Author's Note: Ficlet set after the ficlet Happiness Unbroken and just before In Love With the Shape of You. This was an unfinished prompt that I found in my docs and decided to finish in an attempt to battle the dreaded writer's block.
It's the Hope You Bring
It's the simple things
It's the hope you bring
It's the heart beating
It's the beginning.
~It Gets Better, Lenka
It's well after midnight when Rachel gets home. She hasn't been this late in a while, but there'd been a particularly large crowd at the stage door tonight after the show, and she hadn't wanted to be rude and dodge them, especially when she'd noticed a group of preteens alight with the wonder of a first Broadway show. As it turns out, they'd been members of a youth show choir who'd sold over five thousand pies just to be able to buy seats in the balcony. Rachel is glad she'd made the time to sign all of their programs, even if she's now completely exhausted. It feels good to know that she'd helped make their first theater experience even more memorable—and if it also keeps her name from being smeared all over Twitter by a bunch of disappointed fans, all the better.
Conscious of the extremely late (or early) hour, she's extra careful to be quiet when she enters the apartment, shushing Oliver's demands for his midnight snack by picking him up and scratching his ears on the way to the kitchen. She doesn't want to wake up her wife, and she especially doesn't want to wake up Judy Fabray, who's currently sleeping in their spare room. She'd made that mistake on Tuesday when she'd made a little too much noise coming in after her show, and she'd had to hear about it for the entirety of Wednesday morning. She'd never been so happy to leave for the theatre as she had been that evening. Maybe it's a tad uncharitable, but Rachel really can't wait until Sunday when Judy gets on that plane back to Chicago. She likes her mother-in-law well enough, all things considered, but cohabitating with her for more than a day or two makes her understand exactly why Quinn had been so eager to move more than six hundred miles away after high school.
It's also very possible that Rachel just misses being alone with her wife.
Once Oliver is pacified, Rachel tip-toes into the bathroom and attempts to complete her nightly ritual as quietly as possible—brushing her teeth, removing the last of her makeup, cleansing her pores with ice cold water, and moisturizing her skin. The apartment is dark and still when she pads into the bedroom, and she's equally as quiet when she slips into the room, leaving the lights off, in the hope that she won't wake up Quinn.
"You're late tonight," is whispered in the darkness the moment the door clicks shut, and it's enough to have Rachel nearly jumping out of her skin with an undignified squeak. She presses a hand over her now hammering heart just as Quinn turns on the bedside lamp, squinting at Rachel. "I was getting worried."
"You're supposed to be asleep," Rachel chastises, careful to keep her voice low as she wanders closer to the bed.
"And you were supposed to be home an hour ago," Quinn counters with a frown, running a palm over her belly.
Rachel immediately notices the gesture and feels her stomach flip unpleasantly as she sinks down onto the mattress next to Quinn. "I'm sorry I worried you." She places her own hand next to Quinn's, silently greeting their sleeping daughter while simultaneously hoping that her wife can forgive her thoughtlessness. "I got caught up signing autographs for some very enthusiastic show choir kids and the time just got away from me."
Quinn's little frown slowly transforms into a wry grin. "So…you were basking in the adoration of a bunch of mini-yous."
Rachel finds herself grinning at the playful jab, silently conceding that Quinn isn't very far off the mark. More than one of those kids did very much remind her of herself at that age—a truth that she'd found both delightful and somewhat embarrassing in turn. Still, she can't resist countering her wife's knowing observation with a bit of retaliatory teasing. "With how adoring they were of my unparalleled talent, it might be more accurate to say they were mini-yous."
Hazel eyes roll in exasperated amusement. "Actual me would adore it if you'd get your oh-so modest ass into bed so this mini-you," Quinn points to her baby bump, "can settle down and finally get some sleep."
Rachel's smile slips into a thoughtful frown, and she rubs her palm back and forth over Quinn's belly, wondering (not for the first time) just what Quinn is feeling that Rachel can't yet. "Is she keeping you awake?"
"I think I'm probably keeping her awake," Quinn admits ruefully, once again revealing just how worried she'd been about Rachel's extended absence.
"I promise to text you the next time I get delayed," Rachel vows contritely. She'd just assumed that Quinn was probably fast asleep and wouldn't even noticed her tardiness, but she should have realized that, even in sleep, Quinn's internal clock probably would have set off an alarm when Rachel didn't slip into bed at her usual time."I can't have either one of you losing any sleep because of me."
Quinn offers her a sweet smile of gratitude, and Rachel bends down to bestow an equally sweet kiss on her wife's lips. Quinn sighs into the contact, lifting a hand to Rachel's cheek to hold her there for a moment longer before finally allowing her to pull back. When she does, there's a decidedly familiar twinkle in her eyes and a tempting purr to her voice when she informs Rachel that, "We can maybe lose a little bit sleep from time-to-time for more enjoyable reasons."
"Only when your mother isn't in the next room," Rachel cautions cheekily. She shudders to imagine the commentary she'd be subjected to if they were to wake up Judy Fabray with that.
"I'm holding you to that," Quinn promises huskily before letting her hand fall back to the mattress. "Now come to bed."
Rachel has absolutely no objections to her wife's gentle command, so she makes quick work of shucking her clothes and pulling on a modest pair of pajamas—for Judy's benefit, of course—before slipping under the sheet next to her wife. Quinn immediately turns to snuggle into her body, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before murmuring a quiet, "Goodnight. Love you."
"I love you too, baby." She reaches out to pat the side of Quinn's belly. "You too, baby."
