.
Become undone from impedious pounding ideas
.
This is what it had been like.
Thanksgiving over. Missing Mike. Dabbing beneath her eyes lightly with a tissue, trying not to smear her eyeliner; really, she should have just skipped some of her makeup that day, it was just a bad idea…
And Brittany approaching, looking almost as despondent as she feels. She's clutching her History book to her chest and gives Tina a sad smile. "Hey," she greets dully.
"Hey, Britt," Tina responds, and automatically leans over to hug her. Brittany accepts with a happy hum, and when Tina pulls away, she's smiling a little.
"You were right," Brittany says with a nod.
She knows her expression must be puzzled, which is not surprising, given all the non-sequiturs Brittany tends to spit out. She's usually better at masking her expressions around her friend, though. "What do you mean?"
"About Artie," Brittany shrugs, "When we talked this summer. You told me I should talk to San about how she was feeling about Artie. I didn't. And she found out he's tutoring me, too, and she got hurt." She shrugs a little bit helplessly, "You were right," she repeats.
"Are you guys okay?" Tina asks, a bit wild with concern.
"Yeah. I think," Brittany twists her mouth, "We said it was really hard to be away from each other. We might let each other make out with other people when it gets too hard." Brittany's expression changes to a slight smirk. Perhaps a little forced.
Tina's eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? You've…you're in an open relationship?"
Brittany shrugs, "Sort of, I guess. We both can only kiss girls. But obviously we only love each other."
The school bell rings, and they start walking toward class, which is at least in the same direction. "It was good to see Mike," Brittany offers, "How is he doing?"
"He seems to be doing really well. Obviously we miss each other, but he's happy at school."
Brittany nods a little bit, then asks, "Is it okay if I call him sometime? I want to ask him about applying to dance school."
"Of course!" Tina assures immediately, "I'm sure he'd love to help you. And since I'm sure you'll be graduating this year, it would be good for you to start applying."
Tina thinks about how it has never bothered her that Brittany and Mike used to date, sort of. Except for that one time when Artie's paranoia had gotten to her, but she thinks that was partially motivated by her own guilt for getting together with Mike when she was still seeing Artie—that whole once a cheater, always a cheater thing. And then she remembers what had happened in bed with Mike before Thanksgiving, and heat washes over her face.
Brittany's one of her closest friends at McKinley right now, and Mike's out there surrounded by women who are convinced he should be trying to have orgies with them, and Brittany and Santana seem to have surrendered to the distance and agreed to allow little dalliances, and what is even happening in her mind, she's in love with her boyfriend, she's really only wanted to be with boys, it's just…
She glances at Brittany, intending to ask her how her talk opening up her relationship went, but then stops. Brittany is sweet, but has a tendency to not quite grasp secrets that aren't hers. She can't.
But when she gets home, she sees that Mercedes has listed herself as "in an Open Relationship," and that's interesting…
She ends up texting Mercedes later that week, and that evening, she gets a call.
"Hey, girl," greets Mercedes warmly, "How are you?"
"I'm good!" Tina responds happily. And they saw each other quite recently, and her text made it kind of obvious she is calling for a reason.
"So, ask me," Mercedes implores, laughter in her tone.
Tina chuckles, "Alright, yeah, of course everyone is talking about your new open relationship—with Sam, right?"
"Naturally," Mercedes answers easily.
"So how did that happen?" Tina asks.
Mercedes is quiet a moment, and then says, "Well, we realized that even if we weren't calling ourselves a couple, that we pretty much were one. Being far away didn't change our feelings." Tina nods, seeing the logic in that, but Mercedes seems to be stopping there.
"Okay, that explains the 'relationship' part…" Tina trails off.
"He still wants me to date, you know, get some experience with relationships, however casual," Mercedes answers.
"So…he wants it open? He's okay with it?"
"Oh, he's more than okay with it," Mercedes answers, and then changes the subject, but there's something in her voice that Tina can't quite interpret, but…okay, so, Sam is the one who wanted it that way, and her questions don't seem to be getting to how he asked and got Mercedes to agree.
She isn't about to ask Sam, though, and so for the time being, she decides to just let things go.
For God's sake, she doesn't even really know if she wants anything. Little twinges of feeling for Brittany don't necessarily mean anything. It's like how she and Mercedes always seemed to cling to each other when they drank; it was just nice to hold on to a girl for awhile. It wasn't anything sexual.
