Fic: Undeveloped Story
Title: Undeveloped Story
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2386
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Quinn is living with the Berrys, and is home sick from school. What to do? Play computer games, of course.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: grdnofevrythng asked for Sims fic. I don’t really know that this works. Especially since I haven’t played it in a good 7 years. Thank you spencer_t for reading through some of this and telling me to stop being an idiot (in not so many words). Okay then. Here goes.
Quinn exhaled loudly. Her back hurt. She was tired of lying in the same damn position. She hated just staying in bed. She wanted to go do something. She was fairly certain this was what it felt like to be crazy. The sheets felt constricting and her palms were clammy as she tugged the covers down. Her skin felt like it was crawling. She rolled onto her side, looking around the guest room. The Berrys had invited her to stay with them when her world kind of fell apart-well, Rachel did, and then her parents agreed. Despite the fact that she had thought it an awful idea at the time, it had worked out surprisingly well. Not that she stopped finding Rachel annoying. In fact, she was currently cursing the brunette girl as she lay there.
When she was getting ready for school that morning, she sneezed a couple of times. Twice maybe. And she was in the bathroom. The opposite side of the house from Rachel’s room. Rachel burst into the bathroom without knocking, and Quinn thought that it was weird, not just because she came into an occupied bathroom without knocking, but because she swore she had locked the door. But that wasn’t the point, and she quickly lost the point, because Rachel had her palm against her forehead and was talking rapidly. The small girl was explaining that at this period of the pregnancy it was very dangerous for her to be around germs especially if her immune system was compromised. Quinn argued that the sneezes could just have been an allergic response to Rachel, but the singer ignored her, steering her back to the guest room. Rachel told the pregnant girl that she was not to leave bed, and that she would sneak out to bring her lunch at some point during the day. The brunette left for school, ignoring Quinn’s complaints that she wasn’t sick, because she wasn’t. She felt good, actually.
Well, she had. It had only been an hour and she wanted out. She sighed, stretching her legs out before tossing them over the side of the bed and sitting up. She looked around cautiously. She wouldn’t put it past Rachel to have an alert system for just this scenario. When no alarms went off (that she could hear) she stood up and paced around the room. She had to find something to do. She thought about the TV in Rachel’s room. She could probably watch a movie for a little while. And she could do it in bed, so Rachel couldn’t get too angry. She hoped.
She entered Rachel’s room, and she looked around. She felt a little uncomfortable being in there, but she thought it wouldn’t hurt to snoop around a little. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just… learning. That’s all. It’s not like Rachel hadn’t told her that she was welcome in there. She just hadn’t been in there without the other girl. She took her time, looking at all of the little trinkets around the room. She smiled-though she’d never let Rachel know that-at the pictures of Rachel and her dads. There were some at nearly every major theatre in New York. Of course. There was one of Rachel in front of a huge Wicked poster, one of her dads giving her a kiss on the cheek a la Galinda. She shook her head. Rachel was so predictable.
Browsing the DVDs below the TV, she wrinkled her nose. The Barbra Streisand collection, Liza, and then her fingers trailed along the classics section, and she finally decided on What Ever Happened to Baby Jane. It was probably depressing, but she was bored, so she didn’t hold it against herself. She crawled up onto Rachel’s bed, snuggling into the soft pillows at the top. She only briefly wondered why she felt better in Rachel’s room. She breathed in, the scent from the pillows making her feel slightly warm, low in her gut, and it was only after a few deep breaths that she realized what she was doing. She hastily turned away from the pillows, leaning up against the headboard and watching the movie begin.
Quinn lasted approximately sixty seconds before she started feeling restless again. That’s when her eyes fell on Rachel’s laptop. It was sitting on the singer’s desk, half open, and she figured Rachel wouldn’t mind if she used it. In cases of extreme boredom, what could occupy the mind better than messing around on a computer? She quickly made her way back to the bed with the computer, plugging it into the outlet next to her. She browsed around for a few minutes, trying to figure out what she wanted to do, but then she saw the little Sims icon on the desktop. She’d never admit to playing a game as nerdy as the Sims, she had an image to keep-despite its recent failings-but she actually did have it on her computer. At home. Where she was no longer welcome. She felt her throat tighten a little at the memory, but ignored it, double clicking to load the game.
