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Fic: Always There for Music and Me Fandom: Glee Pairing: Quinn/Rachel Rating: PG-13 Length: ~1,300 Spoilers

: The Power of Madonna Summary: Rachel takes Quinn to a Wiggles concert. A/N: Basically, this is a few little bits of The Power of Madonna rewritten with Q/R. “Look, Quinn, I know you’re pregnant, but if you don’t pick up the pace a bit we’re going to be seriously late.” “This isn’t exactly a leisurely stroll, you know,” Quinn said, fixing Rachel with a death stare from behind. “And I’d like to see you try and keep up with Speedy Gonzalez with a baby in your damn uterus.” Rachel moved swiftly through the parking lot, weaving in and out of the rows of cars, while Quinn followed with a glum waddle. As Rachel’s speed quickened, Quinn fell further behind. “This is stupid,” she called out, stopping to lean against a silver Range Rover. Rachel groaned before turning around and trudging back to Quinn, looking less than pleased. “Alright,” she huffed. “I suppose I’ll have to carry you.” Quinn chuckled politely, then blanched as she realized her mistake. “Oh God, you’re serious.” “If it’s the only way we’ll get there in the next half hour—” “You are not carrying me.” Rachel ignored Quinn’s protests and moved forward to pick her up, while Quinn backed away, her arms raised in some sort of gesture of self-defense. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me,” she warned—attracting a stern look from a woman walking past them with a young boy in tow—but Rachel proceeded to wrap an arm around the blonde’s shoulders, hooking the other arm under her knees and hoisting her up. “Would you stay still?” Rachel said, flinching as Quinn writhed in her arms. “Rachel Berry, you put me down right now.” Rachel didn’t. “Right now,” Quinn repeated, but to no avail. “I swear to God, I’ll get the rape whistle out of your back pocket!” Rachel began to walk and Quinn immediately stilled, lacing her arms around the brunette’s neck and holding on for dear life. “How is this even possible? You’re going to drop me, aren’t you?” “I’ll have you know,” Rachel said, still struggling forward, “my daily calisthenics session keeps me in good shape. I’m not a bodybuilder, but my dad got a set of dumbbells for Hanukkah which I use occasionally.”

Quinn rested her head against Rachel’s chest and nuzzled the smaller girl’s neck. “I still don’t trust you,” she said softly. As many miles as they’d run on her elliptical trainer, Rachel’s legs were aching under Quinn’s weight, and she clucked her tongue impatiently. “I should’ve accounted for more travel time.” “Maybe if you’d chosen something a little more low-key for our first date,” Quinn suggested. “First official date. We’ve done stuff before. We made out after glee twice last week and on Thursday you made me drive you to the store to get ice cream.” “Point still stands.” “First dates should be special, Quinn.” “… which is why we’re spending our Saturday afternoon at a Wiggles concert.” — Rachel and Quinn sat at the back of the auditorium, the only ones still in their seats, all the other parents having moved with their children up out of their seats to the front. A crowd had amassed at the edge of the stage, where a hundred or so children were either looking bored, chasing each other through the crowd, or once in a while, actually dancing along to the music. Dorothy the Dinosaur and Captain Feathersword were making rounds through the audience while the four Wiggles were on the stage singing along to god-awful songs about hot potatoes and cold spaghetti. In Row U, Rachel and Quinn were completely engrossed in one another, taking no notice of their surroundings. Rachel sat side-on to Quinn with her legs stretched out across the blonde’s lap, and their bodies were pressed close together. With their fingers knotted in each other’s hair, they kissed—slowly, softly, deeply, like there was no one else in the room. The kiss moved back and forth as Quinn would lean inwards then draw back, begging Rachel to follow. “Ew,” they heard from behind them, and broke the kiss to turn and peer at the small boy. He stared back, showing no intention of leaving to return to the crowd. “Hey, kid,” Quinn snapped, “go pick your nose over there.” She jerked a thumb towards the front of the auditorium and the boy promptly ran away. “That was a little mean,” Rachel said, but her thumb continued to rub gentle circles against Quinn’s belly. “He started it.” Rachel rolled her eyes but let out an excited gasp as the next song started. Within a second, she had swung her legs off Quinn’s lap and jumped out of her seat. She swayed her hips to the music, and pointed to the stage, where the Wiggles were being wheeled around in an oversized plastic red car. “Toot toot, chugga chugga, big red car,” she sang. “We’ll travel near and we’ll travel far!” Beaming, she turned to Quinn, who had flipped her cell phone open and was waving it slowly above her head in mock-appreciation. “Toot toot, chugga chugga, big red car, we’re gonna ride the whole way home,” Rachel continued

