Author's Note: Ficlet set the same weekend as This Lovely Easter Morning.

Already Out of Foolproof Ideas

I'm going down
Follow if you want, I won't just hang around
Like you'll show me where to go
I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how
To get started, it's all uncharted.
~Uncharted, Sara Bareilles

Easter had been a rousing success in Rachel's not-very-humble-at-all opinion. Of course, it had also been mildly stressful and nerve-wrecking in its planning stages, with both Judy and Francine Fabray in attendance. The rest of the party had included TJ, Santana and Teresa, Kurt and Harry, Rachel's dads, and Shelby and Beth, of course, but, with the exception of Santana, they'd been far less troublesome to manage.

Josie and Sarah had thankfully opted to spend the weekend in Boston with Josie's family, for which Rachel had been immensely grateful, if only for the extra space in which to squeeze everyone else that they'd foolishly invited. Extra space is extremely important when one is dealing with Francine Fabray.

In all fairness to Frannie, she's not nearly as insufferable as she used to be. She's been noticeably less critical of Quinn in the last year or so, and she'd even managed to get through the entire Easter dinner without making one homophobic comment despite the fact that she'd been surrounded by gay couples. Rachel supposes that she needs to give the woman some (very little) credit for that.

Although she suspects that the credit really belongs to Calliope.

Frannie is completely smitten with her niece.

It's only natural that she should be, of course.

Calliope is perfect in every way. Everyone should be smitten with her.

Everyone is, obviously.

In fact, the only minor scuffle at the (Berry) Fabray family Easter feast had been when Frannie and Santana had nearly come to blows over who would get to hold Calliope next.

(Santana had won. Frannie may be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them.)

Frannie's acquiescence may also have had something to do with the fact that she, TJ, and Judy aren't scheduled to fly back home to Chicago until Tuesday afternoon, which means that all three of them are right back in Rachel and Quinn's apartment for a few hours on Monday, this time without the buffer of their extended family.

Rachel pastes a smile on her face and plays the gracious hostess despite her desire to send them all—well, maybe not so much TJ—on their way so that she can have a nice, relaxing day with Quinn and their daughter. The fact that she'll get to have one of those tomorrow changes nothing, not when she's very much aware that her extended maternity leave is slowly coming to its inevitable conclusion.

She'd finally finished the last of the vocal sessions for her first album before Easter, and she's determined to sit in on the mixing sessions that will be happening later this week. She'd written most of the songs herself, though the studio had put her in touch with a few experienced songwriters to help her bring the music and lyrics together in a way that would satisfy everyone. She wants to be as involved as possible with the production so that the next time (and there will be a next time if she has a say in it) she'll be able to take on even more of the creative control, but being away from Quinn and Calliope, even for the relatively shorter hours required of a recording session, has been even more difficult than she'd expected it to be. She isn't taking any of her family time for granted now when she knows that she'll soon be busy promoting her album.

She's just not quite at the place where she can mentally include Quinn's mother or sister in her definition of family time. TJ is another story entirely.

"Are you gonna be in a music video, Aunt Rachel?" he asks from his perch on the adjacent chair.

Rachel grins at his excitement. He'd asked her dozens of questions yesterday about the process of recording her album and if she'd worked with anyone (more) famous (than her). He's not exactly what her record company considers the target demographic for her music, though she very much hopes that her songs will have universal appeal and enough catchy hooks to sell a million copies, but it's clear that TJ, at least, is looking forward to hearing her album. And in any case, she's more than happy to engage with him if it means that she doesn't have to keep a conversation going with his mother while Quinn is in the bathroom.

"I hope to do more than one," she assures him.

"Cool," he approves, dimples flashing with the eager smile that takes over his face. "Can I be in one?"

Rachel is momentarily at a loss for the best way to answer him, not wanting to refuse outright and watch that brilliant smile disappear. She doesn't need to fret about it for long because, apparently, Frannie has no such reservations.

