Fic: "Let's Take The Long Way Home" - 4/?
Title: Let's Take The Long Way Home
Author: hungrygirrl
Rating: G
Length: 2407 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Quinn and Rachel cross paths years later...with both of them much different from how they were in high school...and yet still much the same.
CHAPTER 4
"So...Brittany says you have questions for me?"
Rachel's face a mere few inches away from hers, looking eager and relaxed and, well...all sorts of nice, Quinn is unable to reply right away. She finds herself leaning back, needing a little breathing room because, frankly, Rachel Berry up close and smiling - no, beaming - is doing funny things to her.
And then she wriggles her eyebrows, affecting a playfully impatient look and Quinn has to pull her hands down to her lap to keep from...she's not sure exactly what impulse she's trying to suppress, she just knows it has to do with her fingers making contact with smooth, tanned skin - Rachel's.
Finally regaining a little bit of composure, she shrugs. One of her hands reappear on top of the table to play with the fork on her plate.
"Why don't you order something first?" She replies, buying herself a little more time to organize her thoughts, a habit borne out of years of law school simulated and real trials.
"That's not such a bad idea," Rachel concurs, immediately flagging down a waitress. In true Rachel Berry fashion, she fires off her order as soon as Jodi, the waitress, finishes asking what she'd like. "I'd like the greek pasta salad with red wine vinaigrette please. No onions, no anchovies, vinaigrette on the side. Thank you."
Quinn smiles to herself, noting how very little seems to have changed. The high school diva still appears to be as efficient - and polite - as ever.
"No onions and anchovies huh?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow, tone playful. "Planning to kiss anyone later?" she pokes.
Rachel raises a coy eyebrow, willing the pink tinge on her cheeks to go away. She's not even sure what it is about Quinn's words that has her blushing. It could very well just be the blonde's tone, that huskiness she never really noticed in high school.
"Who knows?" she decides to play along, a rare lopsided grin on her face.
"Mr. James?" Quinn asks, immediately wishing she hadn't gone there yet. Not quite sure she really wants to hear the inevitable how-I-became-Rachel-James story.
It surprises her when Rachel laughs, sounding genuinely amused.
And then shakes her head no.
"No, I don't think so. Kissing Mr. James is definitely not in my immediate plans," she declares, grinning still.
"Why not? Isn't that one of your wifely duties?" Quinn presses on, intrigued. She leans forward a little, resting her forearms on the table.
Melodious laughter rings out from the brunette once again, tickling Quinn's ears.
And insides.
"If I were a wife, then yes, that may very well be one of my duties," she replies vaguely while Joni returns, setting her plate of salad and vinaigrette on the side in front of her.
"So you're not married?" Quinn continues to interrogate, paying the waitress no mind.
"Wasn't that supposed to be your first question?" Rachel asks before daintily putting a forkful of greens in her mouth, Quinn watching her every movement. "You've been dying to ask why I go by Rachel James, haven't you?" Rachel continues when the blonde appears uninterested in replying anytime soon.
Realizing she had been staring, Quinn breaks her gaze from Rachel's mouth, leaning back once again for some much-needed space.
"It's been an object of curiosity, but dying? Not quite, Berry," Quinn replies finally, eyes rolling to back her claim.
Again, Rachel quirks a well-shaped brow. "So ask," she orders, shrugging. "What is it you're most curious about?"
"Are you married?" Quinn asks directly, going along with the brunette's order. Rachel appears to think about it for a second. "It's a pretty straight-forward, yes or no question, Rachel," she reminds the other girl.
Rachel chuckles. "Technically, I am married. To Mr. James. But we are in the process of working on being, technically, no longer married."
"You're getting a divorce?" Quinn clarifies, preferring clear-cut terms for this one.
"Yes, we are. In about a month, if I were to believe everything the lawyer says - no offense to you, of course, you being a lawyer yourself, I just don't quite know how much weight to put on their promises," she clarifies with an apologetic wave of her hand.
Quinn chuckles, "None taken," she quickly reassures Rachel before pausing, considering this bit of news. "You don't seem too sad about it? I take it he's a "good riddance" kind of husband?"
Rachel quickly swallows, appearing eager to respond. "No, no definitely not," she hastens to correct the blonde. "On the contrary, we remain very good friends. It's just..." Rachel pauses, taking a lungful of air, "it's just one of those 'we're better off as friends, not lovers' kind of relationships."
"Is he gay?" Quinn spits out before she could stop herself, eliciting laughter from the brunette.
"A negative to that one, too," she replies, still chuckling. "He is definitely heterosexual," she adds with a mysterious smile and a light blush.
"How'd you end up marrying him then?" Quinn shifts in her seat, getting comfortable even as she finds her curiosity even more piqued the more the brunette quietly working on her salad reveals. "Wait," she puts a hand up before Rachel could reply, "would you mind telling me his first name or is it a matter of national security?" she jokes.
Rachel rolls her eyes, smiling. "Rick."
"Rick James?" Quinn asks, eyes widening. "Rick James as in the 'Super Freak' guy?" she asks, brows furrowed in severe surprise.
Rachel, on the other hand, has to put her fork down to grab her napkin and cover her mouth while she breaks into merry laughter. "If I had a nickel for every time I got that when I tell people my husband's name, I wouldn't have to work for Santana. I'd have my own school," she says, giggles gradually easing. "No, it's not that Rick James, the R&B and funk singer, songwriter, record producer famous for, as you mentioned, Super Freak," she rattles on, ignoring Quinn's laughter and half-hearted attempt to interrupt. "That Rick James isn't even alive anymore, Quinn," she adds, amused.
