Summary: Quinn disagrees with the chore assignments. Namely, that SHE'S the one doing all of them while Rachel is treated like royalty when at Shelby's.
Story happens in late January.
Life's A Chore
Quinn growled and grumbled under her breath as she washed the dinner dishes by hand—a punishment for talking back to her mother during their meal. But she'd only 'talked back' because Shelby wasn't listening.
Quinn didn't mind doing the dishes…even by hand. What she minded was being the only one to have to.
Rachel had had dinner with them four days this week and at no point had Shelby thought to put Rachel on dish duty—or any other duty.
"Why do I have to do it?" Quinn had whined when Shelby asked her to start clearing the table after dinner.
"Because I cook dinner and you clean up. This isn't new, Quinnie," Shelby replied, giving Quinn an amused look—as if Quinn was being cute.
The teenager rolled her eyes and huffed. "Why can't Rachel do it?"
"Rachel's our guest."
"No," Quinn argued. "Guests leave. She is here all the time!"
"Watch the tone, please," Shelby said, her eyebrow arching the way it always did when Quinn was skirting the line.
Quinn grumbled a heated protest under her breath as she folded her arms across her chest, earning her a clipped, "Lucy." She ignored it and turned her attention to Rachel.
"You have your own house, you know. Ever going back to it?"
"Lucy Quinn!"
"What?" Quinn feigned innocence. "I'm sure her dads miss her. She's had dinner at our house every night this week."
"That is enough, young lady. I don't know where any of this is coming from, but your chores don't change just because we have someone over for dinner," Shelby scolded.
"That's bullshit!" Quinn hissed, pushing away from the table. The chair screeched on the floor and Quinn was up and heading for the stairs when Shelby intercepted her.
"You can wash the dinner dishes by hand now. Maybe the extra time spent doing that will help scrub away your attitude, too," her mother spoke in a calm voice that sent a chill down Quinn's spine. She felt herself being turned and grimaced, expecting a sharp spank to meet her bottom. Her eyes met Rachel's, and Quinn's face flushed.
"Mama—" Quinn threw a pleading look over her shoulder.
"Not another word, young lady. Do the dishes." Shelby raised her brow and nodded to the table. Then she left Quinn be, moving to scoop Beth out of her high chair. She continued on into the living room.
Rachel gave Quinn an unreadable expression before getting up to follow after their mother.
Quinn sighed and shook her head, focusing back on her task. She scrubbed hard at the casserole dish, wishing the needling thoughts of Shelby, Rachel, and dinner were as easy to dislodge as the burnt-on remnants of their meal. But her mother was right on one thing, at least. Quinn Fabray's attitude had been washed clean, spinning down the drain with the rest of the dirty, soapy water. All that was left was a deep sadness and a feeling of unfairness.
Shelby Corcoran yawned as she came out of her eight-month-old's room just after 7PM, wanting nothing more than to head directly into her own. It had been a long day between work and juggling three daughters, a reality she was still getting used to.
It was over-confidence on Shelby's part to think adding Rachel into the mix would be as easy as it had with Quinn. Quinn had come into a house consisting of Shelby and a five-month-old Beth. It had been quiet. And Quinn wasn't constantly competing with the infant.
There was tension between the two teenagers—and with good reason. They had a history with one another. And despite whatever understanding the girls had come to during their week-long detentions together, there was still a fierce rivalry lurking beneath the surface. Shelby knew it wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows—and certainly not in the first three weeks since she and Rachel had reconnected—but she hadn't anticipated how hard it would actually be.
"It will get easier," she told herself as she rolled her shoulders and headed down the hallway towards her eldest's room. She knocked on the door and listened for an answer from Quinn. None came and Shelby sighed.
"Quinn," the mother called as she eased the door open. Her daughter sat propped up in bed, her nose in the pages of Harry Potter. She didn't look up as Shelby entered the room fully.
"You and I need to talk, kiddo," Shelby said, earning a death glare from her teenager. The mother wasn't affected. "Come to my room, please."
Quinn's expression went from angry to panicked in a millisecond, her eyes growing comically large. "M-Mama?" she squeaked. "Are you…Am I—" The girl flushed bright red, gaze pleading. "I don't want to be sp—y'know." She couldn't bring herself to say the word.
Shelby couldn't help but laugh, feeling some of the tension melt off her shoulders. She gave her child a warm smile and shook her head fondly. "I'm not intending to spank you, Quinnie—not unless that attitude from earlier makes a reappearance. I really do only want to talk to you. C'mon." She held her hand out for her child.