before dropping back down into her seat. She didn’t waste a moment before setting a hand on the back of Quinn’s neck and pulling her in for a kiss. Quinn withdrew after a moment, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed. “You should talk to Mr. Schue about performing that at regionals.” “Maybe I will,” Rachel said, smiling as she leaned forward to pick up where they left off. — “Rachel,” Quinn whined. “What are you doing in there, taking off your chastity belt?” “Be out in a minute,” Rachel replied from the bathroom. “And that joke might be amusing if I had been the Celibacy Club president, not you. But I wasn’t, so it’s not.” Quinn rolled her eyes and repositioned herself on Rachel’s bed, sitting against the headboard with her legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. She simply raised an eyebrow at the Broadway paraphernalia that covered the walls, but couldn’t contain a scoff at the camcorder set up in the corner of the room. The bathroom door opened and Rachel stepped out in a pink silk nightie with a matching cape tied around her shoulders. Quinn could feel Rachel’s eyes drift downwards, burning into her pajamas, an oversized t-shirt of Puck’s and a pair of gym shorts, and she suddenly felt overweight and underdressed. Biting her lip, she brought her legs up and folded her arms around her knees, but she relaxed upon seeing Rachel’s smug smile as she climbed onto the bed. “Nice PJs,” Rachel whispered. “Nice cape,” Quinn responded as she untied it, then flung it across the room. Rachel moved closer and straddled Quinn’s lap before leaning forward into a kiss. It wasn’t like kissing Jesse, or Finn, or Puck—Quinn’s lips were softer and prettier and more inviting. Quinn ran her hands down Rachel’s bare arms, stopping at the end to interlace their fingers. She drew back slowly and let her lips spread into a small smile. “You taste like coconut,” she told Rachel. “You taste like mouth.” “That’s charming.” Rachel climbed off Quinn and slipped under the covers, helping Quinn to do the same. Lying on her side, Rachel pressed her front into Quinn’s back with an arm wrapped around the blonde’s midsection. “Feels weird being the big spoon,” Rachel said after a while. Quinn laughed softly as she placed her hand over Rachel’s on her stomach and let her eyelids close. Rachel pressed her forehead into the nape of Quinn’s neck. “I’m not ready,” she whispered. “Just so you know.”

Quinn smiled. “Me neither.” Title: Making Friends With Strange Cats Author: [info]cracon Rating: PG13 (language and, uh, allusions) Length: 2547 (not as long as the others, sorry!) Pairings / Characters: Rachel/Quinn, side Brittany/Santana, Rachel’s dads (Leroy & Michael) Spoilers: none, it’s my own personal AU Summary: “Those were some neat little drawings, right?” Rachel beamed at her girlfriend. Now Quinn looked as if she was about to faint. A/N: Somehow I’ve come to a grinding halt with my “A Mission to ascertain the Disposition and Intent of one Miss Rachel Berry” sequel/companion piece before I even really started. (Seems like I actually have what my fic journal name implies with that fic. (Schreibblockade = writer’s block)) Bummer. So, to keep my creative juices flowing, I just keep on writing in my own AU. Hope you don’t mind. The title is from a colonial American proverb I found: "You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats." Just imagine Rachel’s presentation like that of Giles’ in Buffy the Vampire Slayer S04E10 “Hush”. I thought his presentation with the little drawings of the Gentlemen and all the blood was rather funny. (There’s also an episode in Season 7 in which he tries to teach a Chinese slayer about the ‘job’, using similar flashcards with lots of blood drawn on them. Giles is a hoot! :D) Whoever finds the literary reference gets a virtual cookie. Comments are very much appreciated! (English still isn’t my first language.) ETA: My awesome friend that is extremely awesome made me fanart! YAY ME! --> Serenity by WickedRyu

