fanfic: The Pregnancy Chronicles - Part 3, PG-13 (Artie/Quinn)
Title: The Pregnancy Chronicles - Part 3
Author: ipickquinn & backitup_baby
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7,495
Spoilers: none
Summary: Adventures in birthing class. And maybe an actual birth too.
A/N: This fic was written by ipickquinn (as Quinn) and backitup_baby (as Artie)!
( Artie/Quinn 'verse masterlist)
The Pregnancy Chronicles - Part 3
Quinn waddled, though she would never consciously admit that she was waddling, over to Artie and set a brochure for a birthing class in front of him. She was into her seventh month of pregnancy now so it was getting to be that time where she needed to start preparing for the birth. She wasn’t necessarily scared this time, since she had done this before. But it had been a long time since then and she didn’t really remember all the technical stuff so thought a refresher course would be a good idea.
“They have a bunch of different classes so check your work schedule and let me know which is best for you, okay?”
Artie took a moment to finish calculating some figures before looking up at Quinn. “Okay,” he said, though he’d just taken on a new project at work and he really wasn’t sure if he was going to have time for this. But they needed the money since Quinn’s due date wasn’t that far away so it wasn’t like he had a choice. “But I mean... it’s not like you haven’t already done this...”
Quinn’s heart dropped down into her stomach and she scowled slightly. “I was sixteen. Do you think I sat there and took notes?” Her whole first pregnancy had really been a blur. “Besides, I gave birth way early and never finished the class... But if you think it’s going to be a waste of time, when you don’t even have to shove a baby out of you, then fine.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Artie tried, though he knew that that was definitely what it had sounded like. “I’m sorry. I just have to rearrange some things, probably. But we’ll make it work.”
Scowling a little less now, though still a bit offended and hurt, Quinn just nodded. “Okay, well let me know. I mean, it’s like an hour a week. We could even have sex like... one less time a week and then you would definitely have time,” she said as if this were the most logical thing ever.
Artie picked up the brochure and looked at the class times, trying not to outwardly show how amused he was by the way she’d just proposed making time for birthing class to him. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Quinn stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Thanks. So what are you working on?” She didn’t have to start dinner for a little bit and figured she should see what her husband was up to.
She didn’t seem to really be mad at him anymore so he figured things were okay for now. “A kitchen, specifically, right now,” he said, reaching a hand out so he could idly run it up and down her waist. “Just space issues and counter heights so far.”
Moving her hand down onto Artie’s, Quinn directed his hand to where the baby started kicking her. “I think he’s saying hi. Or maybe telling you he likes your kitchen,” she said, smirking slightly.
Artie waited until he felt the kicking before grinning up at her. “Maybe he is,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her stomach. “To both. My kitchen is pretty cool.”
Lately whenever Artie did that it made Quinn feel really emotional, so she took a few deep breaths to calm herself before she broke out into happy tears or something. “Okay well, I’m going to go make dinner,” she said eventually, though her voice was still a little thick. “I’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Do you need help?” Artie asked, raising his eyebrows a little at the way her voice had just sounded. He usually just waited for her random moments of emotion to pass but he was always on guard just in case they turned into more than just a moment.
Quinn shook her head though leaned down to kiss him quickly on the lips. “It’s okay, you get some work done. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, waiting until she’d left to get back to work.
---
“I still think it’s bullshit that I have to go with you,” Santana grumbled as she and Quinn made their way inside so they could go to Quinn’s first birthing class. “Like, seriously. It’s not like I’m at all involved in this.”
Quinn was in a pretty bad mood about this as well because she had sacrificed sex and Artie still couldn’t come to her class. “Well you’re like, going to be their... I mean his, Godmother, you can start your duties now,” she grumbled back.
“That’s like if you die,” Santana said, very practically, “or fail to bring him up all Catholic which isn’t going to not happen since it’s not like Artie is super religious. Besides his scary devotion to Rock Band, which I’m surprised is still going on.”
“I’m not going to die,” Quinn snapped back. “And like, Godparents are totally supposed to be involved in the baby’s life in general, so just suck it up. I mean, I and the one pushing a watermelon out of my...” she trailed off. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“If I ever have kids, I’m totally adopting,” Santana declared, pushing the door open for Quinn. “So no one has to push stuff out of anywhere.” She looked around the room and realized that even for Chicago, she and Quinn were the only same-sex pair, and it wasn’t like Chicago was Lima. Whatever. It wasn’t like they were dating.
Quinn waddled in, noticing as well that she was the only one there with someone of the same sex. Not that gay couples having kids bothered her. “Artie and I have been together since I was 16, and yet every other babydaddy could make it but mine?” She grumbled again, her mood worsening as she picked a place to sit. “This sucks.”
Santana stood around awkwardly for a little bit, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do (since it wasn’t like she was physically involved in the process, so wasn’t she just there for moral support?) before sitting down next to Quinn. “He’s an ass,” she said, helpfully. “It’s totally easy to get out of meetings if you really want to.”
Things could go one of two ways, Quinn could stay angry and get through this class or she could get sad and be a sobbing mess. She really didn’t want to be that hormonal, pregnant woman of the class though so she opted for the anger. “I can’t believe I gave up sex and he still blew this off. Asshole,” she growled as they waited for the rest of the class to arrive so they could get started.
“Wait, like you totally just stopped having it? That doesn’t make sense. Are you on a sex strike? And if he came to this you would stop striking? I don’t get it,” Santana said, frowning a little.
Quinn let out a frustrated groan. “He was worried about not having enough time so we didn’t have sex so he could work and... yeah.” Maybe that was why she was doubly grouchy about this whole situation.
“How often do you have sex?” Santana asked, curiously and probably too loudly. Some people turned to look so Santana glared at them until they stopped, then turned back to Quinn. “Sorry. It just got really quiet all of a sudden.”
Pretty much feeling like dying now, Quinn reached into her bag and took out her bottle of water for something to distract herself with. Once she felt like people weren’t staring as much anymore she turned back to Santana and rolled her eyes. “Enough,” she mumbled out before drinking more water. “Or at least before this happened. Ugh can this damn class just start already?!”
Santana was pretty much immune to Quinn’s moods after having been friends with her for so long. Plus, she had kind of mellowed after a few years of dating Artie... well, sort of. She figured while they were killing time before the class she might as well try to distract her, though, so she said, “So Brittany is coming to Chicago like next weekend...”
Quinn just blinked a few times, not really sure how to react to this. Her two best friends had been on and off dating since high school and she really couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Maybe it was the fact that she had been with the same person (consistently) since she was 16, but the whole relationship dynamic behind Brittany and Santana so wasn’t healthy.
“You can’t keep just hooking up with her. It’s not fair,” Quinn said, frowning slightly.
Santana had expected just that reaction and she had been basically hearing it for the last six or seven (had it really been that long?!) years, but it was complicated. “I know that,” she said, frowning as well as she tried to respond seriously. “I told her she needed to like, not stay with me, so I think she got a room or something. Except I think she thinks that it’s because I’m seeing someone here.”
“Well you are seeing someone,” Quinn said, still frowning. Someone she and Artie had set her up with. One of the couples near by looked over at them oddly and Quinn just sneered at them until they looked away. She idly wondered if they thought she meant Santana was seeing her since she was the one at her birthing class, but whatever. Fuck them.
“Have you told her?” Quinn knew that Artie would have told Brittany but she probably would appreciate hearing it from Santana herself.
Santana paused, then said, “It hasn’t really come up.” She felt herself frowning more so to distract herself this time, she said, “I mean, I don’t know how to work that into conversation when most of the time it just consists of us having phone sex,” and forced herself to turn her frown into a smirk.
“Isn’t that like... cheating?” Quinn asked, slightly annoyed now. She and Artie worked hard on screening his coworkers to find her a suitable guy and she goes and does shit like that?
Santana was about to tell Quinn that she and Eric weren’t exclusive or anything when all of a sudden a woman came around who looked disturbingly similar to Sue Sylvester and started talking about the birthing class (Santana was trying to pay attention, she really was, but then there were words like ‘dilating’ and ‘cervix’ and she started humming in her head so she could tune out what the woman was saying) and how Santana needed to be more supportive of her partner-- what?
“No, we’re not, like, that’s not what this is,” Santana said, hurriedly. “I’m just here for support.”
The woman nodded very gravely at both her and Quinn. “I know that you might be feeling left out of the process because you have no biological connection to the child--”
“No,” Santana said again, a little louder this time. “Like, we’re just friends.”
“Because she’s hooking up with someone else,” the woman next to them said, helpfully.
“No,” Santana said for the third time. “God. Quinn, can you help me, here?”