Quinn let out a relieved breath at that news, marking her spot in Half-Blood Prince to return to later. Climbing off her bed, she made her way over to Shelby. Without warning, Quinn threw her arms around her mama's neck, hugging her tightly.
"Oh!" Shelby breathed out in surprise at the impromptu hug, quickly readjusting her footing to keep the pair of them upright. Her arms encircled Quinn's back and she held on just as fiercely in return.
Quinn nuzzled her head against her mother's neck, inhaling the comforting scent of Shelby…Mama. It was the smell Quinn associated with home and safety now. And after the tumbling thoughts and feelings from earlier, Quinn needed that grounding.
Shelby didn't miss the quiet sniffles coming from the crook of her neck or the way Quinn rubbed her face against her. It reminded the mother of the way Beth snuggled into her when she wasn't feeling well. "Hey, what's all this?" Shelby asked gently, running her hand up and down her child's back. She felt the rise and fall of Quinn's shoulders and sighed.
"C'mon, Quinnie. Let's go to my room and we'll talk and cuddle in the big bed, hmm?" Her hand lowered to place several maternal pats to Quinn's bottom before she pulled back.
Quinn nodded and took Shelby's offered hand, letting her mama lead her out of her room and towards the woman's. Shelby let her go as they walked through her doorway, sending her toward the bed with another gentle swat.
Shelby settled herself against her padded headboard, holding her arm wide for Quinn to snuggle into. Quinn's head came to rest against Shelby's shoulder and Shelby kissed the girl's temple as she pulled her close.
"So what happened tonight, baby?" Shelby asked, earning a scoff from her teenager. The mother sighed. "Don't start. I'd really like to keep this talk to just words," she warned.
"Sorry," Quinn mumbled, cheeks flushing. "I'll be good," she promised.
"You are good, Quinnie," Shelby reminded the girl. It was a reminder she said often, and one she hoped would fade away with time. "Now—do you want to tell me why you were so upset about doing your chores? You've never argued with me about them before."
Quinn shifted in her arms, raising her head to meet Shelby's gaze. "You…You really don't know?" the girl asked, skeptical.
Shelby's brows knitted and she stared at her child's earnest face with confusion. "I really don't, honey," she finally said. "We've never had an issue until now. Nothing's changed about them, so I'm at a loss as to what the—"
"Mama," Quinn sighed in exasperation. "Everything's changed."
"What are you—"
"Rachel," Quinn said, as if that explained everything.
"What does Rachel have to—"
"Mama!"
"Okay. I need you to give me more, kid. What does Rachel have to do with your chores?"
Quinn sighed the longest sigh she'd ever sighed and rolled her eyes at her mother. Shelby gave her a stern look and she ducked her head.
"I'm trying here, honey. I need you to work with me, too," Shelby said, tilting her daughter's chin up to meet her eyes once more.
Quinn sighed again, this time apologetic. "Okay. I just…I'm the only one with chores and I—It's not fair. Rachel's had dinner with us four days in a row and you've never once asked her to do the dishes. And you keep talking about how it's 'my chore', but why does it have to be?"
"It never—I've been thinking of Rachel as a guest and—"
"But she's not—"
"No, you're right. She's not. I've just been—I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that she's right there in front of me and I can have a relationship with her. I never thought I would—I messed up so badly before and I…Well, it's all so new and I'm figuring things out, too." Shelby was rambling. She knew she was. She felt her face heat in embarrassment and gave Quinn a small smile as she moved to cup the girl's cheek. "I'm sorry, Quinnie," she said, her thumb stroking soft skin.
"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Quinn whispered, eyes sad. "I just, I didn't—"
"No, I hear you, honey. This is my mistake. I'll do better next time—I promise. I love you, kiddo," Shelby said, kissing Quinn's head.
"I love you, too, Mama. And I'm sorry for, well…I was a bit of a brat." Quinn's face pinkened under her mother's knowing smirk.
"You're allowed to be…sometimes," Shelby teased, bopping Quinn's nose. The girl scrunched it and Shelby laughed, readjusting her position and pulling her teenager down with her.
"How about we lay here and cuddle and you tell me all the new teenage gossip going around at school, hmm?"
Quinn laughed and snuggled against her mother's side. "Well, Marcy Henry is dating this college boy that's also her English tutor, and Mr. Clayton is on another bender. Coach Sylvester is on the warpath because Principal Figgins gave the Cheerios laundry budget to Glee Club after Mr. Schue brought up the questionable ethics of small Tibetan children being forced to hand wash a bunch of American teens' uniforms—"