Glee Fic: Rachel Berry's Single Ladies Get Together
Title: Rachel Berry's Single Ladies Get Together
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 4000 (one shot)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You are warmly invited to Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together!
Spoilers: Through 2x10, to be safe.
Notes: Hello :)
It is nearing Valentine’s Day, senior year, and being single is decidedly “in.” That’s what they say, anyway; not that Rachel Berry knows who “they” are or why “their” opinions matter.
However, since five out of the six female members of the glee club are supposedly single, it seems appropriate to celebrate this coalition of independence with a small get together. The last time she called an after-hours club meeting a “party,” half of the Cheerios and most of the football team showed up and completely ignored her impromptu recruiting tactics in favor of spilling cheap beer on her fathers’ prized possessions.
(She should’ve known better, though; she’s seen Mean Girls at least six times.)
Ignoring the unwanted memory of a morning spent cleaning up sticky beer and other substances she refuses to name, Rachel Berry opens her laptop and begins to plan her sleepover.
It is going to be fantastic.
++++++++++
The invitation is hand-delivered and blindingly pink. Large, colorful beads are glued onto the corners, making the paper ungainly and abnormally heavy.
Quinn stares blankly at the girl in front of her before focusing once again on the monstrosity in her hands. “You are warmly invited to Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together,” she intones.
There is a small picture of Beyonce, centered at the bottom.
Rachel leans forward into Quinn’s personal space and points to the invitation. “It ends in an exclamation mark,” she says. “It’s meant to convey excitement.”
“Excitement,” Quinn repeats.
“It’s just for the girls in the club,” Rachel clarifies.
“Has anyone else agreed to this?”
Rachel bites her lip. “You’re the first person I asked, actually. I assumed - correctly, I believe - that if you were to accept my invitation, the others would follow suit.”
Silently, Quinn considers the pros and cons of sleeping over at Berry’s house as she watches Rachel’s excitement morph into rejection and embarrassment.
Against all odds, they’re sort of friends now, but she only ever deals with Rachel in small increments of time. An entire night in close quarters is probably too much Rachel Berry for Quinn to handle. Plus, most of the sleepovers Quinn has attended seemed to involve copious amounts of boy talk, which is most definitely a subject she and Rachel should avoid at all costs in order to steer clear of potential bloodshed.
Still, she finds herself speaking even though the cons are winning, but it’s only to wipe that sad puppy dog look off Rachel’s face.
“I’ll go.”
“Excellent! I hope I’m correct in assuming your R.S.V.P. will come in a timely manner,” Rachel states, her smile almost as bright as the card.
Quinn blinks. “I just said I’d come.”
“Quinn,” Rachel sighs, “the invitation clearly says to R.S.V.P. by telephone.”
And with that and one more grin, Rachel strides away, leaving Quinn standing dumbly by her locker as she wonders what exactly she just agreed to.
++++++++++
Everything is going according to plan, and Rachel could not be more pleased as she slides into her sixth period seat. All five of Rachel’s co-members had said yes, including Honorary Single Lady Tina and even Santana, once Rachel agreed to ensure the cheerleader and Brittany would be sleeping near one another.
However, only one of those members and future sleepover partners-in-crime caused Rachel’s heart to flutter in exhilaration when she said yes. Quinn Fabray is going to be spending the night at her house, and there goes Rachel’s heart again at the mere thought of it.
Not that Rachel has any romantic ulterior motives whatsoever when it comes to her Single Ladies Get Together.
Well.
Fine, she has one romantic ulterior motive, but it is important to take advantage of any opportunities that could help further one’s goal.
It just so happens that as of this moment, Rachel’s goal is named Quinn Fabray.
She slips a piece of paper from the inside flap of her binder and discreetly checks over her list for the fourth time that day as the rest of the class files into the room.
Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together To-Do List:
- create invitations
- hand out invitations
- procure beverages and snacks
- plan fun activities
- arrange sleeping quarters
- convince Quinn Fabray that I am desirable
- kiss Quinn Fabray
Rachel takes out her favorite aqua pen and is ready to brainstorm some possible plans regarding the last two to-do items, but Mr. Nolan is calling for the class’s attention and her studies simply must come first.
++++++++++
Quinn is expected to be at Rachel’s house at precisely seven o’clock.
That gives her two more hours to decide whether or not she’s come down with a wicked case of the Monkey Flu, and therefore tragically would not be able to attend what is sure to be the most awkward slumber party in the long, storied history of awkward parties.
Her phone beeps. She rolls her eyes at Santana’s text.
-is man hands going 2 murder us all 2nite-
-Don’t call her that. I don’t think so… I hope not.-
-FINE. but if little miss animal sweaters tries anything it’s every girl 4 herself-
-Deal. I run faster than you, anyway.-
-bitch-
Quinn collapses into her pillows and exhales heavily.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with the girls from glee. They all even consider themselves friends these days…for the most part. Lately, though, Rachel has been acting strangely around Quinn. More so than usual, that is. Rachel always makes sure they sit next to each other during rehearsal, even if it means she has to glare at Sam until he blushes and moves his binder off of the seat next to Quinn.
Quinn has also caught Rachel staring at her with a decidedly foreign look in her eyes more times than she can count. Foreign for when it’s directed at Quinn, at least. Quinn has only ever known Rachel to direct that sad-eyed longing look at Finn, but surely the universe would not be so chaotic as to let Rachel Berry have a crush on her now.
