Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee or Pitch Perfect Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

I

Chloe Beale does not expect her senior year of high school to start out this way.

It's true, when she was younger, she didn't give it all that much thought but, now that she's finally reached this milestone, it feels somewhat... lack lustre. Disappointing, in a way.

It's supposed to be their big year; their final chance to put a stamp on this tiny world they've been a part of for years, and it's all just... blah.

Chloe has the words to describe it, obviously, but she's not in the mood. She's in a terrible mood, actually, and it's so unlike her. She just wants this year to be great, but it's already off to a terrible start.

First, after the horror show that was their show choir's performance at Nationals the previous year - she'll never actually bring up the puking incident, but it haunts her - the Bellas have been scrapped. Which, okay, is heartbreaking, and she spent two entire days crying about it when she found out over the summer. Apparently, their Director, Adam Townsend, just up and quit.

Well, the rumour is that he ran away with their cheerleading coach, Juniper Stone, leaving his wife and two kids behind. It's quite the scandal, of course, but it just adds to why Chloe's senior year is already in shambles.

They don't have a cheerleading coach, either, which means that's another extramural that's up in the air for her this year. They actually spent their allotted time for Cheer Camp for the summer just running drills, working on fitness and practicing old routines. Aubrey, their Captain, can be a bit of a slave driver when she's in the mood.

And, apparently, she's always in the mood.

Chloe is in an entirely other one when she arrives at school on the first day of her senior year, wondering if they should even be wearing their cheerleading uniforms at all. All this uncertainty has her wanting to crawl back into bed and emerge only when the world makes sense again.

She's busy trying to come up with what else she could possibly do to bolster her college application, when Aubrey appears out of nowhere and links their arms.

"I'm guessing you haven't checked your email this morning," Aubrey says in lieu of a greeting.

Chloe makes a sound of assent.

Aubrey rolls her eyes. "We have a new coach, Chlo," she says, carefully explaining as she leads the way into the main building. "Schuester emailed about her this morning. Apparently, she's an old student of McKinley, won Nationals three times, and she served under the legendary Sue Sylvester."

Chloe, of course, has heard of Sue Sylvester, and that's more than enough to frighten her. If this new woman is anything like her, well, then maybe Chloe wishes this year stays exactly the way it was shaping up to be.

Of course, as they walk, the students part like the Red Sea for them. Chloe's never managed to get used to it, but she appreciates not having to weave through endless bodies to get to her destination. She waves at a few of them as she goes, sporting her patented Chloe Beale smile, because she's actually genuinely happy to see a few of them.

Aubrey just scowls - as she is known to do - and it's always been an enigma to the greater population how the two of them even ended up as friends. Chloe would tell them if she knew. Aubrey likes to joke that Chloe just kind of latched onto her their freshman year, and hasn't ever let go. It's about as accurate as it's going to get, really.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Chloe asks, even as they pass by the main reception, where they're supposed to pick up their classroom packages. She doesn't want to double back, especially when she knows the senior lockers are in the Science Block, which is the direction they're headed.

"To introduce ourselves," Aubrey says, as if it's the most obvious thing.

Chloe just hums, figuring that's probably the right thing to do, as captains of the cheerleading squad. She also has to admit she's curious to know who managed to win three Titles and survive Sue Sylvester to be able to tell the world about it.

Aubrey ends up leading them to the Language Block, and it's a surprise but also not to learn this new woman is also going to be teaching English. Chloe absently wonders if she'll have her for anything this year.

"It's this one," Aubrey says as they approach a classroom that Chloe remembers belonging to Mrs Asher, who retired last year. Chloe wasn't ever taught by the woman, but she seemed nice enough. She hopes her replacement isn't some kind of dictator.

The thought, along with everything else in her head, disappears to nothing when Aubrey knocks once on the open door and then steps inside, Chloe following, to reveal the most stunning woman Chloe has ever seen.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for Chloe - she's been able to appreciate the female form's aesthetic beauty before - but she seems to be discovering several truths about herself, and her senior year is really off to a great start.

The woman turns as they step inside, a smile already on her face at the sight of them. "Oh, hello."

Aubrey doesn't seem as caught off guard as Chloe is, stepping forward immediately and holding out her hand. "Good morning, Dr Fabray," she says. "My name is Aubrey Posen, Captain of the Cheerios."

The woman blinks, momentarily surprised, before she shakes Aubrey's hand. "Ah," she sounds, obviously taking in their uniforms. "Aubrey, right." She looks at Chloe. "And you must be Chloe Beale, my Vice."

Chloe would squeal, but she doesn't. Instead, she shakes the outstretched hand and manages to smile. "Hi," she says.

The woman, Dr Fabray, nods once, and then steps back. "So, you're supposed to be the two I'm going to be relying on to get us to Nationals, huh?"

Aubrey nods. "We're very determined, Dr Fabray."

Dr Fabray winces. "Maybe we'll go with 'Coach' when we're discussing Cheerio things," she says. "Dr Fabray seems like a mouthful."

Aubrey nods. "We're scheduled to have our first practice tomorrow," she says.

Dr Fabray leans back slightly. "Right," she says. "We're not doing that."

Aubrey looks stumped, as if the woman has thrown her completely. "We're not?"

"No," Dr Fabray says. "I've already sent an announcement to the office. I'm holding tryouts on Thursday."

"Tryouts?"

Dr Fabray shifts in place, her facial expression changing into something serious; almost predatory. "It seems to me the squad isn't... good enough. I would never stand for finishing anything less than third at Nationals. It's disappointing, and it seems to me we might need to do an entire overhaul of the squad."

"Overhaul?" Aubrey parrots, her jaw slack.

Dr Fabray nods, a slight twinkle in her eye, and Chloe might love her already. "I suggest you let your squad know none of their positions is safe," she says. "I want only the best and, if they're not, I'm going to scour this entire school until I find them." She nods once, and then seems to have a thought. "Also, I don't want to see these uniforms during school unless it's a game day. I suggest you figure out your new school wardrobe."

