Breath Against The Glass Chapter Five
Title: Breath Against The Glass
Author: Alex Foster
Word Count: 27,000+
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Alcohol and drug use, underage characters (late teens), mild sexual situations, a few derogatory and misogynist terms (not prevalent), original characters, descriptions of body piercing, no character bashing.
Summary: Quinn reluctantly agrees to help Rachel get in touch with her inner rebel to prepare for a stage role. What follows is a series of weekends and late nights as both are pulled into each other's world. Season 3 AU. Punk!Quinn Accomplished!Rachel.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by FOX. Song lyrics belong to their respected writer/singers and record companies. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Additional Author's Notes: I'm giving a heads up here that in this chapter there are events of an intimate nature that take place under the influence of a controlled substance. This was not written with the intent of being dub con and, in my mind when I wrote it and again rereading it, the effects have worn off to the point for both parties that they are able to give consent. Also at no point in future chapters do any of the characters indicate they were anything less than willing. That said I believe it is better to over warn rather than to under warn so I'm giving an additional note here in case that situation might be triggering to any readers.
Chapter Five
Judy had a church social function to attend so that meant Quinn had the house to herself. Officially they called it a support group for those facing the hard difficulties of life. Really it was a back room where single parents got together and felt sorry for themselves over coffeecake and prayer.
Divorce was a sin so they had to pretty it up the best way they could. It was adults leaning on one another during ‘difficulties’. Because Judy’s particular church believed in overlooking sin as long as the sinner prettied it up and hid it the best way they could.
God bless.
Quinn fixed her own dinner of cold cereal and milk and ate it by herself. It was nice and familiar being on her own. She’d already finished school assignments for Monday and no parent meant no need to sneak out if she wanted to party.
Judy would probably keep to form and offer to stay late and help clean up after the meeting. Conveniently chatting up the newly divorced men while doing so. She wouldn’t be home for a while. Old Quinn might have held purview over games but she came by it honestly.
Quinn considered taking Margaret up on her offer to take her to Stallion’s party but there were going to be McKinley students there and she’d had enough of them during the week. The Runaway didn’t sound like a bad idea though.
As she dressed to leave, restlessness began building under her skin. She wanted something different … something she didn’t know what. Maybe it was talking to Santana again this week, really talking to her, that made her miss the connection the three of them had once.
She checked the time on her phone and then the empty inbox.
Grabbing a joint from her stash, Quinn started on her way. She was already eager for music that made it impossible to hear and the way thumping bass made her skin ache.
She was halfway down the street when her phone lit up on the passenger seat. Grabbing it one handed, she read the screen. It was from Rachel.
I need some company, a guardian angel.
Quinn frowned. That was new and did not make any kind of sense. She typed back a one word question and then pulled off to the side of the road. The car sat idling. If Rachel was going to do her two hour to answer thing then-
You wanna prowl, be my night owl?
Realization began to dawn. It didn’t make much more sense but at least Quinn was beginning to understand the language of the land she’d somehow wandered into. She put the car in park and texted back:
Are you quoting song lyrics to me? Why?
Rachel: I wonder what you’re doing in the night out there?
Quinn: Are you okay?
Rachel: Why don’t you come play with me and bring me to the other side?
Quinn stared at her phone until the power saver turned the screen off. Then she unlocked it and stared at it until it went dark again.
Someone must have stolen Rachel’s phone and were sitting in front of a lyric search engine messing with her. Whoever it was obviously didn’t care about his or her life. She was still trying to think of how to respond when the phone buzzed in her hand.
I’m serious. Play back, Quinn.
She thought hard for a second and sent:
Somewhere in the lonely night, your flame is burning bright.
Rachel: I’m ready to accept your point of view. It’s up to you.
Asked and answered. One Streisand lyric for another without any search engine waiting. It was really Rachel.
She tapped a fingernail against the side of her phone for a second and then wrote:
And now I'm stuck still and wondering how it's meant to be.
Rachel: We are shining, and we'll never be afraid again.
Quinn started to write one thing then erased it and sent a different message before she could lose her nerve. It was the closest she’d ever gotten to a grand declaration about anything.
I feel like my words have only given way to brief intentions but no intent for action.
Rachel: My absence meant more than this.
Then also from her before Quinn could respond: And I've been taking chances, I've been setting myself up for the fall, I've been keeping secrets.
Quinn: Tell me what you want to be, and don't hide it from me.
Rachel: High heels off, I'm feeling alive.
Quinn frowned. Hoping for something different. Her phone buzzed quickly again.
Come a little closer, as the night gets older.
Thinking maybe she shouldn’t have wished for something different, her thumbs quickly typed out:
Your place or mine?
Both.
~
She found Rachel waiting once more on the curb. Bundled but without a thermos this time. Rachel leaned back with her elbows on the walk, staring up at the night sky. She bounced to her feet when Quinn’s headlights cut across the lawn.
When Rachel didn’t make any moves to get in the car, Quinn climbed out.
"‘You found me under the streetlight on Eighth Avenue,’" Rachel quoted. "I snuck out my window."
"You’ve already used that song; it’s against the rules." Quinn put her hands in her pockets and shook her head. "This is weird even for you, Rachel."
"Not making any sense." She giggled because it came close to the next lyric. Swaying side to side, she began to dance to a song only she could hear.
Quinn gaped at her and tried to get a good look at her eyes in the dark. "Are you high?!"
Another fit of giggles shook her and she added the motion to her dance. "Would Rachel Berry really get high on drugs?"
"No…" Quinn dragged the word out, still trying to follow what was happening. "But the only other explanation is you are having some sort of stroke."
Rachel came to a sudden stop and grabbed Quinn’s arms, leaning in close. "I have a confession." She lowered her voice dramatically. "I had a psychedelic brownie or two."
Holy crap.
"Mushrooms or LSD?" Quinn heard herself ask, dumbfounded.
Rachel tapped Quinn’s nose and then became enamored with poking other parts of her face. "No, silly. It had marijuana in it - I put it there. Shhh."
Quinn pulled back and grabbed her wrists to keep fingers out of her nostrils. "Pot isn’t psychedelic. It’ll make you mellow or at worst-" She caught herself in time and didn’t say paranoid. Last thing she needed in this universe was Rachel Berry on a bad trip.
"I haven’t really been mellow in a long time. I think I was eight. My fathers were very concerned." Her eyes lit with humor.
Quinn glanced at the Berry household. Her fathers. If they found her like this they’d probably send her to rehab and McKinley would never win a glee competition again. "I think you should probably go to bed, Rachel, and sleep this off. And possibly let me hold onto your phone for a while. Other people might not be as receptive to your musical texts as me."
"You are very receptive to me." Rachel moved closer and Quinn inched back.
"Yeah. Bedtime, alone."
Rachel stomped her foot like a petulant child. "No. I don’t want to go to bed. I want to go out. I want to see and feel, feel so much. That is why I made and ate the naughty brownies. And you answered when I asked in song verse to leave."
Quinn sighed. If she couldn’t get Rachel into bed - there was no word combination that didn’t sound suggestive in her head - then she could at least keep her out of sight of legal guardians. "Get in."
"Yay!" She gave a little clap and hurried around the car, climbing in on the passenger side.
Quinn got in and began driving. "Where do you want to go?"
"I don’t know." Rachel touched the window control and filled the car with icy wind. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. "Somewhere away. Until the night closes in."
Quinn reached over and flipped the now useless heater off. She turned away from the suburbs and drove around the outskirts of Lima without any real destination. "Why did you do this, Rachel?"
"I wanted to know what it felt like."
"For a role." Quinn spared a glance at her. "For a stupid play that is going to run for a few days."