"Timothy Jude," she reprimands—the unyielding firmness of her tone in direct contrast to the gentle way she cuddles Calliope on her lap, completely unconcerned that the baby is currently using her very expensive looking silk scarf as a drool cloth. "You are not acting in some godforsaken music video." Decidedly unapologetic blue-green eyes move from TJ to Rachel. "No offense."

Offense is most definitely taken, but Rachel manages to bite her tongue in an effort to keep the (relative) peace, especially when Frannie is saving her from having to be the bad guy.

"Oh, come on, Mom," TJ pleads with hopeful eyes. "It would be totally awesome. My friends would be so jealous."

Frannie clearly isn't moved. "You're twelve. What would you even do in a music video?"

"I could play guitar."

"Air guitar maybe," Quinn qualifies with a teasing smirk, having glided into the room in time to seamlessly join the conversation. She ruffles her nephew's hair on the way past his chair, and he bats her hand away with a chagrined expression before attempting to smooth his hair.

"It's called acting, Aunt Quinn."

Quinn only laughs, reclaiming her seat next to Rachel with a shake of her head.

Judy offers him a gentle smile from her position on the sofa next to Frannie. "I think you'd be an amazing guitar player."

He beams at her. "Thanks, Grandma."

Frannie sends her mother a reproachful glare. "Really, Mother?"

Judy appears predominantly unphased by the mild rebuke if her little chuckle is anything to go by, but she does relent slightly. "When you're older though, dear." And TJ's smile dims considerably. "You are still a bit young to be starring in any music videos right now."

TJ slumps back against the chair, dejected. "Aw, man."

"Maybe you can come watch Rachel film one though," Quinn offers as a compromise.

His smile isn't quite as bright at the thought of being a mere spectator, but it's obvious that he's still interested. "Can I, Mom?"

"I suppose that depends," Frannie finally says, glancing from her son to Rachel with an air of suspicion. "Some of those music videos are inappropriate for children under eighteen."

"Rachel's will be strictly G-rated," Quinn promises before Rachel can respond. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

Rachel's gaze shifts from Frannie to Quinn, and she clearly recognizes the challenge in her wife's eyes. They've already had some minor, spirited debate over one of the songs on the final cut of her album—one that is very much about Quinn in very specific (though highly metaphoric) ways—and it's not exactly G-rated. She doubts the video would be either.

"Maybe PG," she hedges, keeping the knowledge that the record company wants that particular song to be the first single close to her vest for the moment. Quinn's eyes narrow in suspicion, but Rachel only flashes her a cheeky grin before addressing TJ. "I'm sure you could sit in on one of them if you really want, providing that your mother approves, though it's not nearly as glamorous as you think, TJ." Rachel's never actually filmed a music video before, but she's had enough experience with the repetitive blocking of stage productions and the multiple takes during her recording sessions to know how many hours of tedious technical work goes into what ultimately ends up being only a few minutes of a final product. "There's bound to be a lot of boring downtime just setting up the shots and discussing marks and angles."

TJ shrugs, undeterred. "I'm cool with that. It'll be good practice for when I'm a rockstar."

"A rockstar that got bored after three piano lessons," Frannie points with motherly amusement. The particular grin (bordering on a smirk) on her lips right now only makes it more apparent that she and Quinn are sisters.

"Piano is boring," TJ bemoans in typical teenage, overdramatic fashion. "If you got me a guitar, I wouldn't quit."

"If you go back to your piano lessons and actually learn how to read music, we can discuss the guitar," Frannie counters smoothly, clearly expecting that her son won't take her up on the deal.

Apparently she's correct, because TJ crosses his arms with a scowl. "You suck."

Frannie rolls her eyes goodnaturedly at TJ's weak rebuttal and then glances between Quinn and Rachel. "See what you have to look forward to with this one," she warns before smiling down at Calliope once again.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel scoffs, instantly defensive. "Calliope is going to be a singer." And she will not be telling her mothers that they suck because they will support her musical pursuits without reservation.