Aubrey looks a little shellshocked, but Chloe can't contain her smile. It's threatening to bloom and, when they finally take their leave, Dr Fabray shoots her a wink.

If Chloe blushes, trips over herself and swears entirely too loudly, well, only she knows the real reason why.

Predictably, Aubrey rants the entire day about Dr Fabray wanting to ruin her life, and Chloe hums in agreement every few sentences, even if she's not even listening. They don't share all the same classes - which is sometimes a relief - so Chloe gets a break from Aubrey's complaints from time to time.

The most important period they do share, though, is their free period, which they usually spend in the library or the Choir Room, either working on homework or discussing their various extracurricular commitments.

Chloe loves the Choir Room.

It's one of her safe places, where she can sometimes turn off 'Chloe Beale' and just be. It's usually empty at this time of day, which is why it's a surprise to walk into the room to find a brunette woman sifting through the vast collection of sheet music they've managed to accumulate over the years.

Chloe comes to a stop when she sees her, unsure what to do.

The woman is humming to herself, something that sounds like Adele, and Chloe is curious. It's one of her flaws, perhaps, just blindly walking into situations to settle her own curiosity.

It's when the woman starts singing softly that Chloe can't take it anymore, and she purposefully scuffs her shoe against the linoleum, startling the woman. She turns immediately, her chestnut eyes wide. And, yeah, of course she's stunning.

Chloe kind of hates her life a little, because, seriously, who are all these new women just coming to ruin everything?

"Hello," the woman says, smiling. "Can I help you?"

Chloe smiles, because she's tempted to ask the same question. "Just thought I would introduce myself," she says. "I'm Chloe Beale."

"Rachel Berry," the woman says, and Chloe thinks she recognises the name from somewhere. "The new Music Director," she adds on.

Chloe's eyes widen. "They hired someone new?" she asks, unable to keep the disbelief and excitement out of her voice. "I thought for sure they'd give the job to Mr St James."

The woman winces. "I wouldn't say that too loud. It's a bit of a sore subject for him."

Chloe nods quickly, her ponytail bouncing. "Got it," she says. "If you're here now... Miss Berry, can I call you that? If you're here now, does that mean we get our show choir back?"

"Uh, it's actually Dr Berry," she says, almost offhandedly, and then quickly moves on, as if she wishes she didn't make the correction. "Which show choir is this?"

"The Bellas," Chloe explains, her excitement growing. "I'm sure you know, but the old Music Director kind of disappeared and, after our loss last year, the only show choir left is the all-male Treblemakers."

"Treblemakers?"

"They're awful," Chloe says, shaking her head. "Mr St James is their director, as Deputy Music Director, and he said if he became the new Music Director, he would scrap us."

Dr Berry just nods, and Chloe wonders if she's overwhelmed her. She seems to do that sometimes, even without trying. "You seem very passionate," she observes.

"Oh, sorry," Chloe says, used to having to apologise for her overzealousness.

"Don't be," she says, waving a hand. "It's actually refreshing. I like it."

"Oh?"

"Chloe, you said?" Dr Berry steps forward. "I'm still getting settled in here; getting my bearings, as it were. My intention is to do an overhaul of the entire Music Department."

Chloe finds herself smiling.

"Is something funny?"

"What? No, it's just that's the second time I've heard that today," she says.

Dr Berry's smile is a little knowing, and Chloe finds herself staring at the woman's mouth. "I imagine so," she says, and then clears her throat. "I can tell you that it's unlikely I'll allow only the boys to compete in show choir, so you can rest assured there will be some changes made."

Chloe's smile splits her face.

"Now, tell me more about these, um, Bellas."

Chloe doesn't need to be told twice, jumping at the opportunity to gush about being able to sing and dance on stage. She's in the middle of her flowery tale when Aubrey arrives, looking a little wary of the new woman existing in what is their safe space.

When Dr Berry makes plans for holding auditions on Wednesday afternoon, Aubrey grumbles to herself once more, but Chloe has never been happier.

This year is turning into something she never expected.

It never occurs to Chloe it could actually end up better than that.

Or worse.

Before it gets better.

Just, it definitely turns out better than she could have ever imagined.

Quinn Fabray is many things, but patient isn't one of them. She thinks it's managed to get worse with age, but there's really nothing to be done.

It's just, you know, high school students are awful.

After spending the last almost fifteen years dealing with college students, making the jump to high school ones is a bit of a steep learning curve that lasts until just her fourth period of the day.

Oh.

Somehow, she's managed to forget just how immature high school boys can be, and it's worse that she's going to be teaching only upperclassmen. She's pretty sure she's met Noah Puckerman's clone - in personality, mainly - and she's having some kind of Pavlovian response to the sight of him.

Being called hot in front of the class doesn't help.

Quinn barely reacts as the boy makes a fool of himself by disrupting her class in an attempt to objectify her. She's been in these positions before, obviously. Quinn is well aware she's attractive. She looks after herself well, and it's difficult to believe she's pushed three children out of her body.

But, as far as she's concerned, she's very happily married, and this boy is merely a nuisance.

If he expects some kind of reaction from her, he's in for the shock of his life. Quinn barely blinks out of sync as she waits for him to run out of steam, the entire thing turning painfully awkward. She watches in silence as the boy tries to get his friend to help him out, but he gets nothing.

Quinn lets the following silence linger, and then shifts into a power-pose - not her own words - and arches a dangerous eyebrow. It's the HBIC in full force, and the boy gulps. He doesn't know she deals with terrorists for children every day.

"Mr Allen, was it?" Quinn asks, realising she needs to take the time to sort this out before it becomes a thing.

The boy nods.

"Are you done?"

He nods again.

"You sure?"

Another nod.