Leroy Berry sighed as he opened the front door to his house, approximately a dozen bags with groceries under each arm. He just wanted to have a quiet evening. Work has been hell and he felt the beginnings of a massive headache coming on. (Why did he want to be a paediatrician again?) Michael texted him that he’d be running late and couldn’t help his husband with the grocery shopping. Leroy sighed once again as he hauled the loot inside. Just a quiet dinner, maybe a movie, some Aspirin and then he’d be off to his dreamland. He shut the door with his foot, losing his balance for a moment, nearly toppling over. He caught himself and trudged through the living room to the kitchen, the thick carpet softening the sound of his steps. “Hi dad.” “Hi pumpkin.” He ventured to the kitchen and put down the grocery bags. Suddenly he froze and sprinted back to the living room. “Rachel?” “Yes, dad?” “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” What did it look like, indeed. He observed his little girl as she used various measuring tapes to take the measurements of Quinn, who stood on the coffee table, dozing off. If she’d have been actually human she would’ve toppled over, but the four legs kind of prevented that. Michael saw his daughter scribbling something furiously in a notepad, occasionally moving around Quinn with a ruler, even lifting the dog’s flew to measure her teeth. He hesitated. “You’re not going to take Quinn to a dog show, are you?” Rachel looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Why would I do that?” Leroy’s eyes glanced from Quinn, to the measuring tapes, to the scales next to the table, to the notepad his daughter was holding, to her face and back to Quinn. He felt that he had to ask, from a parental point of view. But he also felt his headache coming back full force, beating on his brain like a giant hammer on a giant anvil. He gave his daughter a last glance, before he retreated to the kitchen. “Never mind.” He put the groceries that had to be cooled in the fridge, leaving the rest for his husband to clean up, popped two Aspirin and went to bed. He really didn’t want to know. ** In hindsight Michael Berry should’ve known. He should’ve known the moment his daughter sat him and his husband, her girlfriend and her other two friends down in the living room to listen to her PowerPoint presentation. Quinn, sitting on one end of the couch, just shrugged, saying she didn’t know what all that was about either. Brittany sat next to her but was cuddled up to Santana, playing with the brunette’s hair, while the other girl scowled at his daughter and her pink laptop that was hooked up to the TV. His husband was just seconds away from sporting a big question mark above his head himself. So Michael Berry just sighed, sat back, cleaned his glasses and waited. ** Rachel closed her presentation with a satisfied smile and turned back to her audience. She thought it went quite well. She worked hard on the scientific data and on sorting out the appropriate background music - she even coerced Artie into helping her with the mathematical parts. She was rather shocked to see her family and friends in their current state. Brittany whimpered. She was sitting in her girlfriend’s lap by now, her whole body turned to Santana, therefore shielding the blonde away from the TV and Rachel’s presentation. The Latina looked rather green about the gills, one hand clutching the arm of the couch, the other Brittany. Both must’ve scrambled to the other end of the couch at some point in the presentation, leaving as much space between themselves and Quinn as possible without actually sitting on the floor. Rachel’s girlfriend had a death grip on the armrest over at her side, all colour drained from her face, looking like she was about to cry. Rachel’s parents were sporting a similar expression. Rachel frowned. “Is something wrong? I thought it was imperative to know what we’re dealing with, just in case something happens.” Right on cue Brittany began to cry, hiding even further in Santana. Quinn looked like she wanted to puke. “So much red,” she whispered.