Quinn narrowed her eyes, looking between the instructor and their oh so helpful neighbor before holding up her left hand. “I’m married. My dumbass husband had to work. And mind your own fucking business humpy dumpty,” she snapped, still glaring. The woman’s expression went from amused to scandalized, but that only made Quinn smirk. “Can we just get on with the stupid breathing exercises?”
“Nice one,” Santana said approvingly, looking sideways at Quinn and smirking. Meanwhile she made a mental note to warn Artie that Quinn was in a really bad mood, except maybe she didn’t need to because it was his fault for saying he was going to come and then bailing...
---
Quinn walked in, grumbling slightly about how her feet hurt and called out “Are you home?” as she took off her shoes and jacket. Birthing class had been... a disaster. After insulting her nosy floor neighbor things really only went downhill from there. She felt like a moron doing the breathing and Santana was having some kind of freak out about birthing and kept going off about how she was definitely adopting. Disaster.
“Baby?” She tried again, when she didn’t get an immediate response.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Artie called out once he’d closed the oven door and heard Quinn come home. “How did it go?” he asked once she’d come in. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there. But I’m making mashed potatoes! I just have to mash them. Which won’t take very long. Are you hungry?”
Quinn waddled in, scowling at Artie’s cheerfulness. “Oh yeah, it was just great,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “They all thought Santana was my lesbian lover and then I verbally abused one of the other mothers and instructor. Very productive.” She moved to the refrigerator to pour herself some juice. “Did you just make potatoes?” She asked then, looking over at him skeptically.
“No, there’s squash and asparagus in the oven too,” Artie said, raising his eyebrows a little as he watched her move around the kitchen. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” he said carefully. “Do you want anything else for dinner?” He didn’t even know what to say in response to the details she’d given about how the class had specifically gone so he just ignored that for now.
Quinn leaned against the counter silently as she drank more juice. She wasn’t really sure what to say now either. She was clearly upset with him for breaking his word but she couldn’t really be mad that he was working extra so they could pay for all the baby stuff and so he could take time off right after he was born. She was conflicted so she just drank juice.
Finally though she set down her cup on the counter and crossed her arms. “How were your meetings?” She asked, ignoring his questions.
Artie didn’t know what to say while Quinn was being all scary and silent so he just retrieved the bowl of potatoes and started mashing, watching her every so often just to make sure she hadn’t started crying or anything. “They were fine,” he said then, once she’d finally said something. “But I told my boss that I couldn’t get double booked again for stuff like this.”
“Doesn’t really matter,” Quinn said, scowling again. “I don’t think I can ever show my face there again. Plus I got very strong ‘please don’t come back’ vibes when we left. Whatever. Like you said, I’ve already done this. The stupid class probably wouldn’t even help,” she said stubbornly.
“Oh,” he said, still at a loss for something to say. It sounded like Quinn had definitely been in one of her moods and Artie knew firsthand that that could be pretty dangerous, but he was obliged to be on her side about things now. “Well, their loss if they don’t want our money. And are you sure? We can find somewhere else.”
Quinn was beginning to feel like she might burst into tears at any moment but really wanted to prevent that, or at least in front of Artie, so she shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t care. Just call me when dinner’s ready. I’m going to change,” she said before attempting to make an escape.
Artie watched her go for a second before returning his focus to dinner, figuring it might be for the best if he let her cool off by herself for a little bit before trying to talk to her. He made sure the timer was set on the oven, then finished the potatoes and put them back on the counter. Leaving the oven to turn itself off, he went over to their bedroom and poked his head in cautiously. “Hi,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What’s up?”
Quinn was pretty much just laying there, sobbing like a baby when Artie popped in. Hurrying to wipe under her eyes, she sniffed a few times then moved to sit up. “What? Nothing... I was just tired,” she said, noticeably lying for once.
He bit his lip a little, not fooled at all by what she’d just said, and moved himself over so he was next to her side of the bed. “Quinn,” he said, eyes a little wide. “Do you want a hug?”
“Do you even care that I felt like an idiot? Everyone else was there with their boyfriends or husbands or whatever and I was there with fucking Santana. And she kept asking about our sex life and then was talking about how she was like having phone sex with Brittany even though she’s dating that guy we set her up with and--” Quinn stopped talking suddenly as she unexpectedly started crying again.
Artie frowned a little at all of this, thinking to himself that he was going to need to talk to Santana about make good decisions in life. But that wasn’t important right now. “Of course I care,” he said then, silently telling himself to be brave just in case Quinn got angry instead of all sad suddenly. “I’m really sorry. That probably doesn’t mean much though. But I am.”
Quinn sniffed again and used the end of her sleeve to wipe under her eyes. There were a lot more tears than she had thought and a few swipes of her hand weren’t going to cut it. “I don’t like feeling like this,” she said, feeling pathetic.
Artie positioned himself closer to the bed and transferred himself onto it so he could scoot up next to Quinn and move his arm around her. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do right now to make you feel better?”
With Artie there, Quinn automatically nuzzled into him, even though she was supposed to be annoyed with him. Sniffling pathetically once more, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just sad right now. You can cuddle with me tonight. I guess that might make me feel better.”
“I definitely will,” Artie said, leaning his head against hers. “We should have dinner and then we can go do that.” He opted against telling her that he had been planning to do some work before bed because somehow he felt this wouldn’t be the best time.
“Okay,” Quinn said, shifting her head so she could kiss what was closest, which happened to be his neck. “Let’s go eat. It smells good. And all that breathing crap they made us do sort of made me hungry.”
Artie wrinkled his nose a little at the idea of breathing exercises (it wasn’t like Quinn hadn’t spent the entirety of her life practicing how to breathe in order to, you know, live) but nodded anyway. “Okay. Everything’s ready so whenever you are we can go back and take care of that.”
Quinn let herself stay cuddled against Artie a few more moments to regain her composure then nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.” She paused a moment before adding, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Artie said, moving his other arm around her stomach as much as he could. “A lot.”
“I know.” Quinn moved her hand on top of his, then shifted it slightly. “I know he loves you too because he always kicks when he hears your voice. Must be those songs you sing him,” she said, smiling slightly. It was hard to stay mad at Artie when perfect little moments like this happened.
“I also love you, in case you didn’t think so,” Artie said to Quinn’s stomach. He then leaned forward a little so he could look at her better. “We need to figure out what we’re going to call him, AJ or Andy... I feel like Santana won’t stop calling him Mini-Wheels until we settle on one.”
“Knowing Santana she’ll always call him ‘Mini-Wheels’ regardless of what we name him,” Quinn said after getting over just how adorable it was when Artie talked to her stomach.
“That’s probably true,” Artie admitted after a pause. “But seriously. I don’t want to confuse him with both of us calling him different things.”
“That’s a good point. Well I like Andy. We can’t call him Artie because then he would get confused with you. So let’s go with Andy,” she said, rubbing her stomach slightly.
“That works for me,” Artie said, kissing her cheek. “Are you feeling better? Do you want to have dinner now?”
“Yeah I’m feeling better. But you’re still not out of cuddle duty later,” Quinn said before kissing Artie back on the cheek and standing up.
“I know,” Artie said, letting go of Quinn and shifting himself over to the edge of the bed so he could get back into his wheelchair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better though.”
---
Sunday morning, days away from her due date, and Quinn was getting ready to go to church. Just because she was super uncomfortable and felt like a beached whale didn’t mean she could slack off and skip mass. It was still pretty chilly for March, so after bundling up in her coat, mittens and scarf she walked over to Artie. “Santana’s waiting outside, I’ll see you after. Love you.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Artie asked immediately, backing away from the kitchen table and looking at her concernedly. “I can be ready in five minutes. I should go with you.”
“What? No, I know you don’t want to come to church.” Quinn patted her large stomach. “We’re fine. Just stay home and play video games or whatever.” She bent down as much as she could, which wasn’t much, and kissed the top of his head. “Now, say bye to Andy, and I’ll see you after.”
Artie was especially paranoid because Quinn had a history (well, it was one time) of delivering early and even though he tried to not think about that time in their lives most of the time, he was worried to the point where he thought that even just driving over a bump in the road would set her off... well, metaphorically. “Are you sure?” he asked, moving himself closer to her and kissing her stomach through her coat.
“Yes. I’m totally sure. All your worrying is stressing me out, so knock it off,” she said, slightly playfully. “Bye.” And with that she waddled off and out to Santana’s car.
“Sorry that took so long. Artie wanted to come along. He thinks I am going to go into labor any second or something.” Quinn rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she would know when she was about to go into labor and she felt perfectly fine right now.
Santana looked at Quinn sharply. “What? Are you going to? I should get some trash bags for my car seat if that’s even a possibility, this car was pretty expensive,” she said, very seriously, making no moves to pull out from her parking space in front of where Quinn and Artie lived.