Rachel was looking at her, head relaxed against the seat, content. "That’s not the only reason."
"You could have just asked someone."
"I did but I had to know for myself."
Quinn shook her head. "You’re a crazy idiot."
They drove in silence for a while with the quiet broken only by the occasional hum from Rachel when a random song entered her head.
"Pull off up here," she said suddenly.
Quinn did as instructed. They were outside the city with nothing but farmland around them. Distantly the orange night glow of Lima lit the horizon.
Rachel leaned all the way out the window once the car came to a stop and looked up. "This is perfect," she said and climbed the rest of the way out, not bothering to open the door.
Quinn watched through the windshield for a moment as Rachel went out into the field with her arms held wide. She thought maybe Rachel needed to pee but after several paces Rachel stopped and just stood staring at the night sky.
Quinn followed her, hanging back slightly. "I understand you have the tolerance of a bee, but you will freeze out here."
"The stars are so crisp," Rachel said, awed. "They don’t look like that in New York."
Quinn shrugged. She hadn’t bother to notice last year - too many other things on her mind. "Probably not, no. Too much light and pollution."
"Yeah." Rachel paused for a beat. "I’ll miss them when I go."
Quinn almost said she could always come back but then realized what that would mean and decided against it. After graduation she would take up position at the county line if that is what it took to make sure Rachel never returned to Lima.
"There are other places to see them," she said instead. "Maybe from the courtyard of your manse in the Hamptons."
Rachel grinned at that.
Quinn reached for a cigarette, thought better of it, and pulled out a joint instead. She reached for her lighter and cupped her hand against the breeze to light the end of the carefully rolled paper.
She took a healthy toke and then offered it to Rachel.
"No, thank you."
"That’s where you draw the line, huh?"
"I can’t ruin my lungs." Even high Rachel was cognizant of her gifts.
Quinn took the hit for her and blew smoke in her direction. "Suit yourself."
Rachel didn’t wave the contact high away but didn’t inhale either. "Do you still sing?" she asked.
"No."
"You have such a pretty voice."
Quinn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Can we go? I’m cold."
"I’m laying it on the line to show you," Rachel started to sing. "On the line for your love to prove there is nothing I want more…"
She gestured for backup, but Quinn just shook her head and inched away. Not caring she was singing alone, in the middle of some farmer’s back yard, she kept going, "Another dead end street. Another love gone wrong."
Rachel was still remarkably good at this. Even on her own, mentally altered as she was, her voice remained technically solid while at the same time quivering with emotion. "Another shattered dream. Always the same old song. I started thinking that you'd never come along. I got all this love inside, that I'm sure you want tonight…"
It was starting to get embarrassing and Quinn wasn’t anywhere close to being high enough to enjoy it. "Rachel, come on."
"Sing with me." She was also good at being demanding.
"I don’t know it."
Rachel grabbed Quinn’s free hand with both of hers and tugged her forward. All ten fingers were like points of ice against the pulse pounding in her wrist. "Then just follow me. I’ll teach you now."
"After everything my heart's been through, I treasure every moment I spend with you. For me to feel this way is something new. Now it’s got a hold of me and it’s making me believe that what we got is something unlike any other…"
Quinn did her best to keep up, her voice a little out of practice, and it took a couple of verses to come in sync with Rachel’s. She tried to pantomime the words and not truly listen to them, but feeling bled off Rachel in waves. It didn’t matter what sort of performance she was giving, her heart went all in. That was what made her so good.
Quinn knew that it wasn’t real and did her best to resist. The pot was slowly working through her though, prying away at her grip. And the song went on longer than she thought it would or at least it seemed to as time began to lose meaning.
When Rachel hit a high note and sang "Just to be with you" with her hands now warm in Quinn’s it was too much. Quinn pulled her in, caught her mouth, and kissed her like she wished all those girls at the club had kissed her when she took them outside. Pressing so much pent up need into her it staggered both of them.
Rachel’s hand left hers and found her neck, deepening the kiss.
The song was over, there was no echo, but Quinn swore the air reverberated with music.
~
The streets of Lima were empty and lit only by the rows of orange street lamps. A few people traveled bundled against the cold between late night restaurants and bars, but they stayed on the sidewalks and in her car driving by Quinn could pretend they didn’t exist.
She didn’t know how long they had stayed out in the field, freezing and kissing and singing. It felt like hours but she couldn’t be sure. It was late and soon the town would begin feeling abandoned and dead. This was the dawn of a different time of day, she knew, and it was one she had familiarity with.
Inside the car was warm and comfortable. Beside her Rachel quietly sang Show Me The Way a cappella. One hand on the wheel and the other resting on Rachel’s leg, Quinn drove without destination. It felt good to just drive.
Quinn figured Rachel was still high, but soon she should start to come down and Quinn would be able to take her home. Neither of her fathers the wiser.
Rachel stopped singing and sat up in her seat. "Pull in there," she said pointing to a small plaza.
Reluctantly, Quinn did as asked. She parked in front of the only shop still open. Light from their neon signs spilled across the dashboard. "Whatever you are thinking, I would recommend against it. Strongly."
A very dangerous smile spread over Rachel’s lips. "You don’t know what I’m thinking."
"That is so very true, but I know about this sort of thing. You are going to have to trust me on it."
Rachel’s gaze flicked between Quinn and the store. "Nothing permanent, I promise. I just want to window shop." She opened her door.
Seeing nothing but trouble ahead, even through her own buzz, Quinn got out and followed her. Rachel was probably going to have very little memory of this evening come tomorrow and if she woke up with something permanent on her performer’s body an army of Skanks and Cheerios couldn’t protect Quinn from her wrath.
Inside the tattoo parlor smelled faintly of green soap and witch hazel. It was brightly lit, harshly so after spending so many hours in dim light, with a tv on in the corner, muted, playing an old sitcom. Country music played from hidden speakers, waxing about youth and the joys of fast cars and a pretty girl by the singer’s side. Quinn could relate to some of that.
The man behind the front desk wasn’t much older than them with ink peeking out from underneath his black t-shirt and several rings and studs decorating his face. He glanced over the top of the magazine he was reading when the bells on the door jingled.
"Hey. What can I help you ladies with this evening?"
"Woo, butterflies!" Rachel headed straight for the framed templates hung along the wall.
"My friend is just looking," Quinn said. "Not buying."
He glanced at her and shrugged. "That’s cool. If you’d-"
"Not buying." Quinn positioned herself between him and Rachel.
He held up his hand in defense and sunk back behind his hot rod magazine.
"Are you done?" Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s back and tried to steer her away from the wall of art.
"No." Rachel’s eyes were wide as she took in all the designs. "Do they hurt?"
"Yes," Quinn said. "Excruciatingly so - you wouldn’t like it."
"It is very sweet of you to look out for my well being," Rachel said. "But unnecessary for two reasons. I am of sound mind in this and I have no intention of destroying the clean landscape of my flesh. Oh, no offense over there."
The clerk shrugged. "None taken … I guess."
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. For a second she was envisioning-
"I want to get a piercing," Rachel finished.
What?
Quinn turned to follow when Rachel stepped around her. "What?"
She was already up to the counter. "Good sir, I would like a piercing please. You do that here, right?"
He smiled. "Yeah, we’ve been known to. You got some id?"
"No, she doesn’t."
"Yes, I do." Rachel pulled out her fake id. "I’m twenty three."
He looked at it and then at her. "You don’t look twenty three."
"Why thank you. A girl does like to hear that as she gets older. I have very good genes." She lowered her voice. "I also have cash money."
"Yeah, we can hook you up. Head on back to the room three doors on the right."
Rachel took her id back and started down the hall he indicated.