Something else must be going through Rachel’s mind, because if she does have a crush on Quinn-
No. Quinn jumps off the bed, ignoring that train of thought completely.
Santana is probably right; Rachel is just staring at her so she can plot the best way to kill Quinn in her sleep.
++++++++++
After attempting several iterations of her sleeping arrangement plan, Rachel has come to the only working conclusion available. They will pile as many blankets, pillows and cushions onto the den floor as possible and sleep there together.
She hopes her guests will find this “fun” and “exciting” instead of horribly uncomfortable.
++++++++++
Quinn briefly considers packing some sort of weapon - for self defense! - in case Santana’s paranoia is more than just that.
++++++++++
Rachel briefly considers going with her Super Secret Alternate Sleeping Plan, which puts Mercedes and Tina in the guest room, Brittany and Santana in the den, and Quinn and herself in Rachel’s room (bed).
++++++++++
Quinn decides against the weapon; Rachel’s not going to murder her, for God’s sake.
++++++++++
Rachel decides against the plan; Quinn would probably murder her if Rachel so much as accidentally touched her in bed.
++++++++++
Quinn sends up one final prayer and rings the doorbell.
Rachel whips open the door before the chime has even faded. She’s grinning widely and practically vibrating with excitement. “Welcome, Quinn!” she shouts from approximately six inches away.
Quinn manages a glimmer of a smile as she brushes past Rachel on her way inside. “I’m the first to arrive,” she states, frowning. She’s usually fashionably late. No one’s ever heard of an “embarrassingly on-time” entrance.
“You are, indeed,” Rachel says. She still hasn’t stopped smiling. Quinn wonders if her face hurts. “Allow me to take your bag.” She yanks it off Quinn’s shoulder before Quinn can reply. “We’re all sleeping in the den; that’s where the best television is, anyway. Follow me!”
Quinn follows Rachel through the living room, down a corridor and into the den. All the furniture has been pushed against the walls, leaving a large open space on the floor that’s been covered in what appears to be pillows and bed comforters.
In a fleeting moment of insanity, Quinn wonders if she’ll get to sleep next to Rachel. She swallows reflexively.
She really hopes the other guests will arrive soon.
++++++++++
Even though all of her meticulously thought-out plans are designed for six people, Rachel cannot help but wish Santana, Brittany, Mercedes and Tina would come down with a short, non-painful version of the flu tonight, leaving her and Quinn alone in the house.
Rachel loves having friends; at one point in time it was all she ever wanted, but with Quinn reclining beside her on their mountain of blankets, their legs bare in their sleep shorts and inches away from each other, she thinks she has the right to want to give up her friends for one night.
Rachel stares at their legs, at the contrast between pale and tan skin. She wonders what her fingers would look like against Quinn’s leg or how Quinn’s hands would feel on--
“This show is crazy,” Quinn murmurs, startling Rachel out of her reverie. Rachel returns her attention to the television, where a group of kids no older than themselves are partaking in heavy drug use and rather promiscuous activities at a party.
“Do you think people our age act like that?” Rachel asks, fascinated against her will. Quinn shrugs and her shoulder brushes against Rachel’s. Rachel’s entire left side prickles with warmth.
“I suppose it’s…” Quinn trails off as the image cuts to two girls sloppily making out against a wall. Her posture goes military-grade rigid and Rachel sees her eyes widen almost comically, yet she doesn’t look away from the show. Rachel, in her eternal optimism, chooses to believe this is a positive sign.
Her gaze alternates between the screen and Quinn’s profile before she gives up the pretense of watching the show in favor of staring at Quinn’s lips, still parted slightly in shock. She so rarely has the opportunity to even glance at Quinn without drawing suspicion, which is a travesty of gargantuan proportions because Quinn Fabray is ridiculously attractive and Rachel would like to look at her as much as humanly possible.
The doorbell rings just as her eyes shift to Quinn’s jaw line. Rachel leaps up so quickly that her muscles actually hurt for an instant. She dares to look down at Quinn again, but Quinn is now focused on her own hands with an intensity that could burn holes.
Rachel allows herself three more seconds of uninterrupted staring before she jogs to answer the door.
++++++++++
Quinn decides that Rachel’s house simply must be abnormally warm.
Maybe one of her dads has poor circulation and therefore requires a home with a way above room-temperature atmosphere. Perhaps there is some unseen ventilation system currently blowing hot air directly at Quinn’s face, and that’s why she’s flushed and way uncomfortable.
It certainly has nothing to do with that stupid show on MTV or the way Rachel wouldn’t stop staring at her mouth when she thought Quinn couldn’t see or how her knees tingled when Rachel brushed against them during her rush to get the door.
Quinn scans the room for a thermostat in vain.
Fortunately, she can hear muffled voices and the shuffle of footsteps. She won’t have to be alone with Rachel in this idiotically hot house anymore.
“Q,” Santana greets from the doorway. Quinn scrambles to her feet only to be nearly knocked over by Brittany’s hug.
“You’re all sweaty,” Brittany remarks.
Santana’s face scrunches in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Fabray; it’s freezing in here.” She turns to Rachel. “Do you have some kind of serial killer cold room to store our bodies, Berry?”
Rachel huffs and rolls her eyes, but Quinn can tell she’s secretly thrilled to have people in her home.