“Why are you both freaking out on me? I’m completely fine. Let’s just go to church already,” Quinn said, frowning, then buckled her seat belt with some difficulty.
“I just don’t want to be there when it happens,” Santana said, very practically. “No offense.” She waited for Quinn to properly secure herself before beginning to drive towards their adopted church.
Quinn narrowed her eyes at Santana. “Some supportive best friend you are,” she grumbled.
“Hey, I’m totally supportive,” Santana said, glancing over at Quinn as she drove. “But like I think you should just get a c-section so you can schedule it and that way Artie will stop stalking you and I will know when to expect your going into birth and stuff.”
“I don’t want them cutting me open,” Quinn said, scandalized. “What if they mess up and cut Andy? Fuck that. No way.”
“That doesn’t happen,” Santana said, very breezily. “You should just do it. It would make everyone’s lives easier.”
Quinn just rolled her eyes. “Well since I am the person that actually has to go through it, I will be making the decisions. And I want a regular birth with no knives cutting me open. The end.”
“Fine, deal with all the dilating and stuff,” Santana said, making a face. “At least you guys only want like, two kids, right? So you just have to do this one more time.”
Quinn nodded, ready to let the conversation drop, and unbuckled her seat belt once they were parked, then waddled in. She made it about half way through the mass before she could tell something was wrong. Seriously all this kneeling and standing was like aerobics and was definitely not good for her current state o’ preggo.
Standing up from the latest bout of kneeling, Quinn grabbed her stomach and a moment later felt something trickling down her leg. Fuck ... Sorry Jesus. She turned slowly to Santana, biting her lip, before whispering, “S. Um. We have to go. I think my water just broke.”
Santana’s eyes widened and she silently (and angrily) asked Jesus why she always needed to be around for Quinn’s water breaking. I know we’re best friends but this is kind of taking it too far. “Okay,” she whispered back, clearly agitated. Why did Quinn look so calm? Why was Santana the one who was having trouble breathing? “Let’s go. Holy shit.” She belatedly crossed herself.
Quinn put both her hands on her stomach as she waddled out as if that would keep Andy in there and made her way to Santana’s car. “I swear this is all you and Artie’s fault. You two jinxed me. I was completely fine until you two started freaking out about me going into labor. Well you two should be happy now,” she started rambling once they were out of the church.
“It’s not like you’re not due this month or anything,” Santana said, scandalized by the idea that she’d done something to induce Quinn’s labor. “Just get in the car, where am I supposed to take you?”
“The hospital... The one closer to our house. Hold on I have to call Artie,” Quinn said quickly then took our her phone, pressing his speed dial number, waiting impatiently as it rang.
“I should’ve gotten trash bags,” Santana said to herself as she drove.
Meanwhile, Artie was busy playing video games when all of a sudden he heard their phone going off. He reluctantly pressed pause, then leaned sideways to reach for the phone off of the end table. “Hi?”
“Hi,” Quinn said before wincing from her first contraction. “Um... My water broke. Meet us at the hospital?” She tried to stay calm but the idea of Artie not being there when she delivered was a reasonable thing to panic about. “This is Quinn by the way,” she added, which as an after thought she figured was pretty obvious, but maybe just her current situation was making her not think straight.
“I know it’s you,” Artie said, kind of stupidly. “Okay. Yeah. I will be there.” He was having a really hard time thinking, and also apparently having a really hard time forming complex sentences. “Do you need me to bring anything? Besides myself? And overnight stuff?”
“Uh, no. Just that stuff. And--ouch... Um never mind. Just hurry, I love you,” Quinn said, holding her stomach again as another contraction hit her.
Artie sat there for a moment and thought about how long it would take for him to get to the hospital. “I think I’ll be there in 18 minutes,” he said then, very business-like. “So we should be okay. Unless you have a freak delivery. Don’t do that.”
“What the--?! Just get your ass down here,” Quinn snapped. “I mean... sorry, baby. Just. Hurry, please.”
“Okay,” Artie said, feeling a little offended now. “I was just trying to tell you when to expect me. But okay. See you soon,” he said, before hanging up.
---
After a few hours, had passed, there was still no sign that things were really progressing. Artie came back into Quinn’s room from the hallway, where he’d just had to calm down Santana. He was pretty sure that Santana was panicking way too much for being the woman who was actually not in labor and he almost kind of wanted to suggest to the staff that they give Santana the epidural instead.
“Hi,” he said to Quinn, pretty cheerfully (he’d gotten over his previous panic on the phone). “Santana’s going to be okay. I think she’s getting some coffee downstairs.”
“What the fuck is her problem? I am the one having contractions and about to push a baby out. Speaking of, any time soon would be nice Andy,” she said to her stomach. They had been waiting hours for her to finish dilating, but it was just taking forever.
Quinn held her hand out for Artie, shifting slightly in bed so she could better face him. “I’m sorry. I’m just. Ugh. Really uncomfortable.”
“I know,” Artie said, biting his lip as he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “At least it hasn’t been like 24 hours or something and you’re still at this point?” Though in retrospect she probably didn’t want to hear that seeing as she was pretty convinced that he and Santana had jinxed her going into labor earlier.
“Stop saying stuff like that,” Quinn shrieked, then nearly started hyperventilating. “Can we please just try and be optimistic without the ‘at least this isn’t happening’ sort of statements because I swear now it is going to happen and I will one day make you pay!” The pain of her contractions were just making her threat random things.
Artie looked at her warily, but told himself to just stay put where he was and not let go of her hand and move away. “I’m sorry,” he said then, feeling completely at a loss.
“We are never having sex again if this is what I have to go through,” Quinn whined out after another contraction.
“Yeah, okay,” Artie said, very skeptically. “You’re the one who kept scheduling sex into my calendar.”
“Well I couldn’t get any more pregnant then...” Quinn said pathetically, squeezing Artie’s hand through yet another contraction. “I swear they’re getting closer. Am I dilated yet? Ew, but don’t look.”
Artie had absolutely no idea what to say to this. He glanced up at one of the nurses, who shook her head, and kind of wished that she had actually verbally told Quinn that she wasn’t because now he had to tell her. “Um, no, not yet...”
Quinn was somewhere in between of throwing a toddler-esque fit and wanting to slushie someone. But seeing as Artie her husband and stuff she couldn’t do that to him. And it probably wouldn’t be nice to do that to the nurse... She just sat there, pouting. “Why is your son so stubborn and doesn’t want to be born?”
“Maybe he just likes it there,” Artie said kind of pathetically, squeezing her hand again. “It hasn’t been that long. I’m sure you can start pushing soon.”
If Quinn weren’t in such an insane mood (well honestly when wasn’t she? But this was a different kind of insane. The kind where she was preparing to shove a watermelon sized thing out of... down there) she would have made a crack about how Artie liked it in there too. That would have been totally inappropriate though so she just squeezed his hand back, feeling just as pathetic.
“I better. In case you haven’t figured it out Andy, you’re grounded once you’re born!” She said to her stomach.
“You can’t ground him,” Artie said, only half-meaning it. “It’s not his fault that things aren’t progressing at the rate you’d like it to. Maybe-- I don’t know.” He stopped himself in time from saying that maybe there was something going on with Quinn, but started silently panicking that there actually was something going wrong except wouldn’t they have told them if there was something going wrong? Maybe that was why Santana had just had a panic attack.
“We need to have a united front as parents, Artie!” Quinn said dramatically. Except she knew it was completely ridiculous to ground a new born baby for taking too long in labor. “Why can’t this just happen already?!” She whined again, looking between Artie and the nurse.
“Just calm down,” Artie said, kind of desperately by this point. “Think about other stuff. I don’t know what stuff. But something. Or maybe you should take some drugs.”
---
Another few hours had passed and Quinn still wasn’t dilated fully, though the last time the doctor had come in, she had been around 8 centimetres so at least it was closer. Squeezing Artie’s hand with one hand, she had the other on her stomach, holding on as her contractions came fast now. “This fucking demon spawn, get out of me!”
Artie looked at her, shocked and horrified. “I’m going to tell him that you said that,” he said, probably focusing on the wrong thing here. “That wasn’t very nice at all.”
“Whose side are you on? Your son is putting me through agony. You could try and show me a little sympathy,” she growled.
“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure that out of the two of us you’re the crazy stubborn one. He’s clearly taking after you,” Artie retorted, not really thinking straight anymore.
“Oh is that what you think? Well you can get the hell out of here then. I can do on my own,” she snapped back, pulling her hand away.
