Author's Note: Ficlet set before Forget the Wrong That I've Done.
Sometimes I'm Easily Fooled
Sometimes I'm easily fooled.
I take a painful step, and I get knocked back two.
I do all I can, and it's all I can do, but I'm true.
~True, Concrete Blonde
Rachel doesn't expect to find her wife still awake when she gets home from her evening performance. While Quinn is finally past the stage of her pregnancy that found her falling asleep at the drop of a hat—and in the middle of a conversation—she's also long past the need to wait up for Rachel after every show. Rachel might be worried that the honeymoon is well and truly over, or that the magic has gone out of their marriage, if Quinn hadn't also raced into the stage of her pregnancy that features the enthusiastic return of her libido. She may not be waiting up for Rachel at night, but she's certainly been waking her up bright and early every morning and giving her a very vigorous workout. Rachel hasn't needed to use her elliptical in a month.
Quinn claims that she wasn't like this the first time, but Rachel thinks that she just didn't have a suitable outlet to satisfy her needs. Rachel can't really say that she's sorry about that. Even the thought of a teenaged Quinn turning to Noah Puckerman (or anyone else) for any of this makes her want to punch something—something six-foot tall, Jewish, and abnormally attached to mohawks as an acceptable hairstyle.
Obviously, Rachel can't erase the past, but she's going to try her damnedest to make it disappear into the shadow of their present. So when Quinn pokes her head out of the second bedroom with a come-hither smile and says, "Hey, sweetie, I've been waiting for you," Rachel expects to be spending the rest of the night and into the wee hours of the morning making that present just a little brighter.
She tosses her jacket across the back of the chair—spring hasn't quite managed to chase away the winter temperatures just yet—dodges Oliver's nightly attempt to con another meal out of her, and greets her wife with a kiss. Quinn leans into her, parting her lips as she loops her arms over Rachel's shoulders, and Rachel slips her own arms around Quinn's waist, pulling her even closer. She loves the way it feels—the way the firm curve of her wife's belly presses into hers until she can feel the evidence of their baby, safe and warm and protected between them both. There are moments when it still terrifies her, but she wouldn't trade this for anything.
Rachel hums contentedly as she leans back with a smile. "You stayed up late," she points out needlessly. "Are you already working on a new project?"
Quinn's eyebrow arches slightly. "You mean besides our daughter?" she teases.
"Or son," Rachel amends with a grin. They won't know the baby's gender until their next appointment in two weeks, assuming the little guy (or girl) cooperates. Until then, they're having fun contradicting each other.
Quinn shakes her head, but the happy smile doesn't leave her face. It does, however, take on a tiny edge of calculation that Rachel has grown to recognize. "Actually, I do have something of a new project," Quinn admits, dropping her arms from Rachel's shoulders and taking a single step back. "I was hoping to get your opinion on it." She trails her right hand along Rachel's arm until her fingers curl around Rachel's, and then she's stepping back into the spare room with a hopeful expression, pulling Rachel in after her.
Rachel freezes when she enters the room, frowning at the sight of it. There are several cardboard boxes on the floor, and the closet is thrown open. Rachel recognizes some of her clothes thrown across the bed along with some of Quinn's business suits that she'd finally agreed to move out of their bedroom closet after she'd resigned from her position and started working part-time from home. The boxes are half filled with clothes and books that have been stripped off the overflowing bookshelves that line the wall.
"What are you doing?" Rachel gasps.
That eyebrow arches again. "Cleaning out the room," Quinn answers slowly, as if Rachel should have worked this out already.
Rachel eyes the boxes suspiciously. "Did you lift those?" she demands with a frown, pointing at the offending boxes. "By yourself? When I wasn't here?"
Quinn rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, making the slight bump beneath her shirt seem even more pronounced. "The boxes were empty when I lifted them. They didn't even weigh three pounds."
Rachel crosses her own arms. "Quinn, this couldn't have waited until I was home?"
"I'm fine, Rach," Quinn reassures her with an indulgent shake of her head. "And I needed to get started."
