yanked her sleeve and her scarf out of the mouths of the Corgis, and then surged forward with an exasperated sigh to help Quinn out of the pen.
"You're so-you always do things like this." Rachel muttered. "You need to stop, because I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you."
Quinn brushed herself off once she was free of the dogs. "I'm sorry." She said softly.
"Don't apologize."
"Do you want-what would you like for me to do?"
Rachel reached for Quinn's elbow and prodded it gently through her jacket. Quinn winced.
"Don't climb into pens full of animals." She requested obviously. "Even if they're the biggest, slowest turtles on the Earth. Please. No mingling with hordes of animals."
Giant turtles could probably gang up on Quinn, do the same thing the Corgis had.
Quinn nodded slightly.
Rachel looked up and caught her anxious eyes. "I didn't mean-I'm not trying to sound…" she trailed off. "I just love you. And I worry."
"I know."
"Do we need to get your elbow looked at?"
Quinn's lips twitched. "It's alright."
"I don't mean to…patronize." Rachel let Barnaby out of the pen and wrapped his leash around her hand.
"You're not, Rachel."
Rachel looked doubtful.
Quinn reached for her hand. "I was-I was almost just trampled by Corgis." She tapped the small of Rachel's back and followed her through the dwindling crowd. "I need to…think, maybe. First. Not in pictures."
Rachel shook her head firmly. "No. Always in pictures. Just don't leap into cages full of rambunctious Corgis." Rachel smiled slightly. "Everybody gets carried away."
Rachel had previously pondered climbing onto the back of Snowman and riding him around the pen.
Her default setting was like a perpetual state of "carried away." Off into the sunset without a backward glance.
"So…did you like any of them?" Quinn asked softly, walking along a line of cracks in the sidewalk when they were well away from the pet store.
"Any of what?"
"The Corgis."
Rachel snorted incredulously. She leaned sideways into Quinn, careful not to tangle up their legs as they walked, and Quinn hugged her close and waited seriously for her answer. Rachel just leaned up and kissed her cheek, and then started in on the knots at the end of Quinn's scarf.
Because she couldn't admit that she'd loved those Corgis.
~ooooooooooooo~
Rachel rarely woke up in the middle of the night. She slept like she'd died, heavy and oblivious, until Quinn stole all the blankets or a cat strolled across her face. The loss of a warm body next to her was one of the few things that would wake Rachel up.
And she woke up spectacularly. Lost in another world, under the impression that she was being bombed or burgled or chased, or winning another Tony, traveling through time, singlehandedly rowing a wooden boat to an unnamed island.
It usually took Rachel about five minutes to get her bearings again. Even then, she was barely functional.
Which is why she stared at the ceiling for ten minutes at two in the morning before realizing that Quinn was gone, and her space was cold, and Rachel should probably try to find her.
She shoved off whatever animal was sleeping on her legs, wordlessly, because she couldn't remember its name or recognize if it was a dog or cat or manatee, and she stumbled in a few dark, confused circles before grabbing a sweatshirt off the back of a chair and heading for the bedroom door.
"Move, Butter." Rachel mumbled to a pair of boots that lay in the hallway before stepping over them.
She caught her shoulder on a picture frame and reacted like she'd been electrocuted to prevent it from crashing to the floor. It was unnecessary, and all she really did was slam herself against the wall, but it forced her eyes open and her blood flowing.
As much as anybody's blood could flow at such an ungodly hour.
Quinn was lying on the couch with Fuzzy, Rachel's lion, hugged to her chest and Cloud under the coffee table. A large, white blob illuminated by the moon. Quinn was crying, and Rachel paused to make sure this was real life-and she was wasn't going to fall through a volcano or come upon candyland- before hurrying across the room, concerned.
Quinn sniffed loudly, and her nose whistled as Rachel kneeled in front of the couch.
"Quinn." Her voice was about three octaves lower than normal, and she cleared her throat to sound like a human again. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Quinn clumsily patted down Fuzzy's mane so that she could see Rachel's face.
"Do you feel sick?" Rachel asked softly.
There were three empty Jell-O cups on the coffee table. That could go either way. Rachel rubbed Quinn's arm and kissed her forehead to discreetly check her temperature.
"I can't-I'm so tired." Quinn whispered. She sounded desperate and exhausted, and her hair was static-y like she'd been rolling around for hours.