"Good," Quinn says. "Now that we've got that out of the way, I would really appreciate it if you would refrain from providing me with cause to report you for sexual harassment. It won't look too good on your college applications, I'm sorry to say."

Mr Allen - Bumper - just stares at her, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"May I begin my lesson now?" she asks, but doesn't wait for a reply as she does just that, feeling a little smug. At least she'll have something to say when they go around the dinner table and discuss their days.

Quinn is just getting started on explaining the proposed syllabus when a pair of wide, blue eyes manages to catch her gaze, and she sees Chloe Beale watching her with a bit of wonder in her eyes, and Quinn can't help her smile.

Suddenly, Quinn thinks she has far more than English to teach.

As far as first days go, Rachel Berry wouldn't say this is the worst.

At first - and she was laughed at quite considerably for it - she worried she would be triggered just walking through the McKinley corridors again, flinching at any sound, but she realises that was a little ridiculous.

They've abolished Big Gulps.

Rachel is relieved by it, even if it's unlikely she would be targeted as a member of the faculty.

Anyway.

The day, itself, goes well.

Part of her job description involves a lot of administrative work, budgeting and organising, as well as making sure students actually participate in music. The department has gone leaps and bounds since she attended McKinley, and she's jealous of these children in every way.

Now, they have private instrument sessions, various types of choirs and bands, and an upcoming school production that has her buzzing with anticipation.

On top of that, she's teaching the Upperclassmen Music classes, which have smaller groups. It's mainly history and theory, but they all play their own instruments, and Rachel almost bursts at the seams when she meets them.

It's quite a demanding job, if she allows herself to think about it. Which is why she's not sure why Jesse is so sour about her appointment. She knows he would hate the admin part of it, which is what she reminds him when he makes an off-handed comment about favouritism after the end of the staff meeting she holds at the end of her first day.

The department, itself, employs four members of staff full time, with specific instrument teachers contracted per the number of individual students they see. There's an entire music centre with small music rooms, each outfitted with a piano and music stands, newly built off the side of the auditorium.

It's glorious.

The Choir Room, though, is her haven, and she has a small office just off the open space, allowing her to stay right in the middle of all the musical excitement.

But, now, Jesse is putting a dampener on that.

The Rachel of old might have put up with it, but she's his boss, and she's been married to a sometimes-surly grump for fourteen years, so she knows a thing or two about putting people in their place.

"I see you're choosing not to be mature about this," she observes, carefully closing her folders and notebook.

"Come on, Rachel," he says, looking annoyed. "We all know I was a shoe-in for the job. I'm better qualified, and I've been here longer."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Better qualified?" she asks, her tone daring, because which one of them is the Doctor of Music?

Jesse looks a little sheepish. "To teach," he clarifies.

Rachel purses her lips. "Perhaps," she allows. "But, from what I hear, you'll be doing most of the teaching anyway. The Underclassmen have three classes each, which you're sharing with Peter and Elina. The Upper choir is also yours, while Peter and Elina share the Under one. I teach two classes, Jesse. I hardly think this job is something you have to be so hung up on."

"It was mine," he argues. "I was promised it."

"By the outgoing Director, or by the man who actually does the hiring?"

Jesse doesn't respond.

"If you have such a problem with it, by all means, speak to the Principal."

Jesse's eyes narrow. "The Principal is your friend."

Rachel shrugs. "Hmm, look what happens when you don't burn all your old relationships," she says, smiling entirely too innocently.

Jesse opens his mouth to respond, but a quick knock at the Choir Room's door halts his speech, and his jaw drops when Quinn Fabray strolls into the room, looking as put together as ever.

"Hey, you," Quinn says, ignoring Jesse long enough to greet Rachel with a warm smile. Eventually, she looks at him. "St James," she greets flatly.

Jesse blinks. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn frowns. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," he almost shrieks, looking indignant. "I teach here, and Rachel just took my job."

Quinn lets out a laugh. "I see you haven't changed, St James." She looks at Rachel. "Are you ready to go?" she asks. "Emma's soccer tryouts start in fifteen minutes."

Rachel nods. "Give me a minute to grab my things, and then we'll go."

Quinn just nods, watches as she disappears into her office, and then turns to Jesse again. "Oh, St James," she says. "What are we going to do about you, now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to be a problem?" she asks. "Because, you know, I like to think we're all adults now. If Rachel and I can get over our differences, then I think you should be man enough to be able to as well, correct?"

And, if Jesse picks up on the subtle challenge to his masculinity, he says nothing about it. Instead, he puffs out his chest almost without his consent, and says, "Of course we can."

Quinn smiles. "I suspected as much," she says. "It has been years. Maybe, once everything's settled, we can all get some dinner. I'm interested to know what you've been up to all this time."

Jesse almost preens at the offer and attention.

God, she's a stunning woman.

"Ready," Rachel suddenly says, coming out of the office and locking the door. She has a few folders with her and a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Here, let me take those," Quinn says, taking the folders from her. "My stuff's already in my car."

Rachel just smiles again, and then looks at Jesse, only marginally surprised by the relaxed set of his shoulders and sudden softening of his features.

Well.

Quinn is magic, sometimes.

"Let's go," Rachel says, and she smiles at Jesse. "See you tomorrow," she says, and then ushers Quinn out of the room, wondering just what kind of smug idiot she's going to be dealing with for the next few hours.

Quinn waits until they're outside in the parking lot to speak, walking Rachel right up to her car. "Is he going to be a problem?" she asks.

"No," Rachel immediately says, opening her trunk. "He'll get over it once the semester gets going. It's all hot air, anyway."

Quinn nods, setting the folders in the empty space. "Okay," she says; "but you'll tell me if he keeps bugging you about it, right?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I think I can handle myself, Doc," she says. "But, thank you nonetheless."

Quinn smiles. "I can't wait to hear about your first day."

"Later, I promise," she says. "Right now, there's a nine-year-old who might pout herself to death if she doesn't see you on the sidelines."