Artie furrowed his brow a little, instantly pouting, and glanced over at the medical staff who seemed to be very intensely focused on some readouts and not looking at either him or Quinn. “Okay,” he said, frowning a little more. “Are you sure?”
“Well if you’re going to take hell beast’s side,” she said, motioning to her stomach, “then I don’t want you around,” she said stubbornly.
Artie blinked at her. “You know you’re just kind of proving my point, right?”
“Just get out!” She shrieked, her voice hysterical now.
---
Artie had found Santana in the waiting room and, once he’d positioned his chair next to hers, promptly started with the whole story about how Quinn was going crazy and how she was really stressing him out and what if something was wrong and how she’d kicked him out and how he really just wanted to be held because he was so anxious but that wasn’t a backwards way of asking Santana to hold him. He didn’t really expect Santana to say anything really helpful but he did appreciate it when she told him she’d go buy him some coffee and that he should just cool down in the waiting room while she was gone.
Suddenly his parents and Quinn’s mom came out of the elevator and rushed over to him. “Why are you here?” his mother said, without even bothering to say hello or give him a hug.
“Quinn kicked me out,” Artie said, pouting a little more. All of the parents exchanged looks. “Can you go see how she’s doing? Which isn’t well, by the way, so far.”
“I kind of got the sense from Santana’s twitter,” his dad said, holding up his phone. “Yeah, we’ll go check in. And I don’t just mean on FourSquare.”
“Dad... this isn’t the time for your lame jokes,” Artie said, feeling even more exhausted once they’d left.
Since she kicked Artie out, Quinn was basically just sitting there and brooding, occasionally talking to her stomach to tell Andy to hurry the hell up. The nurse had brought her a fresh cup of ice chips and she was crunching on those as she seethed at this whole birthing thing taking so long.
A few minutes later her mother walked in and she nearly dropped her cup of ice chips. “Mom? What are you doing here? Am I hallucinating from the pain?”
“No, Quinnie, we’re really here,” Judy said, motioning back to Artie’s parents. “We got in the car as soon as we heard you were in labor, and here we are.”
Quinn nearly glared at her mother, who was far too cheerful to be around when she was in so much pain, but managed a small grimace instead. “Well, hi. Lucky for you I’m still dilating,” she said sarcastically.
“It hasn’t been too long though,” Catherine Abrams said, looking at her husband (who was feeling very awkward at the thought of his daughter-in-law dilating). “Only about six hours? The end is near.”
Judy Fabray could tell her daughter was about to say something particularly rude to Catherine’s ‘only six hours’ comment and swiftly intervened. “Sweetheart, how about we go get the doctor to check on you again?” She stepped forward and gave Quinn a kiss on the forehead then motioned towards Catherine and Andrew to exit, before following them out.
By this time, Santana had returned to the waiting room with two coffees for her and Artie and was busy checking her phone while Artie was attempting to read a magazine on home remodeling. He looked up once he noticed that his parents had come back. “Would it be really pathetic if I just stayed out here?”
“I really don’t blame you,” Santana commented, as Catherine gave Artie a disapproving look. “She’s scary. Besides, she clearly doesn’t want you there anymore. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Abrams, and Judy. What’s up?”
“You’re so helpful, Santana, really,” Artie said, biting his lip.
“I’m sure she does want you there,” Andrew said, placatingly. “Just not right now. And just don’t say anything stupid.”
“But I’m stressed out. Of course I’m saying stupid stuff,” Artie said, not sure why people were surprised that that’d happened.
“That’s legit,” Santana said, supportively. “I’ll go check on her if you want. I’m used to her being mad at me.” She stood up and belatedly gave Quinn’s mother a quick hug hello before making her way into Quinn’s room.
“So?” she asked, bracing herself for a possible onslaught from Quinn. “Any progress?”
“No,” Quinn grumbled. “I’m like in fucking purgatory. Dilated at 9 centimetres so I can’t start pushing meanwhile I’m having all these contractions that hurt like a bitch,” she snarled. “Can’t they just make this go faster. Aren’t they doctors for a reason? And if you dare say I should have just gotten a c-section I will throw this telephone at you!”
“Isn’t there like, that epidural thing you can just get to make it not hurt anymore?” Santana asked, staying a safe distance away from Quinn just in case she decided that there were other spontaneous reasons to throw phones and other things.
Quinn bit her lip, thinking back to the conversation she had with Artie. He had made it pretty clear how he felt about things being injected into spinal chords. And she could totally see his point, which is why she wasn’t having an epidural. “I’m not getting one,” she said through clenched teeth as another contraction caused her to wince.
Santana kind of thought that was a pretty dumb choice but she definitely wasn’t going to say anything that would piss Quinn off right now. “Okay,” she said, dropping the subject right there. “Um, do you want Artie to come back in here?”
Glad that Santana didn’t ask further about it, because she wasn’t sure how she would explain that since it was sort of a personal thing between her and Artie, she just nodded her head. “Yes please.”
“Do you want anyone else?” Santana asked, meaning more her mom or Artie’s parents instead of herself.
“No, just him,” Quinn said, feeling kind of pathetic now. She felt guilty for yelling at him and making him leave and right now all she really wanted was for him to be there, even if he did keep saying stupid things.
“Okay, I’ll go get him,” Santana said, kind of awkwardly, before turning and leaving for the waiting room again. After sitting down next to Judy and informing everyone about Quinn’s lack of significant progression, she sent Artie back in.
“Hey Quinn,” Artie said once he’d resumed his place next to her bed. “Santana said you wanted me back in here?”
“Hi baby,” Quinn said softly, suddenly feeling a lot calmer. “I’m sorry I’m crazy. And I want you around all the ti--” she cut herself off, biting her lip through a contraction. “Time.”
Artie was still kind of hurt by what she’d said earlier but he logically knew that Quinn didn’t mean it (at least, he hoped not). “It’s okay,” he said, reaching out for her hand again.
Quinn took Artie’s hand, squeezing it lightly for a few moments before starting to squeeze harder. “Oh my--Ow--Shit. They just--” she stopped, clenching her eyes together. “Faster. Get the doctor...” If she had known calling Artie back in would set this off she could have called him back in forever ago.
Artie’s eyes widened once he figured out what she was saying. “Oh-- oh, okay-- Quinn, you have to let go of my hand--” Of course, this had happened the one time that the supposedly ever-present nurses had stepped out of the room.
Breaking her death grip on Artie’s hand, she moved both her hands onto her stomach and tried to remember the stupid breathing exercises. “Ouch, fuck, go!” Quinn managed to say between breaths.
---
Eventually it was all over and after some sort of miracle, Artie and Quinn had their son. Catherine made a big point of emphasizing that Andy was so much bigger as a newborn when compared to how scrawny and little Artie had been (which made Santana snicker a lot). Artie took pictures with his phone and sent them to everyone else they knew via email, and after a lot of crying and talking and more picture taking the day was finally over. Santana went back to her apartment after saying she’d be back the next day, and Catherine, Andrew, and Judy went off to check in at their hotel, where they’d gotten adjacent rooms (it was really so weird how well their parents got along).
“I can’t believe we finally have him,” Artie said too quietly, paranoid that he’d wake up Andy if he talked normally.
“I know,” Quinn said just as quietly, with a tired grin on her face. “It took him long enough...” she added, grumbling slightly.
“I still think he got your stubborn streak,” Artie said, smiling at her fondly. “Do you think anyone would care if I got in bed with you?”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Quinn said (stubbornly, though maybe that was just a coincidence) and scooted over slowly, trying not to move too fast and hurt herself. She was still pretty sore from the whole birthing process.
“Good answer,” Artie said, looking amused. He waited until Quinn had moved over before hoisting himself up onto the bed, scooting backwards so he was more facing her. “So... Andy’s kind of cute,” he said then, grinning more.
Once Artie was settled, Quinn moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “He is. We did good, huh?” She said tiredly, then moved her head slightly so she could kiss his shoulder. “I love you.”
Artie moved his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Well,” he corrected, automatically, then added, “I didn’t do anything. I’m pretty sure that was just you being amazing.”
Quinn just rolled her eyes slightly and nuzzled further into him. “You held my hand the whole time. That was really helpful,” she said, yawning as she spoke towards the end.
He was about to point out that technically it hadn’t been the whole time because she’d kicked him out momentarily, then decided that she didn’t need to be reminded of that. “I’m glad it helped,” he said, yawning as well. “Maybe we should try and sleep. Who knows how long Andy will before he wakes up...”
“That’s a good idea,” Quinn said before yawning again as she nodded weakly. “Do you want blanket?” She asked as she worked on pulling it over them before he even answered. She was just too tired.
“Yeah, okay,” Artie said, once she had already gotten it over both of them. He lay back and shifted a little, carefully, trying to get comfortable. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Quinn mumbled back sleepily before drifting off for some well deserved rest.