She decides she's being ridiculous and just plain weird. She can't exactly ask Mike for permission to open things up in general, because of Artie, but she isn't going to say she wants to do it on the off-chance that Brittany wants to make out.
She really needs to get her head straight. Thank goodness midterms are coming up.
That's what it had been like. The real genesis of these strange and wild thoughts that, weeks later, aren't leaving her alone.
.
City, it's a pity, half of ya'll won't make it
.
Quinn's Finals week ends in the middle of a week, actually on Rachel's birthday, which is weird, but then, Kurt thinks, most of Yale's schedule is strange. What even was that Reading Period thing? She comes to New York as soon as her Tuesday morning final is over, intending to spend a few days with them celebrating Rachel's birthday until the weekend, when they all fly home for Christmas, except for poor Santana.
Rachel, Kurt and Santana all manage to take off work for Rachel's birthday. She's ecstatic all day; Santana reports that she came home close to 7 to find Rachel vigorously working out on the elliptical, and when Kurt wakes up around 8 for no good reason, she is only just getting into the shower. Still, an apparently hour-long workout doesn't appear to tamp down Rachel's manic energy at all, and she isn't able sit still until she is meant to go meet Quinn at the train station at around 2.
By that point, Santana is just getting up, trying to smile as Rachel bounces around the apartment. She and Kurt had tried to figure out a good way to celebrate, but birthdays were really Rachel's talent. They figure they can do takeout and cake again, and maybe go out if everyone feels up for it. Santana had asked Rachel if she wanted to invite anyone from school, but she'd just waved a hand and said most of them were already home for Christmas break.
Kurt wishes Rachel's birthday came at a different time, because he is honestly pretty preoccupied, what with his job and financial stress. But he thinks they manage to have a good time. By the time Rachel comes back with Quinn, there are fat snowflakes falling, which seems to only improve Rachel's mood, if that were at all possible. They get Thai delivered, even though Rachel stares out the window and frets about the well-being of the driver because the snow is actually sticking, but of course, the city takes care of its roads in the winter, and it's not a blizzard or anything, so the food gets to them just fine.
They get a cake, though not an erotic one this time; it had been surprisingly expensive the last time to get a breast cake that was also vegan, and they decided to go a slightly cheaper route to find a vegan cake for Rachel's birthday. They decide on a white cake with strawberry icing and little gelatin-free lemon stars on top. Rachel seems exceptionally pleased with this, and with the prospect of actually blowing out candles.
"Yeah, we almost got you a dick cake, 'cause, you know, you're legal now," Santana lies blithely, and Kurt notes Rachel's face wrinkles with distaste through her laughter "since you all sucked on some tits for my birthday, and Kurt was, like, salivating at the thought." He elbows her hard, glaring and blushing because it's not even true, and Rachel laughs more, "But, ya know, honestly, I don't care if I'm the only one here not into them, I had to make the cake order, and I kicked my pole smoking habit a couple years ago, so…"
"I appreciate this cake much more, thank you Santana," Rachel gushes, swiping a bit of icing off and licking her finger, "I want my celebration to be something everyone can enjoy."
"I agree, besides, this cake screams Rachel much more than a penis would," Quinn agrees, then her face twists, "Which is a really disturbing image, sorry about that." Santana groans, and Rachel looks horrified, but it soon dissolves into laughter all around.
He gives her an outfit he'd bought at H&M, a store that has grown on him some now that he has a smaller budget for clothes. He likes the inexpensive European fashion and the sizes that fit his frame well, and Santana turns out to like the men's pants that are cut small enough to look feminine on her frame, which he, of course, gives her hell about. Rachel seems to love the black skirt with decorative buttons and black and cream striped top he picked out, to his relief. Santana gives her a copy of Victor/Victoria, which he knows can be difficult to find for a reasonable price.
She's sent a few gifts, too, the most notable being from Puck, who sends her an array of underwear and lingerie. Rachel blushes hotly upon opening the gift, murmuring, "Oh my God!" Santana attempts to stifle laughter behind her hands, and Rachel breathes in and builds up the courage to check the tag on an item. Her eyes bulge, "It's my size!"
Santana loses it at this point.