“Those were some neat little drawings, right?” Rachel beamed at her girlfriend. Now Quinn looked as if she was about to faint. “Uh, Rachel, honey,” Leroy started, “Maybe it’s for the best if you discuss the content of your, uh, presentation another time.” Rachel crossed her arms and huffed. ** “Seriously Berry, what the fuck?!” “Hello Santana. It’s nice to see you, too.” Rachel opened the front door further to let the Latina and her girlfriend in, leading them to the living room. It was a week after Rachel’s presentation. Originally the brunette insisted on discussing it the same day, so that the details were still “fresh in everybody’s mind”. Her father’s were barely able to hold back Santana who was about to strangle the small diva. They suggested that there should maybe be a week in between so that nobody would get hurt – much. Rachel complied after seeing the murderous look in Santana’s eyes. Quinn sat on the couch on a similar position like a week before, dark circles under her eyes. “Scooby-Doo, you look like shit. You look even worse than Brittany and I,” Santana remarked as she sat down in one of the armchairs next to the blonde. Apart from blinking Quinn didn’t react. Brittany looked at her friend with trepidation and curiosity. “Has she been sitting there since last week?” She asked. “Brittany, you’ve seen Quinn at school,” Rachel answered confused. “Although I think that it is affecting all of us, I think she has the hardest time with this.” “Well, you don’t learn every day that you’re able to rip your two best friends into half within a blink of an eye,” Santana deadpanned. Quinn paled instantly and ran to the bathroom to puke. “Santana,” Rachel hissed, “You clearly lack what most people would call womanly tact!” The brunette spun on her heels and sprinted after her girlfriend, Santana just rolled her eyes. Quinn had the toilet in a death grip as Rachel entered the bathroom. She sighed and scooped her girlfriend’s hair up into a ponytail. Rachel kneeled next to her, her hand running up and down Quinn’s back in a soothing manner as the blonde kept vomiting. After some time the heaving stopped and Quinn leaned against the bathtub behind her. Rachel flushed the toilet, filled a glass with cold water and handed it to her girlfriend. “You okay?” “Do I look okay?!” Quinn snapped back. Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I am going to let that slide because you’re obviously upset. But you should know that I’m only trying to help.”

Quinn sighed and let her head fall back against the bathtub. “I’m sorry. I’m sure making an incredibly detailed presentation about how much Newton I am able to muster with my jaw when I am changed took a lot of time. And while I appreciate the effort in general, I still can’t get the drawing of the dog with the lifeless, bloody cat in its mouth and the dead duck next to it out of my head. Sorry.” Rachel sat down on the closed toilet seat and gave her a weak smile. “Yeah, I apologize for that. It was quite graphic,” the brunette said and nudged her right foot against her girlfriend’s. “But I thought it was necessary to emphasise the severity of the situation. And as blunt as my attempt may have been, Quinn, I only wanted to showcase the damage you could do, once your canine self gains too much control. And I thought it was important that Brittany and Santana, especially Santana, know about your strength, too.” Quinn sighed again. “I suppose I can’t just ditch the two when I’m changed?” Rachel shook her head. “No, I think Brittany still insists on the three of you doing ‘animal stuff’ together. Knowing her you should prepare to be the next member of the revised version of the Town Musicians of Bremen or to be a part in an all-animal playgroup or girl band.” The blonde grimaced. “Why can’t it just be like before? It was fun with just the two of us. Okay, and your dads, but mostly just the two of us. I liked that.” Rachel smirked. “You just want to see me coming naked out of the shower again without my dads making fun of you slobbering.” Quinn blushed but didn’t deny it. “See, Quinn, I think the problem is that Brittany feels that you’re left out. I have no doubt that Santana would gladly leave you alone every full moon and stay at home, or whatever she does when she’s a cat, but Brittany wants all of you to spend time together, come what may and hell to pay. You were a trio before you became a quartet. Maybe she’s afraid you’re somehow slipping away, I don’t know.” The blonde sighed and stood up, looking exhausted. “But every month, Rachel? I don’t know if I can stand ‘Santana the cocky cat’ every month, even if it’s only for a day. Not after discovering that I’m able to snap her like a twig.” Rachel wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s midriff and looked up to her. “I’m sure we can convince our friends of a bi-monthly get-together,” she said with a small smile. ** After returning to the living room and pleading their case, Santana even demanded just quarterly visits. Brittany looked a bit hurt, but the Latina said that she’d like to have Quinn’s fangs around her “as little as possible, but I don’t really care if you kill Berry”. They made a plan before the next full moon with stuff they would do on that particular day. (Brittany was very adamant about watching old cartoon reruns and just going swimming.) Rachel said she even bought a muzzle, “just in case”, but she’d rather not use it, so Santana should keep her snappy remarks to herself, for her own sake. For the first time in her life, Santana Lopez agreed with Rachel Berry. **