He pulled out a walkie-talkie held together with duct tape and thumbed the speak button. "Trish, you got a customer in bay three."
Quinn did a double take at that and started after Rachel. On her way past him, she said, "Tell Trish to disregard that."
The rear hall was narrow and had several small rooms branching off from it with only a plastic curtain providing privacy. Quinn thought she heard people and a tattoo gun buzzing in one of the rooms but didn’t slow to check. The wallpaper had crinkled next to the entrance to the third room down, revealing bare wood. Quinn followed Rachel past the curtain.
Inside was a medical style chair in the center of the room that had floor levers for adjusting the incline and height. A set of drawers to one side, stool, and hand washing sink. Movable lights hung from the ceiling. It was like a kind of dentist’s office only with the scary ratcheted up.
"Rachel, you need to really listen to me. I know you are experiencing all sorts of things right now, but once the high fades you aren’t going to want a nose ring or eyebrow stud or whatever it is you are thinking of getting."
"Give my well cared for metabolism credit, Quinn," she said. "The psychedelic brownies left my system some time ago. I would not have come here compromised as I’m sure so many normally do. Nor would I deface myself - especially at this point in my career."
Trish picked that moment to enter, closing the curtain behind her. She was a tall woman, towering over Quinn by several inches. One side of her head was shaved down to the scalp while what remained on the other side was dyed blonde with black tips. She wore a sleeveless blue shirt that displayed several detailed portraits inked onto her arms. Tattooed across the back of her right hand was ‘diamond’ and across the left was ‘rust’.
"What can I do for you, honey?"
Still to Quinn, Rachel continued, "I decided the best way was to get a piercing no one would see and if the mood for it passes I will just remove it and let it heal. Simple." She turned to Trish. "I would like a nipple piercing, please."
Quinn blinked in surprise … in shock, a small functioning part of her brain helpfully corrected. "Rachel, that really hurts." It was the best she could come up with as she watched Trish wash, glove up, and then pull several packages out of one of the drawers.
"I already thought of that. According to my research this place received very good reviews online for keeping pain to a minimum. Sassyguurl874 was quite pleased with her nipple and clitoral hood piercings. Five stars out of five."
Trish nodded. "I probably did her too. We don’t let AJ up front take care of sensitive areas - not on female customers anyhow." She gestured toward the chair.
Rachel took off her coat and then pulled her shirt over her head in one quick motion and held both out to Quinn. "You see, they even remember their clientele. I’m fine here."
Quinn saw her hand come up and take the shirt and coat. If she’d known at the start of the evening that she was going to have to debate a subject she wouldn’t have smoked that pot.
Rachel unhooked her bra and shrugged it off, handing that to Quinn as well.
If she’d known at the start of the evening that she was going to end up in a tiny hot room with a half naked Rachel Berry and a tall Amazonian woman she would have taken drugs that were much, much stronger.
"You okay?" Trish asked. "You look like you need to sit down."
It took Quinn a second to realize Trish was talking to her and not Rachel. "Yes, please."
She slid the stool over to her and Quinn nearly fell backward on to it. In her hands she still held a good portion of Rachel’s clothes. Including, her fingertips informed her, warm delicate things.
"If needles bother you, you can wait outside. AJ’s harmless … most of the time."
"I’d like to stay." Quinn hoped that didn’t sound as creepy to everyone else as it did to her.
Even if it did, Trish just turned back to her work and Rachel sat patiently while she explained the procedure and went over the different types of barbells and rings. One signed consent form later and Trish had Rachel stand up with her arms flat against her sides.
Trish dabbed Rachel’s breast with a cloth and solution that smelled strongly of the inside of a medicine cabinet.
"It’s cold," Rachel said.
Needlessly said Quinn couldn’t help but notice. She tried not to stare but found she couldn’t look away. Rachel’s nipples were dark and smaller than she’d imagined them. More thought then she’d care to admit had gone into envisioning Rachel like this and through the haze she felt old Quinn comparing the real thing to those pornographic sketches she’d made for the school to see. And the ones she kept for herself.
Even further back Lucy Fabray stood in awe of what she was witnessing. Just glad to be along for the ride.
"Are you doing both?" Trish asked, holding the back of her gloved hand to Rachel’s skin until it was warm enough to mark the piercing area.
"No, just one will serve the purpose."
Using a small pick and a dab of ink Trish marked off where the horizontal piercing would go, per Rachel’s instructions and Quinn marveled that she really was knowledgeable about what she wanted and how it was to be done. Maybe she really had come down before deciding to do this … and if so then that raised many new questions.
"Okay. Sit back." Trish walked around the side of the chair, spread out several tools on the table behind her, and adjusted the overhead light. She worked the floor pedals until Rachel was lying on her back.
For the first time a flicker of doubt and fear flashed across Rachel’s face.
Quinn slid her stool forward, switched the clothes that she was still holding awkwardly to one arm, and took her hand. "You are a crazy person," she said.
Rachel smiled. "So says the girl with a nose ring and pink hair."
Trish seemed to like that but didn’t comment. She double checked the marked area and dabbed more disinfectant on before applying a small clamp. Quinn stared, mind slightly detached, and squeezed Rachel’s hand. She gripped back and closed her eyes.
"Okay," Trish said. "Take a deep breath, hold it, and then exhale."
Quinn followed the instructions too. She watched even though Rachel didn’t as the needle went in.
It sparked a muffled squeak behind her compressed lips, and she dug her nails deep into Quinn’s hand, but it didn’t seem as bad as Quinn had feared.
Surprisingly professional given the setting, Trish slipped the barbell through the newly created hole, locked it, and used a q-tip to apply antiseptic. There was very little blood; just a trickle when the needle first went in. "Done," she said. "How do you feel?"
"I feel okay." Rachel opened her eyes and looked down. "Wow."
"Dizzy? Sick?"
"No."
Trish began throwing the wipes and gloves in the disposal bin. "Are you sure you don’t want the other side done?"
Rachel touched the small barbell with her finger. "I’m sure, thank you."
Trish nodded and passed her a cool gel pack. "Hold that lightly against the area," she said. "Bleeding should stop in a few moments and this will help with any swelling. Wait here and I’ll be back with your aftercare kit."
"Do you have a mirror?" Rachel asked.
Trish pulled open a drawer and handed her a small makeup mirror. Without pulling the curtain aside, she slipped out of the room.
Rachel sat up and held the mirror out in front of her, twisting and turning to stare at the piercing from different angles. There was probably a joke in a naked Berry unable to stop looking at herself, but Quinn didn’t go in search of it.
"How does it look?" Rachel asked.
"It’s-"Quinn tried to find the right word-"beautiful."
Rachel smiled and touched it with her index finger again.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little, yeah."
"Can I…?" Quinn lifted her hand before doubt could stop her.
Rachel nodded and turned toward her. "Uh-huh."
Quinn’s fingers slipped gently around her breast and let its weight settle against her palm. Her thumb brushed the raised nipple and barbell. Rachel hissed and grimaced in pain.
"Sorry."
"No, it’s fine. Not all bad."
Trish came back into the room and Quinn pulled her hand back quickly. "Okay," she said. "Here is a care kit and cleaning and care info. There are q-tips inside for any dried blood removal. Don’t remove or add anything to the hole; they close up fast. When you get home take some ibuprofen and that will get rid of any throbbing you might be experiencing. Soreness is normal, as is a little swelling and redness. If they don’t go away however come back here and I’ll check for signs of infection or allergies.
"Any questions?"
Rachel shook her head and handed the mirror back. "No, I’m good. Thank you."
"Okay, go ahead and get dressed. When you put your bra on keep the gel pack in the cup; that will give you a little extra cushioning. I’ll be up front when you are ready."