"That kid is spoiled," Quinn mutters, but her smile is still in place. "And, it's not me she wants to see."

"Lies."

Quinn grins at her, that little lopsided one that makes Rachel want to reach out and touch her.

She doesn't, of course, and she rather shoos the blonde away. "Get going."

"Race you," Quinn says with a wink.

"Don't you dare," Rachel says, sounding more serious than she intends. Quinn and cars have always been a bit of a sore spot for her, and Quinn knows that.

Quinn immediately sobers. "Of course not," she says. "I promise I'll drive at a normal, law-abiding speed."

Rachel blushes, embarrassed by her own reaction. "Okay."

"But, I'm still going to beat you."

Rachel almost sticks out her tongue at her, but stops herself. She's an adult. A teacher, standing in her school's parking lot. "Get going," she says again.

"Later, Berry," Quinn tosses over her shoulder as she almost trots towards her Volvo XC90, Rachel watching after her as if she's about to disappear.

Rachel shakes her head of the thought, and then gets into her own car.

There's no way Quinn is getting there before her.

If there's one thing Beca Mitchell hates, it's people who are too... happy.

She's cynical enough to realise it might all be an act, which irritates her even more. Those kinds of people drive her up the wall, and she's adopted the use of her headphones to drown them out before she ends up saying things that'll probably get her punched.

Living with one is the absolute worst, though.

Her father is one thing - she's learned how to push his buttons enough to wipe the smile off his face - but her stepmother is on some other level of happiness. Beca has no idea how people like her even exist, and she's convinced she's actually some kind of cyborg.

Or, just on drugs.

Still, Sheila Mitchell is a rather typical housewife and soccer mom, her entire life revolving around her nine-year-old son that Beca tries not to hate for taking away her father.

She doesn't hate him.

She doesn't.

Even if he's stupidly cute and annoying and just so fucking happy.

He's just a boy, who happens to be the product of an adulterous affair that saw Beca's father leaving her with her mother and showing up sporadically.

Until now, apparently, when Beca's come to live with him - with them.

It just makes her hate the world that bit more.

And, really, Sheila is making it worse by forcing her to watch a bunch of preteens run around a field with a soccer ball at their feet.

It's as terrible as it sounds, and she retreats to the bleachers as soon as they arrive, ready with her headphones to drown out the sounds of children screaming and mothers chatting to one another about mundane, stupid things.

Well, it's what she's about to do, when she hears a voice say, "I will fight you on this, Berry. Harry was meant for Hermione, and you know it."

Beca's eyebrows shoot up, because that's the last thing she expects to hear on the sidelines of a soccer field. Her gaze follows the voice to see a blonde woman sitting with a brunette woman in the second row, the two of them occasionally waving at someone on the field.

"I'm not arguing this again, Quinn," the brunette - Berry, apparently - says. "While I might agree with you, I accept canon for what it is."

"Why do you do this to me?" the blonde - Quinn - dramatically says. "What are you going to teach your children?"

Berry chuckles softly. "That's why I have you," she says, and presses her forefinger to Quinn's nose. "And, anyway, only one of them is old enough to know anything about Harry Potter."

Quinn looks scandalised. "You are never young enough for HP."

Berry shakes her head. "Pay attention," she says. "Your kid is about to take a free-kick."

Beca looks up when Quinn does, and sees a blonde girl move into position to do just that. From Beca's seat, the two look remarkably similar, and she almost smiles at the way this Quinn woman gets to her feet before the girl has even moved.

Almost.

It's just that this Quinn and this Berry don't seem like typical soccer moms, and she's intrigued. They don't necessarily seem... happy - not that annoying brand, at least - and that resonates with Beca in a way it's never done with either of her parents or just anybody she knows.

Young or old.

It's weird.

Quinn suddenly throws her arms in the air and screams, "Go, Emma!"

Beca's heart jolts in surprise and she scowls, irritated with herself for getting so caught up in her own thoughts.

"Quinn," Berry says, tugging on Quinn's sweater. "You're going to embarrass her."

"I'm her mother," Quinn says as she retakes her seat. "It's basically in the job description."

Berry shakes her head again. "It's her first day," she says. "Don't make her more of a target."

Quinn's smile slips a little, and Beca feels like a creeper for the first time. She shouldn't be listening to them, but she can't seem to stop. She's curious, but she's trying not to be.

"Nothing's going to happen to her," Quinn says.

"How can you say that?"

Quinn clenches her jaw, because, really, how can she say that? From where Beca's sitting, she can see a myriad of emotions play across Quinn's face. "She's going to be fine," she eventually says, and it sounds heavy.

"Can you promise me that?"

"No," Quinn says, and Beca appreciates her honesty. "But, I can promise to do everything I possibly can to make sure she is."

Beca isn't an emotional person. Not even a little bit. She's straight-faced, quiet, and she avoids social situations as much as possible. This thing she's witnessed, though, makes her wish her father had made such a promise and actually kept it.

Beca shakes her head of the thought.

She's over it.

With a huff, she slips on her headphones and blasts her music. Several heads turn at the volume, but she doesn't care. Let them hear her teenage angst. Some shake their heads and others scowl, but Beca barely notices.

Except.

Quinn doesn't do either of those things. Instead, the woman kind of smiles. And Berry, well, her head starts to bop to the beat, and Beca wonders what kind of rainbow unicorns these women are.

Beca can't hear them anymore, and she tries not to watch when Quinn opens Berry's water bottle for her or when Berry pulls a packet of bacon bits out of her handbag for Quinn.

Beca knows, but she also doesn't.

They're not as overt about it. They're rather discreet. She wonders why.

She wonders if she'll need to be, as well.

It's something her mother warned her about when it was decided she would be coming to live with her father and his new family. Beca's known her preference since she was twelve and got invited to her first and last ever sleepover. It was terrifying then, has been a few other times, and she's kind of hoping she's left that behind.

