#beaquinn!!

[puck-luck]

Note: welcome to beaquinn hammock hookup! I'm formatting this on my phone bc I already put my computer in my bag, so I apologize if it looks wonky :)

Warnings: fingering, public & outdoor sex, handjob

WC: 2225

SMUT UNDER THE CUT! (I don't have my normal graphic for that since, yet again, I'm on my phone.) Minors, do NOT interact. Thanks!

Bea feels remarkably like a cat who is napping in a sunlit window. The moonlight doesn’t actually warm her all that much, but the red wine in her stomach and Quinn’s body heat does. They’re stargazing, but Bea has curled up into Quinn’s side and started to breathe him in. It would probably be expensive and unrealistic– try impossible– to bottle him up like a perfume, but with her nose pressed into the side of his chest, she would like nothing more.

Not only is he keeping her warm and smelling good, but he’s also so fun to touch. Quinn’s bicep is acting like a pillow for Bea, her knee is thrown over his leg, and her hand is on his stomach. Bea could fall asleep right here, on the ground, so long as Quinn is touching her.

Her fingers are a little bit cold, though. It’s the middle of summer, but since the sun has set, there’s a slight chill in the air. She’s already wearing Quinn’s Palm Angels Creative Services sweatshirt, which is big on Quinn and massive on Bea, but she’s cold.

There is a solution– the human hand-warmer beside her.

Just as Bea is snaking her hand under Quinn’s t-shirt and flattening her palm over his happy trail, she’s wrenched out of the moment by Honey’s cross voice.

“Stop that,” Honey chides.

She’s probably talking to Jack or Cole, or even Trevor, so Bea doesn’t pay her any mind. She continues her motion, finding the slight dip of Quinn’s v-line and tracing it.

“Seriously, Bea, stop it or go,” Honey adds, indignant.

Now it’s clear that she’s directing her complaints at Bea. Ugh. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t have Quinn underneath her, with these lovehandles that she just wants to bite and pinch and love on.

Quinn shifts underneath her and catches Bea’s hand, halting her movements. “We’ll go to bed,” Quinn decides for them, holding Bea’s hand and dragging her up to a seated position. “C’mon, Bea.”

Bea groans, scrunching up her face. Moving is so hard. She raises her arms petulantly and blinks up at Quinn, doe-eyed.

He chuckles and shakes his head at Bea, smiling down and gathering her up in his arms. “Needy girl, did all that wine stop your legs from working?” He teases good-naturedly.

Bea’s stomach flutters. “I would just rather cuddle you,” Bea replies. She snuggles closer to Quinn and buries her nose in his chest, inhaling deeply and obviously and making Quinn laugh.

“Seemed like you wanted more than a cuddle, baby,” Quinn says knowingly. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling like I want my boyfriend to touch me,” Bea sings, flattening her palms on Quinn’s chest and dragging them down his torso seductively once he sets her down, her feet against the ground so she's standing, but there's still very little space between them. His nostrils flare a little bit at his title, which is still fresh enough that it evokes a reaction from Quinn.

Jack and Honey can share looks all they want, but Bea and Quinn should be allowed to soak up the honeymoon phase as long as they’d like. It’ll all end at the end of August anyway, so what’s a month of mushy, over-the-top PDA?

“Oh, yeah?” Quinn asks. “What should your boyfriend do to you? He’s not going to fuck you in the hammock, F-Y-I.”

Bea frowns and digs her fingers into Quinn’s waistband, inching them down. “Why not?”

Quinn looks at her, unimpressed. “Because the hammock will flip over and we’ll fall out if I fuck you the way I want to fuck you.”

Bea hums. That sounds enticing. “Maybe we should sneak into Honey’s room,” Bea jokes. She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs. “You can fuck me to your heart’s content.”

Quinn looks off to the side, back toward the group, chuckling with Bea. “I think if we fuck in Honey’s bed, then she and Trevor will fuck in our bed.”

“Hm, good point,” Bea says. “We don’t want that. Not Trevor, at least.”

“Exactly.” Quinn pecks her forehead. “But, the sooner you get in the hammock, the sooner I can make you come on my fingers. Does that sound okay?”

“Better than okay,” Bea agrees. She hops into the hammock and tries to keep the swinging fabric steady for Quinn. Once he collapses on top of Bea’s body, she kisses his temple. “Once you make me come, I’ll get my hand on you, too.”

“So generous,” Quinn murmurs. He seals his mouth over hers and coats her tongue with his taste.

He tastes just the same as she does, probably. Her tastebuds are coated with red wine and Quinn’s kisses are slow, tinged with sensuality. Bea could kiss him all day and all night, if she’s being honest. Given how little time they have, she never wants to part from Quinn.

The pads of his fingers inch between her legs, rubbing Bea’s core over her shorts. “You wanna take these off?” He asks.

Bea nods. “Mhm,” she agrees. “I kind of like the idea of being exposed like this.”

Quinn groans, swooping in to kiss her again. “Fuck, I love you,” he tells Bea.

He’s been saying that a lot lately. It’s not like she told him to stop, but she also hasn’t said it back. It makes her… anxious, maybe, to hear Quinn say that he loves her? Not always in a bad way– in moments like this, it makes her giggle and remember that they’re a great match, but other times it just reminds her that things are going to be really difficult at the end of August. The real reason that Bea doesn’t stop Quinn from saying he loves her, though, is because he always says it so earnestly. He truly means it and she doesn’t want to stop him from saying what he means. She doesn’t want to silence him.

Luckily, he’s kissing her again, so she doesn’t have to reply. He usually does that. He’ll smother her lips before she can think of a response to his statement. Bea suspects that he knows that she’s not quite there yet and that’s why he doesn’t give her a chance to hesitate.

He’s so… good. If Bea was to make him in the Sims, she’d almost certainly put “Good” as one of his three personality traits.

She loses her shorts and Quinn shifts her panties to the side, baring Bea’s pussy to the summer air. He intertwines their legs, able to press his rapidly fattening length against the top part of her thigh. As one of his hands slips between her folds, prodding at her entrance, his other cups the back of her neck and keeps their lips slotted together.

His tongue fills her mouth again as two of his fingers bluntly push into her heat. He’s only just started to thrust them in and out when–

“Hey,” Honey’s soft voice hisses, sounding like she’s already grinding her teeth together and grimacing at the idea of interrupting.

Bea barely holds back a snort when Quinn flinches away from her. This isn’t the first time Honey has interrupted her in the middle of something– after all, they did live together for a year. There were only so many times that Honey was willing to be sexiled from the house that she was paying to own.

Quinn’s face goes from a ‘deer-in-headlights” expression to one that is more calm. He turns back to Bea, looking down at her. “Do you want a blanket?”

Bea sits up, leaning on her elbows to do so. She looks over the edge of the hammock at Honey. “You can just drop it there,” she says. Then, she grins, seeking to make Honey just a bit more uncomfortable with her next words. She always makes the funniest face when she doesn’t want to hear something about Bea’s sex life. “Quinn’ll come get it in a second. His hands are a little busy right now.” For good measure, she clenches down on his fingers, which surprises Quinn and makes him blush.

The blanket hits the ground with a muted thump. “I didn’t need to know that.” Honey deadpans before turning on her heel and walking away. “Have a good night!” She wishes in false cheer.

Bea thinks quick on her feet. “Just trying to cross something off my Rice Purity Test,” she calls after Honey, laughing to herself. Honey flips her off without looking back, which effectively ends their conversation. Bea lifts her arms and curls them around Quinn’s neck, bringing him back down to kiss her lips.

“Are you actually?” Quinn asks between kisses. “For the Rice Purity Test?”

“Nah,” Bea says. “I think my score is low enough. Plus, I’ve had sex outside before. It just wasn’t quite like this.” She tilts her head up and pecks his lips again. “But, I have crossed a few items off because of you. Kissing for more than two hours consecutively? That was all you, Q.”

“What’s your score?” Quinn inquires, sounding interested.

“Uh, 40, last I checked,” Bea says. “Definitely not too shabby, but not too slutty.”

Quinn has begun moving his fingers again, bringing waves of pleasure with his movements. “Definitely not slutty.”

“What’s yours?” Bea asks.

“42, but I guess I’m knocking off ‘public sex’ and ‘outdoor sex’ right now,” Quinn teases. “So we’re the same. Not slutty at all.”

Bea giggles. “Hmm, if you’re good, I’ll give you the $5 bill in my wallet and we can both get down to 39?”

Quinn snorts out a laugh into her mouth and brings his thumb to her clit. “Quiet, you. You get to come free of charge today.”

“Oh, thank you, Quinn Hughes,” Bea simpers before locking lips with Quinn and keeping him close.

Their kisses are as sloppy as his crude thrusts, sounding similar as well. Their lips smack quietly as they come together and part, breathing into each others’ mouths before diving in for another round. Quinn’s fingers move in and out of Bea at a leisurely pace, savoring her slick and working in tandem with his circling thumb.

It’s only once Bea shoves her hand into Quinn’s shorts that he starts to speed up. It’s a race against each other, with Bea stripping Quinn’s cock until his hips are twisting away from her grip and Quinn pulsing his fingertips against Bea’s g-spot in a way that has her whimpering against his tongue.

Quinn pushes a third finger past Bea’s entrance, doing everything he can to bring her to the peak before he comes in her hand. His effort is for naught– when Bea twists her fingers in his hair and tugs slightly, causing that burning ache in Quinn’s scalp that he likes so much while he eats her out, he shudders on top of her and begins to spill in her hand.

Bea catches what she can, doing her best to make sure there will be no cumstain on Quinn’s shorts when they rise and greet the others in the morning.

When he finishes quivering under her touch, Bea draws her hand from his shorts and brings her hand to her mouth.

Quinn draws back and, eyes hooded, watches her lick his cum from her palm and fingers. He looks slightly more drunk than he was originally, intoxicated by the view in front of him.

Bea smirks as she sucks, taking her time with Quinn’s cum.

Quinn grips the back of her neck and draws Bea forward, trapping her hand between their bodies and crashing his lips against her own. He’s greedy and insatiable, pressing his hips and softening cock against her thigh as he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Wish I could get my mouth on you,” Quinn tells her quietly, but rushed like the world will end if he doesn’t say it. “I’d suck your clit ‘til you’re coming all over my face, baby. Nothing in the world tastes better than you.”

“Shit,” Bea replies, blinking hard at his words. Her hips jump under his touch, thighs shaking with his insistent bullying of her inner walls. “Y’re gonna make me come, Q.”

“The whole point,” Quinn says with a little laugh. “I want you to. Come on my fingers, Sweet Bea. Make a mess for me, give me something to lick up just like you did.”

Bea moans into his mouth when he kisses her a final time, the seal inside of Bea snapping and allowing endless shocks to overtake her body. He fingers her through her climax, laying kiss after kiss on her lips.

When she comes down, he withdraws his fingers and makes good on his promise. Quinn overexaggerates his satisfied hums and even rubs his stomach like her cum is the tastiest thing in the world, which has Bea throwing her head back in laughter and popping him good-naturedly on the head. She also tells him that he’s acting weird, which is when he chills out a bit.

Bea smiles fondly at Quinn as he cleans his fingers, fisting his t-shirt and pulling him closer, although her tugging really only results in rocking the hammock. They’re quick to fall asleep, with Quinn replacing Bea’s shorts and venturing out to get the blanket Honey left them. It keeps them nice and warm, legs still intertwined, for the entire night.

[puck-luck]

this was born out of a text exchange between me and cappy where i rewatched the "coming home" youtube video and quinn had the audacity to bend over the edge of the table like a SLUT. my message about that moment was "I HATE him for putting his leg up on the edge like this (and you know what? Bea would fuck him on the pool table fs)". Cappy replied: "also - circling back to the fucking on the pool table. yes i do think that should be included in bea’s book. love that both girls fuck their men on the pool table". then I discussed how Bea is going to ask how it was for Honey because position-wise, she wasn't super comfy "And then honey’s going to be like “bruh” and then bea will be like “aw that’s so cute of us, we fucked our guys in the same place 😊 we’re basically semen sisters” and honey is going to be so affronted". So that's what inspired this. I started having visions when I was supposed to work on my grad school essay, so I needed to write it down to get it out of my mind.

HERE! is the beaquinn pool table sex. if you want to know what's happening with honeytrev at the same time as this, you can reread days 30-33 in Chapter 5 of stg. LOVE YOU! say it back. ENJOY!

[5.1K WORDS]

Bea almost doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s bed when she hears the front door creak open, signaling the brothers’s return from Las Vegas. It’s warm in here and the pillow smells like Quinn. Her t-shirt will have to do. It’s Quinn’s old yellow Michigan t-shirt, which falls big on her but not big enough to cover her behind. The hardwood floor is cold as she makes her way out of bed and throws the sheets back into place, tiptoeing down the hall and the stairs without making the floor creak too much. Bea undoes the messy braid on the back of her head, knowing how Quinn likes it when her hair is loose for him to play with. She shakes out her hair as she creeps down the stairs, the whispers of the brothers getting louder with each step.

“Jack, the door–” Luke hisses just before the front door bangs shut.

Bea stifles a giggle by pressing her fingers over her lips, still hiding in the shadows of the staircase. 

The boys stand in almost identical poses, shoulders tense and heads ducked. They’re waiting for one of their housemates to wake up and get mad at them for making so much noise. They’re lucky– Cole’s been dead to the world since about 10:30 and Trevor went to bed around 11 after he talked with Honey. Bea doesn’t know exactly what happened, since Honey is still so unsure about this Trevor thing, with good reason, but she knows that Honey had to remind him to think before he speaks. Bea is so glad she doesn’t have that problem– Quinn loves to think before he speaks. The other boys are less thoughtful, but she’s never had to chew them out for saying something stupid.

“Close one, eh?” Jack whispers, although he’s bad at whispering, so his voice just seems softer than normal.

Bea steps out of the shadows, staying close to the wall like it’ll camouflage her bright yellow shirt. 

“Bea,” Quinn breathes out, noticing her immediately. He sets his suitcase down next to him, a smile growing on his face when he recognizes her outfit.

“You’re late,” Bea whispers, matching his grin. “You said 1:30.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, but he doesn’t seem all that sorry.

“There was a crash on 77,” Luke adds. “Pretty bad. Probably better that it happened in the middle of the night, since there weren’t as many cars on the road.”

Bea hums. “That’s sad.”

“Have you been up this whole time?” Jack asks. “It’s late.”

Bea shakes her head. “Slept a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack grins. “Whose bed?”

Stupid. Bea snorts, taking a few more steps until she’s in front of him. She lifts her hand and squishes his cheeks between her fingers. “Not yours,” she says. “G’night, Jacky.”

He makes a kissing noise at her, then steps back and bumps into the table in the hall. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Night, Bea.”

Luke echoes a goodnight and pats Bea on the back, holding both his and Quinn’s suitcases in his hands. The brothers squeeze past her, leaving Quinn and Bea in the dark alone.

She grins at him, bouncing a little bit on her tiptoes out of excitement. She’s missed him. Quinn smiles back, his eyes glinting in the darkness. He’s the first to step forward, sweeping her up into his arms in a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, letting his arms push her shirt up so that he can touch the smooth expanse of her back. Bea wraps her arms over his shoulders and plays with his hair, breathing him in. He smells a little bit like airport, but the scent of his sandalwood shampoo is stronger than ever. 

“You shower this morning?” Bea asks, pinching the close-cut strands on the back of his head between her fingers. 

“God, I knew you were going to comment on that,” Quinn groans, pulling away from her. His hands rest on Bea’s waist, pinkies brushing the band of her cheeky underwear. “I was on a plane for like five hours, babe.”

Bea’s stomach twists at the pet name, her cheeks turning a little red and her mouth widening somehow further. She admires Quinn for a moment, eyes cataloging how his face looks sharper with his stubble only just growing back. Her eyes pass over the scar on his cheek. Honey only just noticed it the other night. It’s one of Bea’s favorite things about his face– tied for first with, well, everything else. 