It quickly took over the screen, and Quinn forgot about the TV as she watched and listened as the game allowed her to enter a large house. She tapped the mute button on the laptop when she heard the beep of a horn, the sounds got on her nerves. She smirked when she saw a brunette racing through the house, clearly trying to get to the car in time. Rachel. Late for work. Using the controls, she panned around the house, shocked at Rachel’s taste. She thought that it would probably be inappropriate for her to make any changes, she knew she really should just close out of this game. She paused it. No. What was inappropriate was Rachel’s choice in pink carpeting with bright purple walls. It looked like Barbie was going to walk in at any moment. With a bunch of My Little Ponies. There was really only one response permitted here. She began to redecorate the house.
She was unaware how much time had passed while she was fixing things (it was for Rachel’s own good, she told herself). Finishing up with swapping out some of the more hideous print furniture for something more acceptable, she smiled. Pleased with the changes she made, she hit the play button again. It was only then that she realized that there was another inhabitant in Rachel’s fictitious home. She saw the blonde hair, hazel eyes. And the name. She blinked a few times. Rachel had her as a roommate? She was confused by this, but let it go. Maybe Rachel just liked to keep it realistic, and they were living together now. It didn’t mean anything more than that.
She had her mini-self go work out for a while, then play the piano, then paint, then shower, because she had started to cry about wanting one. Quinn didn’t even realize that her movie had ended when she saw the little box notifying that mini-Rachel was home from work, and she was surprised that as her mini-self got out of the shower, Rachel’s mini-self walked right into the bathroom. Then she laughed. Maybe that’s why her Rachel found it acceptable. Then she frowned, didn’t the Sims usually get upset at that kind of stuff? And her Rachel? What the hell is that? Shrugging it off, she had mini-Quinn walk into the living room, waiting for Rachel to come out, too. She decided to make them interact. They must be friends, she assumed, maybe even sisters. She disregarded the small pang of fear at the possibility of the latter. After joking and talking with each other for a little bit, the options changed. She stared at the screen, eyes blurring after she read that she could kiss Rachel. Quinn bit her lip. She flicked over to the relationships tab, and saw that there was a red heart for Rachel. She looked back at the little Rachel and Quinn on the screen, and with a feeling of anticipation, or maybe fear, she instructed them to kiss.
“Hey, I made you some chicken sou-what are you doing?” Rachel’s voice made Quinn jump, and the laptop nearly flew off the bed. Rachel’s eyes were shooting back and forth from the computer to Quinn. Quinn could see realization dawning on Rachel’s face as the brunette recognized the application that was running. And it was strange, because suddenly Quinn could understand the emotions flitting across the other girl’s face. There was panic, hurt, disappointment-that one wounded Quinn the most-and then Rachel just shook her head. “You shouldn’t invade other people’s personal space, Quinn.” Her voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of pain that cut into Quinn.
Quinn didn’t know what to do or say, so she asked a question back, “How did you know I was in here?”
Rachel looked at the TV. The DVD player had turned off from inactivity, and Ellen was now doing her monologue. Fitting, Quinn thought to herself blandly. Rachel closed the distance between them, taking the laptop from Quinn and returning it to its spot on her desk. To Quinn, Rachel looked unbelievably tiny in that moment. The girl was small in stature, yes, but she normally exuded a confidence that made her appear larger than life. Now she was not facing Quinn, and her shoulders were slumped, kind of as if she were curling into herself.
“I think you should leave,” Rachel’s quiet comment drew Quinn from her thoughts. “I made you some chicken soup. It’s on the counter downstairs.”
“Rachel, I-”
Rachel cut her off, her voice stronger, “It’s on the counter, Quinn.” She didn’t turn around.
Quinn started to stand, but changed her mind. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to leave bed.” It was risky, but she couldn’t stand to see the girl defeated.
Rachel spun on her, her mouth forming an ‘O’ of surprise. She shot back, “Well you really listened well before, why would you start now?” The singer glared at Quinn, “Or do you expect me to bring your food to you now, too?”
Quinn just looked at her. What exactly was it that was making her stay here? She should have just gotten up, left, gone and had her soup and forgotten that any of this had happened. The whole thing was stranger than she could deal with, and she didn’t like the fact that the anger on Rachel’s face and in her voice was making her own body react in a way she found traitorous. She shifted on the bed, scooting further away from Rachel. “I’m just saying that I’m comfortable.”
“Ha! You’re on my bed. If you want to get comfortable, go back to your room,” Rachel huffed, her face a little pink from her annoyance.
Quinn took a deep breath. She felt her stomach flip. This was either going to be a very good thing, or a very bad thing. She looked Rachel in the eye, “Maybe I like being on your bed.”
Rachel’s frustration did not leave her, “Maybe you…” she started angrily, but then she seemed to play Quinn’s words back in her head. She paused. “You like being on my bed?” Her voice had raised an octave by the end of her sentence.
Quinn nodded, lowering her eyes.