Quinn also hopes that Rachel is thrilled because she has friends and not because she does, in fact, have some kind of serial killer room where she is planning on storing their bodies.
++++++++++
“Now that we’re finally all here,” Rachel states, staring pointedly at Mercedes, “I have our first activity ready to go!” She proudly pulls out the box from behind her back, only to be met with looks ranging from confusion to horror.
“Is that a puzzle?”
Rachel beams. “Not just a puzzle, Tina! An epic, two thousand piece challenge! We’ll have to work as a true team - something I’m certain we can accomplish - in order to complete it.”
Brittany blinks twice in rapid succession.
“Oh my God,” Santana mutters.
Quinn, Mercedes and Tina stare silently in what Rachel hopes is rapt enthusiasm for the task in front of them.
“There was a three thousand piece one,” Rachel explains, “but I felt as though that might take up too much time. With my superior spatial reasoning skill set and your cooperation, this one should only take two to three hours.”
Mercedes is the first to break out of her soundless trance. “Somebody do something,” she begs the other girls.
Santana crosses her arms. “We’re not doing a puzzle. What’s wrong with you? Besides the obvious.”
Rachel’s smile falls as the familiar just-been-insulted-again sinking feeling settles in, only to be shoved away by her stunned surprise when Quinn speaks.
“Look…” the blonde trails off, appearing uncharacteristically uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on her. “If you have one that’s less than two thousand pieces, we can do that. I’m not giving three hours of my life to a puzzle, Rachel.”
“Are you joking? We’re not eight year olds,” Santana says.
The discomfort fades from Quinn’s features and she slips into a familiar, threatening stare. Santana’s arms uncross and her posture drops.
Quinn smirks in victory and turns to Rachel. “Get the puzzle,” she orders.
Rachel suppresses her smile and turns without another word. She heads straight to her family’s game cabinet with only one small, cheerful dance step on the way.
++++++++++
Quinn would very much like to ignore how she’s seemingly become Rachel’s white knight, but they’re currently watching concert footage of Barbra Streisand and there’s a completed puzzle of two kittens tangled up in yarn that’s mocking her from its spot in the corner of the den.
It’s not like she wanted to piece together a kitten’s face or watch Streisand belt out yet another repetitive ballad, but Rachel had looked so hurt every time one of them vetoed her plans that Quinn couldn’t help but stand up for the girl.
Rachel needs someone on her side, and Quinn gets to regain some positive karma in the process. It is as simple and as final as that.
Quinn looks to her left. Brittany and Santana are in their own world, playing some hand game. Mercedes appears to be four seconds away from slumber. Tina is texting.
She looks to her right and watches Rachel mouth the words to the song, eyes wide and full of admiration. Quinn’s immature side rears its unpleasant head. Rachel should be paying attention to her. If it wasn’t for Quinn, she wouldn’t even be watching this eyesore of a concert.
Quinn decides to reclaim Rachel’s attention and exhales sulkily rather close to the other girl’s ear. Rachel’s gaze doesn’t waver from the screen.
She sighs loudly and stretches, nearly hitting Berry’s nose in the process. Rachel ignores her.
Streisand, Quinn decides, can suck it.
++++++++++
Rachel doesn’t know what on earth Quinn is trying to accomplish by sighing into her ear and stretching all too appealingly next to her, but it is completely distracting and Rachel needs to study the great Barbra Streisand for future performance tips.
She half-watches the screen and half-watches Quinn pouting and glaring daggers at the television.
Rachel jolts in abrupt remembrance.
- convince Quinn Fabray that I am desirable
She is doing a terrible job so far!
Nearly half the night is gone and all she has accomplished is a (wonderfully adorable) puzzle.
“I’m sorry,” she announces loudly. Mercedes jumps, shaking her head as though to clear it. Tina looks up from her cell phone, and Santana and Brittany spare her a glance. “Quinn, thank you for agreeing to the Barbra Streisand Concert Special, but I should have chosen something that appeals to the group as a whole. What would you like to watch?”
“Just put on something that isn’t crappy,” Mercedes suggests. The others nod in agreement.
Rachel smiles and entrusts Mercedes with the remote control.
She is such a magnanimous leader.
And now, it is time to accomplish her goal.
“You know,” Rachel begins, “a few more pillows would be ideal for maximum comfort, don’t you think?”
“Or any comfort,” Santana mutters.
“Quinn,” Rachel continues sweetly, ignoring Santana, “would you mind helping me fetch the extra pillows from my bedroom?”
She is also a cunning leader. (And a phenomenally talented, fearless and magnetic leader, too, but she doesn’t want to brag.)
++++++++++
“You needed my help to carry two pillows?” Quinn asks as she and Rachel stand at the base of the bed.
“Well, yes,” Rachel states. “I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that during sleepovers, no one should wander alone through the house. Those who are foolish enough to break away from the group always end up hanging from garage doors or tied to a chair with no intact internal organs.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“I apologize if I’ve frightened you, Quinn,” Rachel says. She’s standing awfully close. Quinn fleetingly wonders if Santana was right all along and if she’s about to die in Rachel Berry’s bedroom. That’s probably why she can feel her heart pounding in every part of her body, because it’s definitely not because of the way Rachel has inched impossibly closer and is staring at her mouth again.