She realizes that she’s gone too long without replying, mostly because the edges of Quinn’s lips are tilting upward in an amused way.

“Hey, winner,” Bea greets, tilting her head to kiss him hello. “Missed you.”

Quinn breathes out a tiny laugh, kissing her again like a reply. “I missed you, too. Was thinking about you the whole time.”

Bea faux-gasps. “You were thinking about me, but you didn’t even thank me in your speech?”

Quinn chuckles, a little louder this time. His thumb runs along her hip, petting the skin there. It makes Bea’s sides feel warm, like the friction is sending shocks through her body. “Oh, come on. How would that have sounded?”

“‘And thank you to Bea McLean, the best person I’ve ever met’...?” Bea teases, blinking at Quinn. “Obviously. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Quinn shakes his head, still smiling fondly. He rolls his eyes a little bit, but he concedes. “I’ll work it in next time.”

“I’m expecting it. First back-to-back Norris winner since Nicklas Lindstrom, yeah?”

“Lidstrom, baby,” Quinn corrects. He pulls Bea close again, hugging her for the second time. His hands rub up and down her back again and Bea swears that she can feel his fingerprints as he moves. “You tired?”

“I slept a little. Are you tired?”

“Had a coffee at the airport ‘cause I’m stupid,” Quinn replies. His voice turns sarcastic, overly dramatic and trying to get her sympathy. “And the boys were draining me, they’re so annoying.”

Bea pats his chest. “You love them,” she reminds him.

Quinn’s easy to break. “Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re pretty great.” He pauses, eyes flickering over her face akin to how she surveyed him earlier. “Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Movie will put me to sleep. We can play a round of pool, if you want. Keep your winning streak going,” Bea teases. 

“You just want to bend over in front of me,” Quinn bites back, laughing. His hands go to her behind, covering Bea’s cheeks with his palms. “Distract me with your panties.”

“It would be more distracting if I wasn’t wearing them,” Bea points out, wiggling back into Quinn’s touch. 

“I think you’re already distracting enough in my Michigan shirt,” Quinn says. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You can fill me in on the past couple days while you lose.”

He’s got that playful tone in his voice again, the one that Bea loves. It’s so domestic, the way that she and Quinn talk to each other. They’ve got a vibe about them, something that fits like a puzzle piece, but Bea is getting too far ahead of herself. It’s not even July. They’re just having fun, by her own design. So what if he calls her ‘baby’ and it makes her stomach flip-flop every time?

They’re still trying to be quiet as they head down to the basement, making sure to close the door behind them. Quinn racks the balls and Bea chooses her usual stick– she only knows which one it is because it’s got a chip about ⅓ of the way down the shaft– and starts to tell him what he missed. 

“Honey tried to ban Trevor from the store because he’s bad at being a person,” Bea starts. “I don’t know the drama, but apparently he doesn’t think.”

“Have they fucked yet?” Quinn asks, rounding the table and stationing himself to break the rack. Bea never breaks when they play. She’s not very good at hitting one ball, much less strategically breaking up a group of fifteen. “Or are they still stuck on him fingering her in the back room?”

“They’re still stuck. She likes him so much, though, she just won’t admit it,” Bea continues. She looks at the table. Quinn made one of the stripes in off of his break– 14 maybe– so he’s trying to pick his second ball now.

“She’ll get there. It’s kind of like a tree falling, isn’t it,” Quinn says. He lines up the 11-ball with the pocket and knocks it in, then purposefully bumps off the wall in a meaningless shot so that Bea has a chance. “Takes a while, but once she’s down, she’s down.”

Hmm. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Bea tells him. “That’s smart, Q. You’re right.” She eyes the 5-ball, since it’s kind of in the way of all of the ones she wants to get to. Might as well move it. Bea crosses the table and shoots it off to the other side of the table. A problem for later.

“You can’t try to lose on purpose,” Quinn chides.

“I’m not trying to lose on purpose, I just wanted to get that one out of the way,” Bea argues back. 

Quinn rolls his eyes and sighs. “You should’ve shot at the 7.”

Bea side eyes him. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done. Mansplainer.”

Quinn shrugs. “Just trying to help.” He focuses on his next shot. “What’d you do after we left?”

“Worked. I dragged Honey here to watch the Awards, we played Uno– I won, by the way, and I’ll school you next time we play–” Quinn interrupts her with a laugh, narrowly missing a pocket when the ball bounces off the corner edge. “I called you after you won, and then we broke out the hot tub earlier today.”

That catches Quinn’s interest. “Oh, yeah?” He asks. “You took a dip? Did Cole try anything stupid?”

Bea hears the insinuation immediately. “No, Cole and I didn’t hook up while you were gone,” she says with a tinge of fake exasperation in her voice. “I told you over the phone on Thursday, I only have sex with men who have won the James Norris trophy.”

Quinn laughs aloud, throwing his head back. “How long is that going to last?” He teases. “Just so I can know when I’m back to graciously sharing you with the other boys.”

Bea groans. When they’re alone, Quinn always flaunts how he was the first and how he’s her favorite. He gets a kick out of acting like he’s special and Bea pretends to hate it. He is special, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I can still go up to Jack’s bed now, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bea leans over to shoot at one of her solids. It bounces off a wall and changes directions. “That’s all that happened this weekend, really. Tell me about Vegas. Lose any money?”

“Tons,” Quinn confirms, but the cheeky grin on his face tells her that he’s stretching the truth. He starts to talk about how he and his brothers snuck Luke into the casino with a well-placed bribe to the doorman and autographs for his kids. The stories from the weekend pile up as Quinn and Bea mill around the table, taking shots and sinking them in Quinn’s case, missing them in Bea’s. He tells her about the people he saw, the things he did, the interviews he had, that he got an offer to be on the cover of NHL 25 but he’s going to hold out until they let him bring Jack and Luke with him, and that he’s happy he got to see his mom and dad. He officially tells Bea that they’re coming for Fourth of July, although that surprise had already been spoiled by Trevor on Thursday. 

Quinn wins– of course. Bea wasn’t going to win this game unless he intentionally threw it, like her first time playing him. They’re past the intentional throws now. Bea goes to update the board– honor code is highly valued in this house– and Quinn pockets the rest of the balls so that everything is nice and clean for tomorrow. There’s no sense in leaving them out. She can hear Quinn sneaking up behind her.

“You look good in my shirt, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing Bea’s shoulder. “I gotta get you in Michigan gear more often.”

“You know, if they ever play Carolina again, you’ll have to pry my UNC gear from my cold, dead body,” Bea says, reaching a hand around and threading her fingers through Quinn’s hair again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I pried the clothes off this body,” Quinn says, self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. He turns Bea in his grip so that she’s facing him. He kisses her, more than a greeting peck this time. “You tired yet?”

Once again, Bea can see right through his question. “Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for my winner to get home.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Quinn praises, voice low. He captures Bea’s lips again, moving against her in the comfortable way that they’ve adopted in the weeks since they’ve been seeing each other. 

Bea lets Quinn lead this time, his hands guiding her closer. He’s got a palm under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, and the other cradles her face gently, like something precious. Bea knows that it’s a casual thing, but she likes to lose herself in moments like this. Quinn is just so… all-consuming. He’s like a really loud and unexpected clap of thunder, one that rumbles on for longer than you expect. His touch makes Bea jump, sometimes.

Her hands explore him a bit, like she doesn’t get to touch him all the time. The difference is that Bea finds something new every time and she never tires of getting her hands on Quinn. She knows that he tends to be insecure when it comes to his build, which comes from years of being an awkward teen with a nose that seemed too big for his face and acne that riddled his forehead, but Bea can’t imagine Quinn as anything other than perfect.

He’d be slightly more perfect if he had a bedroom to himself. 

“I feel bad kicking Luke out,” Bea whispers to Quinn when they break for air. “You guys got in so late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn replies. He brings his hands to the backs of Bea’s thighs and lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “We don’t need a bed.”

Bea makes a face. “We stay fuckin’ in the bed, Q.” Lord knows she’s not against having sex in an odd place– the back of Griffin’s patrol car, for one– but she and Quinn haven’t really branched out yet. “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”

“What can I say,” Quinn teases. “You bring something out in me. Let’s try something new.” He nips at her bottom lip, then drags his tongue against the area he bit. “It’ll be fun.”

Bea giggles. He gets so flirty and touchy, sometimes. “What are you thinking, Crazy?” She teases him right back with the nickname, bringing her index finger to the curve of his nose. It really is the perfect size and shape– so appealing. 

She’s distracted by a memory, from the second time they hooked up. Quinn had told her that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted the first time, and when she asked what he meant, he’d licked his first two fingers and slid the wet digits against the fabric of her underwear. She’d gotten much more wet when he made his way between her legs with his mouth, kissing and licking over her folds and entrance as the fabric molded to her anatomy. It was only then that he’d removed the panties and gotten his mouth on her properly– the vision often comes to her when she’s trying to sleep at home, alone. His nose had been so nice then, bumping against her clit as he’d ravished her.

Bea’s stomach grows a little warmer at the reminder. 

“I want you right here,” Quinn says, breaking her from the spell. He sits Bea down on the edge of the pool table, the cool wood of the edges pressing against her thighs while the felt of the table scrapes against the hem of her shirt. He stands between her legs and places a hand behind her head, kissing her and leaning forward so that she’ll lay back. Once Bea is laying down, flat underneath Quinn, he pushes her shirt up and takes it off. 

The felt of the table feels weird under her bare skin, but it’s not bad. The bite of the ridge of the table is worse against her thighs, but Bea doesn’t speak up about it because Quinn’s removing his shirt.

The moonlight from outside makes him seem paler than he is, but it creates a beautiful series of shadows across his body that emphasize his muscles. His arms seem like they’re bulging more, his chest has more definition, and his jawline– oh, his jawline. Bea didn’t realize just how much his long hair hid that from her.

“I like your haircut,” Bea says, not realizing how silly and belated it sounds when she’s almost entirely naked on the pool table below him. 

Quinn chuckles, smiling at her. One side of his lips lifts higher than the other, which is how she knows that he’s blushing, even when the moonlight hides it. “Thanks, baby,” he says softly, leaning down again to find her lips. His cock, still trapped by his pants, fits perfectly against the place where she wants him most. 

She grinds up against him, drawing a low moan from the back of Quinn’s throat. He placates her with kiss after kiss down her neck and between her tits, as far down as he can go while he keeps his pelvis in line with her own. He’s fiddling with his zipper with one hand, kneading Bea’s right breast with his left hand. The skin of his fingertips is a little dry, but his thumb catches her nipple just right and Bea keens, her vision getting a little darker.

“Missed me that much, hm?” Quinn teases in his low voice. “Two days I’m gone, baby, and you’re this needy? What am I going to do with you when I’m gone for a week, or two?”

Bea reaches to his hair and brings his lips to hers, to silence him. She’s beyond talking and beyond teasing. She wants him inside, like, yesterday. 

“Relax, I’m coming,” Quinn assures Bea, mumbling his words against her lips. He finally takes his hand from her breast to shove his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them so he can move better. He drags his tip through her folds, her wetness gathering along his skin. “Did you mean it?” He asks. “What you said on the phone?”

Bea pauses, wracking her brain. She said a lot of things on the phone to Quinn. She meant them all. She’s about to say yes, just so he can get on with it, but then she spots the way he’s biting his lower lip and his eyes have turned hungry. They’re trained on the place where he’s nudging his tip against her clit, slit bubbling out precum and dripping on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“What part?” Bea asks, captivated by the look on Quinn’s face. 

His eyes rise to hers and he looks positively intoxicated by whatever he’s thinking. Bea’s skin crawls a little, but not in a bad way. In an excited way– whatever Quinn’s referring to, he wants badly. Bea wants to see him give into that.

“That you’d reward me for winning,” he prompts, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips, which have parted in recognition. “By letting me fuck you bare.” His jaw clenches a bit once he says it, but Bea reads him. He’s not sure what she’ll say and he seems cautious to show his deeper thoughts on that, but his caution is betraying him anyway. Bea knows Quinn. She speaks his language, reads his tics, and understands him. He wants this.

“Norris winners get to come inside me,” Bea says, repeating the exact words that she whispered into the speaker while he stroked himself in the Las Vegas hotel bathroom. It was his tipping point, and now she understands why. “Since you won, you get to feel all of me.” Her throat seems drier than before when she swallows. Bea’s never had that before– she’s thought about it, hence why she brought it up to Quinn in the first place. It’s why she gets the shot every three months instead of relying on condoms– in case, one day, there was a man that she wanted in the most intimate way. That day is today. “Fuck me, Quinn.”

His mouth is insistent when it joins hers, tongue dragging over her own and filling the space between her lips. “Baby,” Quinn groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Preferably not right now,” Bea jokes, lifting her hips to remind him of the task at hand. 

Quinn laughs at the joke, smiling into his next kiss. “You’re so perfect,” he says. “Can’t believe I met you.”

Bea feels his words on her heart like a prick of a rose’s thorn. A little bit of herself seeps out, flooding her chest and making her eyebrows furrow with the sudden rush of emotion. “Quinn,” Bea says, feeling like she’s whining a little bit.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say it anymore,” he says, returning his focus to the space between her legs. He wastes another few seconds, entranced by his tip going through her folds, before he lines himself up and starts to shift forward. He moans quietly at the feeling, just expelling the breath from his lungs.

Bea’s surprised by the feeling too– at least, she thinks Quinn’s feeling some sort of surprise. He’s certainly relishing in the experience, trying to catalog how she feels around him with the way his eyes have drifted shut and his mouth has fallen open. She closes her eyes to do the same– and finds that it’s not that different, all in all. She just feels closer to him.

“Please, move,” Bea whispers, resting her hand on Quinn’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to prompt him. Well, that, and she wanted to feel the muscle beneath it. The moonlight had her wondering if it was really that much more defined. 

“Gimme a sec,” Quinn grits out, taking a breath. “You just feel so–” He exhales a sharp breath. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Another thorn to the chest– Bea has to breathe in deep to steel herself. This doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

She’s able to put that aside when Quinn starts to drag himself out of her heat, then push back in. His hair is tickling her nose with the way that his head has fallen forward in pleasure, so Bea pushes it out of the way with her palm. Quinn’s forehead has started to bead with sweat, but only barely. His eyes catch hers.

His eye contact has always made the hair on her arms stand up, increasing her pleasure tenfold. He’s so attentive to her needs, crowding into her space and touching her tits and sides in the way that makes her feel like a lighting rod gearing up for a strike. 

Quinn breaks first. “Bea,” he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth against her neck. He leaves a wet spot there, which dries in the cool, early morning air. His hand moves from her side to her thigh, spreading her legs further so that he can inch closer. He seems determined to be as close to her as he can, touching her in every way. 

“I know,” Bea replies. “Harder, Quinn. Take it. Make me come. Need you to feel my pussy when it comes on your bare cock.”

His moan is choked but loud when she says that. Quinn’s hips start to move the way she’s used to– harder, faster, determined. He’s louder like this, or maybe it’s the silence of the basement and the night that surrounds them playing tricks on Bea’s mind. It’s just– his breath is warmer and she feels like she can feel him moving in her bones. This is more.

Quinn brings his thumb to her mouth, which Bea takes greedily. She knows his moves– he wants her to get him all wet so that he can touch her somewhere she needs. She swirls her tongue around the digit, leaving as much saliva as she can on his thumb before he pulls it from her mouth with a pop. 

His hand drifts to her boobs again, finding one of her nipples and pinching it with his slick finger. He tugs a little, which prompts Bea’s spine to arch like her body is begging him to do it again. Quinn does, but he switches nipples, wiggling his hand between their bodies and taking hold of her. He kisses her again, distracting her from the mixture of pain and pleasure. All the while, he’s bucking into her desperately, displacing her on the pool table. 

Her thigh starts to spasm under his hand, twitching because she’s close. Bea wraps her arms around Quinn’s shoulders, a mirror image of the hug she gave him at the beginning of their night. He’s not the only one who wants to be close.