Apparently not.

She guesses Lima, Ohio isn't as progressive as Portland, Maine.

Beca knows her father knows - her mother told him - and she's wondered if he told his wife. It bothers her, slightly, that she cares either way. She's not ashamed, but she would hate if he told her without her permission; if he told her just to gauge whether she would still be comfortable having Beca in their home.

Which is why she tries not to think about it.

She tries not to think about anything at all, pumping up the volume on her music and revelling in the way it dulls her mind.

Before she knows it, the rascals on the field are heading back to the bleachers, and Sheila is looking at her expectantly. It's time to go, apparently.

Beca gets to her feet slowly, stretching her arms in the air and making a show of switching off her music, thoroughly enjoying the way Sheila's smile flickers. Hah.

Who's forever happy now?

Beca jumps down, almost tripping over her own feet and falling face first onto the grass. Someone reaches out to steady her, and Beca comes face-to-face with Quinn for the first time.

Of course.

"Sorry," is the first thing Beca says, which is just ridiculous.

Quinn blinks, and then smiles. "Are you apologising to yourself?"

Beca attempts to school her features, even though she can feel the heat in her cheeks. "No," she huffs.

Quinn's smile widens. "You should," she says, shrugging.

Beca stares at her, dumbfounded, for a moment, and then startles when Sheila calls her name. She looks away from the hazel eyes in front of her and frowns. "I'm coming," she shouts, and then sighs.

Quinn taps her shoulder, and Beca looks back at her, expecting some question about her mother or her attitude or something. But, of course, this woman is surprising. "Where'd you get those headphones?" she asks instead.

"Excuse me?"

Quinn points at the headphones around Beca's neck. "Your headphones," she says. "They look custom. I've been looking for a good place to get some, but that one over there refuses to let me get a pair myself." She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder to where Berry is interacting with the child Beca's identified as Quinn's daughter.

Beca blinks. Wait. What?

"Beca!" Sheila calls again, and Beca steps away from Quinn, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"I gotta go," Beca forces out, and then turns and rushes off, her heart beating a little too fast.

That was... weird.

It was really, really weird.

Beca doesn't dare look back as she heads towards where Sheila is waiting with Aaron, the little boy still vibrating with energy as he squeezes his juice box into his mouth.

"Bec, did you see me?" Aaron asks, almost bouncing in excitement.

Beca forces herself to calm. "I did, buddy," she says. "You're really good."

He pouts. "Not as good as Emma," he grumbles, and Beca smiles.

She surprises them all by touching his shoulder. "Well, then, you're just going to have to make sure you practice, so you can get better," she says.

Aaron nods determinedly. "I'm going to practice every day."

As long as he doesn't drag her out with him, she really doesn't care what he does.

Anyway.

Sheila gets them moving, and that's the moment Beca glances over her shoulder to where Quinn and Berry - and Emma - were last standing.

Only Berry is left there, seated once more, and Beca frowns slightly, flushing when Berry notices her looking and then points towards the field. Beca turns - she can't help it - and she sees Quinn with a ball at her feet, casually kicking it to Emma and getting it back immediately.

Oh.

They're the only two back on the field, Quinn pointing and shouting something to Emma. The girl sets off running, and Beca watches as Quinn sets herself and then kicks the ball through the air just perfectly enough for Emma to control and then shoot into the net.

"See," Aaron suddenly says, sounding petulant. "She's so good already."

Sheila runs a hand through his hair as they walk. "You'll get there," she says. "Beca's right. You just need to practice."

"Maybe you can ask to train with her," Beca suggests, the words just leaving her mouth.

Aaron lights up, Sheila looks weirdly reluctant, and Beca wants to kick herself for ever opening her stupid mouth.

"Are they asleep?" Rachel asks over the soft music playing in their living room. "Please tell me they're asleep."

Quinn chuckles softly. "All your terrorists are out for the count," she reports, dropping her body onto the couch, her head landing in Rachel's lap.

Rachel immediately threads her fingers through soft blonde hair. "I love how they suddenly belong to me when they're being difficult."

Quinn smiles up at her, and then yawns, Rachel using her own hand to cover her mouth. "I missed you today," she says. "I'm so used to spending every day with you, and now I have to teach these crazy, hormonal teenagers."

Rachel puffs out a breath. "Someone hit on you, didn't they?"

Quinn hums, almost noncommittal. "I shut it down, though," she finally says.

"Are you sure?"

Quinn can hear the uncertainty there, even though Rachel tries to hide it. Quinn never wants to go through something like that ever again, and she's vowed to make sure it never happens again. "I'm sure," she says. "Though, I do seem to have garnered a bit of an admirer."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I don't think she quite knows it yet, though," Quinn says.

Rachel smiles softly. "I think I probably would have figured out just how not-straight I was much earlier if my teacher was as hot as you," she says. "You're practically everyone's sexual awakening, Quinn."

"Gross."

Rachel giggles, and then drops her head to press a soft kiss to Quinn's waiting lips. She lingers a moment, wanting to savour the feeling.

Quinn hums when Rachel pulls away. "I love you," she whispers.

Rachel kisses her again, and then says, "I love you, too."

They settle into silence for a while, the two of them merely existing in the quiet of their new home. It's a bit of a monstrosity, really, but Quinn's one demand when she agreed to move back to Lima was that their family would live comfortably. She was willing to fork out the cash to get just that.

Which is why the Berry-Fabray family reside in a gigantic six-bedroom mansion to rival the house Quinn grew up in. This one is large, but Rachel has managed to turn it into such a home just in the few short weeks they've been living in it. It's everything Quinn wished for in this small town life she's allowed herself to want.

So far, it's working out well.

Now, though, they're actually working and school has started, and the great big world is going to learn of their family dynamic, which means they're going to have to deal with the aftermath.

