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[personal profile] griefofdawn
Chapter Title: In the Mail
Disclaimer: Fox owns the Glee money making machine and RBI came up with the original show idea. Still not mine.
Pairing/Characters: Quinn/Rachel, others mentioned.
When/Where: AU. Rachel checks the mail.
Word Count: 1,160 (5 of ?)

Rachel was able to keep her curiosity about the envelope in check for two weeks. During those weeks, she noticed that the envelope seemed to have its own feet. In the morning when she woke up it would be in one room. While she was at the theater it seemed to move from one room to another, always ending up near Quinn by the time she got home.

As far as she could tell Quinn had yet to open it. She assumed Quinn knew the address and was just being stubborn for some unfathomable reason of her own.

The following Friday evening, at the start of one of Quinn's rare weekends in the city, she took matters into her own hands. "So, are you going to explain this?" she asked, grabbing the envelope from the kitchen table. "Why are you getting things with bunnies on them? Bunnies that look vaguely familiar. From California?"

Quinn snorted and put down her fork. Standing up she tried to retrieve the envelope, causing Rachel to backpedal into the fridge.

"Give it back," Quinn said.

"Not unless you promise to open it," Rachel said, hiding it behind her back.

"Rachel, please…"

"Nu-uh. Not unless you promise," she said firmly, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. Maturity was called for in such a delicate negotiation.

"I told you, it isn't important," Quinn muttered.

"If it wasn't important you would have opened it or thrown it away," Rachel said. "Therefore, it's elementary, my dear Fab. It's important."

"Fab?" Quinn said.

"You know, from that puppet show you were watching last night," Rachel said. "The one with all the rockets. They kept saying your name. I thought it was cute."

"F A B ?" Quinn grimaced. "That has nothing to do with me. And isn't my name."

"I didn't know you were into puppets," Rachel said, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm not, I'm helping Beth with a school project," Quinn said.

"Oh. Well. I still think you're FAB," Rachel said. "In a geeky sort of way. Now, about this envelope."

"I'm not opening it," Quinn said.

"You're not even curious about what's in it? Maybe it's money? Or a new history book?"

"No," Quinn said, holding out a hand.

"I think I'll keep it," Rachel said. "Wouldn't want it to be accidentally thrown out."

"Rachel," Quinn whinged.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of it," she said, winking at her girlfriend before slipping away. Suppressing a laugh, she walked back to her bedroom, putting a slight skip into her step. Opening her lingerie drawer, she slipped the envelope into the back. It was one place she knew Quinn would never look.

Stopping in the kitchen before rejoining Quinn on the couch, she poked at the small pile of mail sitting in the cute basket she'd picked up on a trip upstate with Kurt to see the Fall leaves the year before.

One of the things she'd been surprised about, when Quinn had moved in, was how easily they'd agreed to deal with joint bill paying, something that had been a nightmare with her previous roommate. It initially took some coordination but things worked out satisfactorily, in her opinion.

Neither of them had money to burn, this early in their careers but Quinn had shown the zeal of an accountant navigating tax codes in setting up a joint bank account for shared expenses, into which they both deposited their monthly shares of the rent, utilities, and food money from their personal accounts.

She'd even convinced Rachel to set up automatic payments where possible, cutting down on mail by more than half. Fortunately for Rachel, whom loved the idea of hand writing checks as a more satisfying personal way of dispensing her hard earned money, some business still didn't accept electronic payments so they still got some bills in the mail.

Quinn usually picked up the mail from their box in the lobby, throwing junk mail and other unwanted things into the building mail shredder. Sifting through the pile, leaving the few bills for later, Rachel found a postcard and a letter from Finn. Grabbing them, she hurried back to Quinn, who'd wandered into the living room.

"Did you see these?" Rachel asked, plopping down on the couch, and waving the postcard in Quinn's face.

"Oops," Quinn said, unsuccessfully trying to grab the postcard. "That should have gone in the shredder with everything else."

"Quinn!" Rachel said, glaring at her. "It's from Finn. I haven't heard from him in months."

"What's to hear?" Quinn said. "He's still bumming around."

"He's in Vancouver," Rachel said, looking at the postcard for a minute before carefully opening up the letter.

"Better there than here," Quinn muttered, picking up the remote and flipping channels, randomly stopping for a second here and a second there.

"Be nice!" Rachel said, grabbing the remote with her free hand, much to Quinn's displeasure. "He says he's been doing thing for one of the production studios out there. He's thinking of visiting the city this summer."

"Visiting who?" Quinn asked.

"He doesn't say. I'm assuming Kurt," Rachel said, trying to understand what he'd written. Getting mail was exciting and she was always willing to hear how Finn was doing, but his handwriting wasn't the best. She often wished he'd send email instead.

"Well, he can't stay here," Quinn said. "He can't have my bed or yours and he'd squash the couch. I don't want to get a new couch, I like this one."

"I'll let Kurt know," Rachel said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'll agree that it wouldn't be appropriate for him to stay with us."

"Good," Quinn grumbled.

Rachel sighed. "You have nothing to be jealous about," she said.

"He's an ex," Quinn said. "Of both of us! He's going to expect one of us to want him back. He always does."

"I don't want him," Rachel said, kissing Quinn on the cheek.

"I don't either," Quinn said, taking back the remote and flipping to the History channel.

"No problem then," Rachel said.

"If he stick his nose in our business…"

"He won't," Rachel said, her fingers crossed out of Quinn's sight. One of the drawbacks to remaining friends with Finn was his tendency to think he knew best when it came to the personal lives of any of his exes. He always took things so personally. She was going to have to remember to ask Kurt if he'd told his step brother, yet, that she and Quinn were not just cohabiting. Quinn just barely tolerated his name being mentioned, for some reason. Rachel couldn't imagine anything positive happening if he interfered now.

"He better not," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel and pulling her closer. Sighing, Rachel snuggled in, closing her eyes. Worrying about Finn could wait, she decided. There were more important things to do, she thought, breathing in Quinn's calming, unique scent, like what to make Quinn for breakfast.

Note: FAB is a phrase from the 60's TV show Thunderbirds and reportedly stands for Fully Advised and Briefed - or in other words - "I heard what you said, and understood it."


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