Glee Fic: It Really Does Seem Sudden
Title: It Really Does Seem Sudden
Author: K
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 2287
Rating: R
Summary: Rachel, Quinn, and a piano bench.
Spoilers: All aired episodes.
Quinn doesn’t really understand how her life turned into something worthy of a television show.
To her, it seems as though one night she goes to sleep, and the next morning she wakes up and she’s a crazy, pregnant, maybe-gay cheerleader who thinks Rachel Berry might be marginally attractive.
It really does seem sudden.
-----
During Tuesday’s glee club practice she wants to punch Rachel in the throat every time she opens her stupid mouth to sing, and on Wednesday morning she finds herself staring at that same stupid mouth and wondering what it’d feel like against her own.
Quinn’s first reaction to this is horror. (Naturally.)
It’s Rachel Berry, after all, God.
She spends lunch in the library covertly researching pregnancy and whether it makes you totally gay for girls you’re supposed to hate.
Her findings are inconclusive.
-----
She has a dream about herself, Rachel, and the glee club rehearsal room that night.
(It’s a very good dream.)
The next day, Quinn tells Finn she feels sick and skips practice.
It’s not entirely untruthful. Her stomach seems to twist every time she thinks about Rachel and she’s pretty sure she actually blushes when she remembers her dream throughout the day.
The whole situation is ridiculous.
-----
She manages to avoid any contact with Rachel until Monday morning when she’s grabbing her Spanish textbook from her locker two minutes after the bell rings. She should’ve known Berry would find a way to ambush her.
“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel greets her cordially in the empty hallway.
Quinn breathes out through her teeth and curls her lips up in a half-smile that she’s sure looks forced. Rachel either doesn’t notice or ignores it.
“You missed rehearsal. I thought after what we talked about--”
“Sorry,” Quinn interrupts her before she can really get going. “I thought Finn would’ve told you I was sick. Doesn’t he tell you everything?” Rachel’s face falls.
Quinn doesn’t mean to be a bitch, really, but there’s this annoying, warm pull low in her stomach right now as she looks at Rachel and that’s just something she cannot deal with now.
Or ever.
Rachel breathes in deeply and her voice is completely composed when she speaks. “Should we be expecting you tomorrow or should I tell Mr. Schuester to plan for eleven?”
“I’ll be there,” Quinn says sharply, turning away from Rachel and slamming her locker shut with unnecessary force. She stalks toward her Spanish classroom, walking quickly even though she’s already late and Mr. Schuester will hardly yell at her.
The back of Quinn’s neck itches, like she’s being watched, and she has to concentrate very hard on not turning around.
-----
“Glad to see you made it, Quinn,” Mr. Schuester says as she walks into the practice room. He’s smiling at her like she actually deserves it. He’s always so friendly to her, even though she’s pretty sure he knows how awful she used to be to most of the club. It makes her feel guilty, much in the same way she feels whenever Rachel only ever calls her by her name and never a derogatory insult.
Quinn sits between Brittany and Santana and watches everyone in the room with one exception. She really doesn’t want to spend all of rehearsal uncomfortably flushed. Just when she thinks that maybe she can chill in the back when Finn and Rachel are called up for their inevitable solos, Mr. Schuester hands out their sheet music and tells her she’s on lead for this one.
Quinn stares at him blankly for a moment before she stands and moves to the piano. She turns to Rachel, she can’t help it, expecting some sort of argument about how she was born to play Miss So and So or Countess Whatever from the song Quinn was chosen for, but Rachel is only watching her with an undecipherable look. Quinn is abruptly reminded of the other night’s dream. She feels the tips of her ears warm up again.
So much for just relaxing in the back.
-----
The first run through does not go well.
The second isn’t much better.
Mr. Schuester is starting to look like maybe he regrets his decision, so Quinn quickly blurts out, “I’ve felt off all day, sorry,” without thinking.
He smiles at her in his sensitive-teacher way. (Again, what is with this niceness? Maybe it’s the whole pregnancy thing.) He turns to Rachel and asks, “Would you mind giving Quinn a few pointers after rehearsal?”