Rachel retrieved her clothes and dressed, taking a little extra care like Trish suggested. A few minutes later Quinn was again standing in the entrance way to the shop, listening to the twang of country music while Rachel paid and tipped her piercer.
"When you are ready to do the other side," Trish said, "bring your squeamish friend again and I’ll give her a deal on a two-fer."
Rachel shook her hand across the counter. "That is very kind of you. Have a lovely weekend."
The bells jingled behind them and they started back toward Quinn’s car. After the warm studio and decidedly heady experience within, Quinn felt the cold like a physical slap in the face. It wasn’t such a bad thing though and returned some of her senses.
"I’m starting to think ‘shrooms were involved in this night," she said. "And I was the one that took them. Maybe you aren’t even here? Maybe I’ve been talking to thin air all night?"
Rachel laughed. "I assure you that you have not frenched and groped thin air tonight."
They got in and Quinn started the engine, turning the heater up to full. "Well I have to say, Rachel, that when you go badass you commit yourself."
Rachel bowed her head. "That was the idea."
"You’ll be fighting me for control of the Skanks next."
"Nationals would be interesting with them instead of the glee club."
Quinn backed the car out of the parking space and pulled back out onto the main road. "So where to next? Want to knock over a mini mart or something?"
"Nothing quite so drastic." She stretched out on the small seat. "I think I’d like to rest for a little while if that is okay."
Quinn nodded and turned away from the city proper. They were both as sober as they were going to get so it was safe to return her home. Her fathers would remain clueless about the body modification unless Rachel was in the habit of walking around the house naked - though after tonight Quinn wouldn’t put it past her.
City lights gave way to porch lights as she drove. Beside her Rachel drew her knees up and curled with her back against the door, facing Quinn.
Aware of the intense gaze boring into her, Quinn kept her eyes forward and hands on the wheel.
"What are you thinking?"
"That this is going to be the weirdest journal entry ever."
Rachel gave a little smile, seemed to want to say more and then thought better of it. Quinn was glad for that - she really didn’t know what she was thinking at the moment and couldn’t expand beyond that.
The Berry house was thankfully still dark and quiet - a little slice of suburban life. Quinn killed her lights and pulled in behind LeRoy’s car.
Rachel made no move to leave; just kept sitting there staring.
Quinn knew she had to say something but wasn’t sure what.
"I’m not going to kiss you goodnight, you know," Rachel finally said.
Thinking she meant that as more than a joke, Quinn’s defenses - already thrown for a sizable loop tonight - started to rise.
"So that means you have to come in with me," Rachel finished after a beat. Her eyes flashing with mirth, she got out and started up the walk.
"Take me to the river indeed," Quinn paraphrased the lyric, shaking of her head and pocketing her keys.
Rachel unlocked the front door and walked in, holding it open for Quinn behind her.
The living room was dark like the rest of the house and Quinn had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust. Last thing she wanted was to knock something over and have the Berry men come downstairs armed with baseball bats.
"I’m going to get some water," Rachel said. "Would you like some?"
"Ah, sure."
Rachel didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating around the dining room table on her way to the kitchen. "You can go on up to my room if you’d like."
Quinn decided to wait by the staircase. She wasn’t sure of her odds of hitting Rachel’s room on the first try in the dark.
The kitchen brightened when Rachel opened the refrigerator and then darkened again. A few moments later she returned with two small bottles of water in hand. "Come on."
Taking a long swig to bring moisture back to her mouth, Quinn followed her up. Finding the right room turned out not to be something she should have worried about. Rachel’s name glittered in gold paint across the door over an equally light catching star.
Quinn smiled in spite of herself.
Rachel turned her desk lamp on and then dimmed it to a more intimate level. Inside the room was less subtle than the door with copious amounts of pink decorating everything along with Broadway posters and memorabilia. In one corner was a small shrine with vinyl albums, ticket stubs, and books dedicated to Barbra Streisand. Between all the things Quinn expected to see, she also caught sight of framed pictures of the glee club dating back years to their first trip to Sectionals.
On the mirror over her dresser were more personal photos. Pictures of Finn in his football uniform. Rachel and her fathers from when she was young enough to swing between them while they held her hands all the way up to LeRoy standing next to her while she modeled her prom dress from last year.
Quinn also saw pictures of herself.
Tucked in the frame of the mirror was a prom queen flyer from the previous year, folded so only Quinn’s face was visible. Also a picture from a glee practice she barely remembered when she still wore Cheerio red and white. And even a photo taken when she was carrying Beth; her face looked like a cherry tomato ready to pop.
Rachel passed her and walked to the dresser. "Make yourself comfortable," she said, using the mirror to look over her shoulder. "I’ll be right back."
Carrying fresh clothes in her arms, she left the room.
Quinn took another long drink of water. She shed her coat and sat on the corner of Rachel’s bed, stood, then sat again and unlaced her Doc Martens. Sliding them off she stood and walked around the room, studying things more closely.
Rachel had a corkboard on one wall next to her desk, covered in post it notes and tacked up newspaper clippings.
Quinn set the water on the desk, tipped her head, and used her finger to turn some of the pages toward the light. There were several clippings, from the school paper and local press, about the glee club losing in New York. And a tag torn off the bottom of a flyer - an ad from the Squareround Theater looking for fresh talent.
They found it, Quinn thought. In spades.
The post it notes seemed to follow the plot of her play and Quinn remembered how she had notes written in the scripts she had brought with to the theater that day. A couple of the larger sheets of paper were also about the play and had some sort of time line figured out on them. Rachel had scratched out some notes so thoroughly Quinn couldn’t read them. Others had arrows with long tails suggesting where they should be in relation to one another.
Wow she was really taking this seriously, Quinn thought. It made her sad to picture how much effort had gone into something that barely anyone would ever see.
"It is my inspirational wall," Rachel said behind her.
Quinn turned, feeling like Rachel had caught her reading her journal. "Your what?"
She gestured weakly to it. "When I’m discouraged or need something to jump start my creativity I use that board."
"You keep New York on there."
"Ill advised decisions," Rachel said. "But the only way to get better is to face mistakes and learn from them. Or so says daddy."
Padding on bare feet to her nightstand, Rachel turn on the docked iPod there and adjusted the volume so it wouldn’t carry beyond the room. She had changed clothes and now wore just a pair of shorts and sports bra.
"‘I brought you here so that I can express the things I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout so give me your ear.’" began coming from the speakers.
"Want to dance?" Quinn asked, only half serious.
Rachel shook her head and lay back on the bed. "I’m tired."
"I’ll-"
"Turn off the light and come here."
"‘I used to love someone that I didn’t like, we used to want to break up every other night.’"
Moving delicately, like she was trying to avoid breaking fragile glass, Quinn settled next to her on the bed. Showing no such consideration, Rachel turned to her and let her head rest against Quinn’s chest. Reaching behind her back, she pulled the bedspread up until it mostly covered them.
"Your heart’s beating really fast," she said.
"Too much coffee." Quinn brought her arm around, smoothed the blanket around Rachel, and then let her hand rest on her bare shoulder.
The sounds of their breathing in the dark room seemed louder to Quinn than the song crooning from the iPod.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked finally.
"A little. I think the ibuprofen helped."
"You’re incredible," Quinn said. "Or crazy. I’m not sure which."
"Crazily incredible." Rachel nuzzled closer and Quinn could feel her drifting to sleep.
The scent of apple shampoo, the same from the schoolyard what now felt like a lifetime ago, filled Quinn’s nose. She tried hard to stay awake, not wanting to miss a second of this or face whatever the morning would bring.