Rachel sighs and backs away from Quinn. She sounds oddly sad when she speaks.
“I’m just going to check my email before we rejoin the others.”
“Fine, whatever,” Quinn mutters. She feels off-balance and hot all over again.
She also feels incredibly tired of lying to herself.
++++++++++
So, Rachel is apparently not a fearless leader. She was so, so close to brushing her lips against Quinn’s when those final inches between them suddenly felt like miles.
Her laptop screen comes to life, and her background photo reminds her that she is many things, but a quitter is not one of them. How does the saying go? If at first you don’t succeed in kissing Quinn Fabray, try again.
“Hey, that’s us,” Quinn says from her spot next to Rachel. She’s smiling.
Rachel blushes. “I recently scanned glee’s yearbook photo from last year. Prior to this it was one of my personal favorite photographs of Barbra Streisand at the Tonys.”
Quinn’s expression darkens inexplicably at the mention of Barbra, but soon clears. She stares at Rachel’s screen for a very long time, the corner of her lower lip caught between her teeth in a manner that Rachel finds irresistible. Rachel uses all of the willpower she possesses to stay silent and simply observe as Quinn works through whatever dilemma that's causing her to stare at someone's laptop background like it holds the answer to the meaning of life.
When Quinn finally speaks, her voice is soft.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yes, please do,” Rachel answers immediately.
“All of my best memories of the past three years are thanks to glee.”
Rachel wants to reply, wants to agree, but Quinn is staring at her in a new, enthralling way that keeps her from speaking lest she ruin this perfect moment.
Quinn whispers Rachel’s name and nothing else before she grabs Rachel’s neck and kisses her.
Shock and joy war for control in Rachel’s mind even as her body responds automatically. She gasps when Quinn licks her lower lip and easily slides her tongue against Rachel’s as though they’ve been doing this for years.
Rachel’s brain is melting and her knees are going to give out at any moment, she’s quite sure, but she does not care as long as Quinn continues to kiss her.
“Wait,” she breathes when Quinn pulls back for air. “You kissed me.”
“I did,” Quinn replies easily. She looks surprised by her own forwardness, and yet a second later, she leans in again. Rachel holds up a hand to stop her.
“I was supposed to kiss you.”
Quinn glances up at the ceiling and sighs. “Rachel, does it matter?”
“Yes!” Rachel exclaims. “I had a plan - a cunning plan - and now it has been rendered pointless.”
“What was your cunning plan?” Quinn sounds amused now. Rachel is not. Her plan took time and effort to arrange, and plans are not made only to be thrown out the window.
“This! This sleepover, Quinn. I was going to use it to help me to convince you that I was desirable and kiss-worthy.”
“You planned a ‘celebration of the empowerment of being single’ to seduce me? Doesn’t that seem contradictory? And insane?”
Rachel pauses to consider this, but it’s difficult to think when Quinn keeps running her fingertips along Rachel’s arm. “I suppose it’s contradictory,” she admits. Wait, she thinks. She smiles in sudden inspiration. “However, it seems my plan has succeeded, regardless of the unwarranted changes. The end result is a decidedly positive one.”
“Are you done? Was your epiphany satisfactory?” Quinn smirks.
“Mocking me will not to lead to further kissing, Quinn.”
Quinn’s grin disappears but her eyes remain teasing. “What do I have to do to kiss you again?”
“They say flattery will get you everywhere,” Rachel smiles.
Quinn’s hand settles on Rachel’s hip as she shifts forward. “I think you’re crazy and kind of amazing,” she whispers into Rachel’s ear before her lips barely graze the skin below it. Rachel shudders and her hands grip Quinn’s waist tighter. “Now can we kiss?”
“I think you should compliment me more first,” Rachel responds shakily.
Quinn laughs lightly against Rachel’s neck. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”
“Say that you admire me for both my outstanding kissing ability and my unparalleled musical talent,” Rachel smiles. “Then we can kiss.”
“I admire you for both your outstanding kissing ability and your unparalleled musical talent,” Quinn repeats. “And now,” she moves so her mouth is hovering over Rachel’s, “we can kiss.”
And they do.
++++++++++
Quinn is flushed and hot again, but she will welcome it gracefully if it's the price to pay for having Rachel on top of her, kissing her neck. Her palm rests on Quinn's stomach, burning her skin even through her shirt.
She closes her eyes when Rachel bites down lightly.
Quinn can't believe she almost didn't show up tonight, and is about to say so when Rachel abruptly pulls away to stare at Quinn with wide eyes.
"I've abandoned my guests!" she gasps. Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes.
"Rachel," she says softly instead, "I'm sure they're fine." She smoothes her hands over Rachel's back and allows her fingertips to brush under the hem of her shirt. Rachel's eyes flutter closed and she nods in agreement before lowering her mouth to Quinn's once more.
Quinn thinks she deserves some sort of award for ending an argument with Rachel Berry in less than thirty seconds, and then she doesn't think at all for a very long time.
++++++++++
Downstairs and nearly an hour later, Santana Lopez is struck by a sudden thought - it’s strangely and thankfully quiet.
There is no yappy little brunette in argyle sleep shorts in sight.
There is also no moody blonde bitch in sight.
“Oh my God,” she says, laughing slightly.
“What is it?” Brittany murmurs sleepily.
“Nothing, Brit,” Santana replies. “Just the end of the world.”