“I’d be honored to,” Rachel says in her most Rachel Berry-est of tones. Quinn doesn’t even feel the usual urge to roll her eyes so hard they pop out of her skull. She just feels, well. Turned on. She’s turned on by the idea of her and Rachel alone.
God, even admitting it to herself is embarrassing.
Pregnancy has clearly addled her brain.
They switch songs, thankfully, and Quinn returns to her seat and spends the rest of the hour twisting her hands in her lap, knuckles white.
-----
Quinn’s never been so uncomfortable in her entire life and that’s really saying something seeing as the past few days have been pretty strange.
She and Rachel are sitting side by side on the piano bench (which is kind of a miracle in and of itself, considering all they’ve been through), and every time Rachel gestures their arms brush and Quinn feels like she’s either going to shiver or burst into flames.
She has to do something, anything. She has to make an excuse to leave this bench, leave this room before she does something extremely brainless.
This is what her life has become. Running and hiding from Rachel Berry.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Quinn only catches the tail end of what Rachel’s been saying. She nods, hoping that’s an acceptable answer.
“Good. Would you like to try it for yourself now or--”
Quinn kisses her, hard, just lips pressed against lips, unmoving. Quinn’s pretty sure she’s lost her mind. Great.
“Oh,” Rachel whispers against Quinn’s lips.
Quinn pulls away.
“If you ever tell anyone,” she threatens, but suddenly Rachel’s kissing her, for real this time, and, oh.
Rachel’s lips are very soft against hers, and they’re moving slowly, just barely gliding over her own.
Quinn twists to face Rachel and grabs the back of the girl’s neck with one hand, scooting closer until they’re as close as possible on the small bench. She bites Rachel’s bottom lip, probably harder than she should, but Rachel only gasps and Quinn takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into her mouth. Rachel tastes delicious, and someone groans, and Quinn realizes with a start that it was herself.
She jerks back suddenly, embarrassed, because seriously, if this goes any further she’ll never be able to look Rachel or Finn or even Puck in the eye again.
“Sorry,” Quinn mutters, and she means it. She just isn’t sure if she’s sorry for kissing her back or sorry for stopping.
“I suppose we should stop,” Rachel says in a falsely calm voice, but Quinn isn’t really buying it because Rachel’s hands are still holding her waist in an almost uncomfortably tight grip.
Quinn is debating on the best way to get out of this situation with her dignity intact when Rachel leans forward without warning and kisses her neck swiftly, wetly. She leaves her face pressed against Quinn’s skin as she murmurs, “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone, though.” Quinn shivers, because wow, Rachel’s lips feel amazing against her pulse point like that.
“Okay,” she whispers, unsure of what else to say. It isn’t exactly like she’s been planning on making out with Rachel Berry on a piano bench after glee rehearsal, but surely there have been worse ideas than this.
Rachel grins in response, and Quinn can feel that too, and maybe this is the time where she just stops thinking and starts kissing. Rachel seems to read her mind and her lips close around Quinn’s neck, sucking slightly, and Quinn wonders where she learned to do this until Rachel’s teeth scrape against her skin, biting down lightly and Quinn isn’t thinking about anything at all anymore.
Quinn doesn’t really know what to do with her hands - she doesn’t have much experience with kissing girls on piano benches - so she rests them lightly on Rachel’s shoulders and pushes back until Rachel looks up at her and Quinn can kiss her again.
There’s no hesitation in this kiss; Quinn experimentally sucks on Rachel’s lower lip the way she knows drives Finn crazy, wondering if it’ll have the same effect, and she’s beyond smug when Rachel whimpers and grabs her hips tighter.
Rachel pulls away this time, she’s flushed and her eyes are darker than Quinn’s ever seen them before. She stares directly into Quinn’s eyes, and maybe she’s asking for permission to do something, but Quinn has no clue and is way too turned on for a conversation so she just nods, saying yes to anything, everything, and kisses Rachel again.