"Rachel is already trying to teach her how to read music," Quinn reveals, smirking.

"I'm not," Reachel denies, sending a reproachful look in Quinn's direction. "I am merely giving her auditory examples of certain notes to help her become familiar with them. It's a language," she explains to the room at large. "Hearing it can only help her learn." A proud smile curves her lips. "She's already extremely musical."

Quinn snickers. "That's not what you say at three in the morning when she's screaming to be fed."

Rachel's smile slips, and she side-eyes her wife. "Questionable timing does not diminish her musicality, Quinn."

There's far too much laughter at Rachel's expense, though it's somewhat fascinating to note just how striking the resemblance really is between the Fabray women when they're all smiling so freely.

"I don't miss those days," Frannie notes, glancing down at Calliope with a tender smile, and she only now moves to gently disengage the end of her scarf from a tiny, wet fist. "But I think I'd be tempted to endure them all over again for this little darling."

"She's certainly worth missing some sleep for," Judy agrees, smiling sweetly at her granddaughter.

"She is," Rachel echoes lovingly.

"And we do," Quinn jokes, though she's gazing at their daughter with the same unconditional adoration as Rachel.

Judy reaches over to brush careful fingertips through Calliope's dark curls. "Everytime I come to visit, it gets harder and harder to leave her."

"I can understand why," Frannie concedes before she grins at Calliope in a way that Rachel can only describe as positively goofy, her voice taking on a lilting 'baby-talk' quality. "Yes, I can. You are so sweet," she coos, firmly grasping Calliope beneath her arms and lifting her higher in what Rachel silently dubs a reverse Simba pose. "I could just eat you up."

Really, it would have been impossible for Rachel to even begin to imagine that Francine Fabray's face or voice could ever do those things pre-Calliope, but she's somehow provoking a gaggle of delighted baby giggles from Rachel's little girl.

"We should totally move here, Mom," TJ suggests excitedly. "You, me, and Grandma. It'd be so cool to live in New York. Then I could totally be in all of Aunt Rachel's music videos."

Rachel finds herself chuckling at his enthusiasm, even if the idea of moving his entire family here on a whim is completely infeasible.

"Your mother can't just pick up and move, TJ," Judy informs him gently, causing the eager grin to slip right off his face. "Though I suppose I could," she adds thoughtfully.

And now it's Rachel's smile that's slipping right off her face. "You could?"

Beside her, Quinn sucks in a barely audible breath and sits up at attention. "Mom?" she practically whispers, and Rachel honestly can't tell if her wife is hopeful or horrified by the possibility. (Rachel is most definitely horrified. She likes Judy. Really, she does. But not in a I-want-my-mother-in-law-living-in-the-same-city kind of way.)

Judy opens her mouth to respond, but she's cut off by Frannie, who's staring at her with a frown. "Why couldn't I?"

Judy turns back to her oldest daughter in surprise. "You have your job, dear."

"And you have George," Frannie responds, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"He would come with me, of course," Judy supplies readily. "He's already suggested it."

"He has?" Rachel asks, dumbfounded.

"Mmm. Yes," Judy answers with a slight nod and a serene smile.

Rachel looks at Quinn with questioning (and possibly mildly panicked) eyes, silently asking her wife if she knew about this little tidbit of information and failed to inform her. Quinn glances over at her and shrugs, quirking her eyebrow in a way that conveys that this is as much news to her as it is to Rachel.

"Mom can get a new job here. Can't you, Mom?" TJ questions doggedly. "I mean, they have houses to sell here too, right?"

Frannie looks to her son with an inscrutable expression, momentarily pursing her lips before saying, "I suppose I could."

"Wait," Rachel demands, drilling her gaze into Frannie and praying that she's misheard. "What?"

Frannie glances at her with a faint smirk and shrugs. "There's really nothing keeping me in Chicago anymore."

"But...TJ's father is there," Rachel points out, gesturing to her nephew in quiet desperation. Surely there's some kind of custody agreement that prevents Frannie from moving out of state with their shared son.