Author: ipickquinn & backitup_baby
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7,495
Spoilers: none
Summary: Adventures in birthing class. And maybe an actual birth too.
A/N: This fic was written by ipickquinn (as Quinn) and backitup_baby (as Artie)!
( Artie/Quinn 'verse masterlist)
The Pregnancy Chronicles - Part 3
Quinn waddled, though she would never consciously admit that she was waddling, over to Artie and set a brochure for a birthing class in front of him. She was into her seventh month of pregnancy now so it was getting to be that time where she needed to start preparing for the birth. She wasn’t necessarily scared this time, since she had done this before. But it had been a long time since then and she didn’t really remember all the technical stuff so thought a refresher course would be a good idea.
“They have a bunch of different classes so check your work schedule and let me know which is best for you, okay?”
Artie took a moment to finish calculating some figures before looking up at Quinn. “Okay,” he said, though he’d just taken on a new project at work and he really wasn’t sure if he was going to have time for this. But they needed the money since Quinn’s due date wasn’t that far away so it wasn’t like he had a choice. “But I mean... it’s not like you haven’t already done this...”
Quinn’s heart dropped down into her stomach and she scowled slightly. “I was sixteen. Do you think I sat there and took notes?” Her whole first pregnancy had really been a blur. “Besides, I gave birth way early and never finished the class... But if you think it’s going to be a waste of time, when you don’t even have to shove a baby out of you, then fine.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Artie tried, though he knew that that was definitely what it had sounded like. “I’m sorry. I just have to rearrange some things, probably. But we’ll make it work.”
Scowling a little less now, though still a bit offended and hurt, Quinn just nodded. “Okay, well let me know. I mean, it’s like an hour a week. We could even have sex like... one less time a week and then you would definitely have time,” she said as if this were the most logical thing ever.
Artie picked up the brochure and looked at the class times, trying not to outwardly show how amused he was by the way she’d just proposed making time for birthing class to him. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Quinn stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Thanks. So what are you working on?” She didn’t have to start dinner for a little bit and figured she should see what her husband was up to.
She didn’t seem to really be mad at him anymore so he figured things were okay for now. “A kitchen, specifically, right now,” he said, reaching a hand out so he could idly run it up and down her waist. “Just space issues and counter heights so far.”
Moving her hand down onto Artie’s, Quinn directed his hand to where the baby started kicking her. “I think he’s saying hi. Or maybe telling you he likes your kitchen,” she said, smirking slightly.
Artie waited until he felt the kicking before grinning up at her. “Maybe he is,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her stomach. “To both. My kitchen is pretty cool.”
Lately whenever Artie did that it made Quinn feel really emotional, so she took a few deep breaths to calm herself before she broke out into happy tears or something. “Okay well, I’m going to go make dinner,” she said eventually, though her voice was still a little thick. “I’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Do you need help?” Artie asked, raising his eyebrows a little at the way her voice had just sounded. He usually just waited for her random moments of emotion to pass but he was always on guard just in case they turned into more than just a moment.
Quinn shook her head though leaned down to kiss him quickly on the lips. “It’s okay, you get some work done. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, waiting until she’d left to get back to work.
---
“I still think it’s bullshit that I have to go with you,” Santana grumbled as she and Quinn made their way inside so they could go to Quinn’s first birthing class. “Like, seriously. It’s not like I’m at all involved in this.”
Quinn was in a pretty bad mood about this as well because she had sacrificed sex and Artie still couldn’t come to her class. “Well you’re like, going to be their... I mean his, Godmother, you can start your duties now,” she grumbled back.
“That’s like if you die,” Santana said, very practically, “or fail to bring him up all Catholic which isn’t going to not happen since it’s not like Artie is super religious. Besides his scary devotion to Rock Band, which I’m surprised is still going on.”
“I’m not going to die,” Quinn snapped back. “And like, Godparents are totally supposed to be involved in the baby’s life in general, so just suck it up. I mean, I and the one pushing a watermelon out of my...” she trailed off. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“If I ever have kids, I’m totally adopting,” Santana declared, pushing the door open for Quinn. “So no one has to push stuff out of anywhere.” She looked around the room and realized that even for Chicago, she and Quinn were the only same-sex pair, and it wasn’t like Chicago was Lima. Whatever. It wasn’t like they were dating.
Quinn waddled in, noticing as well that she was the only one there with someone of the same sex. Not that gay couples having kids bothered her. “Artie and I have been together since I was 16, and yet every other babydaddy could make it but mine?” She grumbled again, her mood worsening as she picked a place to sit. “This sucks.”
Santana stood around awkwardly for a little bit, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do (since it wasn’t like she was physically involved in the process, so wasn’t she just there for moral support?) before sitting down next to Quinn. “He’s an ass,” she said, helpfully. “It’s totally easy to get out of meetings if you really want to.”
Things could go one of two ways, Quinn could stay angry and get through this class or she could get sad and be a sobbing mess. She really didn’t want to be that hormonal, pregnant woman of the class though so she opted for the anger. “I can’t believe I gave up sex and he still blew this off. Asshole,” she growled as they waited for the rest of the class to arrive so they could get started.
“Wait, like you totally just stopped having it? That doesn’t make sense. Are you on a sex strike? And if he came to this you would stop striking? I don’t get it,” Santana said, frowning a little.
Quinn let out a frustrated groan. “He was worried about not having enough time so we didn’t have sex so he could work and... yeah.” Maybe that was why she was doubly grouchy about this whole situation.
“How often do you have sex?” Santana asked, curiously and probably too loudly. Some people turned to look so Santana glared at them until they stopped, then turned back to Quinn. “Sorry. It just got really quiet all of a sudden.”
Pretty much feeling like dying now, Quinn reached into her bag and took out her bottle of water for something to distract herself with. Once she felt like people weren’t staring as much anymore she turned back to Santana and rolled her eyes. “Enough,” she mumbled out before drinking more water. “Or at least before this happened. Ugh can this damn class just start already?!”
Santana was pretty much immune to Quinn’s moods after having been friends with her for so long. Plus, she had kind of mellowed after a few years of dating Artie... well, sort of. She figured while they were killing time before the class she might as well try to distract her, though, so she said, “So Brittany is coming to Chicago like next weekend...”
Quinn just blinked a few times, not really sure how to react to this. Her two best friends had been on and off dating since high school and she really couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Maybe it was the fact that she had been with the same person (consistently) since she was 16, but the whole relationship dynamic behind Brittany and Santana so wasn’t healthy.
“You can’t keep just hooking up with her. It’s not fair,” Quinn said, frowning slightly.
Santana had expected just that reaction and she had been basically hearing it for the last six or seven (had it really been that long?!) years, but it was complicated. “I know that,” she said, frowning as well as she tried to respond seriously. “I told her she needed to like, not stay with me, so I think she got a room or something. Except I think she thinks that it’s because I’m seeing someone here.”
“Well you are seeing someone,” Quinn said, still frowning. Someone she and Artie had set her up with. One of the couples near by looked over at them oddly and Quinn just sneered at them until they looked away. She idly wondered if they thought she meant Santana was seeing her since she was the one at her birthing class, but whatever. Fuck them.
“Have you told her?” Quinn knew that Artie would have told Brittany but she probably would appreciate hearing it from Santana herself.
Santana paused, then said, “It hasn’t really come up.” She felt herself frowning more so to distract herself this time, she said, “I mean, I don’t know how to work that into conversation when most of the time it just consists of us having phone sex,” and forced herself to turn her frown into a smirk.
“Isn’t that like... cheating?” Quinn asked, slightly annoyed now. She and Artie worked hard on screening his coworkers to find her a suitable guy and she goes and does shit like that?
Santana was about to tell Quinn that she and Eric weren’t exclusive or anything when all of a sudden a woman came around who looked disturbingly similar to Sue Sylvester and started talking about the birthing class (Santana was trying to pay attention, she really was, but then there were words like ‘dilating’ and ‘cervix’ and she started humming in her head so she could tune out what the woman was saying) and how Santana needed to be more supportive of her partner-- what?
“No, we’re not, like, that’s not what this is,” Santana said, hurriedly. “I’m just here for support.”
The woman nodded very gravely at both her and Quinn. “I know that you might be feeling left out of the process because you have no biological connection to the child--”
“No,” Santana said again, a little louder this time. “Like, we’re just friends.”
“Because she’s hooking up with someone else,” the woman next to them said, helpfully.
“No,” Santana said for the third time. “God. Quinn, can you help me, here?”