Quinn gets it first, "Oh my God, Santana, did you send Puck Rachel's underwear size!?"
Santana's continued peals of laughter are answer enough. Quinn glares the death glare Kurt doesn't think he's seen for years now, but Santana seems totally immune and Rachel just looks amused.
Quinn, though, gives her an envelope, which she opens to pull out a slip of thick paper. "Quinn!" she shouts, and she sounds almost angry, and the way she lunges for the blonde, Kurt thinks she might be about to shove her, but instead Quinn is tackled with a hug, "You can't keep buying these for me!" she murmurs fervently.
Kurt and Santana exchange an intrigued glance, and he picks up the rectangle of cardstock to see it's another Metro-North pass. He remembers Rachel's exuberance when she'd gotten the first one; she'd gushed about it just before they'd gotten their NYADA letters and that awkward silence had fallen over them for a little while. He smirks at Santana, who rolls her eyes and grunt sarcastically, "Overshadowed again by Fabray. Story of my life." Rachel detaches herself from Quinn to throw herself at Santana on hearing this, which makes Santana growl, "Hey, what the fuck, Berry!" Rachel laughs, and hugs Kurt, too.
They decide to stay in, mostly because of the snow, though Rachel insists they go out onto the sidewalk to enjoy it some. She dances and twirls in her coat, and Quinn snaps pictures and Santana laughs with her, but Kurt just feels very tired. When Rachel asks to watch Funny Girl, he can't even get suitably excited, and he doesn't even cry at the end (Rachel sobs unabashedly, Santana glares with the obvious effort of not crying, and Quinn's eyes shine sympathetically as she watches Rachel), and Kurt doesn't remember until 3 that he should really go to sleep because he has to wake up at 8 to go to work.
Occasional insomnia really is a bitch.
The rest of the week passes quickly because he works and he ends up getting two job interviews, which is really quite a relief. But he likes coming home to find Quinn sitting with Santana and actually making her laugh, and waking up in the morning to see Rachel and Quinn sitting close to each other on the couch as they watch Ally McBeal, sharing a blanket and both enjoying cups of coffee or tea (because Rachel still isn't a regular coffee drinker).
Though, since she'd gotten there, Quinn's phone hasn't shut the hell up. She's getting so many texts that it's getting difficult to miss the flashes of annoyance crossing her features, until Thursday, when Santana is off and he and Rachel are home from work, and they're enjoying some frozen pizza in the living room.
Quinn phone sings, and she reaches quickly to answer it. Santana glances at Kurt, who shrugs, and her expression turns mischievous, "Who has been texting you all damn week, Fabray? Are you finally getting some action?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, "No, it's my roommate. It turns out she misses me and is apparently a clingy bitch. Who knew?"
Santana snorts disbelievingly, and Rachel turns to Quinn, trepidation in her eyes, "Like me?" she asks in a small voice.
Quinn turns to her quickly, "No. What? Of course not. You're not clingy."
"I can be," Rachel responds uncertainly.
Quinn sighs, and at this point, no one's really paying attention to the episode of Buffy onscreen, which is fine, because season 4 only has a couple episodes left, and the big bad is really not that interesting, nor is the overarching plotline, so Kurt is just ready to move on to the next season, which Quinn has assured them is much better. "No, Rachel, it's very different. You and I stay in contact a lot when we're apart, but it's different, because it's a dialogue. You ask questions about how I am and what I'm up to and listen. Stephanie…well, she's been a good friend to me, but she's not the most…attentive or sympathetic person I've ever met. She keeps in touch to make fun of me or tell me what she's up to, then ends it by telling me she misses me, just to give her an excuse to bother me. Does that make sense? In the most simplistic, general sense, you keep in touch with me because you want to know how I'm doing, she keeps in touch with me because she wants me to know what she's doing."
Kurt sees Santana's brow furrowing, and she looks a little hurt by this assessment of Stephanie, and maybe it's the whole not the most sympathetic person bit, because that could describe Santana, too, at least sometimes. But the explanation seems to satisfy Rachel, who gives Quinn a sideways hug and murmurs, "I like listening to you." Quinn just looks relieved, and shuts off her phone.