++++++++++
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Word Count: 4000 (one shot)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You are warmly invited to Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together!
Spoilers: Through 2x10, to be safe.
Notes: Hello :)
It is nearing Valentine’s Day, senior year, and being single is decidedly “in.” That’s what they say, anyway; not that Rachel Berry knows who “they” are or why “their” opinions matter.
However, since five out of the six female members of the glee club are supposedly single, it seems appropriate to celebrate this coalition of independence with a small get together. The last time she called an after-hours club meeting a “party,” half of the Cheerios and most of the football team showed up and completely ignored her impromptu recruiting tactics in favor of spilling cheap beer on her fathers’ prized possessions.
(She should’ve known better, though; she’s seen Mean Girls at least six times.)
Ignoring the unwanted memory of a morning spent cleaning up sticky beer and other substances she refuses to name, Rachel Berry opens her laptop and begins to plan her sleepover.
It is going to be fantastic.
++++++++++
The invitation is hand-delivered and blindingly pink. Large, colorful beads are glued onto the corners, making the paper ungainly and abnormally heavy.
Quinn stares blankly at the girl in front of her before focusing once again on the monstrosity in her hands. “You are warmly invited to Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together,” she intones.
There is a small picture of Beyonce, centered at the bottom.
Rachel leans forward into Quinn’s personal space and points to the invitation. “It ends in an exclamation mark,” she says. “It’s meant to convey excitement.”
“Excitement,” Quinn repeats.
“It’s just for the girls in the club,” Rachel clarifies.
“Has anyone else agreed to this?”
Rachel bites her lip. “You’re the first person I asked, actually. I assumed - correctly, I believe - that if you were to accept my invitation, the others would follow suit.”
Silently, Quinn considers the pros and cons of sleeping over at Berry’s house as she watches Rachel’s excitement morph into rejection and embarrassment.
Against all odds, they’re sort of friends now, but she only ever deals with Rachel in small increments of time. An entire night in close quarters is probably too much Rachel Berry for Quinn to handle. Plus, most of the sleepovers Quinn has attended seemed to involve copious amounts of boy talk, which is most definitely a subject she and Rachel should avoid at all costs in order to steer clear of potential bloodshed.
Still, she finds herself speaking even though the cons are winning, but it’s only to wipe that sad puppy dog look off Rachel’s face.
“I’ll go.”
“Excellent! I hope I’m correct in assuming your R.S.V.P. will come in a timely manner,” Rachel states, her smile almost as bright as the card.
Quinn blinks. “I just said I’d come.”
“Quinn,” Rachel sighs, “the invitation clearly says to R.S.V.P. by telephone.”
And with that and one more grin, Rachel strides away, leaving Quinn standing dumbly by her locker as she wonders what exactly she just agreed to.
++++++++++
Everything is going according to plan, and Rachel could not be more pleased as she slides into her sixth period seat. All five of Rachel’s co-members had said yes, including Honorary Single Lady Tina and even Santana, once Rachel agreed to ensure the cheerleader and Brittany would be sleeping near one another.
However, only one of those members and future sleepover partners-in-crime caused Rachel’s heart to flutter in exhilaration when she said yes. Quinn Fabray is going to be spending the night at her house, and there goes Rachel’s heart again at the mere thought of it.
Not that Rachel has any romantic ulterior motives whatsoever when it comes to her Single Ladies Get Together.
Well.
Fine, she has one romantic ulterior motive, but it is important to take advantage of any opportunities that could help further one’s goal.
It just so happens that as of this moment, Rachel’s goal is named Quinn Fabray.
She slips a piece of paper from the inside flap of her binder and discreetly checks over her list for the fourth time that day as the rest of the class files into the room.
Rachel Berry’s Single Ladies Get Together To-Do List:
- create invitations
- hand out invitations
- procure beverages and snacks
- plan fun activities
- arrange sleeping quarters
- convince Quinn Fabray that I am desirable
- kiss Quinn Fabray
Rachel takes out her favorite aqua pen and is ready to brainstorm some possible plans regarding the last two to-do items, but Mr. Nolan is calling for the class’s attention and her studies simply must come first.
++++++++++
Quinn is expected to be at Rachel’s house at precisely seven o’clock.
That gives her two more hours to decide whether or not she’s come down with a wicked case of the Monkey Flu, and therefore tragically would not be able to attend what is sure to be the most awkward slumber party in the long, storied history of awkward parties.
Her phone beeps. She rolls her eyes at Santana’s text.
-is man hands going 2 murder us all 2nite-
-Don’t call her that. I don’t think so… I hope not.-
-FINE. but if little miss animal sweaters tries anything it’s every girl 4 herself-
-Deal. I run faster than you, anyway.-
-bitch-
Quinn collapses into her pillows and exhales heavily.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with the girls from glee. They all even consider themselves friends these days…for the most part. Lately, though, Rachel has been acting strangely around Quinn. More so than usual, that is. Rachel always makes sure they sit next to each other during rehearsal, even if it means she has to glare at Sam until he blushes and moves his binder off of the seat next to Quinn.
Quinn has also caught Rachel staring at her with a decidedly foreign look in her eyes more times than she can count. Foreign for when it’s directed at Quinn, at least. Quinn has only ever known Rachel to direct that sad-eyed longing look at Finn, but surely the universe would not be so chaotic as to let Rachel Berry have a crush on her now.