She can feel Quinn's breathless little giggle against her shoulder, and her own lips curve as her eyelids fall shut and she basks in the warmth of her wife's sleepy embrace. The highlights of her day play through her mind as she listens to the rhythm of Quinn's breathing even out, betraying just how tired she actually is, and her own body relaxes deeper into the mattress until she's surrendering to the call of her dreams.
It's a long while later when she drifts back into semi-consciousness to the soft sounds of snoring, thinking it's her lovely wife but quickly realizing that it's her when her own breathing hitches and the sound immediately stops. She's just awake enough to register that she's sprawled out on her back with her mouth open (which explains the snoring) and her left arm trapped somewhat awkwardly between her own hip and some part of Quinn's body, though she's reluctant to open her eyes to see exactly which part. She can hear the faint sounds of the traffic outside their apartment but no sound of Judy moving around, which tells her it's probably still too early to even consider getting out of bed. She thinks she'd be perfectly content to fall back to sleep for a couple of hours if only Quinn would stop tapping on the back of her wrist.
With a sigh, she turns her head and pries open one eye to check on her wife, immediately frowning when she notices that Quinn still appears to be sound asleep, peacefully curled on her right side and facing Rachel. With a bemused frown, Rachel glances down to where she can still feel that faint tapping against her wrist, expecting to see Quinn's fingers somehow twitching there, but all she sees is her own arm pressed up against the firm curve of Quinn's belly.
It takes a moment—a long, fuzzy moment of wondering just what the hell she's feeling—before realization crashes over her and Rachel jerks fully and completely awake with her heart racing and her mind spinning and an awed, "Oh, my God," slipping out of her mouth at an unchecked volume just before she hastily turns onto her side and presses her open palm against Quinn's belly, frowning when she can't seem to find the little tapping again.
"Rach?" Quinn murmurs sleepily, stirring thanks to the flurry of activity.
"Shh," Rachel hisses, moving her palm a little higher as she silently wills the baby to do it again. She's been waiting for weeks to feel something—anything—ever since Quinn had gasped in wonder at the recognition of those first soft flutters inside of her. She'd tried to guide Rachel's hand to their daughter's movements on more than one occasion, but Rachel has never been able to feel anything through the protective layers of Quinn's body.
"Why are you shushing me?" Quinn demands in a voice still gruff with sleep, one hand lifting to rub at tired eyes.
Rachel drags her gaze up to her wife's face while her heart sinks with disappointment. She doesn't feel anything under her hand but the heat of Quinn's skin through her thin sleepshirt, and she starts to wonder if maybe she'd only been dreaming those little taps against her wrist. Maybe it had been some kind of weird muscle tick.
And now she's gone and woken up her wife for nothing.
"I'm sorry," she mutters dejectedly. "I thought," she begins, only to cut herself of with a surprised gasp when she feels it again. "Oh, my God," she whispers, eyes-widening in wonder. "Did you feel that?"
"Of course, I did," Quinn mutters in confusion. The confirmation that Rachel isn't imagining the sensation sends a tearful laugh bubbling past her lips, and it's enough to make Quinn's eyes widen with awareness. "You can feel her," she realizes, and her own hand flies down to her belly to cover Rachel's while her lips curve into an excited grin.
"I can feel her," Rachel confirms with a watery smile and a clumsy nod, overwhelmed with emotion. "She's really in there," she murmurs in amazement, pressing her hand more firmly into the spot where she can still feel their daughter's faint movements.
Quinn laughs, her own eyes sparkling with unchecked moisture. "You're just realizing that?"
Rachel chuckles soggily, shaking her head. She's known it, of course. She's seen the ultrasounds and heard the heartbeat and watched Quinn's belly grow, and her breath catches and her heart soars every time she sees or hears the evidence of the little life inside of Quinn, "But now I can feel her." Their daughter is finally strong enough to make her presence known to the outside world, and now when Rachel lays her palm over Quinn's belly and greets her baby girl good morning, there's every chance that her daughter will greet her right back. It makes her feel even more connected to the baby.
Another little ripple dances under Rachel's palm, as if her daughter knows exactly what she's thinking, and Quinn's hand presses hers more firmly into the sensation. "I think she's been trying to get your attention for a while," she muses with a soft expression.
"Well, she definitely has it now," Rachel murmurs, awed by the little burst of activity under her hand. "Hi, baby," she coos to the bump of Quinn's stomach, lightly tapping her thumb against their daughter's little movements. "Are you trying to say good morning to me?" The answering tap makes her heart soar, and she grins goofily. "Well, mission accomplished. I expect a similar greeting every morning from now on."
Quinn chuckles, drawing Rachel's attention back to her blissful face. "Your hand is gonna be glued there from now on, isn't it?" she challenges, lightly tracing her fingers over the back of Rachel's wrist.
"Maybe," Rachel admits unabashedly, already unwilling to remove her hand from Quinn's belly. In fact, she's contemplating pushing up the fabric of her wife's shirt so she can touch her bare skin and be that much closer to their daughter's intermittent kicks. "I certainly have no intention of moving it any time soon."
Grinning, Quinn reaches up to cup Rachel's cheek. "You're adorable, and I'm so happy that you finally get to share this with me, but you've got maybe five minutes before my bladder takes precedence over your bonding moment."
Rachel frowns thoughtfully, glancing back down at Quinn's belly. "Then I guess we'd better make them count," she decides, moving her hand only long enough to sneak it underneath the cotton of Quinn's shirt before she seeks out those beautiful little flutters again, much to Quinn's amusement. "Come on, baby girl," she urges, "give Mommy your best pirouette."
And to the soundtrack of Quinn's laughter, their daughter does exactly that. In that moment, Rachel couldn't be more in love with the little life inside of her wife.
In only a few more months, of course, she'll discover that she absolutely can be.