“Fuck, Quinn, keep going,” Bea pleads, shifting as best she can to remove the pressure of the edge of the pool table from her body. It’s a dull ache, distracting her from Quinn’s cock and the way it moves in her cunt. His tip meets the cartilage of her cervix relentlessly, turning her vision spotty with the sensation. It feels so wet with him unprotected inside of her, leaking and mixing with her own slick. 

He shifts so that he’s hovering just a few inches above her body, hands going from her thigh and her breast to both of her hips. He grips her skin, biting his lower lip to stifle his grunts. His eyes have grown focused, narrowing the way they do when he evaluates a shot on this very table or when he tries to dance between the boys on the hockey rink outside to score. He pulls her back into him, all while thrusting his hips forward, and Bea’s falling into an unfamiliar space where only Quinn has ever placed her. 

“Fuck,” Bea whines, reaching for Quinn and coming up with nothing, so she clutches at the pocket of the pool table instead. She holds the wood between her fingers, sure that she’ll either warp the table or break her fingers from the force of her grip. “‘M coming, Q.”

“Good girl,” Quinn says through his teeth, his voice gravelly. “Let me feel it.”

Bea lets out a short cry, legs still shaking beneath Quinn. The bruising pain of the edge of the table is nothing now, not when there’s a chill making its way from the depths of her stomach to the tight coil in her stomach. 

“So perfect,” Quinn says again, praising Bea as she starts to come undone on his cock.

“You,” Bea corrects, breathless and reaching for Quinn again. She finds his forearm this time, circling her fingers around his wrist. She squeezes, trying to get her point across. He can say it all he wants, but she’s going to make sure she says it back, because he is. 

Her touch sends Quinn over the edge, which only intensifies the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Bea keens lowly in the back of her throat as Quinn’s jaw drops once again, eyes falling shut as his seed flows from his cock and paints her walls. The sensation surprises Bea, much like her original reaction to his raw form, and she constricts against him by accident. That spurs Quinn on, making him choke and plaster himself against her body as his cock releases the last of his cum.

His hips twitch inside of her after he’s done and Quinn has to clear his throat and shake his head to come back to himself. Bea pets his hair through it, focused on the feeling of his freshly cut ends between her fingers. 

“You should know that I really liked that,” Quinn says first.

Bea giggles, tugging his hair. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Quinn bites the side of Bea’s neck to chastise her for teasing him. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I’m about to leak all over the pool table in your rented house if you don’t get me to a bathroom soon,” Bea replies. “Chop chop, babydoll.”

Quinn groans with the effort, but he lifts Bea from the pool table and awkwardly walks toward the basement’s bathroom, settling her on the already-lifted toilet seat– perks of living with a bunch of fucking boys, Bea thinks– and then he starts to wash his hands.

“Tired yet?” Quinn asks for a third time, looking over at Bea and grinning as he continues to rub the suds all over his hands and wrists. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Bea makes a face. “Are you trying to wash me off or something? Damn, Q, it’s been twenty seconds,” she replies instead, pretending to be offended and hurt. She doesn’t actually want to start watching a movie at 3 a.m. and Quinn should feel similarly. She wants to go to bed with him.

Quinn looks down at her vagina, very obviously, and quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I just came in you, so I feel like that’s hard to wash away.” He rinses his hands and towels them off. “So no movie?”

“Oh my God, get out of the bathroom so I can pee,” Bea exclaims, starting to laugh a bit. “You’re so weird. No movie.”

“Episode of Love Island?” Quinn asks. “Any drama I missed between Leah and Rob?”

Bea points an accusing finger at him. “I knew you enjoyed my trashy shows,” she says. “And all this time you’ve been grumbling about them.”

Quinn shrugs. “No one will believe you,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

Bea purses her lips at him. “Well, good, because that’s my thing with Cole.” Quinn acts like he’s wounded, so Bea sticks her tongue out at him. “Not everything can be about you, Q.”

“I’ll get over it,” Quinn says. “You still like me best.”

Bea matches his previous whisper. “And no one will ever believe you.”

Quinn leaves the bathroom laughing. Bea hopes he goes upstairs to get one of the good blankets for them to share when they inevitably fall asleep on the couch after Quinn turns on a movie that Bea does not see the point in watching.

The background noise does help her sleep, though, and she thinks Quinn knows that.

sigh i love beaquinn they're so dreamy best couple ever can't believe they break up at the end of the summer OOPS SORRY SPOILERS (y'all already know that, i haven't been keeping that under wraps)

[puck-luck]

baby boy hughes (1) | beaquinn

saturday, july 13, 2024 12:17 A.M.

“If you had a baby right now, what would you name it?” Bea asks.

Quinn snuffles out a little laugh. “‘It,’” he repeats. He blinks his eyes open, looking at Bea the way he does only in bed together, late at night or early in the morning. It’s the most special look ever and no one has seen it– not Honey, not Quinn’s brothers, not anyone. Bea kind of wants to shout out from the rooftops that Quinn likes to look at her like she’s an angel, but it sounds crazy and she doesn’t really want to share it. She wants his fond little regard to stay special.

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes. “Not ‘it.’”

Quinn smiles. “It’s okay, baby. I know what you meant. I’m just teasing.”

Bea pats his chest and he catches her hand, holding her wrist so her palm is pressed against his skin, fingers splayed over his heart. 

“If I had a baby boy right now, I’d name him after Luke,” Quinn says. “We have a system– I name my son after Luke, Luke names his after Jack, and Jack names his after me. Then the other brother will be the godfather. So Jack would be the godfather of my son, and I would be the godfather for Luke’s, and Luke would be Jack’s son’s godfather.”

“Sounds like you guys have thought this out,” Bea says. 

“We had to,” Quinn says. “I want to name my son after my brothers, but if Jack was my son’s middle name, Jack would throw a tantrum. He always wants to be the number one pick. Going first in the draft really sent his ego through the roof.”

“But you would rather use Luke as a first name,” Bea says.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “Luke is really special to me. I love them both, but Luke looks up to me a lot and always has. Sometimes I feel like I can’t fulfill his expectations of me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t treat him as well as I should. Ever since I was a kid, I was trying to be the best role model for Luke. He was like my first kid, in a way. He wanted to be just like me, the same way I wanted to be just like Dad.”

saturday, march 1, 2031 10:42 P.M.

“Is he here yet?” Quinn asks frantically, dropping the two duffelbags in his hands on the chair in the corner of the hospital room. “Did I miss it?”

“Do you see a baby in this room?” Bea snaps. “Seventeen hours later and this gremlin won’t get out of me.” She directs her cutting tone towards her stomach. “Get out! Get out!” 

“Sweet Bea, don’t yell at the baby,” Quinn chides softly, grabbing the water from Bea’s bedside table and bringing the straw to her lips. “You don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

Bea takes a sip of the water, then raises her hands to tuck a few strands of hair back into her braided pigtails. “I am going to lord this behavior over my child’s head for as long as I want,” Bea replies, tone grave. “He is taking his time, so much so that I have not eaten in twelve hours, because that’s how long I’ve been in active labor. Our doctor said that he would probably be here around seven and you managed to play an entire hockey game in the time since seven.” She tilts her head towards Quinn’s and glares menacingly. “I want him out.”

Quinn leans forward and plants a kiss on her lips. “I can’t take him out for you, babe. He’ll come when he comes. Do you want to try walking around a bit, see if you can loosen up?”

Bea narrows her eyes. “Conveniently, I already did that. I spent the entire second intermission and third period pacing around this room and all I got out of it was one lousy centimeter.”

“Okay, Crab-Bea,” Quinn says with a chuckle. His use of the nickname is warranted. Bea is being crabby. Seventeen hours of labor will do that to you. “Do you want some good news?”

“I’m dying for some.”

“Jack and Luke got special permission to fly out a day early and Mom and Dad are already on the way too,” Quinn says, kissing Bea’s cheek. “So you get to see Luke’s reaction in person.”

“If the baby even comes by then,” Bea grumbles. “You never know, he might still be in there by the time the ‘Hughes Bowl’ is over.” Her voice adopts a mocking tone when she quotes the media-given name to the Canucks/Devils game, eyes rolling. She really loves the Hughes Bowl, but not when there’s a baby stubbornly camping out in her uterus.

“He’ll be here by then,” Quinn assures her. “I bet he’ll be here by midnight. Now, scoot forward. Let me give you a back massage. It’s the least I can do.”

Bea scoots forward as best she can, providing Quinn enough room to climb onto the bed and situate Bea between his thighs. “The least you can do is right,” Bea agrees. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

Quinn laughs. His hands fit over Bea’s shoulders and his thumbs dig into the tense space at the top of her spine. He massages the area and Bea feels herself relax immediately. The skin on her neck rises when Quinn fits his lips next to her earlobe and reminds her, “You were there too. I seem to remember you begging for your husband to fill you up.”

sunday, march 2, 2031 2:15 P.M.

A knock sounds at the door. Quinn peeks his head in the room, finding Bea on the bed with their little boy on her chest. “Are you ready for some guests?” he asks, grinning at Bea. 

She’s in a much better mood than she was last night, having finally birthed their first child and gotten some food  in her system. Little Luke is fed, changed, and is having a nap on her chest. One of his hands is balled up in the spaghetti strap of Bea’s tank top, holding her close. He’s been cuddling with Bea for over an hour and a half now, so he should be waking up any minute. Bea nods, biting her bottom lip and beaming at Quinn, trying not to jostle the baby too much.

Quinn retreats from the doorway and pushes the door open, letting his family walk in ahead of him. Ellen is first, eyes already teary, and she presses a hand to her mouth when she sees Bea with the baby on her chest. The hormones catch up with Bea and she tears up too, her lower lip pouting slightly even as she smiles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellen murmurs, coming to Bea’s bedside and touching her hairline daintily, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “You did it.”

Not for the first time in this whole process, Bea wishes her mom was here. Her entire family is trying to plan a trip out to Vancouver over the next few months, staggering their arrivals so that Bea always has someone helping her with the baby until Quinn’s season ends, but she would love it if her mom was able to be here right now. They’d called the McLeans earlier to introduce little Luke to his Mimi and Poppop, but it wasn’t the same. Having Ellen’s presence isn’t the same either, but it’s just as comforting– Bea has always been accepted as one of the Hugheses, even before she and Quinn were officially together.

“It took him long enough,” Bea jokes, both laughing and welling up further at the same time. God, the post-partum rollercoaster of emotions is no joke. “It was eighteen hours of labor before I reached ten centimeters.”

“The first one is always the hardest,” Ellen tells Bea, cradling her face in both hands and kissing her forehead again before her attention turns to the tiny little human nestled against Bea’s skin. Ellen’s smile softens and her head tilts. “Oh, Bea, he’s beautiful.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Bea asks, already bringing her hand to the back of little Luke’s head and gently changing his position so that she can hand him off. She has to pry his fingers off of her shirt, which unsettles the boy and makes him twitch, although he stays asleep. 

“You gotta wash your hands first,” Quinn interjects, tugging his mom away and guiding her towards the sink in the room. 

Jim claps Bea’s shoulder and squeezes. “Good job, Bea. We’re so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Bea replies. She tilts Luke’s body so that Jim can look down at him. “I thought you’d walk in here with a stick or something.”

Jim lets out a little chuckle, speaking under his breath like he’s sharing a secret with Bea. “Between you and me, it’s in the back of the car. You’ve got the number one pick of the 2049 draft in your hands there.” He winks and heads to the chair in the corner of the room, making himself comfortable and lacing his hands over his stomach.

Jack sits at the foot of Bea’s bed. “I brought the little guy a present,” he says, holding up a small gift bag. “Go ahead and open it.” He balances the gift bag precariously on Bea’s knees, his eyes darting to Ellen as she comes back to Bea’s side and carefully takes the baby in her arms, cooing and shushing him gently as he reacts to the transition and lets out a short wail.

Bea reaches for the present and pulls at the wrapping inside. A tiny black beanie falls on her lap when she pulls the tissue from the bag and Bea has a feeling she’s going to start laughing as soon as she turns it over. Her eyes go to Quinn as she picks up the beanie and flips it in her palm. She looks down and finds the Devils logo branded on the cuff of the article and releases a honk of laughter. 

“We thought he could wear it to the game tomorrow,” Luke adds with a crooked grin, standing at the end of Bea’s bed and patting her shin over the covers. “Show his support for the winning team, right?”

Bea holds up the beanie for Quinn to see and continues giggling as his face morphs into an angry frown. “Absolutely not,” Quinn says. “He’s already got gear for the ‘winning team.’ Boes got him a Canucks onesie that looks like Fin.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know if we’re going to the game,” Bea says. “I’m probably going to have to stay home with him. He’s less than a day old, Jack.”

“What’s his name?” Jim asks, tapping at his phone. His reading glasses are balanced precariously on the tip of his nose. “I want to add his birthday to my calendar.”

Bea and Quinn share a look. Bea presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow quickly, signaling for Quinn to go ahead.

“His name is Luke,” Quinn reveals, his face glowing with pride. “Luke Charles Hughes.”

Bea almost starts crying again when Uncle Luke’s eyebrows knit together and he whips his head from Bea to Quinn, then back to Bea. He looks at the baby in his mother’s arms, then back to Quinn. “What?” he asks. “Are you serious?”

Ellen clicks her tongue, her face crumpling a bit at the reveal. She touches baby Luke’s face, then wipes her thumb beneath her eyes. 

“We had a deal,” Quinn says with a laugh. 

Luke takes about two strides across the room and crashes into his oldest brother, wrapping him in a hug. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it, are you kidding? He’s actually named Luke?” Luke releases Quinn and makes his way to Bea, his arms surrounding her tightly and robbing her of some of her breath.

“Yes, actually,” Bea says when he pulls away. “Luke, after you, and Charles, after Honey.”

“That’s awesome, guys,” Jack says. He pinches the soft spot under Bea’s knee between his thumb and forefinger. “Really. That’s so great.”

Luke touches Bea’s arm. “I can hold him, right?”

Bea laughs. “Yeah, bud, you can hold him,” she tells Luke. “He’s going to look so tiny when you do, I want a picture.”

Quinn pulls Luke to the sink before he can reach Ellen, who has stood and is now bouncing the baby slightly. When she turns to look out the window in the room, Bea can see baby Luke’s squinty eyes blinking open and peering out at the room around him, only the top half of his head visible since he’s mostly resting on Ellen’s shoulder and unable to hold his head up on his own, being only 14 hours old.

Luke is gentle when he takes his nephew and cradles him in his palms for the first time. “He’s so little,” Luke marvels. 

“Seven pounds, ten ounces,” Quinn brags. “21 inches tall.”

“We gotta get this guy bulking,” Jack jokes with a big grin, standing up and looking at the boy in Luke’s arms. He touches baby Luke’s little foot through the onesie, gently moving the appendage back and forth and whispering a quiet, “Hi, Little Lukey.”

Quinn grins next to his brothers, hand on Luke’s shoulder and smiling down at his first son. 

Bea’s careful to stay quiet as she reaches for her phone– so she doesn’t break the moment– and snaps a picture of the brothers together, all of their attentions rapt on the newest member of their family.

[puck-luck]

baby boy hughes (3) | beaquinn

friday, october 14, 2033 11:14 P.M.

It’s been rushed hands and breathy whispers under the sheets for the past forty minutes. It’s rare that Bea and Quinn get to share a moment like this, now that they’ve got two kids and Quinn’s fifteenth season with the Canucks is getting into the swing of things. But– it’s his 34th birthday today, and they’ve made it a point to never let a birthday go by without a little… ‘appreciation’ for their spouse.