Eventually she lost the fight and fell asleep beside her.
Next Chapter
Author: Alex Foster
Word Count: 27,000+
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Alcohol and drug use, underage characters (late teens), mild sexual situations, a few derogatory and misogynist terms (not prevalent), original characters, descriptions of body piercing, no character bashing.
Summary: Quinn reluctantly agrees to help Rachel get in touch with her inner rebel to prepare for a stage role. What follows is a series of weekends and late nights as both are pulled into each other's world. Season 3 AU. Punk!Quinn Accomplished!Rachel.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by FOX. Song lyrics belong to their respected writer/singers and record companies. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Additional Author's Notes: I'm giving a heads up here that in this chapter there are events of an intimate nature that take place under the influence of a controlled substance. This was not written with the intent of being dub con and, in my mind when I wrote it and again rereading it, the effects have worn off to the point for both parties that they are able to give consent. Also at no point in future chapters do any of the characters indicate they were anything less than willing. That said I believe it is better to over warn rather than to under warn so I'm giving an additional note here in case that situation might be triggering to any readers.
Chapter Five
Judy had a church social function to attend so that meant Quinn had the house to herself. Officially they called it a support group for those facing the hard difficulties of life. Really it was a back room where single parents got together and felt sorry for themselves over coffeecake and prayer.
Divorce was a sin so they had to pretty it up the best way they could. It was adults leaning on one another during ‘difficulties’. Because Judy’s particular church believed in overlooking sin as long as the sinner prettied it up and hid it the best way they could.
God bless.
Quinn fixed her own dinner of cold cereal and milk and ate it by herself. It was nice and familiar being on her own. She’d already finished school assignments for Monday and no parent meant no need to sneak out if she wanted to party.
Judy would probably keep to form and offer to stay late and help clean up after the meeting. Conveniently chatting up the newly divorced men while doing so. She wouldn’t be home for a while. Old Quinn might have held purview over games but she came by it honestly.
Quinn considered taking Margaret up on her offer to take her to Stallion’s party but there were going to be McKinley students there and she’d had enough of them during the week. The Runaway didn’t sound like a bad idea though.
As she dressed to leave, restlessness began building under her skin. She wanted something different … something she didn’t know what. Maybe it was talking to Santana again this week, really talking to her, that made her miss the connection the three of them had once.
She checked the time on her phone and then the empty inbox.
Grabbing a joint from her stash, Quinn started on her way. She was already eager for music that made it impossible to hear and the way thumping bass made her skin ache.
She was halfway down the street when her phone lit up on the passenger seat. Grabbing it one handed, she read the screen. It was from Rachel.
I need some company, a guardian angel.
Quinn frowned. That was new and did not make any kind of sense. She typed back a one word question and then pulled off to the side of the road. The car sat idling. If Rachel was going to do her two hour to answer thing then-
You wanna prowl, be my night owl?
Realization began to dawn. It didn’t make much more sense but at least Quinn was beginning to understand the language of the land she’d somehow wandered into. She put the car in park and texted back:
Are you quoting song lyrics to me? Why?
Rachel: I wonder what you’re doing in the night out there?
Quinn: Are you okay?
Rachel: Why don’t you come play with me and bring me to the other side?
Quinn stared at her phone until the power saver turned the screen off. Then she unlocked it and stared at it until it went dark again.
Someone must have stolen Rachel’s phone and were sitting in front of a lyric search engine messing with her. Whoever it was obviously didn’t care about his or her life. She was still trying to think of how to respond when the phone buzzed in her hand.
I’m serious. Play back, Quinn.
She thought hard for a second and sent:
Somewhere in the lonely night, your flame is burning bright.
Rachel: I’m ready to accept your point of view. It’s up to you.
Asked and answered. One Streisand lyric for another without any search engine waiting. It was really Rachel.
She tapped a fingernail against the side of her phone for a second and then wrote:
And now I'm stuck still and wondering how it's meant to be.
Rachel: We are shining, and we'll never be afraid again.
Quinn started to write one thing then erased it and sent a different message before she could lose her nerve. It was the closest she’d ever gotten to a grand declaration about anything.
I feel like my words have only given way to brief intentions but no intent for action.
Rachel: My absence meant more than this.
Then also from her before Quinn could respond: And I've been taking chances, I've been setting myself up for the fall, I've been keeping secrets.
Quinn: Tell me what you want to be, and don't hide it from me.
Rachel: High heels off, I'm feeling alive.
Quinn frowned. Hoping for something different. Her phone buzzed quickly again.
Come a little closer, as the night gets older.
Thinking maybe she shouldn’t have wished for something different, her thumbs quickly typed out:
Your place or mine?
Both.
~
She found Rachel waiting once more on the curb. Bundled but without a thermos this time. Rachel leaned back with her elbows on the walk, staring up at the night sky. She bounced to her feet when Quinn’s headlights cut across the lawn.
When Rachel didn’t make any moves to get in the car, Quinn climbed out.
"‘You found me under the streetlight on Eighth Avenue,’" Rachel quoted. "I snuck out my window."
"You’ve already used that song; it’s against the rules." Quinn put her hands in her pockets and shook her head. "This is weird even for you, Rachel."
"Not making any sense." She giggled because it came close to the next lyric. Swaying side to side, she began to dance to a song only she could hear.
Quinn gaped at her and tried to get a good look at her eyes in the dark. "Are you high?!"
Another fit of giggles shook her and she added the motion to her dance. "Would Rachel Berry really get high on drugs?"
"No…" Quinn dragged the word out, still trying to follow what was happening. "But the only other explanation is you are having some sort of stroke."
Rachel came to a sudden stop and grabbed Quinn’s arms, leaning in close. "I have a confession." She lowered her voice dramatically. "I had a psychedelic brownie or two."
Holy crap.
"Mushrooms or LSD?" Quinn heard herself ask, dumbfounded.
Rachel tapped Quinn’s nose and then became enamored with poking other parts of her face. "No, silly. It had marijuana in it - I put it there. Shhh."
Quinn pulled back and grabbed her wrists to keep fingers out of her nostrils. "Pot isn’t psychedelic. It’ll make you mellow or at worst-" She caught herself in time and didn’t say paranoid. Last thing she needed in this universe was Rachel Berry on a bad trip.
"I haven’t really been mellow in a long time. I think I was eight. My fathers were very concerned." Her eyes lit with humor.
Quinn glanced at the Berry household. Her fathers. If they found her like this they’d probably send her to rehab and McKinley would never win a glee competition again. "I think you should probably go to bed, Rachel, and sleep this off. And possibly let me hold onto your phone for a while. Other people might not be as receptive to your musical texts as me."
"You are very receptive to me." Rachel moved closer and Quinn inched back.
"Yeah. Bedtime, alone."
Rachel stomped her foot like a petulant child. "No. I don’t want to go to bed. I want to go out. I want to see and feel, feel so much. That is why I made and ate the naughty brownies. And you answered when I asked in song verse to leave."
Quinn sighed. If she couldn’t get Rachel into bed - there was no word combination that didn’t sound suggestive in her head - then she could at least keep her out of sight of legal guardians. "Get in."
"Yay!" She gave a little clap and hurried around the car, climbing in on the passenger side.
Quinn got in and began driving. "Where do you want to go?"
"I don’t know." Rachel touched the window control and filled the car with icy wind. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. "Somewhere away. Until the night closes in."
Quinn reached over and flipped the now useless heater off. She turned away from the suburbs and drove around the outskirts of Lima without any real destination. "Why did you do this, Rachel?"
"I wanted to know what it felt like."
"For a role." Quinn spared a glance at her. "For a stupid play that is going to run for a few days."