Despite all good intentions and promises to behave, all hell broke lose. They all sat together on the couch in Brittany’s living room, Rachel working as a buffer between Santana and Quinn. Rachel absentmindedly patted her girlfriend when suddenly a snarky meow came from her right and Quinn launched over her lap. Seconds later Rachel stood in the centre of the living room in midst of an utter chaos, sighing. Brittany was still perched on the couch watching “Duck Tales”, dismissing the racket her girlfriend and best friend were emitting. Santana had climbed up one of the shelves, meowing at Quinn who herself was growling at the cat. Rachel sighed again. That was exactly how she pictured the day would go. No doubt Santana, in all her cat-like glory and cockiness, said something that triggered Quinn. The brunette rummaged through her bag and pulled out a plant mister she brought from home. She aimed at Santana and Quinn, gaining the attention of both and even a distinctive “She did not just do that!” look from the cat. “Okay, listen up. I’m not really fond of the idea of putting a muzzle on my girlfriend. So whatever it is: Cut it out. Talk about it. I don’t care if now or tomorrow. I’m not comfortable with my girlfriend aiming her rather long fangs at her best friend.” Rachel saw the hackles on Santana raise again, as if she wanted to start an argument. The brunette squinted and sprayed water on the cat, again. “I don’t care, Santana. Figure it out by yourself.” Cat and dog eyed each other suspiciously as Rachel went back to the couch and plopped herself next to Brittany. The duck eyed the plastic plant mister in Rachel’s hand curiously and quacked happily as the brunette sprayed some water on her. ** “So, what was all the commotion yesterday about?” Rachel asked Quinn and Santana over breakfast. Both girls mumbled something unintelligible. “Santana made another doggy style joke,” Brittany said while happily cutting her pancake, not noticing the glare her girlfriend gave her. Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. “Again? Santana, don’t you think these jokes are getting a bit old? It’s been months now!” Santana crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t help it if it fits the situation! It’s utterly accurate and extremely funny!” Brittany leaned over to her girlfriend and poked her in the cheek. “Only if you’re, like, 12, or Puck.” “Or suicidal,” Quinn growled, still glowering at the tanned girl. “Oh please,” Santana scoffed, “It’s not like I’m saying things you haven’t thought about before.” “I’m not discussing my sex life with you!” Quinn yelled. “Or lack there of, if this discussion continues,” Rachel muttered. The blonde huffed and stared at the food on her plate, playing with the fork.

“Brit,” Santana pleaded, “can’t we just leave Odie alone when she feels like dancing with the wolves? You never minded the 10 or so years before. And it would seriously lengthen my lifespan.” “Nope.” The tanned girl leaned back in her chair, scowling. “Hey Santana? Wanna know how I know you’re whipped?” “Shut it, Rantanplan.” ** After arriving back at the Berry’s later that day Quinn dropped face first onto Rachel’s bed and groaned. “Do we really have to do this again?” “Well, you heard Brittany, didn’t you?” A muffled affirmation could be heard. Rachel sat down next to her girlfriend and poked her in the ribs. “Turn around, Dogmatix, I can barely understand you.” The blonde rolled around and made a face at her girlfriend. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t call me dog names.” Rachel smirked. “And why’s that, Gromit?” “I can hardly stand Santana’s dog puns. I’d like for my girlfriend to behave slightly different than my best friend regarding my condition. Also, it makes me think I’m just a pet for you even when I’m human, and not your girlfriend.” Rachel laughed. “I think you need to differentiate and brush up on your famous dogs, Snoopy. The dogs I’ve listed are all very smart, while Santana tends to name the dumber representatives of their race.” Quinn sighed. “Still, it isn’t particularly sexy being called a mutt.” The brunette grinned and moved to straddle the other girl’s hips. “I bet I could make it sexy.” If Quinn’s ears could’ve perked up, they would’ve. “You do, huh? Care to bet on that?” A smirk. “Well, you know me. I’m always up for a good challenge. And you know my parents are still out on their weekly date night …” Rachel teased, leaning down on her forearms to lightly brush her lips against Quinn’s. “Uhuh. Does this mean we’ll be doing what I hope we’ll be doing?”

Rachel grinned. “You betcha. So, I suggest you take off all of this unnecessary clothing and turn around while I prepare everything else to rid you of these bothersome excessive hormones.” “Woof.”