Rachel may be willing to tolerate Quinn's sister in small, very infrequent doses with the assuredness that she'll be returning to her home eight hundred miles away before long, but she's not about to surrender her safe haven of New York City to the (still mostly unpleasant) woman without a fight. She'll take Quinn's mother moving here a hundred times over Francine.

"He can afford the plane tickets to visit," Frannie dismisses with a sneer. "He's the one that agreed to every other holiday and one month during the summer."

"Kinda harsh, Mom," TJ mutters, and Rachel nods in agreement—until the little traitor shrugs and says,"but if it gets us to New York, I'm cool with it."

Quinn glances at Rachel with an uncertain expression before hesitantly addressing her mother and sister. "You know, I think the people in 9-B are moving out in July."

Rachel whips her head to glare at her wife, unable to comprehend how those words even came out of her mouth. "Quinn! They aren't moving."

"I think they are. Don't you remember?" Quinn prods with a thoughtful frown. "Lisa told us that Keith is being transferred to Nashville."

Rachel remembers no such thing.

Well, okay, she maybe recalls their bubbly downstairs neighbor cornering them in the elevator a few months ago to brag about her husband's potential promotion, but she certainly does not remember anything about Nashville. (She also certainly was not tuning out half of what Lisa said.)

"I'm sure there's a waiting list for the apartment," she argues desperately.

Quinn's eyes narrow in suspicion as she regards Rachel. "There wasn't one for ours," she challenges, calling Rachel's bluff.

"Well, I'm sure we could find something nearby in any case," Frannie supplies easily, looking far too amused by the whole exchange. "For Mom's sake," she adds for good measure.

"Yes!" TJ exclaims, pumping his fist.

"It would be lovely to have my whole family in the same city again," Judy agrees with a pleased smile. No one dares to mention that Russell is still skulking around somewhere in Ohio.

This is not what's supposed to be happening today! This is supposed to be a short visit, not an impromptu Fabray family decision to move all her inlaws to Rachel's city in one fell swoop!

"But New York is...it's such a big city," Rachel attempts to dissuade them. "And it's so crowded. And traffic is a nightmare. And...and," she flails, eyes darting around the room until they land on her grinning nephew, and she flings out a hand in his direction. "TJ would have to change schools! And leave all his friends."

He shrugs, still smiling happily. "I can make new ones."

"And a good agent can probably make a killing with the price of real estate here," Frannie muses, her own smile turning shrewd. "And I'm a very good agent," she boasts with a predatory glint in her eyes. "This idea is sounding better and better, Lucy. I think we'll do it."

That is not the correct decision, and the incredulous, "Are you kidding?" is flying out of Rachel's mouth before she can censor it. She can't believe this is a thing that's actually happening.

Frannie arches that eyebrow of hers again. "I'm sure Quinn's told you that I don't have a sense of humor."

"I did," Quinn confirms, turning to Rachel with a very familiar smirk. "Just like I told Fran that you're so very easy."

"Excuse me?" Rachel demands indignantly, staring at her wife in bewilderment. Informing her sister that Rachel is easy is not a thing that Quinn should be doing!

Rachel is not unaware of Frannie's snickers and TJ's laughter ringing out as a soundtrack to the (very suspicious) merriment in Quinn's eyes, even before Judy gently chimes in. "Quinnie assured us that you always fail to remember what day it is, dear."

She turns to respond to her clearly amused mother-in-law with a confused, "What…?" before the penny fully drops, and she frowns in consternation. "It's April first again, isn't it?"

"It is," Judy confirms while Quinn dissolves into laughter next to her.

Rachel points a finger at Francine. "And you didn't just decide to move to New York."

"No."

Rachel's relief is palpable.

"Although I'm not ruling it out entirely," Judy counters, still smiling.

That's less of a relief.

"I still want to do it for real," TJ assures them all.

Frannie rolls her eyes. "I'm not fighting that battle with your father until you're eighteen."