Of course, Quinn and Rachel have tried to prepare their children. Emma, their oldest, only nine, seems to grasp that not everyone is accepting of families with two mothers, and Quinn hates that it's even a thing they have to worry about.

Their second born is just starting the first grade, and Quinn worries for her in all the worst ways. While Emma is tough, Amelia - Mia - is soft, and Quinn loses sleep over how gentle her gorgeous, precious daughter is. She just doesn't want the world to rob her of it.

And, then, there's Matthew - Matty - who is far too young to understand. Just shy of eighteen months, the most he worries about is Thomas the Train and if Mama is feeding him butternut again.

She is, usually, because Mommy is the one who likes to experiment in the kitchen.

Quinn thinks Rachel's just relieved to be done with breastfeeding. They tried to keep him on for as long as possible, but with work and the move, Baby had to graduate to the big stuff only.

He is a big boy, after all.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn says.

"Hmm?"

"How is Lee today?"

Rachel's breath hitches slightly. "Dad said he had a better day," she says. "Even had a few lucid hours."

Quinn smiles warmly, and then turns her head to nuzzle Rachel's stomach, enjoying her soft giggle at the action. "We'll visit on Wednesday," she says.

"Oh, I have show choir auditions in the afternoon," she says. "Can you imagine, they actually cut the all-female show choir when they didn't place at Nationals?"

"Those Sylvester clones," Quinn grouses, smiling at the incredulity in her wife's tone. "Why would Mr Schue even allow that?"

"I don't think he even knows," she says. "If he did, he didn't tell me. I had to find out from one of the students who used to be in the choir."

Quinn hums. "So, do you think the auditions will run long?" she asks. "We can still go afterwards. Maybe have dinner with them."

It's because of moments like these that Rachel has never been more sure of her choice in life partner. It's sometimes been difficult - they're Quinn and Rachel, after all - but she's been in love with this woman since before she even truly understood what romantic love was.

"I'd really like that," Rachel murmurs, bending to kiss Quinn's forehead. "Will you cook?"

Quinn nods. "Of course," she says. "Lee loves my lasagna."

"I think the world loves your lasagna, baby."

Quinn just grins at her. "You would marry my lasagna, wouldn't you?"

"Unfortunately, I'm already taken."

"What a lucky lady."

Rachel kisses her. "As long as she knows."

"She does," Quinn murmurs, deepening the kiss and feeling the warmth she associates with Rachel spread through her entire body. "She really, really does."

From what Rachel recalls of her own show choir auditions in high school, they were nothing like this. It surprises her, the actual turnout.

It's odd that they're just girls, but she's taking it in stride. She's determined to see this through, especially after Jesse's comments that she should just let sleeping dogs lie.

Apparently, the Barden Bellas are... atrocious.

Rachel, of course, did her research by watching videos of previous performances. They weren't necessarily atrocious. It's not the word she would use, no. They were just... ordinary.

Rachel Berry is definitely not ordinary. She married her high school tormentor, for goodness' sake.

The good thing, Rachel accepts, is that a lot of the previous original members have graduated, but the ones that remain seem eager. There's Chloe, of course, who Rachel has already mentally selected as the group's captain - gosh, she really hopes the girl can sing - and Aubrey, who's a bit of an enigma to Rachel. She'll figure her out eventually. She's nothing if not persistent.

Those two are the only seniors she has, with a handful of juniors: Ashley, Jessica and Denise, and one sophomore: Lilly. Rachel is having them all audition again, just to get a feel for their presences and ranges.

Her plan is to get the core group selected, and then possibly go out into the school to recruit other girls. Show choir isn't at the bottom these days, but it is... different.

There are even cheerleaders here, willingly and wholeheartedly, and Rachel loves it. She only knows that because of the uniforms she saw on their first day, but they're not being worn currently. It's Quinn's doing, she knows. She also knows her wife sometimes hated the divide the uniforms created, which is why this decision makes sense.

"Okay," she finally says, rising to her feet and standing in front of the gathered students. She's not going to climb onto the stage until she absolutely has to.

Memories.

Rachel doesn't have much planned to say, so she rushes through a quick introduction, and then invites the first girl to the stage. Chloe offered, of course, and Rachel is relieved from the moment she opens her mouth right until the moment she invites the girl to sit beside her as they watch the rest of the auditions.

If Rachel notices Aubrey eyeing them from time to time, she doesn't mention it.

Well, not immediately.

She waits until all the girls have auditioned - some more terrible than others - and asks Chloe to stay a while, so they can discuss a potential roster.

Chloe, of course, looks momentarily stumped by the request. "Me?" she asks uncertainly, nervously glancing over her shoulder to where Aubrey is obviously waiting for her.

Rachel nods. "Yes, Chloe," she says. "I'm talking to you." She pauses. "Unless you have somewhere else to be."

Chloe blinks, and then shakes her head. "No, no, I don't," she says. "I can stay." She winces. "Let me just..." she trails off, awkwardly gesturing to the space behind her. "I'll be right back."

Rachel just smiles, and then resumes her seat at the small desk situated among the seats in the auditorium, feeling powerful in a way she's never felt before. It's alluring. She likes it here.

She's vaguely aware of Chloe and Aubrey having a quick conversation in her periphery, and she can't help the sudden protectiveness she feels over the unassuming redhead when Aubrey mutters something rather harshly and then storms away.

Rachel waits patiently until Chloe returns, her smile a little dimmer and her shoulders slumped. It's a little heartbreaking, because girls like Chloe deserve to smile. For some reason, Chloe reminds her of Quinn, and she's unsure if it's a good thing. Her wife still struggles to this day.

Rachel doesn't draw attention to it, choosing rather to stick to the music. "Cynthia-Rose is definitely in," she says, catching Chloe's attention.

It takes a moment for Chloe to settle, but she eventually smiles, nodding her head. "She was amazing," she agrees. "I think Stacie was good, as well."

Rachel makes a note of it. "Amy was... interesting."