Thankfully, the day before they leave, Kurt gets offered a job. Apparently, he is friendly and engaging enough that a restaurant thinks he would make a good server, which is troubling, because he knows that this "customer service" persona he's cultivated at the clothing store is a role he plays more than a natural disposition toward friendliness. He can be pretty snarky at work, but generally people either don't realize they're being mocked or they find it charming—gay privilege, he supposes. Nevertheless, they intend to start him out bussing while they train him, which will happen when he gets back after Christmas, and they need weekday help, which, thankfully, is when Kurt's schedule is most open. He's optimistic about being able to make enough money.
Saturday morning, they wake up early to go catch their flight. Santana just stays up, delaying her bedtime to see them off, huddled onto the couch with exhausted and despondent eyes. A laptop bag and an overhead luggage bag apiece, they prepare to head back to Lima. Santana forces a smile and gives them each a hug, without any of the playful reluctance that sometimes accompanies her hugs.
Settling into the seat on the plane that will take them to their layover in Baltimore—he has the window seat, Quinn the aisle, with Rachel between them—he accepts with a smile the piece of gum Quinn offers him, but then lays his head back.
It feels so odd to be going back to Lima again. But at the same time, he's frustrated with himself in New York. He's so focused on making enough money to survive, he's barely been paying attention to any off-Broadway auditions that might be appropriate for his various talents. He hasn't made any effort to re-apply for NYADA.
It's true, though, that there are things he likes about his job. He likes the clothes, he likes seeing what kind of labels come in, what people buy, what they will pay for used designer clothes. He's gotten good at assessing what sizes people wear just by scanning them, had gotten better at judging which cuts and styles will compliment different people's frames. And selecting clothes for everyone from skinny hipster boys to middle-aged female professionals certainly broadens his fashion knowledge. He also enjoys getting the first pick of clothes that come in, at an employee discount. And though generally he doesn't think he's that great with customers, he does occasionally like talking to people about clothes and style and fashion; there are a few regular customers that he always has good conversations with.
He knows he's lucky to generally like his job. They like him, too, and continue to train him to do different things, all over the store. But he worries that he's losing focus. He's in New York to perform, damn it!
He sighs and stares out the window as the plane ascends. He watches the New York skyline shrink until it's obscured by clouds, and tries to look forward to Christmas, and Blaine.
He can deal with his future after the New Year.
.
And they'll be rainbows and we will finally know
.
Brittany grins as she sidles up next to Artie in the hall with a "hey." He gives her a smile and greeting of his own. Their classes are next door to each other and she usually accompanies him to his locker during this time. It's just a chance to make small talk during the day, and Brittany likes to make sure she has a lot of those. It keeps her from getting bored and just wandering the halls between classes, because sometimes, if she does that, she'll get caught up in wandering and forget to go to her next class.
They pass Blaine going the other direction, also typical for the day's schedule, and Blaine catches Brittany's eye and grins, drawing his finger in an arch beneath his right eye. Brittany chuckles happily and repeats the gesture.
Artie notices, "What was that?" he asks.
Brittany draws herself up pompously, "I am not permitted to divulge that information."
Artie just side-eyes her for a few moments, making that face he used to make when they were dating and he wasn't sure what to say, but then he shakes his head and turns toward his locker.
Brittany leans beside him with a self-satisfied little grin. She's always wanted to say something like that.
She and Blaine had talked the other week and, somewhat by chance, both stumbled onto the idea that they were kind of acting as mentors for recently out gay kids. Or well, they were intending to anyway. Blaine had been hanging out with Karofsky some since Homecoming; they'd get coffee and chat every once in awhile. And Brittany talks to Merry in the halls when she gets a chance, but she hasn't done as much mentoring as she'd intended yet.
So Blaine had offered up the idea of hanging out all together sometimes, and Brittany had excitedly suggested it could be like a gay secret society—never mind that she supposes she's bisexual (labels don't always make sense to her, but this seems the best one). Blaine had sort of faltered at that point, but then agreed, and had let an eager Brittany make up secret signals and handshakes. She'd always wanted to be part of something like that, and drawing a rainbow under the right eye had been the first thing she came up with.