That low, burning pull is back in the pit of her stomach, only it’s intensifying every time their tongues meet and with every quiet sound that escapes the other girl’s mouth.
She’s only slightly surprised when Rachel’s hands move from her hips up under her top and come to rest lightly on her stomach. Quinn wonders what Rachel’s thinking about as she leaves her hands there unmoving, wonders if she’s thinking about the baby, if she’s going to pull away any second now and run out of the room, straight to Finn to tell him what a complete joke his girlfriend has become.
But then Rachel slides her hands upward and onto Quinn’s breasts and Quinn’s shocked into mental silence. She moans into the brunette’s mouth and she doesn’t even feel embarrassed or nervous of the fact that Rachel Berry is feeling her up in the music room because her whole body is being wound up tighter and tighter and it’s getting sort of unbearable.
“Please,” Quinn says, very quietly.
“Please what?” Rachel asks, and Quinn may not know her very well but she definitely knows when she’s being teased.
“Don’t be stupid.” She may be turned on but she’s not about to beg.
Maybe it’s because of her tone, but Rachel half-laughs against her lips, into her mouth, and drags one hand down Quinn’s stomach until it’s sitting on Quinn’s leg just beneath the hem of her skirt. Her fingers slide from side to side, and she toys with the edge of Quinn’s skirt for a second before dropping it.
“I’m not sure how to do this,” Rachel admits, all laughter gone from her voice.
Well, neither am I, Quinn wants to say, but she figures one of them has to take the lead or they’ll sit on this bench, turned on and frustrated forever, so instead she grabs Rachel’s hand and slides it under her Cheerios skirt in a manner that suggests much more confidence than she’s currently feeling.
Rachel’s fingers trace the cotton edge of her underwear and Quinn gasps. Rachel’s back straightens, like she’s preparing herself for battle, and Quinn wants to say something funny but all that comes out is a strangled moan because Rachel Berry has just slipped her fingers beneath her underwear.
“Wow,” Rachel says. Quinn wonders what she looks like right in this moment but her eyes are tightly closed and her face is somehow pressed into the other girl’s neck.
Rachel slides her fingers slowly, unintentionally teasingly, and Quinn wants to tell her to get on with it, please, she might even beg, but all she can do at the moment is breathe in the smell and taste of Rachel’s skin.
Rachel seems to get the message, though, and starts to move with purpose, and soon Quinn’s biting into the brunette’s neck, hard, and she’s half on top of Rachel on the tiny bench. Her hands are digging into the other girl’s shoulders, hips jerking erratically against her hand, and just as Quinn thinks she’s about to have a heart attack and die, right there in the music room after glee club rehearsal, Rachel twists her fingers and Quinn comes, her shout muffled against Rachel’s neck.
Quinn feels unnaturally heavy and absolutely amazing and she’s vaguely thinking maybe she shouldn’t leave Rachel hanging when Rachel unceremoniously pushes her aside and leaps off the piano bench, turning to the door.
“Mr. Schuester!” Rachel squeaks, and oh my God maybe she didn’t die earlier but Quinn’s definitely going to die of embarrassment now, but Mr. Schue only adjusts his tie and asks,
“How’d the pointers go?” And, wow, Quinn’s pretty happy that Mr. Schue is either woefully ignorant or exceptionally unobservant. (Probably both.)
She surreptitiously adjusts her top and smoothes out her skirt as Rachel answers, “Excellent; we’re done for today.” Quinn doesn’t miss the breathless quality Rachel’s voice has taken on and she tries very hard to hide her smirk. She stands up and only nods at Mr. Schuester on her way out, not sure if she trusts her own voice yet. She feels Rachel close behind her and walks toward her locker, Rachel falling into step beside her once they’re clear of the music room.
“So,” Rachel says.
“So.”
“I was thinking - hoping actually - that maybe we would--” Rachel breaks off, sighing, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Any other day, Quinn might have tortured her - just a bit - made her say what exactly she was hoping for, but, well, Quinn does owe her one, so she turns and looks down at Rachel.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” she says. Then she smirks, and adds, “And my car is much more spacious than a piano bench.”