Something else must be going through Rachel’s mind, because if she does have a crush on Quinn-
No. Quinn jumps off the bed, ignoring that train of thought completely.
Santana is probably right; Rachel is just staring at her so she can plot the best way to kill Quinn in her sleep.
++++++++++
After attempting several iterations of her sleeping arrangement plan, Rachel has come to the only working conclusion available. They will pile as many blankets, pillows and cushions onto the den floor as possible and sleep there together.
She hopes her guests will find this “fun” and “exciting” instead of horribly uncomfortable.
++++++++++
Quinn briefly considers packing some sort of weapon - for self defense! - in case Santana’s paranoia is more than just that.
++++++++++
Rachel briefly considers going with her Super Secret Alternate Sleeping Plan, which puts Mercedes and Tina in the guest room, Brittany and Santana in the den, and Quinn and herself in Rachel’s room (bed).
++++++++++
Quinn decides against the weapon; Rachel’s not going to murder her, for God’s sake.
++++++++++
Rachel decides against the plan; Quinn would probably murder her if Rachel so much as accidentally touched her in bed.
++++++++++
Quinn sends up one final prayer and rings the doorbell.
Rachel whips open the door before the chime has even faded. She’s grinning widely and practically vibrating with excitement. “Welcome, Quinn!” she shouts from approximately six inches away.
Quinn manages a glimmer of a smile as she brushes past Rachel on her way inside. “I’m the first to arrive,” she states, frowning. She’s usually fashionably late. No one’s ever heard of an “embarrassingly on-time” entrance.
“You are, indeed,” Rachel says. She still hasn’t stopped smiling. Quinn wonders if her face hurts. “Allow me to take your bag.” She yanks it off Quinn’s shoulder before Quinn can reply. “We’re all sleeping in the den; that’s where the best television is, anyway. Follow me!”
Quinn follows Rachel through the living room, down a corridor and into the den. All the furniture has been pushed against the walls, leaving a large open space on the floor that’s been covered in what appears to be pillows and bed comforters.
In a fleeting moment of insanity, Quinn wonders if she’ll get to sleep next to Rachel. She swallows reflexively.
She really hopes the other guests will arrive soon.
++++++++++
Even though all of her meticulously thought-out plans are designed for six people, Rachel cannot help but wish Santana, Brittany, Mercedes and Tina would come down with a short, non-painful version of the flu tonight, leaving her and Quinn alone in the house.
Rachel loves having friends; at one point in time it was all she ever wanted, but with Quinn reclining beside her on their mountain of blankets, their legs bare in their sleep shorts and inches away from each other, she thinks she has the right to want to give up her friends for one night.
Rachel stares at their legs, at the contrast between pale and tan skin. She wonders what her fingers would look like against Quinn’s leg or how Quinn’s hands would feel on--
“This show is crazy,” Quinn murmurs, startling Rachel out of her reverie. Rachel returns her attention to the television, where a group of kids no older than themselves are partaking in heavy drug use and rather promiscuous activities at a party.
“Do you think people our age act like that?” Rachel asks, fascinated against her will. Quinn shrugs and her shoulder brushes against Rachel’s. Rachel’s entire left side prickles with warmth.
“I suppose it’s…” Quinn trails off as the image cuts to two girls sloppily making out against a wall. Her posture goes military-grade rigid and Rachel sees her eyes widen almost comically, yet she doesn’t look away from the show. Rachel, in her eternal optimism, chooses to believe this is a positive sign.
Her gaze alternates between the screen and Quinn’s profile before she gives up the pretense of watching the show in favor of staring at Quinn’s lips, still parted slightly in shock. She so rarely has the opportunity to even glance at Quinn without drawing suspicion, which is a travesty of gargantuan proportions because Quinn Fabray is ridiculously attractive and Rachel would like to look at her as much as humanly possible.
The doorbell rings just as her eyes shift to Quinn’s jaw line. Rachel leaps up so quickly that her muscles actually hurt for an instant. She dares to look down at Quinn again, but Quinn is now focused on her own hands with an intensity that could burn holes.
Rachel allows herself three more seconds of uninterrupted staring before she jogs to answer the door.
++++++++++
Quinn decides that Rachel’s house simply must be abnormally warm.
Maybe one of her dads has poor circulation and therefore requires a home with a way above room-temperature atmosphere. Perhaps there is some unseen ventilation system currently blowing hot air directly at Quinn’s face, and that’s why she’s flushed and way uncomfortable.
It certainly has nothing to do with that stupid show on MTV or the way Rachel wouldn’t stop staring at her mouth when she thought Quinn couldn’t see or how her knees tingled when Rachel brushed against them during her rush to get the door.
Quinn scans the room for a thermostat in vain.
Fortunately, she can hear muffled voices and the shuffle of footsteps. She won’t have to be alone with Rachel in this idiotically hot house anymore.
“Q,” Santana greets from the doorway. Quinn scrambles to her feet only to be nearly knocked over by Brittany’s hug.
“You’re all sweaty,” Brittany remarks.
Santana’s face scrunches in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Fabray; it’s freezing in here.” She turns to Rachel. “Do you have some kind of serial killer cold room to store our bodies, Berry?”
Rachel huffs and rolls her eyes, but Quinn can tell she’s secretly thrilled to have people in her home.