Quinn narrowed her eyes, looking between the instructor and their oh so helpful neighbor before holding up her left hand. “I’m married. My dumbass husband had to work. And mind your own fucking business humpy dumpty,” she snapped, still glaring. The woman’s expression went from amused to scandalized, but that only made Quinn smirk. “Can we just get on with the stupid breathing exercises?”
“Nice one,” Santana said approvingly, looking sideways at Quinn and smirking. Meanwhile she made a mental note to warn Artie that Quinn was in a really bad mood, except maybe she didn’t need to because it was his fault for saying he was going to come and then bailing...
---
Quinn walked in, grumbling slightly about how her feet hurt and called out “Are you home?” as she took off her shoes and jacket. Birthing class had been... a disaster. After insulting her nosy floor neighbor things really only went downhill from there. She felt like a moron doing the breathing and Santana was having some kind of freak out about birthing and kept going off about how she was definitely adopting. Disaster.
“Baby?” She tried again, when she didn’t get an immediate response.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Artie called out once he’d closed the oven door and heard Quinn come home. “How did it go?” he asked once she’d come in. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there. But I’m making mashed potatoes! I just have to mash them. Which won’t take very long. Are you hungry?”
Quinn waddled in, scowling at Artie’s cheerfulness. “Oh yeah, it was just great,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “They all thought Santana was my lesbian lover and then I verbally abused one of the other mothers and instructor. Very productive.” She moved to the refrigerator to pour herself some juice. “Did you just make potatoes?” She asked then, looking over at him skeptically.
“No, there’s squash and asparagus in the oven too,” Artie said, raising his eyebrows a little as he watched her move around the kitchen. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” he said carefully. “Do you want anything else for dinner?” He didn’t even know what to say in response to the details she’d given about how the class had specifically gone so he just ignored that for now.
Quinn leaned against the counter silently as she drank more juice. She wasn’t really sure what to say now either. She was clearly upset with him for breaking his word but she couldn’t really be mad that he was working extra so they could pay for all the baby stuff and so he could take time off right after he was born. She was conflicted so she just drank juice.
Finally though she set down her cup on the counter and crossed her arms. “How were your meetings?” She asked, ignoring his questions.
Artie didn’t know what to say while Quinn was being all scary and silent so he just retrieved the bowl of potatoes and started mashing, watching her every so often just to make sure she hadn’t started crying or anything. “They were fine,” he said then, once she’d finally said something. “But I told my boss that I couldn’t get double booked again for stuff like this.”
“Doesn’t really matter,” Quinn said, scowling again. “I don’t think I can ever show my face there again. Plus I got very strong ‘please don’t come back’ vibes when we left. Whatever. Like you said, I’ve already done this. The stupid class probably wouldn’t even help,” she said stubbornly.
“Oh,” he said, still at a loss for something to say. It sounded like Quinn had definitely been in one of her moods and Artie knew firsthand that that could be pretty dangerous, but he was obliged to be on her side about things now. “Well, their loss if they don’t want our money. And are you sure? We can find somewhere else.”
Quinn was beginning to feel like she might burst into tears at any moment but really wanted to prevent that, or at least in front of Artie, so she shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t care. Just call me when dinner’s ready. I’m going to change,” she said before attempting to make an escape.
Artie watched her go for a second before returning his focus to dinner, figuring it might be for the best if he let her cool off by herself for a little bit before trying to talk to her. He made sure the timer was set on the oven, then finished the potatoes and put them back on the counter. Leaving the oven to turn itself off, he went over to their bedroom and poked his head in cautiously. “Hi,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What’s up?”
Quinn was pretty much just laying there, sobbing like a baby when Artie popped in. Hurrying to wipe under her eyes, she sniffed a few times then moved to sit up. “What? Nothing... I was just tired,” she said, noticeably lying for once.
He bit his lip a little, not fooled at all by what she’d just said, and moved himself over so he was next to her side of the bed. “Quinn,” he said, eyes a little wide. “Do you want a hug?”
“Do you even care that I felt like an idiot? Everyone else was there with their boyfriends or husbands or whatever and I was there with fucking Santana. And she kept asking about our sex life and then was talking about how she was like having phone sex with Brittany even though she’s dating that guy we set her up with and--” Quinn stopped talking suddenly as she unexpectedly started crying again.
Artie frowned a little at all of this, thinking to himself that he was going to need to talk to Santana about make good decisions in life. But that wasn’t important right now. “Of course I care,” he said then, silently telling himself to be brave just in case Quinn got angry instead of all sad suddenly. “I’m really sorry. That probably doesn’t mean much though. But I am.”
Quinn sniffed again and used the end of her sleeve to wipe under her eyes. There were a lot more tears than she had thought and a few swipes of her hand weren’t going to cut it. “I don’t like feeling like this,” she said, feeling pathetic.
Artie positioned himself closer to the bed and transferred himself onto it so he could scoot up next to Quinn and move his arm around her. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do right now to make you feel better?”
With Artie there, Quinn automatically nuzzled into him, even though she was supposed to be annoyed with him. Sniffling pathetically once more, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just sad right now. You can cuddle with me tonight. I guess that might make me feel better.”
“I definitely will,” Artie said, leaning his head against hers. “We should have dinner and then we can go do that.” He opted against telling her that he had been planning to do some work before bed because somehow he felt this wouldn’t be the best time.
“Okay,” Quinn said, shifting her head so she could kiss what was closest, which happened to be his neck. “Let’s go eat. It smells good. And all that breathing crap they made us do sort of made me hungry.”
Artie wrinkled his nose a little at the idea of breathing exercises (it wasn’t like Quinn hadn’t spent the entirety of her life practicing how to breathe in order to, you know, live) but nodded anyway. “Okay. Everything’s ready so whenever you are we can go back and take care of that.”
Quinn let herself stay cuddled against Artie a few more moments to regain her composure then nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.” She paused a moment before adding, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Artie said, moving his other arm around her stomach as much as he could. “A lot.”
“I know.” Quinn moved her hand on top of his, then shifted it slightly. “I know he loves you too because he always kicks when he hears your voice. Must be those songs you sing him,” she said, smiling slightly. It was hard to stay mad at Artie when perfect little moments like this happened.
“I also love you, in case you didn’t think so,” Artie said to Quinn’s stomach. He then leaned forward a little so he could look at her better. “We need to figure out what we’re going to call him, AJ or Andy... I feel like Santana won’t stop calling him Mini-Wheels until we settle on one.”
“Knowing Santana she’ll always call him ‘Mini-Wheels’ regardless of what we name him,” Quinn said after getting over just how adorable it was when Artie talked to her stomach.
“That’s probably true,” Artie admitted after a pause. “But seriously. I don’t want to confuse him with both of us calling him different things.”
“That’s a good point. Well I like Andy. We can’t call him Artie because then he would get confused with you. So let’s go with Andy,” she said, rubbing her stomach slightly.
“That works for me,” Artie said, kissing her cheek. “Are you feeling better? Do you want to have dinner now?”
“Yeah I’m feeling better. But you’re still not out of cuddle duty later,” Quinn said before kissing Artie back on the cheek and standing up.
“I know,” Artie said, letting go of Quinn and shifting himself over to the edge of the bed so he could get back into his wheelchair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better though.”
---
Sunday morning, days away from her due date, and Quinn was getting ready to go to church. Just because she was super uncomfortable and felt like a beached whale didn’t mean she could slack off and skip mass. It was still pretty chilly for March, so after bundling up in her coat, mittens and scarf she walked over to Artie. “Santana’s waiting outside, I’ll see you after. Love you.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Artie asked immediately, backing away from the kitchen table and looking at her concernedly. “I can be ready in five minutes. I should go with you.”
“What? No, I know you don’t want to come to church.” Quinn patted her large stomach. “We’re fine. Just stay home and play video games or whatever.” She bent down as much as she could, which wasn’t much, and kissed the top of his head. “Now, say bye to Andy, and I’ll see you after.”
Artie was especially paranoid because Quinn had a history (well, it was one time) of delivering early and even though he tried to not think about that time in their lives most of the time, he was worried to the point where he thought that even just driving over a bump in the road would set her off... well, metaphorically. “Are you sure?” he asked, moving himself closer to her and kissing her stomach through her coat.
“Yes. I’m totally sure. All your worrying is stressing me out, so knock it off,” she said, slightly playfully. “Bye.” And with that she waddled off and out to Santana’s car.
“Sorry that took so long. Artie wanted to come along. He thinks I am going to go into labor any second or something.” Quinn rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she would know when she was about to go into labor and she felt perfectly fine right now.
Santana looked at Quinn sharply. “What? Are you going to? I should get some trash bags for my car seat if that’s even a possibility, this car was pretty expensive,” she said, very seriously, making no moves to pull out from her parking space in front of where Quinn and Artie lived.