Author: K
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 2287
Rating: R
Summary: Rachel, Quinn, and a piano bench.
Spoilers: All aired episodes.
Quinn doesn’t really understand how her life turned into something worthy of a television show.
To her, it seems as though one night she goes to sleep, and the next morning she wakes up and she’s a crazy, pregnant, maybe-gay cheerleader who thinks Rachel Berry might be marginally attractive.
It really does seem sudden.
-----
During Tuesday’s glee club practice she wants to punch Rachel in the throat every time she opens her stupid mouth to sing, and on Wednesday morning she finds herself staring at that same stupid mouth and wondering what it’d feel like against her own.
Quinn’s first reaction to this is horror. (Naturally.)
It’s Rachel Berry, after all, God.
She spends lunch in the library covertly researching pregnancy and whether it makes you totally gay for girls you’re supposed to hate.
Her findings are inconclusive.
-----
She has a dream about herself, Rachel, and the glee club rehearsal room that night.
(It’s a very good dream.)
The next day, Quinn tells Finn she feels sick and skips practice.
It’s not entirely untruthful. Her stomach seems to twist every time she thinks about Rachel and she’s pretty sure she actually blushes when she remembers her dream throughout the day.
The whole situation is ridiculous.
-----
She manages to avoid any contact with Rachel until Monday morning when she’s grabbing her Spanish textbook from her locker two minutes after the bell rings. She should’ve known Berry would find a way to ambush her.
“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel greets her cordially in the empty hallway.
Quinn breathes out through her teeth and curls her lips up in a half-smile that she’s sure looks forced. Rachel either doesn’t notice or ignores it.
“You missed rehearsal. I thought after what we talked about--”
“Sorry,” Quinn interrupts her before she can really get going. “I thought Finn would’ve told you I was sick. Doesn’t he tell you everything?” Rachel’s face falls.
Quinn doesn’t mean to be a bitch, really, but there’s this annoying, warm pull low in her stomach right now as she looks at Rachel and that’s just something she cannot deal with now.
Or ever.
Rachel breathes in deeply and her voice is completely composed when she speaks. “Should we be expecting you tomorrow or should I tell Mr. Schuester to plan for eleven?”
“I’ll be there,” Quinn says sharply, turning away from Rachel and slamming her locker shut with unnecessary force. She stalks toward her Spanish classroom, walking quickly even though she’s already late and Mr. Schuester will hardly yell at her.
The back of Quinn’s neck itches, like she’s being watched, and she has to concentrate very hard on not turning around.
-----
“Glad to see you made it, Quinn,” Mr. Schuester says as she walks into the practice room. He’s smiling at her like she actually deserves it. He’s always so friendly to her, even though she’s pretty sure he knows how awful she used to be to most of the club. It makes her feel guilty, much in the same way she feels whenever Rachel only ever calls her by her name and never a derogatory insult.
Quinn sits between Brittany and Santana and watches everyone in the room with one exception. She really doesn’t want to spend all of rehearsal uncomfortably flushed. Just when she thinks that maybe she can chill in the back when Finn and Rachel are called up for their inevitable solos, Mr. Schuester hands out their sheet music and tells her she’s on lead for this one.
Quinn stares at him blankly for a moment before she stands and moves to the piano. She turns to Rachel, she can’t help it, expecting some sort of argument about how she was born to play Miss So and So or Countess Whatever from the song Quinn was chosen for, but Rachel is only watching her with an undecipherable look. Quinn is abruptly reminded of the other night’s dream. She feels the tips of her ears warm up again.
So much for just relaxing in the back.
-----
The first run through does not go well.
The second isn’t much better.
Mr. Schuester is starting to look like maybe he regrets his decision, so Quinn quickly blurts out, “I’ve felt off all day, sorry,” without thinking.
He smiles at her in his sensitive-teacher way. (Again, what is with this niceness? Maybe it’s the whole pregnancy thing.) He turns to Rachel and asks, “Would you mind giving Quinn a few pointers after rehearsal?”