“Like, because it’s comfortable?”
“Like, because it’s your bed,” Quinn hazarded a glance back toward Rachel who was looking at her with confusion. She bit her tongue, hard, because her first reaction was to snap at the girl, claim that she was just messing with her. She wanted to run from the room, hurt Rachel so Rachel couldn’t hurt her. But then she saw it. Just the tiniest glimmer of hope that danced through the brown eyes before her before Rachel’s face changed, wary.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t really find it funny,” Rachel began.
“I’m not trying to do anything.” Quinn tried to reassure the singer, but she didn’t know what she wanted to say. So she just said the first things that came to her mind, because thinking obviously wasn’t doing her any good. “It’s because you’re nice to me. And you dance around the kitchen when you’re helping your dad make dinner. And because you make me want to commit homicide when you get into one of your tirades. Because you smile at me and my knees go a little weak.” She blushed and looked at the computer, still open behind Rachel. “And because you made a little fictitious you and me, and made us a house and you go and work, and I just play around all day-which really, why don’t I have a job? I should pull my own weight,” she trailed off as her brain bounced off to another tangent.
Rachel, who had remained stock still up to that point, cautiously took a step toward the bed. “It’s because I don’t want to make your decisions for you. We haven’t talked about what your dreams are yet. And I don’t want to just choose one for you.”
Quinn grinned, “You’re a nerd.” She didn’t say how that made her feel lighter than she had in weeks. Rachel didn’t expect something from her. Didn’t put her own wishes on her.
Rachel nodded her agreement. “Quite possibly.”
“I have a secret to tell you,” Quinn said seriously. “But I need you to come closer, because I don’t want anyone to overhear.”
“We’re the only ones in the house.”
Quinn pouted and waited for Rachel to give in, which she did. Rachel slid onto the bed, body tensed like a coil, and Quinn moved closer to her. Her hand reached up, brushing chestnut strands of hair behind Rachel’s ear. Pushing herself up, Quinn whispered in Rachel’s ear, “I happen to like nerds.”
Rachel face quirked into a half grin.
“Now,” Quinn continued, lips dangerously close to Rachel’s ear. “What’s it going to take for you to kiss me? After all, according the Sims, we’re in love.”
And chicken soup, fake illnesses, school, computer games and doubts faded away as Rachel turned her head to press her lips delicately against Quinn’s.
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2386
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Quinn is living with the Berrys, and is home sick from school. What to do? Play computer games, of course.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: grdnofevrythng asked for Sims fic. I don’t really know that this works. Especially since I haven’t played it in a good 7 years. Thank you spencer_t for reading through some of this and telling me to stop being an idiot (in not so many words). Okay then. Here goes.
Quinn exhaled loudly. Her back hurt. She was tired of lying in the same damn position. She hated just staying in bed. She wanted to go do something. She was fairly certain this was what it felt like to be crazy. The sheets felt constricting and her palms were clammy as she tugged the covers down. Her skin felt like it was crawling. She rolled onto her side, looking around the guest room. The Berrys had invited her to stay with them when her world kind of fell apart-well, Rachel did, and then her parents agreed. Despite the fact that she had thought it an awful idea at the time, it had worked out surprisingly well. Not that she stopped finding Rachel annoying. In fact, she was currently cursing the brunette girl as she lay there.
When she was getting ready for school that morning, she sneezed a couple of times. Twice maybe. And she was in the bathroom. The opposite side of the house from Rachel’s room. Rachel burst into the bathroom without knocking, and Quinn thought that it was weird, not just because she came into an occupied bathroom without knocking, but because she swore she had locked the door. But that wasn’t the point, and she quickly lost the point, because Rachel had her palm against her forehead and was talking rapidly. The small girl was explaining that at this period of the pregnancy it was very dangerous for her to be around germs especially if her immune system was compromised. Quinn argued that the sneezes could just have been an allergic response to Rachel, but the singer ignored her, steering her back to the guest room. Rachel told the pregnant girl that she was not to leave bed, and that she would sneak out to bring her lunch at some point during the day. The brunette left for school, ignoring Quinn’s complaints that she wasn’t sick, because she wasn’t. She felt good, actually.
Well, she had. It had only been an hour and she wanted out. She sighed, stretching her legs out before tossing them over the side of the bed and sitting up. She looked around cautiously. She wouldn’t put it past Rachel to have an alert system for just this scenario. When no alarms went off (that she could hear) she stood up and paced around the room. She had to find something to do. She thought about the TV in Rachel’s room. She could probably watch a movie for a little while. And she could do it in bed, so Rachel couldn’t get too angry. She hoped.