"You obviously were a fan though," Quinn teases.
"Me? I was...am not a fan. My musical taste doesn't quite extend to his genre of music, " Rachel denies, managing to do it politely, to Quinn's continued amusement.
"For someone who's not a fan, you seem to know a lot about his career," Quinn argues, raising a familiar eyebrow.
"Oh, that? I googled him," Rachel explains, "I decided if people would keep on asking if he was my husband, then I might as well find out who exactly this popular person is," she finishes, adding air quotes to her use of "popular."
"Of course you did, Rachel. Of course you did," Quinn chuckles with a slight shake of her head. "So who is this impostor you are married to then?"
"Richard James," Rachel replies quickly. "He just likes to go by Rick. He actually gets a knack out of the mistaken identity and confusion his name elicits," she adds fondly. "He has a sense of humor like that."
Quinn feels a twinge of something resembling jealousy at the familiar and fond tone Rachel affects when talking about this Rick James guy. "How did you meet him?"
Rachel goes on to tell the curious blonde about how she had met Rick on one of her first, minor, off-broadway roles while still going to Julliard and then kept on ending up working with him on Broadway. This time after quitting Julliard at 20.
"So you've been with him for quite a while then?" Quinn notes.
"No," Rachel quickly corrects her, "we were best friends for a few years before we decided to elevate our relationship onto the next level, so to speak. We got married three years ago and then mutually decided to separate last year," she finishes as she leans back, a pensive look painted on her face.
Quinn looks on, confused. "Last year? And your divorce isn't final yet?" she questions, ready to discount Rachel's divorce lawyer's credentials.
"We didn't file one until approximately two weeks ago," Rachel clarifies.
"Oh." Quinn leans back herself, eyes still trained on the brunette. "Tried to work things out?" she asks quietly. Noting Rachel's uncharacteristic silence, she hastens to reassure the music teacher. "You don't have to answer that, of course, if you're not comfortable with the topic. I'm just being nosy now," she tries to dismiss her own question with a wave.
Rachel smiles reassuringly, shaking her head. She's not sure what it is but everytime the brunette smiles at her, whether it be her mega-watt smile or the barest hint of one, a knot forms in her stomach. Her nerve endings come alive and some form of electricity courses through her. "Your nosiness doesn't bother me," Rachel tells her, a hint of teasing in her tone. "It's not something I'm accustomed to though," she adds, "Quinn Fabray expressing interest in Rachel Berry's life."
The blonde looks down, breath catching as she is suffused with guilt and more than a bit of shame. "I'm sorry, Rachel. You're right, I don't deserve to question you about your life now after all the...indifference I showed you in high school. I-"
"Oh shush, Quinn," Rachel interrupts, surprising Quinn. "I was teasing. High school was a long time ago. I have gotten over most, if not all, of the issues...dissension, conflict or what-have-you from then," she pauses, appearing to consider whether to go on, which she does, quietly. "With everything that's happened since, high school has been nothing more than a minor impediment. At least compared to all the other impediments since," she finishes on a lighter tone, giggling softly and tickling Quinn's Rachel-sensitive insides once again. "And besides, we've had a civil, even - I dare say - enjoyable, conversation for close to an hour and I've yet to feel cold ice dripping down my head onto my back. So yes, I believe we have made progress and should be able to move on from high school now."
Quinn laughs, shaking her head at how easy it has been. How easy this has been. This being sitting down at a restaurant and carrying on a pleasant conversation with Rachel Berry with all their history of animosity and distasteful behavior - on her part, at least. "That's it? You're not even going to make me work for your forgiveness?" she challenges with a raised eyebrow, unable to discard the flirtiness in her tone.
Rachel raises an eyebrow herself, a slight tinge of pink coloring her tanned cheeks. "Do you want to?" She surprises herself when she matches Quinn with an undertone of flirtiness in hers as well.
Quinn finds herself drawn to the brunette, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the table. She smiles up at Rachel, her smirk softening into a gentle smile when she notes the blush that has yet to disappear from the brunette's cheeks. She takes a moment to remind herself that as oddly natural as this feels for her - this flirtation and teasing - the same might not be true for Rachel.
"I would definitely be willing to do anything to earn your forgiveness," she says quietly. Sincerely.
The blonde's eyes squint with fond amusement when her simple but very much meant words cause Rachel's blush to deepen even more.
"I..well...I-" Rachel starts, seemingly lost for words and grateful when Quinn skips the teasing she quite obviously was about to dish over her uncharacteristic stumble. "What did you have in mind?" she finally ekes out, conceding the battle for coherence.
Quinn chuckles. "Doesn't the punisher usually decide the punishment?" she questions.
Rachel rolls her eyes, gaining some composure back. "I do not wish to punish you, Quinn," she states firmly, eyes widening when she catches the double entendre that obviously did not escape Quinn's attention, judging from the smirk the blonde now sports. Rachel shakes her head disapprovingly at Quinn, unable to hide her own smile. In truth, this teasing, flirty Quinn that has been in display for most of their time at the restaurant has unnerved her.
Which is not to say she has not enjoyed this version of the blonde as well. Surprisingly, she has had to fight back the urge to flirt right back a few times herself. Not quite sure how to interpret her current reaction to the blonde, she decides to blame the novelty of this situation. Of being able to communicate comfortably and without any hint of hostility with her blonde tormentor.
Ex-tormentor, she corrects herself.
"Ok," she hears Quinn say, turning her internal conversation off to direct her gaze toward the blonde. Rachel watches the blonde shrug then lean back and away from her. Quinn's confident gaze remain trained on her. "How about, to make it up to you...I cook you dinner at my place instead?"