They'd had coffee with Karofsky and Merry the previous week; Karofsky seemed to think the secret signals and handshakes were kind of stupid, but at Blaine's pointed look, had played along. Merry had overall seemed to think it was fun, and really, the other girl had just seemed happy to be part of something. And even though Merry and Karofsky were just awkward around each other, unable to find much common ground, and Merry had seemed weirded out when Brittany had discussed hot guys with Karofsky and Blaine, she and Blaine had declared the gay secret society meeting a success. Because when it came down to it, at the end of the meeting, both Karofsky and Merry had agreed that it had been nice to talk to someone who was also struggling with coming out.
Most exciting, though, was the fact that Karofsky had asked Blaine to come to the gay bar with him sometime in the New Year. Though Merry had backed out uncomfortably, Brittany had jubilantly invited herself along, surprisingly, to Karofsky's relief—he wanted a lot of company, plus, she's always wanted to go there. So the gay secret society had the mission to make sure they had the proper fake identification to be able to get into the bar, and Brittany can't be more excited about this kind of covert operation.
But as she walks down the hall with Artie, who is finished at his locker, her thoughts turn again to Santana, where they've been dwelling for weeks now. She's mildly frustrated that Santana feels threatened by her friendship with Artie—because, really, didn't Santana realize that even when she loved Artie, she'd also loved Santana? Brittany just wishes she could be friends with whoever she wants, and at the same time, she wishes Santana could be here, because maybe if she were here, she'd be okay with Brittany being friends with everyone, and Brittany thinks that she would have a lot of fun with the gay secret society. They'd already played covert ops in the janitor's closet hundreds of times…
Artie turns at the end of the hall to take the elevator to his next class, waving, while Brittany continues on toward the library. Her thoughts stay on Santana, and how it's somehow harder, now that they've seen each other so recently, for her to let Santana go, again. The idea that she can make out with other girls is there, now, but she's not entirely sure she wants to. She thinks she'd kind of feel bad if she were kissing a girl but imagining Santana's dark eyes, blazing with arousal, imagining her soft lips and strong hands and intricate rolling tongue and her caramel skin that's so sweet she swears Santana sweats sugar, not salt.
She lets the little shiver of arousal cascade down her back, relishing it, before thinking of the matter at hand. She's always been good at finding the bicurious girls, or at least finding out at what point of drunkenness they became bicurious—that's how she'd managed to make out with almost everyone at school—but she doesn't really want to need someone else to make her feel good.
But how else is she going to deal with the distance?
She hopes focusing on school, and maybe standing by Merry as she works through being so freaking young…will help.
For now, though, she's off for a lunchtime study session with Tina at the library, and that itself puts a bounce in her step. Tina's the best.
.
Just like my daughter won't see her again
.
It used to be her favorite holiday. She had loved watching her mother get even more dressed up than usual, had loved getting a new dress every year for the occasion (she always felt pretty in a dress, they never pinched her flesh like pants, which her mother always seemed to buy a size too small), had loved watching her father pull on his grandfather's raccoon skin coat and smile lovingly, taking Judy's arm as the family walked out into the crisp, cold winter night. As a child, she was only allowed to stay up this late on Christmas Eve, for the midnight service, which was always hauntingly beautiful. The sanctuary would be dimly lit, and everyone would be given a candle as they walked in, and at one point, all the lights would go down, and the candles would be lit from one end of the pews to the other, and in that dim, flickering light, they would all sing "Silent Night," completely a capella, and every time, Lucy would feel a tingling in her scalp and a pressure in her chest and the absolute assurance that God was watching over her, and she would cry quietly.
The celebration and presents the next day only added to her joy. Her mother would cook a huge breakfast, with ham, hash browns, sausage and egg casserole, bacon, grapefruit and toast. Lucy would even be allowed a cup of coffee on Christmas morning—just like her daddy—which she would turn beige with milk and sugar. Frannie would be more friendly than usual, sharing hugs with Lucy, and when she was old enough to get an allowance, she would always make sure to buy Lucy a present. Lucy would feel guilty that she didn't have the money to buy Frannie a present in return, but the hugs and sometimes kisses planted on her forehead would make her feel happy to be the baby of such a loving family. At least for one day.