Rachel was looking at her, head relaxed against the seat, content. "That’s not the only reason."
"You could have just asked someone."
"I did but I had to know for myself."
Quinn shook her head. "You’re a crazy idiot."
They drove in silence for a while with the quiet broken only by the occasional hum from Rachel when a random song entered her head.
"Pull off up here," she said suddenly.
Quinn did as instructed. They were outside the city with nothing but farmland around them. Distantly the orange night glow of Lima lit the horizon.
Rachel leaned all the way out the window once the car came to a stop and looked up. "This is perfect," she said and climbed the rest of the way out, not bothering to open the door.
Quinn watched through the windshield for a moment as Rachel went out into the field with her arms held wide. She thought maybe Rachel needed to pee but after several paces Rachel stopped and just stood staring at the night sky.
Quinn followed her, hanging back slightly. "I understand you have the tolerance of a bee, but you will freeze out here."
"The stars are so crisp," Rachel said, awed. "They don’t look like that in New York."
Quinn shrugged. She hadn’t bother to notice last year - too many other things on her mind. "Probably not, no. Too much light and pollution."
"Yeah." Rachel paused for a beat. "I’ll miss them when I go."
Quinn almost said she could always come back but then realized what that would mean and decided against it. After graduation she would take up position at the county line if that is what it took to make sure Rachel never returned to Lima.
"There are other places to see them," she said instead. "Maybe from the courtyard of your manse in the Hamptons."
Rachel grinned at that.
Quinn reached for a cigarette, thought better of it, and pulled out a joint instead. She reached for her lighter and cupped her hand against the breeze to light the end of the carefully rolled paper.
She took a healthy toke and then offered it to Rachel.
"No, thank you."
"That’s where you draw the line, huh?"
"I can’t ruin my lungs." Even high Rachel was cognizant of her gifts.
Quinn took the hit for her and blew smoke in her direction. "Suit yourself."
Rachel didn’t wave the contact high away but didn’t inhale either. "Do you still sing?" she asked.
"No."
"You have such a pretty voice."
Quinn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Can we go? I’m cold."
"I’m laying it on the line to show you," Rachel started to sing. "On the line for your love to prove there is nothing I want more…"
She gestured for backup, but Quinn just shook her head and inched away. Not caring she was singing alone, in the middle of some farmer’s back yard, she kept going, "Another dead end street. Another love gone wrong."
Rachel was still remarkably good at this. Even on her own, mentally altered as she was, her voice remained technically solid while at the same time quivering with emotion. "Another shattered dream. Always the same old song. I started thinking that you'd never come along. I got all this love inside, that I'm sure you want tonight…"
It was starting to get embarrassing and Quinn wasn’t anywhere close to being high enough to enjoy it. "Rachel, come on."
"Sing with me." She was also good at being demanding.
"I don’t know it."
Rachel grabbed Quinn’s free hand with both of hers and tugged her forward. All ten fingers were like points of ice against the pulse pounding in her wrist. "Then just follow me. I’ll teach you now."
"After everything my heart's been through, I treasure every moment I spend with you. For me to feel this way is something new. Now it’s got a hold of me and it’s making me believe that what we got is something unlike any other…"
Quinn did her best to keep up, her voice a little out of practice, and it took a couple of verses to come in sync with Rachel’s. She tried to pantomime the words and not truly listen to them, but feeling bled off Rachel in waves. It didn’t matter what sort of performance she was giving, her heart went all in. That was what made her so good.
Quinn knew that it wasn’t real and did her best to resist. The pot was slowly working through her though, prying away at her grip. And the song went on longer than she thought it would or at least it seemed to as time began to lose meaning.
When Rachel hit a high note and sang "Just to be with you" with her hands now warm in Quinn’s it was too much. Quinn pulled her in, caught her mouth, and kissed her like she wished all those girls at the club had kissed her when she took them outside. Pressing so much pent up need into her it staggered both of them.
Rachel’s hand left hers and found her neck, deepening the kiss.
The song was over, there was no echo, but Quinn swore the air reverberated with music.
~
The streets of Lima were empty and lit only by the rows of orange street lamps. A few people traveled bundled against the cold between late night restaurants and bars, but they stayed on the sidewalks and in her car driving by Quinn could pretend they didn’t exist.
She didn’t know how long they had stayed out in the field, freezing and kissing and singing. It felt like hours but she couldn’t be sure. It was late and soon the town would begin feeling abandoned and dead. This was the dawn of a different time of day, she knew, and it was one she had familiarity with.
Inside the car was warm and comfortable. Beside her Rachel quietly sang Show Me The Way a cappella. One hand on the wheel and the other resting on Rachel’s leg, Quinn drove without destination. It felt good to just drive.
Quinn figured Rachel was still high, but soon she should start to come down and Quinn would be able to take her home. Neither of her fathers the wiser.
Rachel stopped singing and sat up in her seat. "Pull in there," she said pointing to a small plaza.
Reluctantly, Quinn did as asked. She parked in front of the only shop still open. Light from their neon signs spilled across the dashboard. "Whatever you are thinking, I would recommend against it. Strongly."
A very dangerous smile spread over Rachel’s lips. "You don’t know what I’m thinking."
"That is so very true, but I know about this sort of thing. You are going to have to trust me on it."
Rachel’s gaze flicked between Quinn and the store. "Nothing permanent, I promise. I just want to window shop." She opened her door.
Seeing nothing but trouble ahead, even through her own buzz, Quinn got out and followed her. Rachel was probably going to have very little memory of this evening come tomorrow and if she woke up with something permanent on her performer’s body an army of Skanks and Cheerios couldn’t protect Quinn from her wrath.
Inside the tattoo parlor smelled faintly of green soap and witch hazel. It was brightly lit, harshly so after spending so many hours in dim light, with a tv on in the corner, muted, playing an old sitcom. Country music played from hidden speakers, waxing about youth and the joys of fast cars and a pretty girl by the singer’s side. Quinn could relate to some of that.
The man behind the front desk wasn’t much older than them with ink peeking out from underneath his black t-shirt and several rings and studs decorating his face. He glanced over the top of the magazine he was reading when the bells on the door jingled.
"Hey. What can I help you ladies with this evening?"
"Woo, butterflies!" Rachel headed straight for the framed templates hung along the wall.
"My friend is just looking," Quinn said. "Not buying."
He glanced at her and shrugged. "That’s cool. If you’d-"
"Not buying." Quinn positioned herself between him and Rachel.
He held up his hand in defense and sunk back behind his hot rod magazine.
"Are you done?" Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s back and tried to steer her away from the wall of art.
"No." Rachel’s eyes were wide as she took in all the designs. "Do they hurt?"
"Yes," Quinn said. "Excruciatingly so - you wouldn’t like it."
"It is very sweet of you to look out for my well being," Rachel said. "But unnecessary for two reasons. I am of sound mind in this and I have no intention of destroying the clean landscape of my flesh. Oh, no offense over there."
The clerk shrugged. "None taken … I guess."
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. For a second she was envisioning-
"I want to get a piercing," Rachel finished.
What?
Quinn turned to follow when Rachel stepped around her. "What?"
She was already up to the counter. "Good sir, I would like a piercing please. You do that here, right?"
He smiled. "Yeah, we’ve been known to. You got some id?"
"No, she doesn’t."
"Yes, I do." Rachel pulled out her fake id. "I’m twenty three."
He looked at it and then at her. "You don’t look twenty three."
"Why thank you. A girl does like to hear that as she gets older. I have very good genes." She lowered her voice. "I also have cash money."
"Yeah, we can hook you up. Head on back to the room three doors on the right."
Rachel took her id back and started down the hall he indicated.