The boys had made that seem impossible in the early stages of the night. Luke had fought sleep for a while after Bea put him down at seven, getting up from his “big-boy bed” four times before Quinn convinced him to stay down after one last bedtime story. Patrick had gone down in his room at 7:30, but he’d fought that as well. He’d wailed and called for ‘Mama’ for the better part of ten minutes, which almost broke Bea’s heart. Her crying babies are her weakness. Patrick is so young, too. He only just attached “Mama” to Bea. Before now, it was a couple of easy syllables that he could babble and now it's her name. She’d still held fast, though; Bea and Quinn are big supporters of the “cry it out” mindset. If Patrick or Luke are still crying after 15 minutes, though, Bea will go into their room and cuddle them. There have been a couple of times that Quinn has fallen asleep in Luke’s toddler bed when Luke refuses Bea and Bea has had to tiptoe in and wake and extract him from the room without disturbing their firstborn.

Not tonight. The boys had to go to bed at a reasonable time. Bea was itching to share a dessert with Quinn and give him his inappropriate presents (underwear with her face on it and a new boudoir book to replace the one she had made for him ahead of their wedding) before doing, arguably, what they do best.

You wouldn’t have known it was Quinn’s birthday if all you had seen was how he’s been showering Bea with attention ever since they hit the sheets. He’d locked their bedroom door when they stumbled in, a barely noticeable buzz in their veins from the one glass of wine they’d each gulped down over the chocolate dessert once the boys went to bed. He’d undressed Bea in a flurry and laid her on the bed gently before spreading her thighs and licking into her like she was his true dessert. Bea lost track of time once his lips and tongue found her core, coming undone from Quinn’s mouth twice before he’d pulled away and come up to kiss her. Knowing they probably didn’t have much time before one of the kids woke up and bothered them– as they are known to do whenever Bea and Quinn try to engage in anything nefarious, like they have a sixth sense or something– Quinn had slid into Bea and fucked her, nice and slow, until he’d come inside of her with a low groan. He’d rubbed her clit, still buried inside, until she’d seized up and climaxed a third time.

Now, he’s laying behind Bea, his breath coming out in soft pants over her neck. His fingers are tracing the stretch marks that run from Bea’s abdomen to her hips. It used to make Bea squirm when he did this, after Luke was born. She hated them and almost started a fight with Quinn once about how he was always touching them, the part of her body that made Bea most insecure, and he’d blinked in surprise and kissed each one while explaining how gorgeous they were, since each one was a reminder of the baby that they’d made with their love. It was so sweet that Bea almost got sick to her stomach, but she never complained about the stretch marks again. They’ve multiplied since she was pregnant with Patrick, and she’s actually grown to like them too.

It’s been all of three minutes since Quinn came, then Bea followed, and it’s a good thing they finished when they did. There’s a little voice floating through the baby monitor in Patrick’s room, which they installed two weeks ago when they started trying to transition him into his own bedroom, and he’s crying again.

“Start the clock,” Quinn whispers, breathing a laugh into Bea’s skin. His eyes are closed and his chest is rising and falling steadily, like he’s already tuckered out. If only it was as easy for the boys to sleep– Bea would live a much less hectic life.

“Do you think we woke him up,” Bea whispers back, her own voice just tired enough that it can’t inflect like a question should. 

“No way, we’re really good at staying quiet now,” Quinn replies. He purses his lips against Bea’s neck, leaving a couple of kisses in the same spot because he doesn’t want to move. His hand comes up to cup Bea’s boob, holding the weight of it for a minute before returning to her side. “You’re still really good at this.” 

“Barely did anything,” Bea notes. Her eyelids are heavy, but her ears are still perked up and listening for Patrick to settle down. 

Quinn hums, a non-answer that satisfies both of them, and they drift between sleep and drowsiness. Bea never really falls asleep and neither does Quinn apparently, because after what feels like only a few minutes, he’s rolling away from Bea. “Gonna go get Peej,” Quinn murmurs. He kisses Bea’s cheek and goes off to find a pair of sweatpants before slipping from the bedroom.

Bea takes the few minutes she has to sit up, shoulders against the headboard, and throw on a shirt and sleepshorts. The shirt is baggy and one of Quinn’s, so old and threadbare and stained with breastmilk and spit-up (no matter how many times Bea tries to wash it) that she might as well throw it away. It’s been a hard transition to get Patrick into his own room– he’s clingier than Luke ever was to either parent, and Patrick much prefers Bea over Quinn. They joke now that it’s probably because Quinn missed the birth– Patrick somehow knows and holds it against him.

Quinn’s footsteps are almost silent as he comes back into their room. Patrick is sniffling around a pacifier, sitting tall in Quinn’s arms and looking for Bea. His eyes are teary but bright when he sees her and he leans forward in Quinn’s arms to reach for her, so much so that Quinn has to adjust his grip and put a hand on Patrick’s chest to keep him from falling out of Quinn’s arms.

Bea takes the boy when Quinn nears the bed and he snuggles against her chest, settling right between her boobs and curling up. It’s comical– both the positioning and how he’s too big to scrunch up like he did as a newborn, but he tries. His paci is bobbing in his mouth and he’s making little sucking noises that are half-annoying and half-precious to Bea.

Quinn comes back into bed and rests his head on Bea’s clavicle, slinging his arm over her stomach. He closes his eyes.

Bea pets Patrick’s back and breathes evenly, feeling him match her movements and start to drift off on his own, without a feeding. She’s grateful. She does not want to have a baby biting her nipple right now.

Patrick’s chubby hand pats Quinn’s head absentmindedly, ruffling the hair that covers his forehead. 

Quinn snuffles out a soft laugh and shifts away, sitting up beside Bea and putting his head next to hers. She leans on him and him on her. Quinn returns the touch to Patrick’s hair, patchy and spotty as it is. It’ll fill out soon. Quinn turns his head and nudges Bea’s cheek with his nose. “I love you,” he says quietly.

“I love you too,” Bea automatically replies at the same volume. She turns and meets Quinn halfway, sharing a chaste kiss. Bea watches Patrick fall asleep for a few minutes, waiting for his eyes to close and his mouth to go slack. The pacifier will drop from his tiny lips any second now.

“He’s getting so big,” Quinn observes. He runs his hand down Patrick’s back and covers Bea’s hand with his palm. Bea hums in agreement, then Quinn speaks again after a brief pause. “I hope we just made another one. I miss having a little guy around.”

Bea sighs and rolls her eyes. “You’re insatiable.”

“You’re irresistible,” Quinn chirps back with a goofy smile. “And that pregnant glow?” He holds a hand to his chest. “God, baby, it’s a wonder I’ve restrained myself this long.”

Bea laughs. “Shut up,” she says. “Stop speaking things into existence. I’m still getting adjusted to two.”

sunday, june 4, 2034 2:02 P.M.

The past week has been a really nice escape in the wake of everything that happened. Mimi and Poppop flew up to Vancouver last Sunday, the day after the news broke, and returned to Charlotte with Luke and Patrick on the plane. Bea was hesitant to let her parents take her three year old and 14-month-old to Charlotte for a week, but it’s not like she can fly from Vancouver to Charlotte with them. She hasn’t been allowed to do that since April, since international flights don’t allow pregnant women over 28 weeks to board. Bea is at a healthy 35-weeks when the road trip starts. The drive is 43 hours, funnily enough, and Bea makes a point to point it out to Quinn.

She and Quinn get to have a whole week to themselves. They spend the majority of those days in the car, sure, but they spend each night in a new hotel, in a new city, and mostly in a new state. They spend two nights in Montana because it’s such a large place and it’s so pretty, but Bea is grateful to eventually get through the midwest. They stop in Nashville on the sixth day to get lunch and walk around for a bit. It’s Bea’s favorite road city of Quinn’s, although she hasn’t gotten to travel with him as much as she’d like. This week makes up for it.

One night on the road trip, Bea spends the whole night asleep on one side. Usually she tosses and turns. When she wakes, Bea's ear hurts from being pressed against the pillow all night. Quinn can tell that she's uncomfortable, because Bea has never been good at hiding her emotions, and he asks her what's wrong.

With some effort– and a bit of help from Quinn– Bea rolls over and finds herself face to face with her husband. Bea's ear still stings, even though it's free now.

"I miss sleeping on my stomach," Bea laments. Her tone is far too dramatic for the situation at hand, something as trivial as her sleeping position. The admission brings a rush of emotion up her throat and Bea has to swallow back a lump of tears. She continues, lip jutting out miserably, "But if I sleep on my stomach, I'm going to crush the baby." Her mouth wobbles.

Quinn's eyebrows curve down with sympathy written all over his features. His hands come to Bea's cheeks and he kisses the tiny tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. "You are so lovely," Quinn marvels quietly. He draws back and runs his fingers gently over Bea's cheek, his eyes raking over her features like he's never seen her before. She cries a little more.

On the seventh day, as they drive the four and a half hours from Knoxville to Charlotte, Bea isn’t sure how to feel. The closer they get to North Carolina, the closer she is to her babies after she hasn’t seen them for days. She’s got Caleb puttering around in her belly, kicking her insides when Quinn sings along with the radio and pressing on her bladder when he thinks she’s been sitting in the car for too long, but she misses Patrick and Luke. She can’t wait to see them. She’s excited for that, but she’s dreading the whole reason that they’re going to Litchton early this summer. Bea does not want to attend Earl’s funeral. 

Quinn was at home when Bea got the call from Honey last Saturday. Bea had had a hard time stifling her tears in front of the boys, who were just trying to play with their magnetic blocks on the floor. Quinn got out of the shower and Bea waved him over and buried her face in his chest to cry just a little bit before pulling herself together and disappearing into the kitchen to make lunch. By the time she called them into the dining room to eat the mac-n-cheese she prepared, Quinn had booked flights for her parents and started calling hotels to make reservations. His season was over, thank God, so he was free to travel with Bea the whole way to Litchton. She’d cried a little more over that, and then some more in their bed when it really set in that the grumpy old man with a heart of gold who had taken care of her and Honey while they were in their twenties had died. She knew it was coming, of course. He was old and frail and he had had a few bad falls in recent months that didn’t bode well for his health. Still– the fact that he was gone broke her heart. He wouldn’t even get to meet her newest baby. Caleb wouldn’t even know the man who had considered himself Luke and Patrick’s third grandfather.

The boys didn’t come to the funeral. Bea and Quinn left them with Mimi and Poppop, thinking that it might be too difficult to keep them under control while their own emotions were so high. Bea and Quinn sat in a pew with Honey and Trevor and took in the mass and the beautiful eulogy that Earl and Vera’s son gave. After the funeral, they’d gone to the reception in a car together and mingled with the townies. The mood was incredibly subdued, as was to be expected, but everyone seemed delighted to see Bea and put their hands on her belly, which helped lift her mood a little bit. The beautiful thing about funerals in a tiny town is that you all mourn together, yes, but in the end, the reception is a celebration. You get to see old friends and talk to people you’ve never met and share memories of the person that you’re both missing. Bea admits that she misses small town life sometimes when she’s in Vancouver. There’s just no community like the one in Litchton.

Bea is most happy to see her knitting ladies. They’re all still intact, although Earl’s death has her realizing that this could be the last time she sees all of them together. They surround Vera and protect her from vulture-like attendees that are bothering her too much, but they part like a sea for Bea and Quinn. 

The ladies dote on Quinn, touching his beard and his jacket and the collar of his shirt. They coo over Bea equally as much, cupping her face and offering to drag a chair across the room so that she can sit down and get off of her feet. It’s Vera, sweet and tiny-looking Vera in her black dress and old-school flat-brim hat, who asks about the name for their third son.

“Caleb,” Bea reveals with a smile. She and Quinn had decided on that name pretty much right after the doctor had told them the gender of the baby. After two surprises, they were ready for something certain. They’d been perusing the baby-name-books for weeks, pointing out their favorites and narrowing it down to two for a boy: Caleb or Jacob. “He looks more like a Caleb,” Quinn said after the pivotal, gender-revealing scan. Bea agreed.

“Just Caleb?” Scarlett asks. “This little blessing doesn’t have a middle name or nothin’?”

“We haven’t chosen a middle name yet,” Quinn says. His voice is a little choked up and Bea wraps her arm around his bicep, hugging it to her chest. She touches her lips to his shoulder, hoping that the lipstick won’t stain his suit jacket. She doesn’t expect what he says next. “We would be honored, Vera, if you’d allow us to use Earl’s name.”

Bea gasps and feels her eyes well up with tears. She hadn’t even thought of that and Quinn has totally bulldozed her to make this executive decision, but Bea can’t even be mad because it’s perfect. Caleb Earl. Caleb Earl Hughes. It actually rolls off the tongue. It’s like this was meant to happen– without Earl’s passing, they never would have thought to use his name. He was an eternal figure in their lives, one of Bea’s favorite people in the world, but he hadn’t come up during their baby name debates. No middle name had fit right, until now, and Bea is just shocked that they didn’t think of this before.

“Oh, my,” Vera breathes out. She presses the crumpled-up tissue in her hand to each of the corners of her eyes. “You two are fixin’ to make me bawl when I’ve been holding it together so well.” She sniffs and takes Quinn’s hand, squeezing it. “It would be an honor for me if you would use his name.”

sunday, july 9, 2034 7:54 A.M.

Bea hears her shouting toddlers coming down the hall of the maternity ward well before they reach her door. Quinn left to go get them from Honey and Trevor’s about an hour ago– he’d dropped Honey off and exchanged her for his boys, who had certainly done a number on Trevor since they’d woken up around 5:30, wondering why they were in a random, mysterious new bedroom. The answer is: well, you two were asleep when Mama woke up to some gnarly contractions at 1 A.M. You couldn’t just stay at home alone. Trevor had braved the sleeping boys– he was actually more than happy to take care of them while Honey joined Bea and Quinn, finally, in the delivery room. She was a lot braver this time around, but that could partially be attributed to their setting and their doctor: St. John’s Hospital in Litchton, with resident Emma-Kate between Bea’s stirruped ankles.

“Nope, Luke, she’s in here!” Bea hears Quinn call from outside the door. Luke must have gotten excited and kept sprinting down the hall, happy to be free in such a bright building. Time in hospitals is weird, but Bea can’t imagine that the staff are happy to have an energetic three year old roaming their halls before 8 A.M.

Quinn turns the knob on Bea’s door, pushing the door open and holding it so that Luke can wiggle under his arm and enter. 

“Mommy!” Luke exclaims. He’s got a stuffed bear in his hand. He toddles over to her bedside and grabs the sheets, trying to pull himself up, but he’s still too little. 

Bea, although she’s not really supposed to be overexerting herself after delivering a ten pound baby, reaches over the side of the bed and pulls him up. 

Luke sits at her feet and holds the teddy bear up in front of his face with both hands. “Look!”

“Oh, how cute!” Bea exclaims, pinching the bear’s paws. “Did you buy that for your baby brother?”

Luke falters for a second, like he’s suddenly realizing that the toy in his hands isn’t necessarily his toy. 

“I know that baby Caleb got you a present,” Bea bargains, incentivizing her biggest ‘little man.’ That’s what Jim always calls her boys. It feels truer with every day that passes.

‘Baby Caleb’ got both Luke and Patrick a present. For Luke, he got a brand new Luke Hughes jersey from the Devils’ online store, branded with the ‘A’ that Luke has deserved for a long time now. It’s perfect, since Luke has been obsessed with hockey even more now that he has started playing. 

For Patrick, ‘Caleb’ bought a set of wooden, velcro fruits and vegetables that he can practice cutting with a similarly fake wooden knife. Bea used to have one of these playsets when she was a kid and she loved it– she thinks Patrick will love it too, considering how much he loves to sit in his high chair and watch her whip up some food throughout the day.

Luke’s eyes light up at the mention of his own present and he starts looking around the room. He sits up on his knees and shuffles along the pink knit blanket at the base of Bea’s bed, leaning his head over the edge like the present is hiding on the floor and he missed it. 

Quinn passes Patrick to Bea while Luke looks around. He kisses the crown of Bea’s head after he does, then crosses the room to check in on the swaddled figure in the clear bassinet. 