By the time she became Quinn, she had realized that the extra affection her father showed her mother followed a pattern. It came out in public or in the evenings several drinks in. It was theatrical somehow, like they were acting out a healthy marriage. They even put on the show in front of her and Frannie sometimes, but it didn't feel genuine anymore. Quinn thought she was just cynical for years, until her father's affair came to light. And for the first time, she had noticed her mother's fatigue as they stayed up until one in the morning to go to church and she then rose at five to begin to prepare the elaborate breakfast for her family. By that time, Frannie had begun to resent her some, and even though they both got allowances and bought each other Christmas presents, there were no hugs, and certainly no kisses on the forehead. Even the church service itself had started to feel repetitive, and dry, and the candlelit hymn, though still beautiful, failed to fill her with a sense of awe and wonder. She would clutch her little cross and wonder if God had forsaken her.
Now, Quinn's family is fractured, or, as she likes to think of it, downsized, with the members that had been a waste of time and energy excised. Frannie and her family are spending Christmas Eve and morning with Russell, and then coming by in the late morning or early afternoon for brunch with Quinn and her mother. Quinn has no intention at all of seeing her father, nor does Judy.
Judy asks if she'd like to go to the midnight service at their new church, and Quinn bites her lip. They'd gone the last year, and it was quite similar to the service she'd grown up with, but again, she felt as thought it lacked the magic of her childhood. Maybe faith would never again be so mystical, she reflects. "We don't have to," she tells her mother, "We can just go to the earlier one. And sleep in tomorrow." She offers a mild smile, "Let's relax for once, and I'll help you with brunch when we wake up."
Smiling gratefully, her mother offers a rare, spontaneous hug, which Quinn accepts with some surprise.
The Methodist service is lovely, though the feeling of distance from God remains. She texts Sam that afternoon to ask if he'll be there, but he's in Kentucky visiting his family for the holiday, which makes her smile. She's glad he'll get to spend some time with them. He says he'll be back a couple days after Christmas because he wants to spend some quality time with the Hudson-Hummels while Finn is still in town and she responds that she looks forward to seeing him then.
She wonders, briefly, what others are doing. God, she hopes Santana has someone who can take her in for Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas. Brittany, as far as she knows, actually knows there is no Santa now, but is playing along for her little sister, who, Quinn thinks, is starting to get a little old to believe herself. She tells the Dutch story of Santa, in which he is accompanied by an uncertain number of black men—or was it assorted rainbow-colored midgets?—rather than elves. Brittany's parents were Unitarians or something and the way they approach holidays is why, Quinn thinks, Brittany believed in Santa for so long; her parents told the kids the story of Santa in the same way they told the story of the birth of Jesus, and when Brittany realized some people believed the Jesus story to be true, she decided the Santa one could be as well, since there was certainly more evidence for it. Quinn had discussed with Brittany several days ago when they might spend some time together, but Brittany had been very vague about her family's plans after Christmas, so nothing was solid there. Rachel celebrates a largely secular Christmas with her fathers, though her daddy tends to go to a Christmas Eve service. She's attended with him a few times, just to see what it's like. Then, they visit some of her daddy's family for a few days. Puck's family's celebration is entirely secular; they exchange few presents, since most gift-giving happens during Hanukkah, but it's nice, because his mother sometimes actually has the day off for Christmas. Mercedes sings with her church choir throughout all the Christmas services, and in the afternoon of Christmas Day, they get together with her mom's side of the family in Cleveland.
She wakes up around nine; even though she'd told her mother they should sleep in, she'd set an alarm, because she wants to make sure she is awake to help out, and as a college student, she knows she is capable of sleeping until the afternoon. Downstairs, her mother is in a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, brewing coffee. Quinn smiles at the realization that her mother definitely slept in.
Through the years, she's gotten very good at assisting her mother in cooking, and this brunch is no different. She stands by, ready to stir, or chop, or watch, or flip, or check, whatever her mother needs. She's cooking a similar meal to the one from childhood—a similar omelette casserole, a small ham that's dressed more like a dinner ham than breakfast ham, bacon, fruit salad, rolls. And though the thought that she was trained to feel like she belongs in a kitchen does bother her, this is actually fun. Her mother is patient and relaxed, not in a frenzy like she usually is when she cooks, and they sing Christmas carols together as they work. She'd heard her mother sing before, but only in church, her soft voice following along with the melodies in the hymns. She's not sure she's ever heard her mother sing in the kitchen. But she can hear where she gets her own singing voice—her mother's voice is higher than Quinn's, but shares some of the same tone qualities; it's light and soft, not strong or particularly great, but pleasant and melodic. The kind of voice that should sing lullabies. Perhaps some women were meant to be mothers.