She entered Rachel’s room, and she looked around. She felt a little uncomfortable being in there, but she thought it wouldn’t hurt to snoop around a little. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just… learning. That’s all. It’s not like Rachel hadn’t told her that she was welcome in there. She just hadn’t been in there without the other girl. She took her time, looking at all of the little trinkets around the room. She smiled-though she’d never let Rachel know that-at the pictures of Rachel and her dads. There were some at nearly every major theatre in New York. Of course. There was one of Rachel in front of a huge Wicked poster, one of her dads giving her a kiss on the cheek a la Galinda. She shook her head. Rachel was so predictable.
Browsing the DVDs below the TV, she wrinkled her nose. The Barbra Streisand collection, Liza, and then her fingers trailed along the classics section, and she finally decided on What Ever Happened to Baby Jane. It was probably depressing, but she was bored, so she didn’t hold it against herself. She crawled up onto Rachel’s bed, snuggling into the soft pillows at the top. She only briefly wondered why she felt better in Rachel’s room. She breathed in, the scent from the pillows making her feel slightly warm, low in her gut, and it was only after a few deep breaths that she realized what she was doing. She hastily turned away from the pillows, leaning up against the headboard and watching the movie begin.
Quinn lasted approximately sixty seconds before she started feeling restless again. That’s when her eyes fell on Rachel’s laptop. It was sitting on the singer’s desk, half open, and she figured Rachel wouldn’t mind if she used it. In cases of extreme boredom, what could occupy the mind better than messing around on a computer? She quickly made her way back to the bed with the computer, plugging it into the outlet next to her. She browsed around for a few minutes, trying to figure out what she wanted to do, but then she saw the little Sims icon on the desktop. She’d never admit to playing a game as nerdy as the Sims, she had an image to keep-despite its recent failings-but she actually did have it on her computer. At home. Where she was no longer welcome. She felt her throat tighten a little at the memory, but ignored it, double clicking to load the game.
It quickly took over the screen, and Quinn forgot about the TV as she watched and listened as the game allowed her to enter a large house. She tapped the mute button on the laptop when she heard the beep of a horn, the sounds got on her nerves. She smirked when she saw a brunette racing through the house, clearly trying to get to the car in time. Rachel. Late for work. Using the controls, she panned around the house, shocked at Rachel’s taste. She thought that it would probably be inappropriate for her to make any changes, she knew she really should just close out of this game. She paused it. No. What was inappropriate was Rachel’s choice in pink carpeting with bright purple walls. It looked like Barbie was going to walk in at any moment. With a bunch of My Little Ponies. There was really only one response permitted here. She began to redecorate the house.
She was unaware how much time had passed while she was fixing things (it was for Rachel’s own good, she told herself). Finishing up with swapping out some of the more hideous print furniture for something more acceptable, she smiled. Pleased with the changes she made, she hit the play button again. It was only then that she realized that there was another inhabitant in Rachel’s fictitious home. She saw the blonde hair, hazel eyes. And the name. She blinked a few times. Rachel had her as a roommate? She was confused by this, but let it go. Maybe Rachel just liked to keep it realistic, and they were living together now. It didn’t mean anything more than that.
She had her mini-self go work out for a while, then play the piano, then paint, then shower, because she had started to cry about wanting one. Quinn didn’t even realize that her movie had ended when she saw the little box notifying that mini-Rachel was home from work, and she was surprised that as her mini-self got out of the shower, Rachel’s mini-self walked right into the bathroom. Then she laughed. Maybe that’s why her Rachel found it acceptable. Then she frowned, didn’t the Sims usually get upset at that kind of stuff? And her Rachel? What the hell is that? Shrugging it off, she had mini-Quinn walk into the living room, waiting for Rachel to come out, too. She decided to make them interact. They must be friends, she assumed, maybe even sisters. She disregarded the small pang of fear at the possibility of the latter. After joking and talking with each other for a little bit, the options changed. She stared at the screen, eyes blurring after she read that she could kiss Rachel. Quinn bit her lip. She flicked over to the relationships tab, and saw that there was a red heart for Rachel. She looked back at the little Rachel and Quinn on the screen, and with a feeling of anticipation, or maybe fear, she instructed them to kiss.
“Hey, I made you some chicken sou-what are you doing?” Rachel’s voice made Quinn jump, and the laptop nearly flew off the bed. Rachel’s eyes were shooting back and forth from the computer to Quinn. Quinn could see realization dawning on Rachel’s face as the brunette recognized the application that was running. And it was strange, because suddenly Quinn could understand the emotions flitting across the other girl’s face. There was panic, hurt, disappointment-that one wounded Quinn the most-and then Rachel just shook her head. “You shouldn’t invade other people’s personal space, Quinn.” Her voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of pain that cut into Quinn.