Chloe laughs softly, relaxing that bit more. "I think that's a bit of an understatement, Dr B," she comments. "She can sing, though. I think, if she takes it seriously, she could be an important voice."

"Dr B?"

Chloe blushes. "Is it okay if I call you that?"

"Sure." Rachel makes another note, and then very carefully says, "I'm... confused about Lilly."

At this, Chloe laughs, and her eyes shine a bright blue when she smiles. That's much better. "She has her moments," she says. "You should probably know she can also beatbox."

"That could prove useful," she comments, suddenly knowing she's made the right choice in Chloe. It's reiterated time and time again as they candidly discuss the new group of Bellas they're trying to put together.

"We'll need more, especially if we want to be able to compete substantially," Rachel says once they've finalised their list. "I think we should give it a week, see if any more show up."

"Do you think they will?"

"Maybe," Rachel allows. "But, once this list goes up, it should garner some interest. I'm sure the other members will talk about it. Who knows who we'll find in the next few days?"

Chloe nods. "I'll be on the lookout, then."

"That's the least I expect of my Captain," Rachel says, almost too easily, and Chloe freezes.

"Excuse me?"

Rachel smiles at her. "Captain of the Bellas," she says. "Are you interested in the job?"

Chloe stares at her for the longest time. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Don't you want someone like Aubrey? She was supposed to take over."

"I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't sure," Rachel says. "If you need to think about it, you can. I suspect you have a lot of responsibilities already."

Chloe starts to shake her head, and then quickly turns it into a nod. "I want it," she rushes to say. She winces, clearing her throat. "I mean, yes, I'd be honoured to be your Captain."

Rachel beams at her. "I'm glad, Chloe," she says. "You're very talented."

Chloe blushes at the compliment, and she ducks her head in an attempt to hide it. "Thank you, Dr B."

Rachel opens her mouth to reply, but the sound of her phone buzzing stops her. She glances at the screen to see Quinn's contact name accompanied with a picture of the blonde's hazel eyes, right up close.

"Sorry," she says to Chloe. "I should probably take this."

"Of course," Chloe says. "I need to get going, anyway."

Rachel gives her a pleasant smile. "Thank you for all your help today," she says. "See you tomorrow, Chloe." And then she turns away, her finger sliding across the screen.

Chloe's farewell gets stuck in her throat the moment Dr Berry says, "Hi, baby," into the phone, and she feels heat rise up her neck at being witness to it.

She quickly gets to her feet and moves to gather her things, only half listening as Dr Berry continues to say, "No, I've just finished. I have to stop by my office, and then I'll leave. I think so, but maybe we should get some anyway, to be safe. I'll fetch Em, and then we'll stop by the grocery store on the way. Mozzarella and cheddar, got it."

Chloe finds herself smiling, because it's always so fascinating when her teachers prove they're actually human beings. It's cute.

"Okay," Dr Berry goes on, and Chloe has just finished packing her bag. "Fresh salad sounds good. The Princess is going to fight you, though. Oh, no you don't. She's your daughter." She lets out this soft laugh, and Chloe wonders how she can sound so... happy.

Is she happy?

Chloe likes to think she's happy, but she has moments when she's just not sure.

Like now, when she waves at Dr Berry, and then leaves the auditorium. Being made Captain of the Bellas is a huge deal. It's gigantic, and she should be happy, but the entire thing has made her feel anxious. And guilty.

She feels as if she's taken something from Aubrey, but she can't will herself to take the words back. She agreed when Dr Berry asked, and that should be the end of it.

It's not, she knows, when she sees a handful of texts from Aubrey waiting for her. She ignores them in favour of packing what she needs from her locker, and then heads to the library. The school isn't necessarily empty, but official extracurricular activities haven't yet commenced. So, students can go home early, or they're involved in tryouts. Who knows?

Chloe, though, just doesn't want to go home yet, and she finds comfort in the library when the Choir Room is occupied. She doesn't know if it is, given they were in the auditorium, but the library is calling to her now.

It's emptier than usual, given this is only the third day of school, and she claims a table all to herself near the back, settling into her seat and pulling out her notebook. It's not dedicated to any subject, and is rather filled with random song lyrics and absentminded doodles.

She thinks she needs to decompress before she replies to Aubrey's questions. It's not as if she thinks Aubrey won't be happy for her. It's just, well, Aubrey isn't one for not being in control, and Dr Berry seems to be taking the reins of this Bella ship far more tightly than their previous Director ever did.

Chloe likes it.

Perhaps they'll have an actual chance this year.

She takes out a pen and tries to clear her head. It works for only a moment, because she's thinking about a lot of things all at once. Show choir, cheerleading, Dr Berry, Aubrey, Dr Fabray, Math, the boy in her Stats class who keeps smiling at her, the fact she doesn't feel the need to smile back, Lady Gaga, pizza... just, everything.

Before Chloe knows it, her head is bopping to some beat, her pen tapping against the blank page. There's music, and she realises a little too late it's not actually in her head.

She stops.

Listens.

There is music.

She's not going crazy.

It's muffled, though, which means it must be coming from headphones. She swivels around, trying to find the source, but she can't actually see anyone. It's a little disconcerting, but she's not going to complain. The beat is good, and she's just going to enjoy it.

Her head starts moving again, and she can't stop from mouthing the words to Carly Rae Jepson's Call Me Maybe. It mashes perfectly with another song she doesn't recognise, but it helps lift her mood, and her pen presses against the paper, ready to go.

Chloe doesn't know how long she spends there, drawing absently, listening to soft music and allowing her brain to switch off. But, eventually, the music stops, and Chloe is surprised by how disappointed she is. She hears some ruffling and shuffling, and then a girl is emerging from somewhere between the shelves, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.

Chloe just watches in silence as the girl slinks across the library, head dipped and eyes cast downwards. She's dressed in dark, ripped jeans, a black tank top and an open red flannel. Her black boots are heavy on the carpet, brown hair hanging loose and pierced ears that draw Chloe's attention.