Frannie shows up a little after noon, an exhausted-looking toddler on her hip and a guarded-looking husband at her side. She smiles and leans over to kiss Judy on the cheek, then her eyes snap to Quinn, who resists the urge to fidget under her sister's critical gaze.
She gets a smile and a brief hug, and Frannie's husband, Alton, shakes their hands. Quinn's never seen him hug anyone—he even holds his daughter very functionally—though she assumes he must hug Frannie sometimes. She can see from the way they look and smile at each other that they're in love, but they don't ever show affection in front of others.
Frannie hefts her daughter, "Say 'hi' to Grandma, Bella," she instructs in a tender voice. Bella buries her face in Frannie's shoulder for a moment before gazing shyly at Judy, who smiles and holds out her arms. Frannie deposits the willing toddler into Judy's arms and watches them fondly, "I know how much you miss your granddaughter."
Judy's eyes cut to Quinn for a split second, too quickly for Quinn to even read the expression, but she inhales sharply. She has no idea what it means—don't mention Beth, technically her first granddaughter by a couple months? She isn't planning on it. They haven't talked about her, not even after what had happened at the Thanksgiving dinner table. Or does it mean that she does miss Beth, and wishes she'd had a chance to meet her last fall?
Quinn doesn't know, but as they make their way to the dining room for brunch, she's surprised that little Bella decides she wants to sit on her Aunt Quinnie's lap, partly because she knows there's no way Bella remembers her from a year ago. But Quinn chuckles and obliges the child for awhile, glancing at Frannie to wordlessly ask for help; Frannie just tells her to help her cut her food into small pieces. Quinn does so, refusing to see whether the expression on her mother's face as she watches them is indifferent or sympathetic, only glancing at Frannie to be sure she's doing the right thing, until Alton instructs Bella that she should sit in her own seat like a good girl, and Frannie leans over to help the child instead.
She manages to keep up with the conversation, even though most of her attention is focused on her niece. Her hair is a curly strawberry blonde—which, Quinn knows, is no indication of her future hair color in this family. Quinn herself had been born with strawberry blonde hair that fell out when she was four, only to be replaced by light auburn, which darkened in her adolescence—the fact that it never saw the sun probably didn't help. She's dyed her hair since then, except for the middle of her pregnancy, when she'd been both essentially homeless and had discovered that the chemicals in hair dye could harm fetuses. She'd stopped dyeing it then and had been surprised to discover that the roots that grew in were a dark, dirty blonde—no longer auburn. It's still not a shade she prefers, so she'd gone back to dyeing it as soon as possible. She knows that hormone surges can cause hair color to change in some people, and supposes pregnancy had done the trick in her case. It also is often a genetic trait, and it's one definitely shared by her family; Frannie had been born with very light brown hair, only to get white-blonde hair in late childhood that had changed to a more honey-blonde with puberty. And as Judy approaches menopause, her hair gets darker; she's been dyeing it for the past several years.
But Bella is only a few months younger than Beth, and would be about Beth's size. She babbles, about half her words comprehensible, and her eyes are brown—Alton's eyes. Quinn watches, trying to see as much Fabray as she can in the child, trying to see what traits she might share with her cousin, the cousin she may never meet, the daughter Quinn may never see again. She remembers what she heard Sugar say at Mr. Schue's wedding—Shelby is leaving the area. Not that she is exactly welcome to drop by Shelby's apartment to see her child, but now she's terrified of losing the only way she knows to connect with her daughter.
Frannie catches her watching Bella a few times, and each time, they smile politely at each other, and for once, Quinn is grateful that Fabrays don't discuss anything uncomfortable.
A/N: Chapter titles from Purity Ring, "Amenamy," Jay-Z, "Empire State of Mind," Rufus Wainwright, "14th Street," and PJ Harvey, "Down by the Water."
Updating today especially because it's Rachel Berry's Golden Birthday (turning 18 on the 18th)!
And yes, Quinn's hair is fan-wanking at its messiest. But there are people whose hair color does change drastically throughout their lives, and really, it's the only way I can make the implausible Lucy storyline fit in my headcanon—Quinn's hair is blonde like her parents and her daughter, it's just had some fluctuations.