Quinn also hopes that Rachel is thrilled because she has friends and not because she does, in fact, have some kind of serial killer room where she is planning on storing their bodies.
++++++++++
“Now that we’re finally all here,” Rachel states, staring pointedly at Mercedes, “I have our first activity ready to go!” She proudly pulls out the box from behind her back, only to be met with looks ranging from confusion to horror.
“Is that a puzzle?”
Rachel beams. “Not just a puzzle, Tina! An epic, two thousand piece challenge! We’ll have to work as a true team - something I’m certain we can accomplish - in order to complete it.”
Brittany blinks twice in rapid succession.
“Oh my God,” Santana mutters.
Quinn, Mercedes and Tina stare silently in what Rachel hopes is rapt enthusiasm for the task in front of them.
“There was a three thousand piece one,” Rachel explains, “but I felt as though that might take up too much time. With my superior spatial reasoning skill set and your cooperation, this one should only take two to three hours.”
Mercedes is the first to break out of her soundless trance. “Somebody do something,” she begs the other girls.
Santana crosses her arms. “We’re not doing a puzzle. What’s wrong with you? Besides the obvious.”
Rachel’s smile falls as the familiar just-been-insulted-again sinking feeling settles in, only to be shoved away by her stunned surprise when Quinn speaks.
“Look…” the blonde trails off, appearing uncharacteristically uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on her. “If you have one that’s less than two thousand pieces, we can do that. I’m not giving three hours of my life to a puzzle, Rachel.”
“Are you joking? We’re not eight year olds,” Santana says.
The discomfort fades from Quinn’s features and she slips into a familiar, threatening stare. Santana’s arms uncross and her posture drops.
Quinn smirks in victory and turns to Rachel. “Get the puzzle,” she orders.
Rachel suppresses her smile and turns without another word. She heads straight to her family’s game cabinet with only one small, cheerful dance step on the way.
++++++++++
Quinn would very much like to ignore how she’s seemingly become Rachel’s white knight, but they’re currently watching concert footage of Barbra Streisand and there’s a completed puzzle of two kittens tangled up in yarn that’s mocking her from its spot in the corner of the den.
It’s not like she wanted to piece together a kitten’s face or watch Streisand belt out yet another repetitive ballad, but Rachel had looked so hurt every time one of them vetoed her plans that Quinn couldn’t help but stand up for the girl.
Rachel needs someone on her side, and Quinn gets to regain some positive karma in the process. It is as simple and as final as that.
Quinn looks to her left. Brittany and Santana are in their own world, playing some hand game. Mercedes appears to be four seconds away from slumber. Tina is texting.
She looks to her right and watches Rachel mouth the words to the song, eyes wide and full of admiration. Quinn’s immature side rears its unpleasant head. Rachel should be paying attention to her. If it wasn’t for Quinn, she wouldn’t even be watching this eyesore of a concert.
Quinn decides to reclaim Rachel’s attention and exhales sulkily rather close to the other girl’s ear. Rachel’s gaze doesn’t waver from the screen.
She sighs loudly and stretches, nearly hitting Berry’s nose in the process. Rachel ignores her.
Streisand, Quinn decides, can suck it.
++++++++++
Rachel doesn’t know what on earth Quinn is trying to accomplish by sighing into her ear and stretching all too appealingly next to her, but it is completely distracting and Rachel needs to study the great Barbra Streisand for future performance tips.
She half-watches the screen and half-watches Quinn pouting and glaring daggers at the television.
Rachel jolts in abrupt remembrance.
- convince Quinn Fabray that I am desirable
She is doing a terrible job so far!
Nearly half the night is gone and all she has accomplished is a (wonderfully adorable) puzzle.
“I’m sorry,” she announces loudly. Mercedes jumps, shaking her head as though to clear it. Tina looks up from her cell phone, and Santana and Brittany spare her a glance. “Quinn, thank you for agreeing to the Barbra Streisand Concert Special, but I should have chosen something that appeals to the group as a whole. What would you like to watch?”
“Just put on something that isn’t crappy,” Mercedes suggests. The others nod in agreement.
Rachel smiles and entrusts Mercedes with the remote control.
She is such a magnanimous leader.
And now, it is time to accomplish her goal.
“You know,” Rachel begins, “a few more pillows would be ideal for maximum comfort, don’t you think?”
“Or any comfort,” Santana mutters.
“Quinn,” Rachel continues sweetly, ignoring Santana, “would you mind helping me fetch the extra pillows from my bedroom?”
She is also a cunning leader. (And a phenomenally talented, fearless and magnetic leader, too, but she doesn’t want to brag.)
++++++++++
“You needed my help to carry two pillows?” Quinn asks as she and Rachel stand at the base of the bed.
“Well, yes,” Rachel states. “I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that during sleepovers, no one should wander alone through the house. Those who are foolish enough to break away from the group always end up hanging from garage doors or tied to a chair with no intact internal organs.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“I apologize if I’ve frightened you, Quinn,” Rachel says. She’s standing awfully close. Quinn fleetingly wonders if Santana was right all along and if she’s about to die in Rachel Berry’s bedroom. That’s probably why she can feel her heart pounding in every part of her body, because it’s definitely not because of the way Rachel has inched impossibly closer and is staring at her mouth again.
Rachel sighs and backs away from Quinn. She sounds oddly sad when she speaks.