Patrick snuggles into Bea’s neck as soon as he’s in her arms, wiggling happily. He’s improved a lot since six months, not nearly as clingy with Bea now, but he still loves on her as often as she’ll allow. Considering how independent Luke is, Bea lets Patrick cuddle with her and sneak contact naps as often as he wants, even though he’s more than a year old.

“Hi, PJ,” Bea murmurs, turning and kissing his rosy, chunky cheek. “Did you miss Mama?”

“Mommy, where’s my present?” Luke interrupts, sitting back on his heels and pouting at Bea. 

“Lukey, be patient,” Quinn scolds. “Do you want to meet your little brother?”

“No, Daddy, I want my present,” Luke insists. 

Quinn fixes him with a glare, cradling the newborn in his arms. He walks over to the bed and nods his head at Bea’s side. “Sit next to Mommy,” he tells Luke. “Then you can get your present after.”

Luke dutifully shuffles into Bea’s side, leaning into her waist and stretching his legs out along her own. Bea sets Patrick down on her other side after a little detangling, then holds her hands out to take the small, pink baby from Quinn.

“Baby,” Patrick observes, touching Caleb’s cheek once he’s securely in Bea’s arms. Bea stifles an “aww.” He says it like ‘bee-bee.’

“Be gentle,” Bea tells him. “He’s brand new, sweetie. He’s not strong like you yet.”

Patrick’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he pulls his finger back, clapping his hands together quietly.

“Put your hands out, Lu,” Bea instructs her other son.

Quinn has crossed to the other side of the bed, blocking Luke in. Once Bea puts Caleb along his arms, Quinn will very covertly support Caleb’s head while Luke holds him. It gives off the illusion that Luke is doing all the work– their independent eldest child– while still keeping their youngest safe. Bea is not ashamed to admit that, sometimes, the best part of being a parent is making up a little white lie to make your child feel better. 

Luke holds Caleb for all of two seconds before the newborn’s face contorts in his sleep. That startles Luke and he pushes Caleb away, curling his lip. “I don’t like him,” Luke decides.

Bea turns her head to hide the smile she’s biting back. She kind of expected this, but she really thought Patrick would be the one to refuse his younger sibling. Luke is supposed to have practice sharing his parents and toys and life with a little brother, whereas Patrick has only ever had to deal with an older brother, yet he’s holding his hands out to Bea and bouncing in place.

“Hold baby,” Patrick repeats over and over again, opening and closing his palms impatiently. Bea helps him on her own while Quinn lifts Luke from the bed and sets him on the floor, promising that his present is somewhere in this room and he can open it if he finds it. That’ll keep him occupied for at least a few minutes.

While Patrick holds Caleb, and Bea and Quinn make eye contact and grin at each other, Bea suddenly realizes that they’re now outnumbered.

[puck-luck]

As cappy mentioned yesterday when she posted these photos, we had so many things to say. We've been toying with parent!beaquinn a lot lately and this is made me go psycho (still spiraling. Btw. If u even care)

[puck-luck]

the "slut summer" conversation | beaquinn

notes: no actual smut, but there are references to sex (specifically, beaquinn's first time and squirting). use of generally degrading words for women (slut, whore) but they are not used as insults. this takes place on DAY 7 of stg (chapter 1). now you know how bea originally brings up her "slut summer" to quinn. enjoy! thank you once again to captain (@captainlexaproluvr) for the request ;)

WC: 2,193

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“Said she wanted five guys, she ain’t talking ‘bout burgers,” Trevor says under his breath, shooting Bea a glare. He’s awfully slut-shamey for someone who wants to have sex with Honey so bad.

Bea pays him no mind. She smiles and replies sweetly, “My pussy already got murdered, Trev. I didn’t need five guys.” The fact that she wants four– and already checked one off the list– is irrelevant. She actually needs to have that talk with Quinn today, to get ahead of things. She doesn’t want him to feel blindsided when she flirts with Jack, Luke, or Cole. As much as she’s dreading it, Bea knows it has to be done. 

“No way Quinn ‘murdered’ your pussy, Bea,” Jack jumps in, air quotes around the word. “The dude doesn’t fuck.”

Bea laughs. “I assure you, he fucks.”

Speak of the Devil– Quinn appears at the bottom of the stairs, making his way into the kitchen. “Yeah, I fuck,” he says. He comes over to Bea first, smoothing a hand over her hair and dropping a kiss on the top of her head before he heads toward the kitchen. He shoulders past Trevor to get to the fridge.

Oh, she wishes he hadn’t kissed the top of her head like that. She might’ve miscalculated. He might be attached already. 

“Well, fuck your way to church,” Jack says. “Bea’s making everyone go with her.”

Quinn’s eyes flicker over to Bea again, an amused smile on his face. He shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anything else for us to do on a Sunday morning in this place. Everything is probably closed.”

“It’s true, everything is closed on Sundays except the grocery store and the gas station,” Bea verifies with a nod. She’s not quite sure how Quinn managed to peg the town in less than a week, but it probably wasn’t very difficult. Litchton is sleepy and small and isolated– of course everything is closed on Sundays. She adds, “And the church, of course.”

Trevor finds his way to the fridge. 

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Jack asks.

“Because it’ll be fun,” Trevor replies, turning and clapping Jack on the shoulder. He even squeezes Jack’s muscles just to be a pest. “It’s our chance to become one with the community, Jacky.”

Well, that and he’s probably wondering if a certain girl will be there. Bea can’t blame him for assuming. The church is a huge thing in this town, it just so happens that Honey is one of the few people in the area that only go when they’re asked to. She has a really complicated relationship with God– Bea knows that better than anyone. “Yeah, Jacky, it’ll be good for you. Why don’t you two head upstairs to change?” She looks over to Quinn, who is grabbing a glass from one of the upper shelves of the cabinets. His t-shirt is riding up, revealing the soft skin of his abdomen. Ugh. Bea can’t believe she has to have this conversation. She hopes, if nothing else, that she doesn’t cry. Quinn can even yell at her– Bea just doesn’t want to cry. “I want to chit-chat with Quinn for a second.”

Trevor and Jack race upstairs, always competing. Bea can hear them pushing each other until they reach the landing, then slamming their bedroom doors shut.

Bea stands and walks over to the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools. 

Quinn is filling his glass with water, but he meets her eyes when he’s done and smiles. “Good morning, Bea.”

“Good morning, Quinn,” Bea plays along. She’s not sure how to do this. She’s never had to tell someone that she wants to hook up with his two brothers and one of his closest friends before. If only there was a good line that everyone knows– an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ for Slut Summers. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” Quinn replies, taking a swig of his water. “What’s up?”

“It’s about last night,” Bea says, trying to tiptoe around the subject without digging herself too far into a hole. If she doesn’t bring it up now, she’ll be leading him on. Or, honestly, maybe not– maybe Quinn was looking for a one night stand. If that was the case, why would he kiss her on the head when he came downstairs this morning?

Quinn pulls his eyebrows together, his face growing more serious. “What about last night? It was okay, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, my God, no, you were great,” Bea says. “I wasn’t lying when I said you fuck.”

Quinn’s serious expression softens. “Okay,” he says. “Then what is it?”

“I had a lot of fun,” Bea tells him. “I just– well, I need to be upfront with you.”

Quinn takes another sip of his water and gestures for her to continue.

Bea takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this summer, okay? I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want, especially when it comes to you guys, and I’ve decided that I’m not looking for anything, like, serious right now.”

The corners of Quinn’s lips turn up. “Okay, so you’re looking for hookups,” he says. “That’s actually what I was going to ask you. I was a little disappointed when you weren’t in bed this morning, I wanted to talk to you about what I want, too.”

“Oh?” Bea asks. That’s promising– he’s smiling about the fact that she wants to hook up, and he was already planning to ask her about it. “Um, I mean– it’s complicated, what I want, so maybe you should go first.”

Because then she can know what he wants and act accordingly… it’s a path that’ll save her from taking the wrong step before things even really start. Bea’s playing it graciously, but really, the offer to let Quinn go first is very selfish. She doesn’t like being selfish, but she really doesn’t want to hurt his feelings right after they slept together and had a great time doing so.

“That’s really kind of you,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “Very thoughtful, Bea. But… you started this thing. I want you to get whatever it is off your mind.”

Damn him for being so logical. Maybe she should’ve stayed in bed and let him talk first, so that she could have an out. There’s so much pressure here, being the one to reveal the dynamic that they want, especially when hers is so… abnormal.

“Okay,” Bea says slowly, trying to find the best words to string together without sounding like a total whore. She doesn’t want Quinn to think she’s disgusting– she’s not sure why he would, or why she cares so much, but she would probably curl up into a ball and die if he started judging her. “Um, for me, this summer is about… experiencing things… with different people.” She speaks slowly, watching his reaction, but his face is impassive. “I don’t want to put all of my eggs in one basket, if you… get what I’m saying.” She presses her lips together in a line and waits.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. When he speaks, he sounds a little surprised, but not angry. “So you want to… see other people?”

Bea nods tentatively. 

“Anyone you have in mind?” Quinn asks. 

Bea’s pretty sure he’s already figured out the people that she wants to see. She bares her teeth to him in an awkward smile, bracing herself for the anger. If it’s coming, it’s coming now.

Quinn sets his glass down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, bending down so his elbows rest on the counter. “Like who?” he asks.

Bea licks over her bottom lip and bites it, grimacing slightly. “Litchton isn’t a big town, and there aren’t many attractive men here that I haven’t already considered,” she says. “So… when Honey told me there was a group of guys living here this summer… I thought it might be interesting to… partake.” 

Quinn nods along with her words, but doesn’t speak, seeming to sense that she’s not done.

“And it’s not that I’m not very interested in you, Quinn. You’re– well, you’ve got a magic cock and I am very happy that you were the first one, but I would feel like I missed out if I didn’t explore my options in the house. How many chances does a girl get to have a Slut Summer with a houseful of attractive athletes?” Maybe she goes too far with that last sentence.

“And you want… all of us?” Quinn asks after a beat of silence.

“Not Trevor,” Bea says. “I’m not exactly interested in, uh… all of that.”

She’s lucky, because Quinn laughs softly instead of frowning at her negative perception of one of his best friends. He stands tall and lets his arms fall to his sides, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” Quinn says. “But I don’t want to know anything about what you do with Jack and Luke. They’re my brothers. I don’t want to think about them like that. I already know too much. As long as you keep us separate, it’s fine with me.”

“Really?” Bea asks. “You’re not… angry?”

“Why would I be angry?” Quinn asks. “It’s not like I have a claim on you. We hooked up last night, but that’s it. We had fun. I’m not going to stop you from exploring your options.” He pauses. “Although, I would like to hook up again.”

“Me too,” Bea agrees quickly. “I want– yes, I want to keep hooking up with you. It was really good, Q. I literally thought I was going to squirt or something when I was on top.”

Quinn’s eyes brighten. “Oh, yeah?” He grins crookedly. “Tell me more about that.”

Bea blushes and pushes her index finger against her nose, covering her mouth slightly. “Maybe not right now,” she says. “But I’d be happy to… try and make that happen later, if you want.” She shrugs, pinching her lips together to try and stop a smile from growing on her face. She’s just found something Quinn seems to like. She wants to use that to her advantage.

Quinn nods, looking thoughtful. “I think we could make something like that happen.”

Bea laughs, which makes Quinn laugh, and it takes them a moment to collect themselves. Bea feels loose and relieved, glad that Quinn isn’t screaming at her or judging her or kicking her out of the house and banning her from ever returning.

After they calm down, Bea leans forward a bit. “So, what were you thinking? This morning, I mean. What were you going to ask me?”

“I was going to ask if you were looking for anything serious,” Quinn replies, a little smile still gracing his face. “Without saying too much, I, uh, got out of a relationship recently. She and I were together for a long time and I wanted to let you know that I don’t think I’m ready to, y’know, rush into anything.” 

Well, if that’s not interesting. She’s not going to push, but Bea wants to know more immediately. She loves gossip, loves knowing people’s business, but she’s sure she’ll get plenty of openings to ask Quinn about this relationship over the summer, if he’s willing to share. 

“I want to keep hooking up with you,” Quinn continues. “Because I am ‘very interested’ in you, too. You’re the most interesting thing going on around here, Bea. I think we could be really good friends.”

Bea grins. “I think so, too. You might be hyping me up too much, though. I’m not that interesting.”

Quinn snorts out a laugh. “Whatever you say.”

A quick silence passes between them. Footsteps start to sound overhead– one of the boys must be done changing. 

“Look, I’m really glad you’re not upset,” Bea tells Quinn quickly, before they’re interrupted. “I didn’t want to mess things up so soon.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby,” Quinn teases, using the same tone on the word ‘baby’ as he did the night before. He’s teasing her, messing with her like they know each other well enough to do so. It’s refreshing. “I think if this had happened when I was younger, I wouldn’t have taken it so well. I probably would’ve… I don’t know, agreed? But I would’ve been miserable the whole time?” He laughs, although Bea doesn’t find that very funny, and continues, “But it’s just a summer, right? I don’t mind sharing you with the other guys. I’m just glad you told me. It would be a different story if you started having your Slut Summer without telling any of us.”

“Yeah,” Bea replies, smiling wide. Quinn gets it. He understands. Bea feels a little silly– she was worried for nothing. She nods, hearing someone’s feet pound against the steps, making their way back to the kitchen. “It’s just a summer. Let’s have fun.”

Quinn returns her smile and goes back to his food, just in time for Jack to enter the room at a sprint. He looks around wildly, then raises a fist. “Dude, let’s fucking go, I win!”

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i love u forever beaquinn but u guys were so stupid for saying you'd be "casual" and "good friends"

[puck-luck]

baby boy hughes (2) | beaquinn

saturday, august 21, 2032 10:34 A.M.

August is fun for a few reasons– first, it’s the last month of summer. Second, Bea and Quinn have made it a tradition to rent out a bungalow in Litchton every August so that they can spend time with Honey and Trevor. Third, Bea and Honey’s hockey-playing husbands have started a summer hockey camp in Litchton during the month of August. This year, it’s been Trevor and Quinn and their two teams of fifteen, practicing and learning the game and having weekly scrimmages.

That’s where they are now. Bea and Honey are sitting on the bleachers, watching a gaggle of elementary schoolers crowd around the puck to try and get a touch. Both Quinn and Trevor are calling for them to spread out, but the kids either can’t hear them or they would rather be the one to win the puck despite their coach’s shout.

“Oh, motherf–” Honey cuts herself off, but covers Luke’s ears. He’s sitting on her lap, playing with Honey’s wallet– he likes the zipper. Pennies keep dropping from the compartment, but Honey said she’d pick them up later. She looks at Bea. “Do you have a tampon? Or a pad?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’ll check my purse.” Bea unzips the bag and rifles around. “I thought you weren’t getting periods anymore. You told me the shot was finally working for you for real. No side effects.”

“It did, when I was still getting it,” Honey explains. “We switched BCs. I’m on the pill now instead of the shot.”

“Why’d you switch?” Bea can’t find a tampon. She starts to look again.

“We figured the pill would be easiest to get off of if we wanted to start trying,” Honey replies with a shrug. “We’ve been married for three years. Trev’s ready for a baby. I think we should wait a little longer. We’re trying to find a compromise, and the pill is what we’re at so far.”

“You didn’t tell me you were thinking about it,” Bea says. 

“I’m not sure yet. I like that it’s just me and Trevor right now. I’d still feel a bit like a teen mom if I got pregnant right now.”

“You’re turning thirty this year,” Bea laughs. “And I don’t have anything. I really thought I did. We can duck out to go to Food Lion and grab some before the game is over.”

“Okay, but you have to check me when I stand up,” Honey says. She shifts Luke in her arms as she stands up, making him drop the wallet. 

Luke lets out an indignant shout and starts wiggling in Honey’s arms. “Relax, bud, I’ll get my wallet,” Honey tells him. “Don’t throw a tantrum.” She bends over at the waist so that Bea can get a good look at her jeans, which are unblemished for the time being.

Bea pats Honey’s behind. “You’re good. Let’s go. I’ll drive if you put the guy in his carseat.”