Rachel turns to her wife with a scowl. "Did you script this entire exchange?" Because that's very much something that Quinn would do.

The wide grin on Quinn's face says everything. "April Fools, sweetie."

"I can't believe you!" Rachel exclaims, pushing at Quinn's shoulder in outrage. "You played the same trick last year!"

Quinn laughs again, shaking her head. "Not exactly." Last year she'd claimed that Judy would be coming to stay with them for the duration of Quinn's pregnancy. "And you fell for it again anyway."

"Because you conned your family into aiding and abetting your wicked habit." She can't believe they'd all gone along with it. "Your mother, Quinn!" Rachel cries, flinging a hand out toward the woman in question.

"It was fairly amusing," Judy admits with a little smirk of her own.

Rachel stares at the woman, mouth agape, with a growing realization. "Oh, my God. Are all the Fabrays unrepentant pranksters?"

There's more mild laughter at Rachel's expense as Quinn wraps an arm around her shoulder, cuddling up to her like Rachel will just cave right into her charms. "Maybe we all just have an appreciation for your dramatic reactions."

Rachel huffs, crossing her arms.

"I don't," Frannie flatly denies. "I'm merely attempting to be a better sister to Quinn." And the fact that she's (mostly) calling her Quinn instead of Lucy speaks to the truth of that.

"And I appreciate that, Frannie," Quinn assures her with a grin.

"This certainly wasn't my first choice of family bonding activities, Rachel," Judy informs her, managing to convey at least a modicum of remorse at being drawn into Quinn's scheme, "but I am glad to see my daughters finally getting along again."

Her gratitude for that simple thing manages to diffuse some of Rachel's righteous (and justifiable) annoyance. "Well...that is...not an unwelcome side effect of my continued humiliation."

Quinn presses a kiss to her cheek, and Frannie shakes her head at them while she adjusts a giggling Calliope in her lap., snuggling her closer "I may not be moving here anytime soon, but I certainly will have to visit more often." She presses her own lips to the top of Callie's head. "You do have that spare bedroom."

Rachel sucks in a surprised breath. "Is this another prank?" she asks hopefully.

"No," Frannie answers with a perfectly straight face.

Rachel stares at her in bemusement. "I can't tell if you're still kidding." She's harder to read than Quinn ever used to be.

Frannie's lips curve into a smirk. "I told you I have no sense of humor."

Next to her, Quinn snorts, and Rachel turns her head to glare at her wife. "This really does run in your family, doesn't it?"

"Yep," Quinn confirms unrepentantly.

Rachel sighs in resignation, gazing around the room at all the grinning Fabray faces before settling her eyes on her daughter. "At least Calliope got my genes." Her perfect little star won't ever develop that nasty Fabray habit of tricking her loved one's on this awful day.

Frannie makes a show of giving her niece a once-over. "She looks like a Fabray to me."

Judy nods, her smile just a touch wicked. "She does have Quinnie's nose, after all."

Rachel's mouth falls open in surprise, and Quinn chuckles. "You do keep pointing out that one yourself, sweetheart."

She really can't argue that, so she shrugs in defeat. "Point taken." There's no denying that Calliope's little nose resembles Quinn's more than Rachel's, and Rachel not-so-secretly loves it.

"Besides, being a Fabray is more about the breeding than the genes," Frannie comments with that smirk firmly in place.

"I'm totally a Fabray, even though I'm a McGregor," TJ says with a grin of his own.

Rachel huffs in exasperation. "You know, if I'd known the kind of family I was marrying into…"

"You'd have done it anyway," Quinn interrupts cockily, nothing but adoration in her eyes.

"Yeah," Rachel agrees with a sigh, melting into her wife's embrace. "I would have."

She'll happily keep suffering through this one vexing day every year if it means she gets to spend all the others with Quinn and their daughter—questionable Fabray family traits included. She'd be a fool to take even one moment for granted, but she will be making sure Quinn pays for this little prank of hers in private just as soon as the inlaws are out of here.