He pulled out a walkie-talkie held together with duct tape and thumbed the speak button. "Trish, you got a customer in bay three."
Quinn did a double take at that and started after Rachel. On her way past him, she said, "Tell Trish to disregard that."
The rear hall was narrow and had several small rooms branching off from it with only a plastic curtain providing privacy. Quinn thought she heard people and a tattoo gun buzzing in one of the rooms but didn’t slow to check. The wallpaper had crinkled next to the entrance to the third room down, revealing bare wood. Quinn followed Rachel past the curtain.
Inside was a medical style chair in the center of the room that had floor levers for adjusting the incline and height. A set of drawers to one side, stool, and hand washing sink. Movable lights hung from the ceiling. It was like a kind of dentist’s office only with the scary ratcheted up.
"Rachel, you need to really listen to me. I know you are experiencing all sorts of things right now, but once the high fades you aren’t going to want a nose ring or eyebrow stud or whatever it is you are thinking of getting."
"Give my well cared for metabolism credit, Quinn," she said. "The psychedelic brownies left my system some time ago. I would not have come here compromised as I’m sure so many normally do. Nor would I deface myself - especially at this point in my career."
Trish picked that moment to enter, closing the curtain behind her. She was a tall woman, towering over Quinn by several inches. One side of her head was shaved down to the scalp while what remained on the other side was dyed blonde with black tips. She wore a sleeveless blue shirt that displayed several detailed portraits inked onto her arms. Tattooed across the back of her right hand was ‘diamond’ and across the left was ‘rust’.
"What can I do for you, honey?"
Still to Quinn, Rachel continued, "I decided the best way was to get a piercing no one would see and if the mood for it passes I will just remove it and let it heal. Simple." She turned to Trish. "I would like a nipple piercing, please."
Quinn blinked in surprise … in shock, a small functioning part of her brain helpfully corrected. "Rachel, that really hurts." It was the best she could come up with as she watched Trish wash, glove up, and then pull several packages out of one of the drawers.
"I already thought of that. According to my research this place received very good reviews online for keeping pain to a minimum. Sassyguurl874 was quite pleased with her nipple and clitoral hood piercings. Five stars out of five."
Trish nodded. "I probably did her too. We don’t let AJ up front take care of sensitive areas - not on female customers anyhow." She gestured toward the chair.
Rachel took off her coat and then pulled her shirt over her head in one quick motion and held both out to Quinn. "You see, they even remember their clientele. I’m fine here."
Quinn saw her hand come up and take the shirt and coat. If she’d known at the start of the evening that she was going to have to debate a subject she wouldn’t have smoked that pot.
Rachel unhooked her bra and shrugged it off, handing that to Quinn as well.
If she’d known at the start of the evening that she was going to end up in a tiny hot room with a half naked Rachel Berry and a tall Amazonian woman she would have taken drugs that were much, much stronger.
"You okay?" Trish asked. "You look like you need to sit down."
It took Quinn a second to realize Trish was talking to her and not Rachel. "Yes, please."
She slid the stool over to her and Quinn nearly fell backward on to it. In her hands she still held a good portion of Rachel’s clothes. Including, her fingertips informed her, warm delicate things.
"If needles bother you, you can wait outside. AJ’s harmless … most of the time."
"I’d like to stay." Quinn hoped that didn’t sound as creepy to everyone else as it did to her.
Even if it did, Trish just turned back to her work and Rachel sat patiently while she explained the procedure and went over the different types of barbells and rings. One signed consent form later and Trish had Rachel stand up with her arms flat against her sides.
Trish dabbed Rachel’s breast with a cloth and solution that smelled strongly of the inside of a medicine cabinet.
"It’s cold," Rachel said.
Needlessly said Quinn couldn’t help but notice. She tried not to stare but found she couldn’t look away. Rachel’s nipples were dark and smaller than she’d imagined them. More thought then she’d care to admit had gone into envisioning Rachel like this and through the haze she felt old Quinn comparing the real thing to those pornographic sketches she’d made for the school to see. And the ones she kept for herself.
Even further back Lucy Fabray stood in awe of what she was witnessing. Just glad to be along for the ride.
"Are you doing both?" Trish asked, holding the back of her gloved hand to Rachel’s skin until it was warm enough to mark the piercing area.
"No, just one will serve the purpose."
Using a small pick and a dab of ink Trish marked off where the horizontal piercing would go, per Rachel’s instructions and Quinn marveled that she really was knowledgeable about what she wanted and how it was to be done. Maybe she really had come down before deciding to do this … and if so then that raised many new questions.
"Okay. Sit back." Trish walked around the side of the chair, spread out several tools on the table behind her, and adjusted the overhead light. She worked the floor pedals until Rachel was lying on her back.
For the first time a flicker of doubt and fear flashed across Rachel’s face.
Quinn slid her stool forward, switched the clothes that she was still holding awkwardly to one arm, and took her hand. "You are a crazy person," she said.
Rachel smiled. "So says the girl with a nose ring and pink hair."
Trish seemed to like that but didn’t comment. She double checked the marked area and dabbed more disinfectant on before applying a small clamp. Quinn stared, mind slightly detached, and squeezed Rachel’s hand. She gripped back and closed her eyes.
"Okay," Trish said. "Take a deep breath, hold it, and then exhale."
Quinn followed the instructions too. She watched even though Rachel didn’t as the needle went in.
It sparked a muffled squeak behind her compressed lips, and she dug her nails deep into Quinn’s hand, but it didn’t seem as bad as Quinn had feared.
Surprisingly professional given the setting, Trish slipped the barbell through the newly created hole, locked it, and used a q-tip to apply antiseptic. There was very little blood; just a trickle when the needle first went in. "Done," she said. "How do you feel?"
"I feel okay." Rachel opened her eyes and looked down. "Wow."
"Dizzy? Sick?"
"No."
Trish began throwing the wipes and gloves in the disposal bin. "Are you sure you don’t want the other side done?"
Rachel touched the small barbell with her finger. "I’m sure, thank you."
Trish nodded and passed her a cool gel pack. "Hold that lightly against the area," she said. "Bleeding should stop in a few moments and this will help with any swelling. Wait here and I’ll be back with your aftercare kit."
"Do you have a mirror?" Rachel asked.
Trish pulled open a drawer and handed her a small makeup mirror. Without pulling the curtain aside, she slipped out of the room.
Rachel sat up and held the mirror out in front of her, twisting and turning to stare at the piercing from different angles. There was probably a joke in a naked Berry unable to stop looking at herself, but Quinn didn’t go in search of it.
"How does it look?" Rachel asked.
"It’s-"Quinn tried to find the right word-"beautiful."
Rachel smiled and touched it with her index finger again.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little, yeah."
"Can I…?" Quinn lifted her hand before doubt could stop her.
Rachel nodded and turned toward her. "Uh-huh."
Quinn’s fingers slipped gently around her breast and let its weight settle against her palm. Her thumb brushed the raised nipple and barbell. Rachel hissed and grimaced in pain.
"Sorry."
"No, it’s fine. Not all bad."
Trish came back into the room and Quinn pulled her hand back quickly. "Okay," she said. "Here is a care kit and cleaning and care info. There are q-tips inside for any dried blood removal. Don’t remove or add anything to the hole; they close up fast. When you get home take some ibuprofen and that will get rid of any throbbing you might be experiencing. Soreness is normal, as is a little swelling and redness. If they don’t go away however come back here and I’ll check for signs of infection or allergies.
"Any questions?"
Rachel shook her head and handed the mirror back. "No, I’m good. Thank you."
"Okay, go ahead and get dressed. When you put your bra on keep the gel pack in the cup; that will give you a little extra cushioning. I’ll be up front when you are ready."