“Why are you both freaking out on me? I’m completely fine. Let’s just go to church already,” Quinn said, frowning, then buckled her seat belt with some difficulty.
“I just don’t want to be there when it happens,” Santana said, very practically. “No offense.” She waited for Quinn to properly secure herself before beginning to drive towards their adopted church.
Quinn narrowed her eyes at Santana. “Some supportive best friend you are,” she grumbled.
“Hey, I’m totally supportive,” Santana said, glancing over at Quinn as she drove. “But like I think you should just get a c-section so you can schedule it and that way Artie will stop stalking you and I will know when to expect your going into birth and stuff.”
“I don’t want them cutting me open,” Quinn said, scandalized. “What if they mess up and cut Andy? Fuck that. No way.”
“That doesn’t happen,” Santana said, very breezily. “You should just do it. It would make everyone’s lives easier.”
Quinn just rolled her eyes. “Well since I am the person that actually has to go through it, I will be making the decisions. And I want a regular birth with no knives cutting me open. The end.”
“Fine, deal with all the dilating and stuff,” Santana said, making a face. “At least you guys only want like, two kids, right? So you just have to do this one more time.”
Quinn nodded, ready to let the conversation drop, and unbuckled her seat belt once they were parked, then waddled in. She made it about half way through the mass before she could tell something was wrong. Seriously all this kneeling and standing was like aerobics and was definitely not good for her current state o’ preggo.
Standing up from the latest bout of kneeling, Quinn grabbed her stomach and a moment later felt something trickling down her leg. Fuck ... Sorry Jesus. She turned slowly to Santana, biting her lip, before whispering, “S. Um. We have to go. I think my water just broke.”
Santana’s eyes widened and she silently (and angrily) asked Jesus why she always needed to be around for Quinn’s water breaking. I know we’re best friends but this is kind of taking it too far. “Okay,” she whispered back, clearly agitated. Why did Quinn look so calm? Why was Santana the one who was having trouble breathing? “Let’s go. Holy shit.” She belatedly crossed herself.
Quinn put both her hands on her stomach as she waddled out as if that would keep Andy in there and made her way to Santana’s car. “I swear this is all you and Artie’s fault. You two jinxed me. I was completely fine until you two started freaking out about me going into labor. Well you two should be happy now,” she started rambling once they were out of the church.
“It’s not like you’re not due this month or anything,” Santana said, scandalized by the idea that she’d done something to induce Quinn’s labor. “Just get in the car, where am I supposed to take you?”
“The hospital... The one closer to our house. Hold on I have to call Artie,” Quinn said quickly then took our her phone, pressing his speed dial number, waiting impatiently as it rang.
“I should’ve gotten trash bags,” Santana said to herself as she drove.
Meanwhile, Artie was busy playing video games when all of a sudden he heard their phone going off. He reluctantly pressed pause, then leaned sideways to reach for the phone off of the end table. “Hi?”
“Hi,” Quinn said before wincing from her first contraction. “Um... My water broke. Meet us at the hospital?” She tried to stay calm but the idea of Artie not being there when she delivered was a reasonable thing to panic about. “This is Quinn by the way,” she added, which as an after thought she figured was pretty obvious, but maybe just her current situation was making her not think straight.
“I know it’s you,” Artie said, kind of stupidly. “Okay. Yeah. I will be there.” He was having a really hard time thinking, and also apparently having a really hard time forming complex sentences. “Do you need me to bring anything? Besides myself? And overnight stuff?”
“Uh, no. Just that stuff. And--ouch... Um never mind. Just hurry, I love you,” Quinn said, holding her stomach again as another contraction hit her.
Artie sat there for a moment and thought about how long it would take for him to get to the hospital. “I think I’ll be there in 18 minutes,” he said then, very business-like. “So we should be okay. Unless you have a freak delivery. Don’t do that.”
“What the--?! Just get your ass down here,” Quinn snapped. “I mean... sorry, baby. Just. Hurry, please.”
“Okay,” Artie said, feeling a little offended now. “I was just trying to tell you when to expect me. But okay. See you soon,” he said, before hanging up.
---
After a few hours, had passed, there was still no sign that things were really progressing. Artie came back into Quinn’s room from the hallway, where he’d just had to calm down Santana. He was pretty sure that Santana was panicking way too much for being the woman who was actually not in labor and he almost kind of wanted to suggest to the staff that they give Santana the epidural instead.
“Hi,” he said to Quinn, pretty cheerfully (he’d gotten over his previous panic on the phone). “Santana’s going to be okay. I think she’s getting some coffee downstairs.”
“What the fuck is her problem? I am the one having contractions and about to push a baby out. Speaking of, any time soon would be nice Andy,” she said to her stomach. They had been waiting hours for her to finish dilating, but it was just taking forever.
Quinn held her hand out for Artie, shifting slightly in bed so she could better face him. “I’m sorry. I’m just. Ugh. Really uncomfortable.”
“I know,” Artie said, biting his lip as he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “At least it hasn’t been like 24 hours or something and you’re still at this point?” Though in retrospect she probably didn’t want to hear that seeing as she was pretty convinced that he and Santana had jinxed her going into labor earlier.
“Stop saying stuff like that,” Quinn shrieked, then nearly started hyperventilating. “Can we please just try and be optimistic without the ‘at least this isn’t happening’ sort of statements because I swear now it is going to happen and I will one day make you pay!” The pain of her contractions were just making her threat random things.
Artie looked at her warily, but told himself to just stay put where he was and not let go of her hand and move away. “I’m sorry,” he said then, feeling completely at a loss.
“We are never having sex again if this is what I have to go through,” Quinn whined out after another contraction.
“Yeah, okay,” Artie said, very skeptically. “You’re the one who kept scheduling sex into my calendar.”
“Well I couldn’t get any more pregnant then...” Quinn said pathetically, squeezing Artie’s hand through yet another contraction. “I swear they’re getting closer. Am I dilated yet? Ew, but don’t look.”
Artie had absolutely no idea what to say to this. He glanced up at one of the nurses, who shook her head, and kind of wished that she had actually verbally told Quinn that she wasn’t because now he had to tell her. “Um, no, not yet...”
Quinn was somewhere in between of throwing a toddler-esque fit and wanting to slushie someone. But seeing as Artie her husband and stuff she couldn’t do that to him. And it probably wouldn’t be nice to do that to the nurse... She just sat there, pouting. “Why is your son so stubborn and doesn’t want to be born?”
“Maybe he just likes it there,” Artie said kind of pathetically, squeezing her hand again. “It hasn’t been that long. I’m sure you can start pushing soon.”
If Quinn weren’t in such an insane mood (well honestly when wasn’t she? But this was a different kind of insane. The kind where she was preparing to shove a watermelon sized thing out of... down there) she would have made a crack about how Artie liked it in there too. That would have been totally inappropriate though so she just squeezed his hand back, feeling just as pathetic.
“I better. In case you haven’t figured it out Andy, you’re grounded once you’re born!” She said to her stomach.
“You can’t ground him,” Artie said, only half-meaning it. “It’s not his fault that things aren’t progressing at the rate you’d like it to. Maybe-- I don’t know.” He stopped himself in time from saying that maybe there was something going on with Quinn, but started silently panicking that there actually was something going wrong except wouldn’t they have told them if there was something going wrong? Maybe that was why Santana had just had a panic attack.
“We need to have a united front as parents, Artie!” Quinn said dramatically. Except she knew it was completely ridiculous to ground a new born baby for taking too long in labor. “Why can’t this just happen already?!” She whined again, looking between Artie and the nurse.
“Just calm down,” Artie said, kind of desperately by this point. “Think about other stuff. I don’t know what stuff. But something. Or maybe you should take some drugs.”
---
Another few hours had passed and Quinn still wasn’t dilated fully, though the last time the doctor had come in, she had been around 8 centimetres so at least it was closer. Squeezing Artie’s hand with one hand, she had the other on her stomach, holding on as her contractions came fast now. “This fucking demon spawn, get out of me!”
Artie looked at her, shocked and horrified. “I’m going to tell him that you said that,” he said, probably focusing on the wrong thing here. “That wasn’t very nice at all.”
“Whose side are you on? Your son is putting me through agony. You could try and show me a little sympathy,” she growled.
“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure that out of the two of us you’re the crazy stubborn one. He’s clearly taking after you,” Artie retorted, not really thinking straight anymore.
“Oh is that what you think? Well you can get the hell out of here then. I can do on my own,” she snapped back, pulling her hand away.
Artie furrowed his brow a little, instantly pouting, and glanced over at the medical staff who seemed to be very intensely focused on some readouts and not looking at either him or Quinn. “Okay,” he said, frowning a little more. “Are you sure?”