“I’d be honored to,” Rachel says in her most Rachel Berry-est of tones. Quinn doesn’t even feel the usual urge to roll her eyes so hard they pop out of her skull. She just feels, well. Turned on. She’s turned on by the idea of her and Rachel alone.
God, even admitting it to herself is embarrassing.
Pregnancy has clearly addled her brain.
They switch songs, thankfully, and Quinn returns to her seat and spends the rest of the hour twisting her hands in her lap, knuckles white.
-----
Quinn’s never been so uncomfortable in her entire life and that’s really saying something seeing as the past few days have been pretty strange.
She and Rachel are sitting side by side on the piano bench (which is kind of a miracle in and of itself, considering all they’ve been through), and every time Rachel gestures their arms brush and Quinn feels like she’s either going to shiver or burst into flames.
She has to do something, anything. She has to make an excuse to leave this bench, leave this room before she does something extremely brainless.
This is what her life has become. Running and hiding from Rachel Berry.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Quinn only catches the tail end of what Rachel’s been saying. She nods, hoping that’s an acceptable answer.
“Good. Would you like to try it for yourself now or--”
Quinn kisses her, hard, just lips pressed against lips, unmoving. Quinn’s pretty sure she’s lost her mind. Great.
“Oh,” Rachel whispers against Quinn’s lips.
Quinn pulls away.
“If you ever tell anyone,” she threatens, but suddenly Rachel’s kissing her, for real this time, and, oh.
Rachel’s lips are very soft against hers, and they’re moving slowly, just barely gliding over her own.
Quinn twists to face Rachel and grabs the back of the girl’s neck with one hand, scooting closer until they’re as close as possible on the small bench. She bites Rachel’s bottom lip, probably harder than she should, but Rachel only gasps and Quinn takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into her mouth. Rachel tastes delicious, and someone groans, and Quinn realizes with a start that it was herself.
She jerks back suddenly, embarrassed, because seriously, if this goes any further she’ll never be able to look Rachel or Finn or even Puck in the eye again.
“Sorry,” Quinn mutters, and she means it. She just isn’t sure if she’s sorry for kissing her back or sorry for stopping.
“I suppose we should stop,” Rachel says in a falsely calm voice, but Quinn isn’t really buying it because Rachel’s hands are still holding her waist in an almost uncomfortably tight grip.
Quinn is debating on the best way to get out of this situation with her dignity intact when Rachel leans forward without warning and kisses her neck swiftly, wetly. She leaves her face pressed against Quinn’s skin as she murmurs, “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone, though.” Quinn shivers, because wow, Rachel’s lips feel amazing against her pulse point like that.
“Okay,” she whispers, unsure of what else to say. It isn’t exactly like she’s been planning on making out with Rachel Berry on a piano bench after glee rehearsal, but surely there have been worse ideas than this.
Rachel grins in response, and Quinn can feel that too, and maybe this is the time where she just stops thinking and starts kissing. Rachel seems to read her mind and her lips close around Quinn’s neck, sucking slightly, and Quinn wonders where she learned to do this until Rachel’s teeth scrape against her skin, biting down lightly and Quinn isn’t thinking about anything at all anymore.
Quinn doesn’t really know what to do with her hands - she doesn’t have much experience with kissing girls on piano benches - so she rests them lightly on Rachel’s shoulders and pushes back until Rachel looks up at her and Quinn can kiss her again.
There’s no hesitation in this kiss; Quinn experimentally sucks on Rachel’s lower lip the way she knows drives Finn crazy, wondering if it’ll have the same effect, and she’s beyond smug when Rachel whimpers and grabs her hips tighter.
Rachel pulls away this time, she’s flushed and her eyes are darker than Quinn’s ever seen them before. She stares directly into Quinn’s eyes, and maybe she’s asking for permission to do something, but Quinn has no clue and is way too turned on for a conversation so she just nods, saying yes to anything, everything, and kisses Rachel again.
That low, burning pull is back in the pit of her stomach, only it’s intensifying every time their tongues meet and with every quiet sound that escapes the other girl’s mouth.