“No way. I saw how he fought you on that at Mexico the other day. I’m not his mom.” Honey passes Luke to Bea, tucking her wallet into her purse. Luke is pouting, but he’s not screaming. Bea can work with pouting.

The fight to get into the carseat is just as frustrating as the time at Mexico that Honey is referring to. Luckily, Luke’s got a ministick in the backseat that he can use like a drumstick, adding a nice ambiance to the car ride. He’s reluctant to let the stick go when they get to Food Lion, so Bea carries him into the store with the stick in hand. 

Honey grabs a pack of tampons and heads to the bathroom. Bea considers grabbing a pack of her own, expecting that her own period ought to be coming soon. It’s been a minute since Bea had her period– it must have been around her birthday. Maybe it was before. She hesitates for a second, then goes to pull her phone of out of her back pocket. Luke tries to grab it, but she manages to hold it out of his reach. She navigates into her period tracking app.

Your period is 34 days late.

Bea’s jaw drops and she stares at her phone. That means her period was supposed to start soon after her birthday and didn’t. In her mind, she echoes Honey’s sentiment from earlier: “Motherfucker.”

Honey comes back from the bathroom and grins. “All good. Let’s go check out.”

“I think we have to buy something else,” Bea says. She hands her phone to Honey and watches the girl’s eyes grow wide. 

They take the pregnancy test in the Food Lion bathroom, the same one that Honey had just used. She holds Luke while Bea paces back and forth in front of the sink. It’s the second-longest three minutes of her life– the first was, of course, when she did something similar in her own bathroom nine months before Luke was born.

When it’s positive, Honey hugs Bea and squishes Luke between their bodies. They buy one more thing before leaving the store: a Best Big Brother shirt for Luke that’s as ugly as most grocery store shirts are, but Bea likes it. She wrestles it over Luke’s head before she belts him into the carseat to drive back to the rink. 

Bea hopes that Quinn will read the shirt and understand its meaning this time. When she’d learned that she was pregnant with Luke, she’d shelled out for a “Daddy 43” Canucks jersey that had taken two weeks to get to their apartment, which meant that Bea had had to wait two weeks to tell Quinn that she was pregnant. He hadn’t gotten the hint right away. Bea remembers how he’d said “Oh, this is sick, baby. Way to plan ahead.” and Bea had to say, “Quinn, no–”

Hopefully, he’ll read the shirt and get it this time. She’s got an hour until he’s off the ice for the day, so she’ll just have to see then.

wednesday, september 22, 2032 6:52 P.M.

“How’s my best girl feeling?” Quinn asks when he gets home. 

Bea’s got a lasagna going in the oven, so she’s been playing with Luke in his high chair while that cooks. She’s sitting at the table with a stack of kid’s books to her right and two superheroes in her hands. Luke is banging his Batman along his high chair tray and shouting gibberish.

Today marked ten weeks since Bea’s birthday, which is the day that she’s now certain is when Quinn knocked her up. Just like last pregnancy, ten weeks in, she’s not feeling good. Two years ago, she was able to lounge around all day and park herself in front of the toilet when need be. This year, she’s got an 18-month-old toddler running around. He does not want to be contained in the bathroom all day, no matter what Bea does to make the trips fun. She bought bathroom crayons and told him that he could draw on the walls. Luke didn’t care. He’s getting harder and harder to entertain as he grows.

Bea blinks at Quinn, able to feel the dark circles under her eyes and green tinge on her cheeks. She hasn’t stood up from the table since she and Luke sat down, knowing that she’ll probably only make it as far as the kitchen sink before she throws up again. “I hate you,” she says.

Quinn laughs. He picks Luke up and frees him from the high chair, kissing his chubby cheek before setting him down on the floor. 

Luke toddles away, probably up to no good, but at least Quinn is here now. He can run off and be the savior if Luke gets into trouble.

“You do not,” Quinn tells Bea, brushing her hair out of her face and greeting her with a kiss. He leans against the table, standing next to Bea. “I’m sorry you’re feeling sick, sweetheart.”

“I think I threw up every hour,” Bea complains. She pouts at Quinn from her seat at the table, putting Luke’s toys aside. “And Luke didn’t want to hang out with me. After lunch, I was putting him down for his nap, and I had to throw up in his little trash can because his diaper was rank, and do you know what he said to me?”

She despises the way Quinn’s lips quirk up, already stifling a laugh. He thinks their son is the funniest kid ever. “What did he say?” Quinn asks.

Bea puts on her best toddler voice. “Ew, Mama,” she quotes. “All done bleughhh.”

Quinn snorts and claps a hand over his mouth, shoulders shuddering. “He did not.”

“He did! He told me to go away once I got him in the crib, too.” Bea crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in the chair. “It’s not like I can help it.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Quinn assures her. “Luke’s not even two. He just doesn’t understand.”

Bea sighs and rolls her head back on her shoulders. “Can you put Luke down for bed tonight?” she asks. “I want to take a long bath.”

“Sure, Bea,” Quinn says. “I’ll rub your shoulders tonight too, if you want.”

He knows how horny she gets when he’s touching her, especially now that she’s pregnant. All of her senses are heightened and Quinn is taking full advantage of it. “You’re playing with fire, Hughes,” Bea tells him.

Luke comes speeding down the hallway, neon orange plastic puck in one hand. He’s dragging the stick that Quinn accidentally left in the laundry room behind him with his other hand, dangerously close to catching the blade on the base of the lamp in the front hallway. “Dada, play,” Luke requests, knocking Quinn’s thigh with the puck until Quinn takes it from him. Luke’s transitioning the stick to his other hand and swinging it like a weapon because he has no spatial awareness, so Quinn picks him up and wrestles the stick from his grip. He trades the puck back to placate the toddler.

Quinn leans down and kisses the top of Bea’s head. “Think about it. It would be so nice to have all of that tension just… melt away,” he teases. He thumbs over her lip and winks, then disappears down the hallway with Luke.

Bea lays her arms on the table and uses them to cushion her forehead. She takes a deep breath. She can hear her boys starting up a game of floor-hockey in Luke’s room and allows herself to relax. Quinn has effectively tagged in for the night, which Bea is happy about. She needs a few minutes to herself.

The oven beeps. Great timing– just when she’s free, the lasagna is ready.

wednesday, april 6, 2033 12:10 P.M.

Bea runs through her mental-checklist for the umpteenth time:

Honey has Luke. Check. 

She got very pale when Bea asked her to be in the delivery room and stammered out that she’d really prefer to be on Luke duty instead. It’s fine. Trixie said she’d sub in.

Trixie is grabbing a smoothie for Bea. Check.

The doctors said it would be fine for Bea to get some natural sugar in her system after the birth.

Quinn is going to call after practice. Check.

She’ll tell him that she’s in labor then. Check.

They’ll decide on a name then. Check.

He’s got a game tonight, then he can probably fly back tomorrow. She can also manage until their Florida roadie is over in three days. The playoffs are another story, but that’s in a few weeks. She has time to figure that out. 

Bea can probably convince her mom to come to Vancouver and watch the new baby while she takes Luke to a playoff game. It’s the first year since he was born that they’re in the race for the Cup and he’s really excited to see Quinn play. He’s always excited to see Quinn play, but Bea thinks that Quinn has managed to explain to Luke that they playoffs are special, and that’s what’s got him so excited. 

There are so many moving parts. Bea kind of wishes that she and Quinn had waited another month or two to get pregnant, right before the start of his season, so that he would be home for this birth.

She hopes practice is over soon. Honey, Trixie, and Bea had waited two hours before coming to the hospital because Bea had insisted it was fine. Luke took eighteen hours total, so she assumed Baby #2 could wait until after lunch.

She was wrong.

Baby #2 is coming much faster than Luke did.

Bea’s not actually sure she can hold him in until after Quinn calls. The contractions are getting very close together and, last the nurse checked, she was at eight centimeters. 

She’s standing now, using the bed as an anchor. Bea’s trying to bend forward at the waist to get a stretch in, but it’s making her lightheaded. Last time this happened, Quinn was standing beside her and rubbing her back, whispering in her ear and reminding her to breathe. Now, Quinn’s about four thousand miles away and in the middle of practice. 

They weren’t even expecting Baby #2 to come today. It’s a stroke of luck that Bea has people with her– Trixie happened to take an extra week off to hang out with Bea before the baby came. Honey’s only in town because Trevor played Seattle on Thursday and she wanted to come up to Vancouver for the weekend. He– because Bea’s pretty certain that it’s a he again– was scheduled to come on Monday. He’s a bit early and she’s not complaining, per se, because she loves her baby already, but he couldn’t wait until his dad gets home?

The nurse knocks on the door and enters, bringing Trixie with her. “Hi, Mrs. Hughes,” the nurse says softly. She touches Bea’s shoulder. “I need you to get on the bed so I can check how dilated you are.”

“I feel like I have to shit,” Bea grits out, lifting her head to eye the woman. “Does that tell you anything? I read somewhere that needing to shit means that you’re ready to push.”

The nurse considers her words. “It’s not uncommon. Let’s just check you first, then I’ll let you know if we’re ready to push.”

Bea maneuvers her way onto the bed and breathes shakily. The contractions hurt, even with the epidural. She’d come to the hospital thinking she’d be brave and try to go all natural, but she was not strong enough for that.

The nurse reaches out and measures Bea’s dilation, nodding to herself when she pulls her hand away and disposes of her glove. “I’m going to get the doctor,” she tells Bea. “I think you’re ready. Try not to push until I get back, okay?”

Bea nods and agrees, but her heart is pumping out of her chest. Once the nurse leaves, Bea covers her face with her hands and whines. She feels completely distraught. This wasn’t supposed to happen until Monday. They don’t even have a name. They have options, but they haven’t decided. They wanted to wait until the baby was born to learn the gender and choose a name.

Trixie helps her sit up and ties Bea’s hair into a knot. “I know it hurts, but we’re almost there,” she murmurs. “We’re so close to adding to your little family, Bea-girl.”

“It’s not that,” Bea cries from behind her hands. She sniffs and squeezes her eyes shut. “I want Quinn.”

“Oh, darling,” Trixie comforts, sharing a frown with Bea. She leans into Bea and gathers her up in a hug. 

“He should be here,” Bea continues. “I can’t do it.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Trixie says. “I’m sorry, Bea. I’m here. I’ll help you however I can.”

Bea feels a wave of hot tears fall over her cheeks and she sobs out loud. She hates Florida. She hates hockey. It’s not fair that she’s doing this without her husband, not when she knows he would want to be here just as bad as she wants him to be here.

She barely has time to think about that once the doctor enters the room. It’s the same doctor who helped deliver Luke, so she knows her, but Bea doesn’t want her to be here. Bea can feel Trixie stroking her hair and holding her hand and reminding her to breathe between pushes, but Bea would rather hear a different, deeper voice instead. At one point, Bea can hear her phone ringing, and it’s Quinn’s ringtone, but no one responds to her when she begs for them to answer it. They’re too focused on the baby, which she gets, but she needs to talk to Quinn. She needs him.

She’s exhausted by the time she’s done pushing. It’s only after her doctor lays the baby on Bea’s chest, after she delivers the placenta, and after everyone but Trixie and the nurse from before leaves the room that Bea is able to ask for Quinn again. She’s still crying a little bit. So is the baby on her chest and Bea is touching him reverently. Not only was she right about him being a boy, but she feels oddly comforted by the wailing. The baby knows that something is missing too. He wants his dad just as bad as Bea does. 

“Call Quinn,” Bea repeats again, looking over at Trixie. She’s about to grab Bea’s phone from the table.

Trixie lets out a little chuckle. “Okay, Miss Impatient. I’m getting there.” She taps around on Bea’s phone, then hands it over as it starts to ring. 

Bea holds the phone up so that both she and the baby are in the shot. He’s still gross from the birth, but the nurse is flittering around the room and straightening things out. When they first got to the hospital, Bea was very clear about wanting to have skin-to-skin time with the baby for at least thirty minutes, unless there was a medical emergency. He can get all wiped down and cleaned up when she’s ready. The goop isn’t hurting him.

Quinn is quick to pick up and Bea starts crying again as soon as his face fills the screen.

“Oh my God,” Quinn says first. He covers his mouth and adds, “Holy shit.”

“I had the baby,” Bea explains, her voice shaky.

“I can see that,” Quinn replies. He seems caught between surprise and laughter at her obvious statement. “Are you okay? Is– are they okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, I’m fine, he’s fine. I just miss you,” Bea laments with a sniff. She wants to wipe under her nose, but both of her hands are covered in baby-goop from touching the little guy, and she really doesn’t want that on her face. “I want you here.”

“Oh, sweet Bea,” Quinn exhales. He scrubs his hand over his scuff. “Who’s with you, baby? You’re not on your own, are you?”

“Trixie,” Bea says, turning the camera toward her sister, who is folding a blanket. She waves to Quinn. “Honey’s with Luke.”

“That’s good,” Quinn acknowledges. “Okay, yeah, that’s good. You’re not on your own. I’m so sorry I missed it, Bea.”

“You couldn’t help it,” Bea replies. Her rational thought is coming back, but her sentence only brings a fresh wave of tears. 

“I know, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” Quinn asks. He waits for Bea to nod, nodding along with her. “What’s the baby like, sweetheart? You said we had another boy?”

“Mhm,” Bea hums. She tilts the phone down to capture his face. He’s not really screaming, but he’s mouthing along her skin like he’s searching for her nipple. Bea recognizes the newborn tic and wonders if it’s a thing every newborn does or if it’s something just her boys have done. 

“He looks hungry,” Quinn laughs.

“I know, one sec,” Bea sets her phone down and pulls at her shirt, freeing one of her breasts and adjusting so the baby can latch on. The nurse has wandered closer, in case Bea needs help, but she’s got the muscle-memory down. Bea picks up the phone again. She doesn’t miss how Quinn quirks an eyebrow at the reveal of her skin. “We need to pick a name.”

“Do you have a favorite? Between the three?” Quinn asks.

Honestly, Bea doesn’t. Between Noah, Logan, and Patrick, she doesn’t care. She knows that ‘Jack’ is going to be the middle name– they decided that a long time ago, before Luke was even born. Even if their second baby was a girl, her middle name would be Jack. Bea thinks that could be pretty cute, with the right combination. She’s always loved the name Noah and Logan was Quinn’s favorite suggestion of his own. They’d decided on Patrick together, since Luke had a family name from the Hughes side and Bea thought it was only fair if they considered a family name from the McLean side. Patrick for Trixie was a lot better than Cecil for Cece.

Bea shakes her head. “They’re all good names.”

Quinn agrees. “Well, take a little time, get to know the guy, and let me know what you choose. I’m happy with whatever you pick, baby. You did all the heavy lifting, so I think it’s fair that you get to choose your favorite name.” He pauses, smiling when Bea frowns at him. He concedes a bit, knowing that Bea is against an executive decision. She wants to choose together. “Between you and me, I think ‘PJ’ has a nice ring to it. ‘NJ’ might not work if we think about how annoying his uncles would be.”

His comment draws a laugh from Bea. “Good point.”

Quinn stays quiet for a moment, just watching Bea through the screen. He licks his lips, then presses them together. “I am sorry that I couldn’t be there. As soon as I’m off the phone, I’m going to go find Coach and see how fast I can get home.”

Bea takes a deep breath. “Well, now I kind of want to let you go so that you get here faster,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of joking. 

Quinn sees right through it. She might be trying to joke, but he can tell that she really does want him there. “Then I’m on my way,” he says, easy as can be. “I love you. I’ll text you as soon as I know the plan, okay? I’m going to try to be there by tonight.”

Bea relaxes into the pillows. He probably will charter the team plane himself if it gets him here faster. Quinn has proven time and time again that he would move mountains for his family. “I love you.”

“See you soon, baby. And actual baby,” he adds belatedly, winking at Bea through the screen. “Send me a picture of him as soon as you can, okay?”