“Well if you’re going to take hell beast’s side,” she said, motioning to her stomach, “then I don’t want you around,” she said stubbornly.
Artie blinked at her. “You know you’re just kind of proving my point, right?”
“Just get out!” She shrieked, her voice hysterical now.
---
Artie had found Santana in the waiting room and, once he’d positioned his chair next to hers, promptly started with the whole story about how Quinn was going crazy and how she was really stressing him out and what if something was wrong and how she’d kicked him out and how he really just wanted to be held because he was so anxious but that wasn’t a backwards way of asking Santana to hold him. He didn’t really expect Santana to say anything really helpful but he did appreciate it when she told him she’d go buy him some coffee and that he should just cool down in the waiting room while she was gone.
Suddenly his parents and Quinn’s mom came out of the elevator and rushed over to him. “Why are you here?” his mother said, without even bothering to say hello or give him a hug.
“Quinn kicked me out,” Artie said, pouting a little more. All of the parents exchanged looks. “Can you go see how she’s doing? Which isn’t well, by the way, so far.”
“I kind of got the sense from Santana’s twitter,” his dad said, holding up his phone. “Yeah, we’ll go check in. And I don’t just mean on FourSquare.”
“Dad... this isn’t the time for your lame jokes,” Artie said, feeling even more exhausted once they’d left.
Since she kicked Artie out, Quinn was basically just sitting there and brooding, occasionally talking to her stomach to tell Andy to hurry the hell up. The nurse had brought her a fresh cup of ice chips and she was crunching on those as she seethed at this whole birthing thing taking so long.
A few minutes later her mother walked in and she nearly dropped her cup of ice chips. “Mom? What are you doing here? Am I hallucinating from the pain?”
“No, Quinnie, we’re really here,” Judy said, motioning back to Artie’s parents. “We got in the car as soon as we heard you were in labor, and here we are.”
Quinn nearly glared at her mother, who was far too cheerful to be around when she was in so much pain, but managed a small grimace instead. “Well, hi. Lucky for you I’m still dilating,” she said sarcastically.
“It hasn’t been too long though,” Catherine Abrams said, looking at her husband (who was feeling very awkward at the thought of his daughter-in-law dilating). “Only about six hours? The end is near.”
Judy Fabray could tell her daughter was about to say something particularly rude to Catherine’s ‘only six hours’ comment and swiftly intervened. “Sweetheart, how about we go get the doctor to check on you again?” She stepped forward and gave Quinn a kiss on the forehead then motioned towards Catherine and Andrew to exit, before following them out.
By this time, Santana had returned to the waiting room with two coffees for her and Artie and was busy checking her phone while Artie was attempting to read a magazine on home remodeling. He looked up once he noticed that his parents had come back. “Would it be really pathetic if I just stayed out here?”
“I really don’t blame you,” Santana commented, as Catherine gave Artie a disapproving look. “She’s scary. Besides, she clearly doesn’t want you there anymore. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Abrams, and Judy. What’s up?”
“You’re so helpful, Santana, really,” Artie said, biting his lip.
“I’m sure she does want you there,” Andrew said, placatingly. “Just not right now. And just don’t say anything stupid.”
“But I’m stressed out. Of course I’m saying stupid stuff,” Artie said, not sure why people were surprised that that’d happened.
“That’s legit,” Santana said, supportively. “I’ll go check on her if you want. I’m used to her being mad at me.” She stood up and belatedly gave Quinn’s mother a quick hug hello before making her way into Quinn’s room.
“So?” she asked, bracing herself for a possible onslaught from Quinn. “Any progress?”
“No,” Quinn grumbled. “I’m like in fucking purgatory. Dilated at 9 centimetres so I can’t start pushing meanwhile I’m having all these contractions that hurt like a bitch,” she snarled. “Can’t they just make this go faster. Aren’t they doctors for a reason? And if you dare say I should have just gotten a c-section I will throw this telephone at you!”
“Isn’t there like, that epidural thing you can just get to make it not hurt anymore?” Santana asked, staying a safe distance away from Quinn just in case she decided that there were other spontaneous reasons to throw phones and other things.
Quinn bit her lip, thinking back to the conversation she had with Artie. He had made it pretty clear how he felt about things being injected into spinal chords. And she could totally see his point, which is why she wasn’t having an epidural. “I’m not getting one,” she said through clenched teeth as another contraction caused her to wince.
Santana kind of thought that was a pretty dumb choice but she definitely wasn’t going to say anything that would piss Quinn off right now. “Okay,” she said, dropping the subject right there. “Um, do you want Artie to come back in here?”
Glad that Santana didn’t ask further about it, because she wasn’t sure how she would explain that since it was sort of a personal thing between her and Artie, she just nodded her head. “Yes please.”
“Do you want anyone else?” Santana asked, meaning more her mom or Artie’s parents instead of herself.
“No, just him,” Quinn said, feeling kind of pathetic now. She felt guilty for yelling at him and making him leave and right now all she really wanted was for him to be there, even if he did keep saying stupid things.
“Okay, I’ll go get him,” Santana said, kind of awkwardly, before turning and leaving for the waiting room again. After sitting down next to Judy and informing everyone about Quinn’s lack of significant progression, she sent Artie back in.
“Hey Quinn,” Artie said once he’d resumed his place next to her bed. “Santana said you wanted me back in here?”
“Hi baby,” Quinn said softly, suddenly feeling a lot calmer. “I’m sorry I’m crazy. And I want you around all the ti--” she cut herself off, biting her lip through a contraction. “Time.”
Artie was still kind of hurt by what she’d said earlier but he logically knew that Quinn didn’t mean it (at least, he hoped not). “It’s okay,” he said, reaching out for her hand again.
Quinn took Artie’s hand, squeezing it lightly for a few moments before starting to squeeze harder. “Oh my--Ow--Shit. They just--” she stopped, clenching her eyes together. “Faster. Get the doctor...” If she had known calling Artie back in would set this off she could have called him back in forever ago.
Artie’s eyes widened once he figured out what she was saying. “Oh-- oh, okay-- Quinn, you have to let go of my hand--” Of course, this had happened the one time that the supposedly ever-present nurses had stepped out of the room.
Breaking her death grip on Artie’s hand, she moved both her hands onto her stomach and tried to remember the stupid breathing exercises. “Ouch, fuck, go!” Quinn managed to say between breaths.
---
Eventually it was all over and after some sort of miracle, Artie and Quinn had their son. Catherine made a big point of emphasizing that Andy was so much bigger as a newborn when compared to how scrawny and little Artie had been (which made Santana snicker a lot). Artie took pictures with his phone and sent them to everyone else they knew via email, and after a lot of crying and talking and more picture taking the day was finally over. Santana went back to her apartment after saying she’d be back the next day, and Catherine, Andrew, and Judy went off to check in at their hotel, where they’d gotten adjacent rooms (it was really so weird how well their parents got along).
“I can’t believe we finally have him,” Artie said too quietly, paranoid that he’d wake up Andy if he talked normally.
“I know,” Quinn said just as quietly, with a tired grin on her face. “It took him long enough...” she added, grumbling slightly.
“I still think he got your stubborn streak,” Artie said, smiling at her fondly. “Do you think anyone would care if I got in bed with you?”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Quinn said (stubbornly, though maybe that was just a coincidence) and scooted over slowly, trying not to move too fast and hurt herself. She was still pretty sore from the whole birthing process.
“Good answer,” Artie said, looking amused. He waited until Quinn had moved over before hoisting himself up onto the bed, scooting backwards so he was more facing her. “So... Andy’s kind of cute,” he said then, grinning more.
Once Artie was settled, Quinn moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “He is. We did good, huh?” She said tiredly, then moved her head slightly so she could kiss his shoulder. “I love you.”
Artie moved his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Well,” he corrected, automatically, then added, “I didn’t do anything. I’m pretty sure that was just you being amazing.”
Quinn just rolled her eyes slightly and nuzzled further into him. “You held my hand the whole time. That was really helpful,” she said, yawning as she spoke towards the end.
He was about to point out that technically it hadn’t been the whole time because she’d kicked him out momentarily, then decided that she didn’t need to be reminded of that. “I’m glad it helped,” he said, yawning as well. “Maybe we should try and sleep. Who knows how long Andy will before he wakes up...”
“That’s a good idea,” Quinn said before yawning again as she nodded weakly. “Do you want blanket?” She asked as she worked on pulling it over them before he even answered. She was just too tired.
“Yeah, okay,” Artie said, once she had already gotten it over both of them. He lay back and shifted a little, carefully, trying to get comfortable. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Quinn mumbled back sleepily before drifting off for some well deserved rest.