She’s only slightly surprised when Rachel’s hands move from her hips up under her top and come to rest lightly on her stomach. Quinn wonders what Rachel’s thinking about as she leaves her hands there unmoving, wonders if she’s thinking about the baby, if she’s going to pull away any second now and run out of the room, straight to Finn to tell him what a complete joke his girlfriend has become.
But then Rachel slides her hands upward and onto Quinn’s breasts and Quinn’s shocked into mental silence. She moans into the brunette’s mouth and she doesn’t even feel embarrassed or nervous of the fact that Rachel Berry is feeling her up in the music room because her whole body is being wound up tighter and tighter and it’s getting sort of unbearable.
“Please,” Quinn says, very quietly.
“Please what?” Rachel asks, and Quinn may not know her very well but she definitely knows when she’s being teased.
“Don’t be stupid.” She may be turned on but she’s not about to beg.
Maybe it’s because of her tone, but Rachel half-laughs against her lips, into her mouth, and drags one hand down Quinn’s stomach until it’s sitting on Quinn’s leg just beneath the hem of her skirt. Her fingers slide from side to side, and she toys with the edge of Quinn’s skirt for a second before dropping it.
“I’m not sure how to do this,” Rachel admits, all laughter gone from her voice.
Well, neither am I, Quinn wants to say, but she figures one of them has to take the lead or they’ll sit on this bench, turned on and frustrated forever, so instead she grabs Rachel’s hand and slides it under her Cheerios skirt in a manner that suggests much more confidence than she’s currently feeling.
Rachel’s fingers trace the cotton edge of her underwear and Quinn gasps. Rachel’s back straightens, like she’s preparing herself for battle, and Quinn wants to say something funny but all that comes out is a strangled moan because Rachel Berry has just slipped her fingers beneath her underwear.
“Wow,” Rachel says. Quinn wonders what she looks like right in this moment but her eyes are tightly closed and her face is somehow pressed into the other girl’s neck.
Rachel slides her fingers slowly, unintentionally teasingly, and Quinn wants to tell her to get on with it, please, she might even beg, but all she can do at the moment is breathe in the smell and taste of Rachel’s skin.
Rachel seems to get the message, though, and starts to move with purpose, and soon Quinn’s biting into the brunette’s neck, hard, and she’s half on top of Rachel on the tiny bench. Her hands are digging into the other girl’s shoulders, hips jerking erratically against her hand, and just as Quinn thinks she’s about to have a heart attack and die, right there in the music room after glee club rehearsal, Rachel twists her fingers and Quinn comes, her shout muffled against Rachel’s neck.
Quinn feels unnaturally heavy and absolutely amazing and she’s vaguely thinking maybe she shouldn’t leave Rachel hanging when Rachel unceremoniously pushes her aside and leaps off the piano bench, turning to the door.
“Mr. Schuester!” Rachel squeaks, and oh my God maybe she didn’t die earlier but Quinn’s definitely going to die of embarrassment now, but Mr. Schue only adjusts his tie and asks,
“How’d the pointers go?” And, wow, Quinn’s pretty happy that Mr. Schue is either woefully ignorant or exceptionally unobservant. (Probably both.)
She surreptitiously adjusts her top and smoothes out her skirt as Rachel answers, “Excellent; we’re done for today.” Quinn doesn’t miss the breathless quality Rachel’s voice has taken on and she tries very hard to hide her smirk. She stands up and only nods at Mr. Schuester on her way out, not sure if she trusts her own voice yet. She feels Rachel close behind her and walks toward her locker, Rachel falling into step beside her once they’re clear of the music room.
“So,” Rachel says.
“So.”
“I was thinking - hoping actually - that maybe we would--” Rachel breaks off, sighing, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Any other day, Quinn might have tortured her - just a bit - made her say what exactly she was hoping for, but, well, Quinn does owe her one, so she turns and looks down at Rachel.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” she says. Then she smirks, and adds, “And my car is much more spacious than a piano bench.”