“As soon as we get off the phone,” Bea promises. 

She hesitates to hang up and so does Quinn, which makes them laugh. Quinn is the first to go, but he’s also the first to text. 

It’s your choice, but I’m leaning towards Patrick. It’s the best way to thank Trixie for helping my best girl through today❤️ see you soon sweetheart

Bea smiles at the text and puts her phone down on the bed beside her hip. She looks down at the boy in her arms, still greedily gulping down his first meal. Bea touches the fine, sparse hair on his head and traces his wrinkly, pink cheek. Patrick Jack, she says to herself. She feels a tear of pure joy form in the corner of her eye and looks up to the ceiling before it can fall on his perfect little face. 

[puck-luck]

baby girl hughes | beaquinn

saturday, july 13, 2024 12:19 A.M.

“…he was like my first kid, in a way. He wanted to be just like me, the same way I wanted to be just like Dad.”

Bea wants to shrink Quinn down and put him in her shirt pocket, right next to her heart, and keep him there forever. He’s got a stoney exterior, guarded and dark eyes deterring most people from seeking out information like this, but Bea soaks it up like a sponge. He’s sweet and misunderstood because no one has asked him these things. He didn’t get to share this side of himself with anyone until Bea, it seems. 

He probably talked about this stuff with Liv, though, Bea’s doubt points out, causing her to push her tongue against the roof of her mouth as a distraction from her thoughts.

“What about for a girl?” Bea asks. “What would you name her?”

Quinn blushes a little. “It’s kind of silly,” he says.

Bea repeats his own words from earlier. “I don’t care if you sound silly.”

“I always liked the name Daphne,” Quinn says. “At first, it was because I liked Daphne in Scooby-Doo, but then I thought that when my wife gave birth to the baby, I’d go down to the gift shop in the hospital and buy her a little stuffed duck.” His voice grows quieter. “Because of Daffy Duck. And she’s my little Daphne Duckling.” Quinn hides his face in Bea’s arm, the tips of his ears burning red. 

“Q,” Bea sighs, feeling like her heart is bursting out of her chest. She wants to cry a bit, just because he’s so sweet and thoughtful. He cares so much. She crowds into his space, kissing over his cheek and squeezing his love handles, nudging her knee between his. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” Quinn groans, blushing even more somehow. Bea continues to press kisses over his face. She covers every section of skin with her lips, wishing she could lather her lips in bright red lipstick and smear her mark all over Quinn’s face.

Eventually, he pins her hands to the bed and bites her neck, making her shriek in laughter, and that’s that. Liv and baby talk is put behind them, securely cemented in the past, and Quinn never brings either conversation up again. Bea is grateful that she doesn’t have a constant reminder of his ex-girlfriend or his desire to settle down and find a wife. They’re just having fun– the pressure of being Quinn’s wife and having his babies, and living up to the prior expectations of his model girlfriend is too much for Bea. It’s just a summer fling– something that is getting harder and harder to remember with each kiss Quinn gives her.

sunday, october 14, 2035 7:58 P.M.

It’s Quinn’s birthday and for once, everyone is in town. His parents came up to Vancouver to have a big backyard party with their eldest son and his family before the weather turns too cold. Bea’s family is in town for a separate, equally as exciting reason; Bea has framed the party as Quinn’s birthday party, but one of her presents to him is the fact that they’re about to find out the gender of their fourth (and hopefully final) baby. The stars aligned and brought Trevor to Vancouver for a game yesterday evening, which means that Honey came to Vancouver with four-and-a-half month old Hayden in her arms, and Jack and Luke had a game at noon in Seattle, so they were able to drive up for the tail end of this party too. Everyone that Quinn loves is here. 

They enjoyed lunch together in the backyard. They sat on the patio and ate salad with grilled chicken or salmon, thrown together by Quinn because, as much as Bea tries, she’s still not great at cooking meat without butchering it to make sure it’s cooked all the way through. They even have a meat thermometer to help rectify that problem, but Bea gets very paranoid, so she doesn’t trust the device.

Jack and Luke rolled up about two hours ago, having sped up from Seattle in a rented car as soon as their game ended and they’d received permission to go from their coach. They’d been the center of attention for a while, but Bea knows that Quinn doesn’t mind. He’d been the first– well, third– to hug his brothers. The only people that beat him to it were his two younger and quicker sons, Luke and Patrick, each of whom are obsessed with their uncles. They don’t see them nearly enough, so their presence is a sweet treat. Quinn only beat Caleb because he’s still shaky on his feet and opted for crawling.

Little Luke ran to Big Luke first and jumped on him, already talking about his new hockey team, since he moved age groups after last year. He’s asking Big Luke if he can come to a game soon and Luke is promising that he’ll try to come if he can, but he’s not sure because of his hockey team. Jack sweeps up Patrick with a “What’s up, PJ?” He tosses Patrick up into the air and catches him, then ruffles his hair and sets him on his shoulders. Caleb also goes to Jack, pulling himself up into a standing position on his pant leg, and babbling while he reaches up to be carried. 

Now, dinner has passed, and Bea is ready to bring out Quinn’s birthday cake. She baked it herself, but made Honey frost it after reading the little card that Bea’s obstetrician had written after her appointment on Friday.

All of the previous times they’ve been pregnant, Bea and Quinn have either waited to find out the gender or let the OB tell them in the room where Bea is getting her ultrasound. Bea wanted to have a little flair this time, since she’d given up on flair when she’d told Quinn about the pregnancy. With Luke, she’d gotten that ‘Daddy 43’ jersey and he hadn’t understood the meaning until she told him. With Patrick, Luke had worn his ‘Best Big Brother’ shirt that Bea bought in the Food Lion during Quinn’s scrimmage. Quinn hadn’t even read the shirt when Bea asked him what he thought about it– he said “I like the color.” For Caleb, she’d tried the same method again, throwing the ‘Best Big Brother’ shirt on Patrick. Quinn had thought that Bea had just grabbed the shirt from the dresser and hadn’t given it a second thought. It was normal for her boys to share clothes, so he hadn’t made a big deal of it. Bea had actually yelled at him, “Oh my God, Quinn, a shirt is never just a shirt!” and whacked his shoulder. 

This time, Bea decided to give up on the subtlety. She'd handed him the pregnancy test and that was it.

She carries the cake to the patio carefully, candles already flickering and lit. Patrick trails at her side, his fist bunched up in her cute party pants. He rarely leaves Bea’s side, even though she thought he’d outgrow the clinginess by the time he reached his second birthday, but she was wrong. It’s nice to have a little buddy, since she knows that he’ll outgrow her one day and probably get all angsty and mean like most teenage boys are. She remembers those days, of dealing with boys who were dicks, and she’s glad she doesn’t have to do that anymore. Quinn is the greatest husband she could ever ask for, even though it took them a little while longer than it should’ve to get to that point. If they hadn’t wasted those years before Honey and Trevor’s wedding… well, it doesn’t matter. Bea is happy with how things turned out. It had to be this way for her to end up in this exact moment.

Quinn grins at her and passes Caleb to Ellen, who accepts the baby easily. Everyone starts to sing– led by Little Luke, who is louder than everyone else on the patio– and Bea places the cake in front of Quinn. He reads the simple ‘Happy Birthday Daddy!’ that Luke and Patrick helped write in their messy handwriting after Honey was done icing the cake. Bea had to guide Patrick’s hand to write the “Happy” and it was so hard that she gave up after that word. She wrote “Birthday” and Luke wrote “Daddy.” Caleb watched from his high chair.

Bea stands beside Quinn, picking Patrick up and putting him on her hip. Quinn’s arm wraps around her waist and he pulls her close, palm flat against the fabric of her clothes. Luke joins and sits by Quinn’s side, kneeling up in his chair so that he can be the one to blow the candles out instead of the person who is actually celebrating their birthday. Quinn doesn’t mind– he actually encourages Luke to blow out the candles.

“Okay, before you cut the cake,” Bea says to Quinn, handing him the knife in her hands. “I have a surprise for you.”

Quinn knits his eyebrows together. “Oh, you do?” he asks.

Bea can feel the guests around them go still, holding their breath. She bets Honey is pressing her tongue between her teeth and bottom lip, waiting for everyone to know the gender just like she does. Bea’s mom has her camera going already, having never stopped the video after Quinn blew out the candles. 

“So you know how I’m almost twenty weeks?” Bea questions, knowing that Quinn knows as well as she does how far along they are in this pregnancy.

Quinn’s eyes flicker around the patio, surveying the guests for a hint. His eyes narrow when he reaches Honey and she just shrugs, feigning innocence in a very poor way. She’s still terrible at lying, even though she’s been trying to improve at it since she and Bea started sneaking around in high school. 

“Yeah,” Quinn says slowly, suspicious. 

“Well, I thought while everyone was here, you might want to find out if you’re having a boy or a girl,” Bea says. “Although you don’t have much of a choice now. The icing is already inside the cake.”

Quinn’s suspicion disappears. He elbows Luke, who is getting impatient for cake and trying to reach for the knife in Quinn’s hands. “So– this is a gender reveal cake?”

“Consider it another present,” Bea tells him. She smiles wide. “C’mon, Q, cut the cake. Are we having another little boy or a baby girl?”

“What do you think, Luke?” Quinn asks the boy beside him, poising the knife over the cake. “Do you want a brother or a sister?”

“I don’t care, I want cake,” Luke replies. 

Quinn presses his lips together to stop from laughing. Luke has only gotten funnier with age, even though he’s being rude. 

“Lukey, that’s not nice,” Bea chastizes. “Now you have to wait even longer for your piece.”

Luke huffs and pouts, turning his back on Bea and crossing his arms over his chest. Big Luke reaches out and waves him over, inviting the boy to come sit on his lap while they wait.

Quinn carefully cuts the cake, making a neat triangle. He pauses there, looking up at Bea. They share a look, sending a telepathic message to each other containing excitement and complacency. Boy or girl– it doesn't matter. Quinn knows as well as Bea that this is probably their last baby, unless they create an oopsie baby a few years down the line. Hopefully, that won’t happen. Four is going to be a lot, but it’ll be great.

Quinn puts the knife beneath the first slice and sets a plate down, carefully pulling the slice from the baked circle. Everyone holds their breath, except Honey, who already knows, and the babies, who don’t understand what is happening. 

The icing is pink and Bea squeals, bouncing up and down. Patrick starts to laugh because of the movement, the belly-laugh like music to Bea’s ears. Quinn plates the slice and stands, holding the plate above his head for everyone to see, just in case they hadn’t already. With his hand still raised, Quinn tilts his head and captures Bea’s lips in a sweet, celebratory kiss.

Finally, Bea’s got a little girl to play dress-up with and Quinn has a daughter to spoil. Not that they don’t spoil their other kids or play with them– but a girl is something new.

thursday, february 21, 2036 9:43 P.M.

“Good news, the boys are asleep and Mom is all set up in the guest room,” Quinn announces when he enters the hospital room. Bea is reclining in the bed and thumbing through a book while Daphne suckles on her nipple. 

“How’s Luke feeling about Baby Sister’s birthday being the week before his?” Bea asks. She sets her book aside and focuses on her husband. She feels perfectly at peace. They’ve been planning this birth for months, ever since Bea’s due date was set during the February break. Quinn withdrew from all All-Star consideration, despite the fact that the team wanted him to make an appearance at something since he’s their longest-tenured captain and the People’s Princess, practically.

“It’s not his favorite thing in the world, but he’ll get over it. I promised that we’d never make them do a joint birthday and he seemed to like that.” Quinn produces a bag from behind his back and comes up next to the bed. 

Bea scoots over, cradling Daphne’s neck and trying not to jostle her too much as she makes room for Quinn to sit next to her.

“From me,” Quinn says. “The boys are going shopping with Mom before they come to visit tomorrow. I hope Caleb buys a massive pack of diapers so we don’t have to pay for those before Luke’s birthday. Maybe I’ll text Mom and tell her to try and steer him that way.”

“He shouldn’t be too hard to convince,” Bea replies. She leans her temple against Quinn’s shoulder, getting comfortable. 

This is probably the only time in their lives that they’ll get to be alone with Daphne. She’s their fourth child in just under five years– Bea didn’t mean to do four-in-four, but it’s kind of funny that it happened that way. She’ll text Honey later and send that GIF of Sookie from Gilmore Girls telling Lorelai about when Jackson wanted to do four-in-four. 

Daphne Grace Hughes hasn’t met her older brothers yet. For right now, she’s like Bea and Quinn’s only baby. She doesn’t know that there is a whirlwind waiting for her at home– a lavender nursery that the boys helped paint and sweet canvases from each brother in their own art style. Since they’re so young, the art is pretty abstract. Bea will probably hang them in her own bedroom when Daphne decides she doesn’t want them anymore.

She’s already planning her next project– she wants to paint her children’s hands and press their handprints to a canvas, immortalizing how big they were when their family became complete. 

Her venture after that is to start looking for kindergartens for Luke. She fell slightly behind because of the pregnancy, but she expects that she’ll be able to get him in somewhere. There are so many options: public, private, charter, Catholic… it’s endless. She’ll employ the WAGs that already have kids in school to help her out once she makes it to another game.

Quinn sets the gift on Bea’s lap, just past where Daphne lays. Milk has started to run down her chin and she’s not drinking so much anymore, so Bea expects that she’s done. Her eyelids are getting all fluttery and milk-drunk.

“Daph, let’s see what Daddy got you,” Bea whispers gently, removing her daughter from her tit and rubbing her back to spark a burp. “Don’t sleep yet.”

Daphne’s fighting sleep, something that Bea and Quinn have no idea will become her trademark move, and Bea turns her so that she can sit on her lap and rest her head against Bea’s chest. Bea holds her chin with her thumb and finger, so that she doesn’t wiggle away and somehow get hurt in her first three hours of living.

Quinn pulls a stuffed duck from the little bag, pretending to waddle it along Bea’s thighs toward Daphne. “Quack, quack.” His voice is low and, while tinged with a fond hint of baby-talk, completely serious. He nuzzles the duck against Daphne’s little hands, her chunky tummy, and finally boops her nose with the beak. “A little ducky for my Daffy.”

Like the first time Bea heard him speak about this dream of his eleven and a half years ago, she wishes she could shrink him down and put him in her pocket, next to her heart, forever. She likes Quinn as he is, though. Her big strong husband is playing sweetly with their newborn girl, even though she has no idea what’s going on and can’t even see anything in front of her. She won’t really be able to see until the end of July, and even then, she won’t have object permanence. 

But it’s the sweetest little thing. Quinn leans down to kiss Daphne’s head, softly so he doesn’t disturb her, and works the soft fur of the plushie’s wing between her fingers. She clamps down on it, demonstrating her reflex to grab things, and she holds on. Quinn’s hand leaves the duck and curls over the meat of Bea’s thigh. He kisses her temple hard and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back so that she’s able to rest against his chest. 

“I love you,” Bea murmurs. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, taking in Quinn’s familiar and comforting scent as it surrounds her.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” Quinn says. “Not just because of her. Like, I love her, and the boys, you know that… but it’s because of you. I didn’t– after I met you, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. And now we’re here. And I love you.”

Bea smiles and falls asleep, resting against him.

[puck-luck]

what are bea and quinn’s favorite positions ik they’re freaky asf

GREAT QUESTION also this is me realizing that i've only actually written them in missionary, cowgirl, and doggy... not the three most basic positions...

(Putting this under a "Read More" bc it'll be long)

THEIR FAV BASICS: Quinn loves missionary because he loves to look at Bea's face (he's a fucking simp) Bea loves to be on top because she loves to feel like she's giving Quinn pleasure (instead of the other way around, where he's fucking HER– riding him makes Bea feel like she's fucking him if that makes sense?)

OTHER FAV POSITIONS (FREAKY) (and i did look these up on google dot com so i could put names to... positions):

The Socket: kind of like Bea is riding Quinn in reverse cowgirl but she lays forward and rests on her elbows/stomach. Gives Quinn a REAL good view of her behind.