Rachel retrieved her clothes and dressed, taking a little extra care like Trish suggested. A few minutes later Quinn was again standing in the entrance way to the shop, listening to the twang of country music while Rachel paid and tipped her piercer.
"When you are ready to do the other side," Trish said, "bring your squeamish friend again and I’ll give her a deal on a two-fer."
Rachel shook her hand across the counter. "That is very kind of you. Have a lovely weekend."
The bells jingled behind them and they started back toward Quinn’s car. After the warm studio and decidedly heady experience within, Quinn felt the cold like a physical slap in the face. It wasn’t such a bad thing though and returned some of her senses.
"I’m starting to think ‘shrooms were involved in this night," she said. "And I was the one that took them. Maybe you aren’t even here? Maybe I’ve been talking to thin air all night?"
Rachel laughed. "I assure you that you have not frenched and groped thin air tonight."
They got in and Quinn started the engine, turning the heater up to full. "Well I have to say, Rachel, that when you go badass you commit yourself."
Rachel bowed her head. "That was the idea."
"You’ll be fighting me for control of the Skanks next."
"Nationals would be interesting with them instead of the glee club."
Quinn backed the car out of the parking space and pulled back out onto the main road. "So where to next? Want to knock over a mini mart or something?"
"Nothing quite so drastic." She stretched out on the small seat. "I think I’d like to rest for a little while if that is okay."
Quinn nodded and turned away from the city proper. They were both as sober as they were going to get so it was safe to return her home. Her fathers would remain clueless about the body modification unless Rachel was in the habit of walking around the house naked - though after tonight Quinn wouldn’t put it past her.
City lights gave way to porch lights as she drove. Beside her Rachel drew her knees up and curled with her back against the door, facing Quinn.
Aware of the intense gaze boring into her, Quinn kept her eyes forward and hands on the wheel.
"What are you thinking?"
"That this is going to be the weirdest journal entry ever."
Rachel gave a little smile, seemed to want to say more and then thought better of it. Quinn was glad for that - she really didn’t know what she was thinking at the moment and couldn’t expand beyond that.
The Berry house was thankfully still dark and quiet - a little slice of suburban life. Quinn killed her lights and pulled in behind LeRoy’s car.
Rachel made no move to leave; just kept sitting there staring.
Quinn knew she had to say something but wasn’t sure what.
"I’m not going to kiss you goodnight, you know," Rachel finally said.
Thinking she meant that as more than a joke, Quinn’s defenses - already thrown for a sizable loop tonight - started to rise.
"So that means you have to come in with me," Rachel finished after a beat. Her eyes flashing with mirth, she got out and started up the walk.
"Take me to the river indeed," Quinn paraphrased the lyric, shaking of her head and pocketing her keys.
Rachel unlocked the front door and walked in, holding it open for Quinn behind her.
The living room was dark like the rest of the house and Quinn had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust. Last thing she wanted was to knock something over and have the Berry men come downstairs armed with baseball bats.
"I’m going to get some water," Rachel said. "Would you like some?"
"Ah, sure."
Rachel didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating around the dining room table on her way to the kitchen. "You can go on up to my room if you’d like."
Quinn decided to wait by the staircase. She wasn’t sure of her odds of hitting Rachel’s room on the first try in the dark.
The kitchen brightened when Rachel opened the refrigerator and then darkened again. A few moments later she returned with two small bottles of water in hand. "Come on."
Taking a long swig to bring moisture back to her mouth, Quinn followed her up. Finding the right room turned out not to be something she should have worried about. Rachel’s name glittered in gold paint across the door over an equally light catching star.
Quinn smiled in spite of herself.
Rachel turned her desk lamp on and then dimmed it to a more intimate level. Inside the room was less subtle than the door with copious amounts of pink decorating everything along with Broadway posters and memorabilia. In one corner was a small shrine with vinyl albums, ticket stubs, and books dedicated to Barbra Streisand. Between all the things Quinn expected to see, she also caught sight of framed pictures of the glee club dating back years to their first trip to Sectionals.
On the mirror over her dresser were more personal photos. Pictures of Finn in his football uniform. Rachel and her fathers from when she was young enough to swing between them while they held her hands all the way up to LeRoy standing next to her while she modeled her prom dress from last year.
Quinn also saw pictures of herself.
Tucked in the frame of the mirror was a prom queen flyer from the previous year, folded so only Quinn’s face was visible. Also a picture from a glee practice she barely remembered when she still wore Cheerio red and white. And even a photo taken when she was carrying Beth; her face looked like a cherry tomato ready to pop.
Rachel passed her and walked to the dresser. "Make yourself comfortable," she said, using the mirror to look over her shoulder. "I’ll be right back."
Carrying fresh clothes in her arms, she left the room.
Quinn took another long drink of water. She shed her coat and sat on the corner of Rachel’s bed, stood, then sat again and unlaced her Doc Martens. Sliding them off she stood and walked around the room, studying things more closely.
Rachel had a corkboard on one wall next to her desk, covered in post it notes and tacked up newspaper clippings.
Quinn set the water on the desk, tipped her head, and used her finger to turn some of the pages toward the light. There were several clippings, from the school paper and local press, about the glee club losing in New York. And a tag torn off the bottom of a flyer - an ad from the Squareround Theater looking for fresh talent.
They found it, Quinn thought. In spades.
The post it notes seemed to follow the plot of her play and Quinn remembered how she had notes written in the scripts she had brought with to the theater that day. A couple of the larger sheets of paper were also about the play and had some sort of time line figured out on them. Rachel had scratched out some notes so thoroughly Quinn couldn’t read them. Others had arrows with long tails suggesting where they should be in relation to one another.
Wow she was really taking this seriously, Quinn thought. It made her sad to picture how much effort had gone into something that barely anyone would ever see.
"It is my inspirational wall," Rachel said behind her.
Quinn turned, feeling like Rachel had caught her reading her journal. "Your what?"
She gestured weakly to it. "When I’m discouraged or need something to jump start my creativity I use that board."
"You keep New York on there."
"Ill advised decisions," Rachel said. "But the only way to get better is to face mistakes and learn from them. Or so says daddy."
Padding on bare feet to her nightstand, Rachel turn on the docked iPod there and adjusted the volume so it wouldn’t carry beyond the room. She had changed clothes and now wore just a pair of shorts and sports bra.
"‘I brought you here so that I can express the things I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout so give me your ear.’" began coming from the speakers.
"Want to dance?" Quinn asked, only half serious.
Rachel shook her head and lay back on the bed. "I’m tired."
"I’ll-"
"Turn off the light and come here."
"‘I used to love someone that I didn’t like, we used to want to break up every other night.’"
Moving delicately, like she was trying to avoid breaking fragile glass, Quinn settled next to her on the bed. Showing no such consideration, Rachel turned to her and let her head rest against Quinn’s chest. Reaching behind her back, she pulled the bedspread up until it mostly covered them.
"Your heart’s beating really fast," she said.
"Too much coffee." Quinn brought her arm around, smoothed the blanket around Rachel, and then let her hand rest on her bare shoulder.
The sounds of their breathing in the dark room seemed louder to Quinn than the song crooning from the iPod.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked finally.
"A little. I think the ibuprofen helped."
"You’re incredible," Quinn said. "Or crazy. I’m not sure which."
"Crazily incredible." Rachel nuzzled closer and Quinn could feel her drifting to sleep.
The scent of apple shampoo, the same from the schoolyard what now felt like a lifetime ago, filled Quinn’s nose. She tried hard to stay awake, not wanting to miss a second of this or face whatever the morning would bring.
Eventually she lost the fight and fell asleep beside her.
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