Author's Note: Domestic Squabble drabble by request. Set after the ficlet Dreaming While I Drove and before A Feline Casanova.
Only Fight For Us
I won't let go, I won't give up,
and if we fight, we'll only fight for us.
~Try, Natasha Bedingfield
Quinn grits her teeth as she stares down at the ugly, dried ring on the wooden coffee table that was revealed when she lifted the half-empty mug from where it had been abandoned. "Rachel," she growls, tightening her hand around the coffee mug, but her annoyance is greeted with nothing but the sound of the shower still running.
She takes a deep breath, reminding herself of how happy she is that Rachel is home and how much she'd missed her when she'd been traveling with Les Mis. The little habit she has of leaving her coffee mug on the table without using a coaster is not going to bring the world crashing to a halt—neither is the sweater tossed carelessly over the arm of the chair, the growing pile of dirty laundry on the floor in their bedroom, or the increasingly messy bathroom being overtaken by Rachel's beauty products. It's just that Quinn has had a particularly tiring day at work and the last thing she needs is extra work to do around the apartment.
The last time Rachel had been between shows, she'd taken to obsessively cleaning the apartment to combat the boredom, but Rachel has only been back for two weeks and hasn't quite remembered how to tidy up after herself yet. It also hasn't helped that she's already signed on to replace the lead actress in Crazy For You and only has a limited time to squeeze in enough rehearsals around the show's ongoing performance schedule in order to prepare for her debut in ten days.
Quinn carries the mug over to the kitchen and dumps the rest of the coffee into the sink before rinsing it out. Grabbing the salt and a bowl, she mixes a small amount with some water to make a paste that she hopes will remove the stain on the table. It's one of the tricks that her mother taught her for taking care of a house.
She paces back to the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the sofa as she begins to meticulously work out the stain. In the background, she can hear the bathroom door open, but she doesn't look away from her task until she notices the shadow fall across the table.
"Hey, baby," Rachel greets her with a smile, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around her damp body while tendrils of wet hair cascade over bare shoulders. "I thought I heard you come home. How was work?"
"Fine," Quinn grunts. She notices a droplet of water fall onto the table from Rachel's hair, and she frowns. "Could you maybe not add more water stains to this table." She reaches across to wipe the drop away before it has a chance to do any damage.
Rachel's smile slips away, but she does take a step back away from the table as she reaches up to sweep her hair back. "Someone's in a bad mood."
"Someone is trying to remove the stain that you created with your damn coffee cup." Quinn glances up irritably. "Is it really so hard to remember to use a coaster?"
"I'm sorry. I was running late for rehearsal today," Rachel explains. "I forgot."
"You always forget," Quinn reminds her sharply. "This is the second time I've had to do this since you came back from your tour."
Rachel crosses her arms and scowls. "It's just a table, Quinn."
"And this is a coaster," Quinn points out, pausing to lift one from the little container she keeps on the table. "It would literally take you two seconds to grab one and toss it on the table underneath your mug."
"I. Forgot," Rachel enunciates. "Maybe if you would just leave them out instead of restacking them all the time, I wouldn't keep forgetting to use them."
"I like to keep the apartment neat. Unlike you."
Rachel plants her hands on her hips. "I do my fair share of cleaning."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "When you have nothing else to do maybe. But you never clean the bathroom, you always leave your clothes lying all over the place..."
"Maybe I wouldn't do that if I had more than six inches of space in our closet!" Rachel accuses.
Quinn huffs, in no mood to revisit that discussion right now. "You have more than enough closet space."
"In the other bedroom," Rachel reminds her heatedly.
Quinn drags a hand through her hair. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, Rach." She hadn't meant to be such a harpy over a coffee stain, but once she'd opened her mouth, her temper had overtaken her reason. "I know you have rehearsals right now, but I spend eight to ten hours a day at work, and when I come home, I have to worry about what we're having for dinner. I'd love to be able to just kick off my shoes," she laughs ruefully, waving a hand over Rachel's towel-clad body, "take a shower, and relax, but I can't...because I have to go around cleaning up after all the things you forgot," she punctuates with a finger pointed at the table. "I just need you to remember that you're not living out of a hotel room anymore. The maid isn't the one who has to tidy up after you. I am."
Quinn watches the lingering indignation drain out of Rachel's posture. "I suppose I did get somewhat accustomed to the maid service," she admits reluctantly, moving around to sit on the sofa next to Quinn. She twists her fist into the front of her towel when it begins to slip. "I promise I'll try to keep things a little neater...and remember the coaster."
"Thank you," Quinn breathes in relief. "And I'm sorry for snapping at you. Today kind of sucked, and the stain on the table just pushed the wrong button."
"Aw, I'm sorry, baby." Rachel coos, reaching out to lightly cup Quinn's neck and gently massage the skin beneath her touch. "Why don't you go change out of your business suit; maybe take a shower if you want. I can take care of dinner."
Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Um...that's sweet of you to offer, but I'd actually like to eat tonight."
Rachel squeezes her neck a bit harder. "Very funny. I was thinking takeout. How does Mexican sound?"
"Sounds perfect," Quinn sighs, leaning into Rachel's touch. Having her here is worth all the coffee stains and messy bathrooms in the world. "Order me beef enchiladas and I'll even forgive you for getting the sofa cushions wet."