Her face is hidden, but Chloe is intrigued. She almost calls out, but manages to stop herself in time. She's in a library, for goodness' sake, and she's not ready to make a fool of herself so early in the semester.

Just, you know.

Who is that?

Surely, Chloe would remember someone like that. Whoever she is.

Chloe sighs. It doesn't matter anyway, does it?

Feeling a little unsettled, Chloe retrieves her phone from her bag and blanches at the increased number of texts from Aubrey. A lot of it is about what routine she's planning on auditioning with for the Cheerios the next day, but there are a few asking about what Dr Berry wanted with her.

Chloe decides to ignore those ones for now, choosing rather to talk about cheerleading. It's so much safer. Aubrey will always be that Captain. Chloe will never say yes, if ever Dr Fabray is crazy enough to offer the position to her.

It's easier to avoid that topic over text, but she knows she's going to have to come up with a way to tell Aubrey about it by the morning. One thing about her best friend is she's persistent, and Aubrey won't let it rest.

It's the one thing Chloe both loves and hates about her.

Rachel makes it to her fathers' house before Quinn does. She almost rolls her eyes at how typical her wife is, even after almost two decades together.

Quinn still won't accept that her fathers adore her, so she avoids being alone with them as much as possible. Even their children don't serve enough of a buffer, apparently.

Especially now, with her Daddy, LeRoy, losing himself to Alzheimer's. They've had a rough time the past few months, with LeRoy bringing up many things of the past; things she and Quinn have worked tirelessly in therapy to get through.

It's been hard.

It's one of the reasons they decided to leave New York; to leave their successful careers and friends and happy lives, to return to this town where they met and suffered and eventually fled.

Rachel loves her wife for allowing her this opportunity to spend this time with her father, but she wishes Quinn wasn't so... awkward about it. She was like this in the beginning, when they first started to date. She wasn't sure she deserved Rachel, and Rachel has always got the feeling Quinn wanted her fathers to say the words out loud to her.

They didn't, obviously, and they've somehow managed to live somewhat harmoniously.

In separate states.

It's different now that they live ten minutes away. Things are so much better and worse at the same time. While Rachel is glad they're here, there's still a part of her that wishes she didn't have to witness her father deteriorate.

It hurts in ways that make her want to crawl into a little ball and cry until she can't anymore.

Still, she has her other father to think about. Hiram has been carrying the burden of the diagnosis for much longer than she has, forced to witness the love of his life slowly disappear.

"Mama, can we get out now?"

Rachel shakes her head to clear it, and then smiles at Emma through the rearview mirror. "Sure, Sweetheart," she says. "Mama was lost in dreamland."

"What's it like?"

Rachel audibly swallows. "Sad without you," she manages to say, and then she's getting out of the car.

Emma practically jumps out when Rachel opens the door, her school bag tumbling out behind her. She sets off for the house immediately, and Rachel has enough foresight to tell her not to make too much noise, in case Grandpa Lee is sleeping.

She sighs to herself when Emma doesn't acknowledge her, and she's still grumbling to herself about Quinn's daughter when Quinn pulls into the driveway beside her, and she's rewarded with the sight of her son already reaching out for her from his position in his car seat.

Rachel feels a smile spread across her face at the sight of him, suddenly feeling her mood lift. It's impossible not to look at that face and not feel some semblance of happiness. Because of it, Rachel abandons retrieving their few groceries and rather opens the back door to remove Matty from his prison.

He bounces in excitement, his mouth saying, "Mama Mama Mama," in that way that makes Rachel's heart sing. She clutches him to her chest, laughing at the way Quinn grumbles about favouritism.

Rachel looks past Matty's little head at Mia, who is curled up in the backseat with one of her reading books. She looks half-asleep, and Rachel's smile grows, if that's even possible.

"I exist too, you know," Quinn says, and Rachel loves her.

She loves her so much.

It's chaos once they make it inside, children running this way and that. Quinn very quickly and efficiently sequesters herself in the kitchen after quick greetings, and Rachel and Hiram share an affectionate eye-roll.

The visit, itself, goes well. LeRoy really is having a good day, but he grows tired rather quickly, and Hiram settles him in for a nap while Quinn and Rachel feed the children.

Then, the three adults sit at the kitchen table for their own meal, the sounds of the television and tiny laughter drifting through from the lounge from time to time.

Conversation is easy enough, and Rachel can tell her father appreciates just being able to talk to somebody who isn't some kind of medical professional or a patient.

"I still don't know why you bought a house with six bedrooms," Hiram says at some point, shaking his head. "Are you planning on giving us more grandchildren?"

Quinn laughs softly, absently sipping at her lemonade. "No, Sir," she says. "We've definitely closed up shop over there. We're too old."

"Ouch," Hiram says; "what does that make me?"

"Older," Quinn says, answering easily and smiling warmly.

Hiram returns her smile. "But, seriously, why?" he asks.

Quinn's smile slips from her face and she turns serious quite suddenly. "H," she murmurs. "Our sixth bedroom is its own mother-in-law suite," she says, and the depth of her words settles over them like a heavy fog. "I guess I just wanted you and Lee to have the option, if you wanted it."

Hiram blinks. "Oh."

Quinn nods once, and then eats another forkful of her dinner, as if she hasn't said something profound.

Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand resting on the table and brings it up to her lips, gently kissing the skin over her knuckles.

"What?" Quinn murmurs, looking a little stumped.

"I love you," she says, and she means it. She's always meant it.

Quinn smiles softly. "I love you, too," she whispers back, aware that Hiram is watching them.

The man clears his throat, sips at his wine and asks, "So, tell me, does this suite happen to have His and His sinks?"

Rachel laughs, and Quinn thinks that maybe everything is going to be just fine.

Just for a moment, at least.