Standing O: while beaquinn don't practice BDSM (i don't see it for them, they're so equal in bed and they always want to be touching so they don't tie each other up), Quinn loooooves to eat Bea out while she's standing– against the door, holding herself up against a counter or tabletop, etc.

The Captain (didn't know it was called this when I imagined it. how ironic!): Bea is on her back and instead of putting her legs over his shoulders, Quinn holds her ankles and keeps her legs up and spread in a V position.

Thighmaster: basically reverse cowgirl, but Quinn raises one knee and Bea is able to hold onto that for leverage while she fucks herself on his cock. She's at an angle for Quinn– neither facing away from him, nor sideways on his dick.

Open-Legged Spoon: usually for an early morning hookup, Quinn is fucking Bea from behind. She'll often hook her knee over his thigh, unless it makes her cramp, so that he can have more access. (It's also really easy for him to touch her clit in this position)

and, well, Quinn is a munch. So anything that involves Bea's pussy on his face.

[puck-luck]

christmas card 2038

june 25, 2037: topsail, NC. annual hughes family vacation.

Bea was hoping that after six years, family photos would get easier. She’s not asking for much, she doesn’t think– only one nice photo per year for the front of her Christmas card. It doesn’t even have to be that nice. She just wants all four kids to be looking at the camera and, in an ideal world, smiling. The smiling isn’t necessary though. All of her boys inherited Quinn’s ability to smile only when they’re genuinely happy, but not when she asks them to. In fact, their genuine smiles usually fade when she whips her camera out. It’s super frustrating, but they’re perfect, so Bea doesn’t mind all that much.

It’s a futile wish for one great family photo. She always leaves the impromptu (sometimes planned) shoot with a barely concealed eye roll. Quinn is the more patient parent of the two of them, so he tries to take the lead after Bea gives up on photos. The kids, except Patrick, like him better anyway– which does sting a little since Bea literally carried each of them for nine months and birthed them. She’s glad that she has one who will love up on her and cuddle on the couch, though.

Her mistake this photoshoot is that the kids are hungry. They’re at the beach, on their annual beach trip before they go to Litchton and hang out with the Zegras family until Quinn has to head back to Vancouver for the start of the season, and they’re two hours out from dinner. Luke refused to eat his PB&J on the beach today, deciding that he suddenly doesn’t like peanut butter anymore, which is weird because Bea packed a PB&J for him weekly during school this spring and he always ate the whole thing. Because he didn’t eat a lot of lunch, her oldest is crabby.

Her youngest is crabby too. She didn’t take a nap today. She was fighting sleep away like she’s in the UFC, all because she wanted Quinn to hold her while she slept. The thing that she doesn’t understand, only being 16 months old, is that there are three little boys who are also vying for Quinn’s attention. They’re all just as obsessed with Quinn as Bea is and, somehow, he’s a master of the chaos. Usually, he’d strap Daphne to his back in the baby carrier and keep playing with the boys– which would give Bea a break– but they forgot the carrier.

Her second mistake is putting the two crabby kids together. Luke is the only one who is old enough to actually carry Daphne and, on a normal day, he’s very patient with her. He’s like Quinn that way. Today, though, he’s annoyed by the littlest thing. That won’t be solved until he gets his plate of chicken tenders and fries at the restaurant. Unfortunately, the “littlest thing” that’s annoying him is his sister, who is trying to wiggle out of his arms because she’s on an independent kick. Either she wants to stand by herself or she wants to run out of the picture towards Quinn, who is cleaning up all of their beach toys behind Bea. She’s already succeeded in escaping twice and both times Quinn has dutifully returned her to the photoshoot. Despite all of the factors while taking this photo, Bea is determined not to give up before she gets one usable picture.

“Caleb, baby, look at the camera,” Bea calls, snapping her fingers to try and get her three-year-old’s attention. She’s rounding up. His third birthday is in two weeks. It’s just easier to say he’s three now– and it’s a way to prepare her for the actual day. Bea hates that her babies are getting older. She wants them to stay tiny and sweet and darling forever.

The little blonde is distracted, looking up at the sky with an open mouth. He raises one chubby finger, pointing up. “Mommy, airplane,” he observes excitedly. 

“I see it, so cool! Look at me, okay?” Bea musters up some fake excitement– when she’s not trying to take a photo, she’d be happy to look at the airplane with Caleb. He’s been very into them lately, to the point that Bea has a flight radar app on her phone because Caleb would rather look at that than one of the many games she has downloaded. Normal kids find a video to watch, like their favorite TV show, but Caleb always goes for the radar.

He does not look at her, dumbfounded by the plane above him. It’s one of those planes that starts silent and roars long after it disappears over the horizon. Bea swears she only hears these kinds of planes when she’s at the beach– it must be something to do with the water. 

She sees the disaster coming before it hits. Caleb, so enraptured by the departing plane, is startled by the loud sound of the engine. His big eyes go from excited to scared, face crumpling in slow motion. He brings his little hands up to his ears and covers them, stomping in place and wailing in discomfort. He looks to Bea, finally, but she doesn’t want to take a photo of this expression.

He’s on the move before she can snap a picture anyway. He runs toward her, a little wobbly as all toddlers are, and crashes into her legs. He buries his face in Bea’s knees, hiding from the big, scary noise, and she can feel the fat tears that are coming on. 

“Okay,” Bea decides, shoving her phone into the band of her swimsuit bottoms and reaching down to get a grip under Caleb’s armpits. She picks him up with a little bounce and sets him on her other hip. Caleb wraps his arms around her neck and continues hiding, his crying only slightly muffled by her skin. He’s got quite a pair of lungs on him, so Bea tries not to wince as he bawls right into her ear. “I’m calling it. Go get Daddy.”

Luke drops Daphne immediately. She was already just a few inches from the ground, having gone limp in his arms in another effort to slide from his grip and escape. It’s something that Bea would normally berate Luke for, but she’s got her hands full and Daphne is a lot more durable than she seems. She’s very tough, but Bea supposes that’s what happens when you have three older brothers who like to play and roughhouse in Quinn’s shooting room more than their own playroom.

All three of them take off towards Quinn, who is squatting down to get all of their miniature shovels and sandcastle toys into the big bucket. They overwhelm him, knocking him to the ground and dogpiling on. Even Patrick joins in and he’s the one who is glued to Bea’s side 90% of the time. 

Quinn fakes a dramatic yell as he goes down. He’s quick to turn the tides on the kids, his fingers ticking over their laughing bodies until they’re trying to get away. He wraps his arms around all three of them, squishing them all together, and he rolls so that they’re underneath him. Quinn blows a raspberry against each of their bellies before he releases them. 

Bea watches the scene unfold with a little smile on her face, but she’s more focused on patting Caleb’s back and rocking him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. The plane didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Too loud,” Caleb complains tearfully. “Hurt my ears, Mommy.”

“These ears?” Bea asks, turning her head and peppering kisses all over the side of Caleb’s face. It makes him giggle, the best sound in the entire world, and he turns his head away. Bea attacks his other ear then, pecking and nuzzling Caleb’s soft skin until he raises his hands and tries to push her away. Even then, she showers him in a couple more kisses just because she can. 

“Nooo,” Caleb drawls, covering Bea’s lips with both of his hands for good measure. “No more kisses.”

Bea sticks her tongue out and makes contact with his tiny palm.

Surprised, Caleb removes his hands. He’s not crying anymore, but there are tear tracks on his chubby cheeks. 

Bea raises her hand and wipes them away with her thumb. “No more kisses,” she agrees. Instead, she follows Quinn’s lead and blows a raspberry against his neck.

Caleb shrieks out a laugh and hugs Bea’s neck again, turning away from her face and laying his head on her shoulder. Bea wraps her arms around him in a hug and bounces him slightly, humming his favorite song as she rocks him. 

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks, walking over to Bea despite being weighed down by three of their kids. Luke is hanging off his back, arms around Quinn’s neck. Patrick is in one arm and Daphne is in the other.

God, he’s strong. Quinn’s handsomeness is the reason they’ve got four babies already. Bea has got to get back on birth control. The condoms are no fun, but she’ll be damned if there’s a fifth baby in their future. Four is fine– one child for each of their hands to hold– but five is too many. Honey already thinks Bea is crazy for having four, swearing that she’s done after this next one. 

Bea really hopes that Honey pops while they’re in Litchton. She wasn’t able to be there when Hayden was born, since it was during the season and she needed to be in Vancouver, but Bea really wants to be there when Baby #2 is born. She wants to be the first to know if it’s a girl or a boy. She’s hoping for a girl. Honey and Trevor want it to be a surprise.

Patrick reaches for Bea, wanting to be on her hip now that Caleb isn’t crying. Quinn leans in and passes him to Bea, filling her other arm. He pulls her phone from the band of her swimsuit, sliding it into the pocket of his board shorts. With a free hand now, Quinn smooths his palm over Bea’s behind. It always makes Bea swoon when he touches her intimately in such a casual way, but especially since she’s had four babies. He still thinks she’s the hottest woman alive, regularly telling her such once they’ve managed to get all the kids in bed for the night and collapsed into their own. 

Bea thinks that Quinn being a good dad is sexy, but her opinion is nothing compared to how much Quinn dotes on her when she’s being a good mom. Parenthood has its challenges, sure, but they’re doing it together and they love being a team.

“Nothing a little lovin’ couldn’t fix,” Bea replies, tilting her head and waiting for Quinn to meet her lips. 

He does, then pecks a second time because he loves her– it’s something they’ve started doing ever since Luke decided that it’s gross for his parents to say that they love each other. Luke has started to catch onto this secret code too, evidenced by his groaning and how he goes limp on Quinn’s back. He lets his feet dangle towards the ground and, maybe unintentionally but probably not, garrots Quinn in the process. Quinn exaggerates a choke and leans back so that Luke can find his footing on the sand. 

“You guys are gross,” Luke says.

“Hey!” Quinn exclaims, taking his hand off Bea’s ass and catching Luke in a loose headlock. “I’m allowed to be gross with my wife whenever I want.” He leans Daphne forward. “Get him, Ducky. Noogie him!”

Daphne holds herself steady with one hand in the fluffy strands of hair at the base of Quinn’s neck, which breaks Bea’s heart a little bit because of how sweet and gentle she is. She’s such a Daddy’s girl, inheriting Bea’s fascination for the man. Daphne stares at Quinn almost as much as Bea does, probably more often than Bea does since there are three other kids to give attention to. Luke is the worst with attention– he might love his Uncle Luke more than anything, but he pouts a whole lot like Uncle Jack when eyes aren’t on him. Bea thinks it’s because he was their sole child for two years before she had Patrick, and he got used to the attention he’d had as their only baby.

Daphne doesn’t quite understand the concept of a noogie, even though the boys have been trying to teach her this trick since she could make a fist. She kind of just pops Luke on the head, making contact and then waving her fist back and forth the same way she does when she’s trying to untie her shoelaces. She catches his hair in her fist, though, which has to hurt a bit.

Luke, for his part, plays along. “No, Daphne, don’t get me!” He brings his hands to the crook of Quinn’s elbow and pushes, freeing himself. He starts to race up the beach toward the dunes, toward the rented house, and Quinn calls after him.

“You’d better be in the shower by the time I get up to the house!” He calls. “And I’m doing head checks– make sure you wash all the shampoo out this time!”

“Okay!” Luke yells back, scampering up the wooden stairs that lead to the beach.

Quinn turns his attention back to Bea. He pecks her lips once more, then lays a kiss on both Caleb and Patrick’s heads. “Daph and I will finish cleaning up down here. You okay to take care of the boys for a little bit?”

“I take care of all four while you’re on the road,” Bea reminds him with a smile. “I think I can handle three.”

Quinn returns the smile. “Sassy.” His hand returns to her body, same place as before. He gives her ass a little squeeze. “You gonna shower before dinner too?”

“Gotta get this sand off of me somehow,” Bea replies. She shifts the boys in her arms. They’re getting a little restless, poking at each other. These two always bicker– it’s because they’re only a year apart. They’re like Quinn and Jack, or like Cece and Bea. She’d better get up to the house before she’s caught in the middle of a fully fledged fist fight.

Quinn leans in once more, slotting their lips together and holding her there for a second. He tastes nice– like the ocean and a bit of their coconut sunscreen. “Maybe I’ll join you,” Quinn murmurs, patting her behind pointedly before he walks back toward the mess the kids left on the beach. As he walks, he shifts Daphne to his other arm. His voice is soft when he talks to her: “You’re gonna help Daddy, aren’t you, Ducky?” Her hand finds the back of his neck again, keeping him close.

Bea doesn’t know how he’ll manage to join her in the shower, since there are four kids that need to be under constant supervision lest they break something, start fighting, or cause any other problem, but she’ll be happy to let Quinn join her if he finds some solution for that slight dilemma. Maybe they can throw the kids in front of the TV and bring the baby monitor into the shower with them.

[puck-luck]

parent!beaquinn masterlist

luke charles hughes weight: 7 lbs, 10 oz. height: 21 inches tall sex: M birthdate and time: march 1, 2031; 11:38 P.M.

patrick jack hughes baby #2 weight: 7lbs, 3 oz. height: 19.5 inches tall sex: M birthdate and time: april 6, 2033; 12:06 P.M.

caleb earl hughes weight: 9lbs, 14 oz. height: 21 inches tall sex: M birthdate and time: july 9, 2034; 2:10 A.M.

daphne grace hughes weight: 6 lbs, 12 oz. height: 18 inches tall sex: F birthdate and time: february 21, 2036; 8:22 P.M.

creating 2038's christmas card: june 25, 2037; topsail beach, annual hughes family vacation

[puck-luck]

ik bea was mad, jack and luke were separating her and quinn during the car ride like wdym she couldn’t even hold his hand

So here's my vision!:

The car setup while Bea is texting about that is like

Quinn Jack

Luke Bea

So, I think it would be really difficult and very unsafe for Bea to be holding Quinn's hand in any seat EXCEPT shotgun, which Jack took and refused to give up. Goon behavior.

All is resolved when it's Luke's turn to drive, though, because Quinn just takes his seat next to Bea. Then, they can hold hands. But still omg three wholeeee hours where Beaquinn can't touch? Wow for two people who love physical touch, that must've been torture... (I'm being sarcastic and teasing them)

[puck-luck]

honey wasn’t at bea’s birth ? 😔

at this point, bea is living in vancouver with quinn and honey is still based in nc, so it didn't align for her to be there this time :( that's not to say honey wouldn't want to be there or that she won't be spending buckets of trevor's money to hang out with bea in the coming months (thank god rich men are finally good for something...)

honey will be heavily involved in future births, don't you worry!! that's my girl<3

[puck-luck]

this request is not smut related (shocking!) but i want the next best thing when it comes to beaquinn…….. beaquinn dialogues!!!! specifically, the convo when bea tells him about her plans for her slut summer. bc i think i like pain

cappy not making a smut request everyone mark your calendars bc that's CRAZY!

yes i will write this at some point but IDK HOW SHE DID IT!!! like how do you get four (three, since luke and bea never have sex) men to agree to fuck you without strings for an entire summer? ofc with beaquinn it eventually includes some strings but like. how did she do that

and how did quinn agree?? like i knowwwww his ass liked her from the get-go but how MUCH did he like her? enough to continue hooking up with her, but... did he know they are endgame? DID HE KNOW?

ugh. beaquinn continue to make me go crazy. oh well. we'll write that one day and figure out how she got all the boys under her Slut Summer spell.

[puck-luck]

I LOVE TAYLOR SO COMPLIMENT FOR SURE 💞💗💗💞💞💕💕💕💕💗💕💗💗💞💕💗💞💞

Omg yay!!! Good!!!! Ugh I'm so glad yall have a character who is similar to Bea in an established, published work. That makes me feel like Bea will someday be a "real" character :,)

[puck-luck]

I am subjecting yall to beaquinn personality pics because I want to. Enjoy my beaquinn inspo from Pinterest 🫶🏼💋