Quinn didn’t know what to do or say, so she asked a question back, “How did you know I was in here?”
Rachel looked at the TV. The DVD player had turned off from inactivity, and Ellen was now doing her monologue. Fitting, Quinn thought to herself blandly. Rachel closed the distance between them, taking the laptop from Quinn and returning it to its spot on her desk. To Quinn, Rachel looked unbelievably tiny in that moment. The girl was small in stature, yes, but she normally exuded a confidence that made her appear larger than life. Now she was not facing Quinn, and her shoulders were slumped, kind of as if she were curling into herself.
“I think you should leave,” Rachel’s quiet comment drew Quinn from her thoughts. “I made you some chicken soup. It’s on the counter downstairs.”
“Rachel, I-”
Rachel cut her off, her voice stronger, “It’s on the counter, Quinn.” She didn’t turn around.
Quinn started to stand, but changed her mind. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to leave bed.” It was risky, but she couldn’t stand to see the girl defeated.
Rachel spun on her, her mouth forming an ‘O’ of surprise. She shot back, “Well you really listened well before, why would you start now?” The singer glared at Quinn, “Or do you expect me to bring your food to you now, too?”
Quinn just looked at her. What exactly was it that was making her stay here? She should have just gotten up, left, gone and had her soup and forgotten that any of this had happened. The whole thing was stranger than she could deal with, and she didn’t like the fact that the anger on Rachel’s face and in her voice was making her own body react in a way she found traitorous. She shifted on the bed, scooting further away from Rachel. “I’m just saying that I’m comfortable.”
“Ha! You’re on my bed. If you want to get comfortable, go back to your room,” Rachel huffed, her face a little pink from her annoyance.
Quinn took a deep breath. She felt her stomach flip. This was either going to be a very good thing, or a very bad thing. She looked Rachel in the eye, “Maybe I like being on your bed.”
Rachel’s frustration did not leave her, “Maybe you…” she started angrily, but then she seemed to play Quinn’s words back in her head. She paused. “You like being on my bed?” Her voice had raised an octave by the end of her sentence.
Quinn nodded, lowering her eyes.
“Like, because it’s comfortable?”
“Like, because it’s your bed,” Quinn hazarded a glance back toward Rachel who was looking at her with confusion. She bit her tongue, hard, because her first reaction was to snap at the girl, claim that she was just messing with her. She wanted to run from the room, hurt Rachel so Rachel couldn’t hurt her. But then she saw it. Just the tiniest glimmer of hope that danced through the brown eyes before her before Rachel’s face changed, wary.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t really find it funny,” Rachel began.
“I’m not trying to do anything.” Quinn tried to reassure the singer, but she didn’t know what she wanted to say. So she just said the first things that came to her mind, because thinking obviously wasn’t doing her any good. “It’s because you’re nice to me. And you dance around the kitchen when you’re helping your dad make dinner. And because you make me want to commit homicide when you get into one of your tirades. Because you smile at me and my knees go a little weak.” She blushed and looked at the computer, still open behind Rachel. “And because you made a little fictitious you and me, and made us a house and you go and work, and I just play around all day-which really, why don’t I have a job? I should pull my own weight,” she trailed off as her brain bounced off to another tangent.
Rachel, who had remained stock still up to that point, cautiously took a step toward the bed. “It’s because I don’t want to make your decisions for you. We haven’t talked about what your dreams are yet. And I don’t want to just choose one for you.”
Quinn grinned, “You’re a nerd.” She didn’t say how that made her feel lighter than she had in weeks. Rachel didn’t expect something from her. Didn’t put her own wishes on her.
Rachel nodded her agreement. “Quite possibly.”
“I have a secret to tell you,” Quinn said seriously. “But I need you to come closer, because I don’t want anyone to overhear.”
“We’re the only ones in the house.”
Quinn pouted and waited for Rachel to give in, which she did. Rachel slid onto the bed, body tensed like a coil, and Quinn moved closer to her. Her hand reached up, brushing chestnut strands of hair behind Rachel’s ear. Pushing herself up, Quinn whispered in Rachel’s ear, “I happen to like nerds.”
Rachel face quirked into a half grin.
“Now,” Quinn continued, lips dangerously close to Rachel’s ear. “What’s it going to take for you to kiss me? After all, according the Sims, we’re in love.”
And chicken soup, fake illnesses, school, computer games and doubts faded away as Rachel turned her head to press her lips delicately against Quinn’s.