Rachel's brows furrow in confusion. "We still have five months before we'd need to turn this into a nursery." More if they set up the crib in their bedroom for a few months. "And anyway, are we not still looking for a bigger place? Maybe something with a third bedroom?" she adds hopefully. She's doesn't think they can afford Tribeca or the Upper East Side just yet, as much as she wishes they could, but with a child on the way, they both know they're going to outgrow this apartment sooner rather than later.
"No, we're still looking," Quinn confirms before she darts her gaze away and bites into her lower lip. "But…we might not have that much time."
"Unless there's something you're not telling me, I'm pretty sure I was there for the conception," Rachel jokes. "Doctor Klein said August."
"No, the baby is still due in August," Quinn agrees. "But…well…you know that my mother is trying to be extra supportive." The this time is left unsaid, but Rachel can still hear it in her wife's voice, and she nods. Quinn flashes a wide smile and folds her hands together in front of her belly. "So she's coming to stay with us," she announces.
Rachel's eyes widen as she processes the unexpected news. "Oh. Oh, well, that's," she pauses, pursing her lips together for a moment, "that's fine," she assures Quinn with a smile of her own—if it's a bit forced, she's certain Quinn will let it slide. "It will be nice to have Judy visit for a week or two," she decides with a firm nod. No wonder Quinn is straightening up the room. The last time Judy was here, she'd made more than one comment about their tendency to use this room as a pack-rat's haven. They really do need to declutter with a baby on the way.
Quinn puffs out a breath, chewing on the corner of her lip in the way she does when she's nervous about something. "How about six months?" she finally asks.
Rachel's smile disappears. "Until she visits?"
"That she'll be staying," Quinn corrects before rushing to add, "We had a really long talk this afternoon, and she really wants to be here and involved. And I…I want her to be." She reaches out to clasp Rachel's hands. "We have so much to do before the baby comes, Rach, and you've been so busy with your show. Having Mom here will be such a big help to me."
"Can't she help from a nice hotel?" Rachel squeaks out, trying to keep her panic at bay. "Or an apartment of her own?"
Quinn lets go of Rachel's hands with a frown. "Rachel Berry Fabray, are you trying to get rid of my mother?"
"No, of course not," Rachel denies, reaching for Quinn again. "I just…this room is really close to our bedroom, Quinn. And six months is a really long time." Really long.
"I think my mother knows we have sex," Quinn points out with a smirk, echoing the words that Rachel herself has said about her fathers (and all of their friends) on more than one occasion. But this is Judy Fabray they're talking about. Rachel is quite certain the woman has convinced herself that they do not, in fact, have sex.
"Knowing is different than hearing," Rachel tosses back with a scowl, pushing down her temper. Because Quinn is pregnant. And emotional. And out of her baby-addled mind! "I just…I can't believe you would invite your mother to live with us without asking me first."
Quinn snickers, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "And I can't believe you don't know what day it is."
Rachel frowns in confusion, caught off guard by Quinn's sudden change of tone. "It's Saturday," she responds automatically.
Quinn lifts her hand and cups Rachel's cheek, smiling at her fondly. "April 1st."
Rachel's frown deepens, and her eyes skitter to the little clock that resides on Quinn's desk—it's flashing 11:48 and, therefore, technically still April Fools' Day—before narrowing on her wife. "Judy isn't coming to stay with us, is she?"
"Oh, she is," Quinn laughs, patting Rachel's cheek before letting go. "For a visit. Even I wouldn't tackle cleaning out this room just to play an April Fools' prank on you."
Rachel huffs, feeling her face heat in embarrassment at falling for Quinn's prank. Again! "You are so evil! After I've been nothing but wonderful to you."
"Oh, but sweetie," Quinn coos, wrapping her arms around Rachel, "you're just too easy."
"You're lucky I love you," Rachel grumbles, helpless to keep herself from melting into Quinn's body.
Quinn sighs and brushes a soft kiss across Rachel's lips. "I am. I really, really am."
Rachel hums in agreement, skittering her fingers across Quinn's belly. Despite her wife's frustrating habit of playing her for a fool every year, she's pretty damned lucky too.