"Oh, baby." Rachel frowned. She leaned closer and swept a thumb under Quinn's eye, and Quinn sniffled and coughed, and then rolled a bit in frustration.
"I got-want-I want to go to sleep."
Quinn slurred and tossed again, and Rachel realized that she was probably half asleep already. On the near side of the line, where real life happens in dream world and nothing makes sense, so everything is upsetting.
"Bear, close your eyes, okay? Just sleep, baby." Rachel stroked her hair soothingly.
Quinn released a noise between a whine and a groan.
Rachel shifted forward until she was inches from Quinn's face. "Do you want to come back to bed? It's comfier."
Quinn shook her head violently. "I'm not-if I get-I can't leave here. I can't go."
She definitely wasn't fully awake. Rachel wondered how to push her the rest of the way over the edge.
"Let me make you some oatmeal, baby. Does that sound good?"
Quinn scrunched up her face, which was ridiculous because Rachel knew she loved cinnamon oatmeal with dinosaur eggs.
"How about some cocoa?" she tried again, still stroking Quinn's hair.
Quinn swallowed thickly. Rachel could see her breathing evening out.
"Can I-with those-with-can you put-"
"Peppermint Pattie?" Rachel guessed, smiling slightly.
Quinn nodded shortly. "Prepper-peppermint."
Rachel stood slowly, aware that her back and legs should not be making these noises. She groaned, and Quinn reached out and hooked a hand around her knee.
"Baaaby, I'm need-I'm so tired."
Rachel checked to make sure her knees still bent the right way. She hoped this insomnia would fade soon. "I know, bear." She whispered and kissed Quinn's head and shuffled into the kitchen. She made cocoa with extra milk, and then dropped a mini Peppermint Pattie into the mug and topped it with Reddi Whip.
It could knock out a bear.
Quinn was quiet when Rachel crept back into the living room. She was breathing evenly, but her eyes were still open, and Rachel really had no idea what state of slumber she was in. Wide awake? Sleeping with her eyes open?
"Quinn." She whispered, perching herself lightly on the coffee table.
Quinn's eyes flickered up to her. "Thank you." She murmured.
Rachel held the mug, unsure of how to do this. Just dump it into her mouth?
Quinn smiled wryly, tiredly, face still stained with tears and lines from the couch. "Roll me like a hippo." She suggested quietly.
Rachel snorted. "I don't know what that means, honey."
Quinn rubbed at her cheeks. "I'm huge, like a hippo, so-so roll me so that I can sit up."
"You're not huge." Rachel muttered, helping Quinn prop herself on the armrest.
"Yes I am."
"No, you're not." Rachel insisted. She sat back on the coffee table and watched Quinn pick the chocolate out of her drink. "You're beautiful, and you have a person inside of you. Of course you've grown."
"I'm a hippo."
Rachel squinted at her. "Are you awake, baby?"
Quinn nodded sadly, chewing with her cheeks puffed out, like she was too tired to put any real effort into it. Rachel rested her hands on Quinn's knees and squeezed.
"I'll call the zoo. You don't need to go to work like this."
Quinn looked like she wanted to protest, but she was too busy sucking the whipped cream off the top of her drink.
"Would you like some?" she asked instead, holding the mug out for Rachel. "There's no…um, eggs. Or meat."
It was definitely two a.m.
Rachel smiled. "I put real milk in there."
Quinn hummed. "You forgot the Peppermint Pattie."
"You ate it, baby."
Rachel was starting to realize that Quinn hadn't been fully awake for any of this whole nighttime exchange. She smiled fondly and waited for Quinn to drink all of her cocoa, listening to Cloud's tail thump rhythmically against the coffee table leg.
When Quinn finished, her hazel eyes were droopy and delirious, and Rachel helped her back to the bedroom, managing to trip over the boots in the hallway she'd previously mistaken for Butter.
Quinn fell asleep immediately. Rachel took the mug to the kitchen and called the zoo's veterinary voicemail, letting them know that Quinn wouldn't be in tomorrow.
She put Peppermint Patties on the grocery list because she'd probably be doing this again tomorrow night. She wrote it right under "Previcox and/or anti-inflammatories/NSAIDS for Charizard," staring at that line for a minute because it sounded serious and she hoped he wasn't dying.
There was an elephant further up on the list, next to a note that said "Buy blue jellybeans for Rachel." There was a heart by Rachel's name.
She smiled and threw out Quinn's Jell-O cups and joined her wife in bed.