“I’m just going to check my email before we rejoin the others.”
“Fine, whatever,” Quinn mutters. She feels off-balance and hot all over again.
She also feels incredibly tired of lying to herself.
++++++++++
So, Rachel is apparently not a fearless leader. She was so, so close to brushing her lips against Quinn’s when those final inches between them suddenly felt like miles.
Her laptop screen comes to life, and her background photo reminds her that she is many things, but a quitter is not one of them. How does the saying go? If at first you don’t succeed in kissing Quinn Fabray, try again.
“Hey, that’s us,” Quinn says from her spot next to Rachel. She’s smiling.
Rachel blushes. “I recently scanned glee’s yearbook photo from last year. Prior to this it was one of my personal favorite photographs of Barbra Streisand at the Tonys.”
Quinn’s expression darkens inexplicably at the mention of Barbra, but soon clears. She stares at Rachel’s screen for a very long time, the corner of her lower lip caught between her teeth in a manner that Rachel finds irresistible. Rachel uses all of the willpower she possesses to stay silent and simply observe as Quinn works through whatever dilemma that's causing her to stare at someone's laptop background like it holds the answer to the meaning of life.
When Quinn finally speaks, her voice is soft.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yes, please do,” Rachel answers immediately.
“All of my best memories of the past three years are thanks to glee.”
Rachel wants to reply, wants to agree, but Quinn is staring at her in a new, enthralling way that keeps her from speaking lest she ruin this perfect moment.
Quinn whispers Rachel’s name and nothing else before she grabs Rachel’s neck and kisses her.
Shock and joy war for control in Rachel’s mind even as her body responds automatically. She gasps when Quinn licks her lower lip and easily slides her tongue against Rachel’s as though they’ve been doing this for years.
Rachel’s brain is melting and her knees are going to give out at any moment, she’s quite sure, but she does not care as long as Quinn continues to kiss her.
“Wait,” she breathes when Quinn pulls back for air. “You kissed me.”
“I did,” Quinn replies easily. She looks surprised by her own forwardness, and yet a second later, she leans in again. Rachel holds up a hand to stop her.
“I was supposed to kiss you.”
Quinn glances up at the ceiling and sighs. “Rachel, does it matter?”
“Yes!” Rachel exclaims. “I had a plan - a cunning plan - and now it has been rendered pointless.”
“What was your cunning plan?” Quinn sounds amused now. Rachel is not. Her plan took time and effort to arrange, and plans are not made only to be thrown out the window.
“This! This sleepover, Quinn. I was going to use it to help me to convince you that I was desirable and kiss-worthy.”
“You planned a ‘celebration of the empowerment of being single’ to seduce me? Doesn’t that seem contradictory? And insane?”
Rachel pauses to consider this, but it’s difficult to think when Quinn keeps running her fingertips along Rachel’s arm. “I suppose it’s contradictory,” she admits. Wait, she thinks. She smiles in sudden inspiration. “However, it seems my plan has succeeded, regardless of the unwarranted changes. The end result is a decidedly positive one.”
“Are you done? Was your epiphany satisfactory?” Quinn smirks.
“Mocking me will not to lead to further kissing, Quinn.”
Quinn’s grin disappears but her eyes remain teasing. “What do I have to do to kiss you again?”
“They say flattery will get you everywhere,” Rachel smiles.
Quinn’s hand settles on Rachel’s hip as she shifts forward. “I think you’re crazy and kind of amazing,” she whispers into Rachel’s ear before her lips barely graze the skin below it. Rachel shudders and her hands grip Quinn’s waist tighter. “Now can we kiss?”
“I think you should compliment me more first,” Rachel responds shakily.
Quinn laughs lightly against Rachel’s neck. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”
“Say that you admire me for both my outstanding kissing ability and my unparalleled musical talent,” Rachel smiles. “Then we can kiss.”
“I admire you for both your outstanding kissing ability and your unparalleled musical talent,” Quinn repeats. “And now,” she moves so her mouth is hovering over Rachel’s, “we can kiss.”
And they do.
++++++++++
Quinn is flushed and hot again, but she will welcome it gracefully if it's the price to pay for having Rachel on top of her, kissing her neck. Her palm rests on Quinn's stomach, burning her skin even through her shirt.
She closes her eyes when Rachel bites down lightly.
Quinn can't believe she almost didn't show up tonight, and is about to say so when Rachel abruptly pulls away to stare at Quinn with wide eyes.
"I've abandoned my guests!" she gasps. Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes.
"Rachel," she says softly instead, "I'm sure they're fine." She smoothes her hands over Rachel's back and allows her fingertips to brush under the hem of her shirt. Rachel's eyes flutter closed and she nods in agreement before lowering her mouth to Quinn's once more.
Quinn thinks she deserves some sort of award for ending an argument with Rachel Berry in less than thirty seconds, and then she doesn't think at all for a very long time.
++++++++++
Downstairs and nearly an hour later, Santana Lopez is struck by a sudden thought - it’s strangely and thankfully quiet.
There is no yappy little brunette in argyle sleep shorts in sight.
There is also no moody blonde bitch in sight.
“Oh my God,” she says, laughing slightly.
“What is it?” Brittany murmurs sleepily.
“Nothing, Brit,” Santana replies. “Just the end of the world.”
++++++++++