Fic: Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me) (2/?)
Title: Someone I've Been Missing (The Better Half of Me)
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.
Summary: AU/Future fic. Quinn, a rising sophomore in college, meets Rachel for the first time just before the school term begins. An argument between them leaves Rachel wanting nothing more than to forget that Quinn even exists. But she soon finds out that she can’t get rid of the determined blonde that easily.
A/N 1: If the title of the fic sounds familiar to anyone, it’s a variation of OneRepublic’s lyrics in the song “Come Home”.
A/N 2: Just wanted to clarify a few things since I forgot to put them in the A/N’s of the first chapter. NYU (the setting of the fic) offers apartment style dorms. Most of the characters have that type of dorm style so I’ll be using the words apartment and dorm interchangeably. Just wanted to point that out before I make it seem like they live in two different places or something. Also, I decided to keep the name Cheerios as the name for the NYU squad because (I think the name is cute) I wanted the fic to have as many qualities from Glee as possible while still being an AU/Future fic.
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Quinn awakes for her first day of classes to see dark brown locks splayed across her pillow cases. She licks her lips as she recalls memories from the night before. Chuckling to herself, she silently slides out of bed so as not to wake its occupant. Grabbing her toothbrush and a wash cloth she silently creeps to the bathroom, grateful that Santana spent the night at Brittany’s.
“Morning, whore.”
…Or so she thought.
“Shut up,” she whispers harshly, making no attempt to cover her naked form as she walks to the bathroom. She brushes her teeth before letting the hot water of the shower wash over her aching muscles. Cheerios practice was still intense and her little romp in the sack last night didn’t help matters.
She walks back into her room to notice her companion is gone. Shrugging it off, she gets dressed before meeting Santana in the kitchen.
“You sure do have a type,” Santana comments as she flips a pancake in the pan she’s holding. “Well, in girls anyway. I never understood your type in guys in high school. I mean you went from good guy, to bad boy, to that blonde kid that everyone swore was your twin brother. Actually…I think I started that rumor.”
“What are you talking about?” Quinn asks around a yawn as she stretches languidly, hands reaching for the ceiling.
“Studious, brunette, shorter than you. Your type of girl.” she replies, ticking off her fingers one by one as she names the qualities. “You only almost veered from those characteristics one time and that was when you, me, and B almost had that threesome.”
“She would have been my first blonde,” Quinn says reverently to piss Santana off. It works as she narrowly misses being wacked upside the head. “What?” she shrugs with a laugh. “You were the one who suggested it.”
“We were drunk!” Santana exclaims in self-defense. “Everything sounds better when you’re drunk!”
“You were crying!” Quinn replies with laugh. “Britt…I really want…to have this threesome,” she mocks, voice hitching to imitate Santana from that night.
“Don’t mention that again,” Santana threatens, pointing a spatula in Quinn’s direction.
Quinn shrugs as she reaches on top of the refrigerator to retrieve a box of cereal. “All I know is that I’m never having sex with either one of you separately or together. I’ve accidently walked in on you two more times than I care to say and some of the things the two of you do…” she trails off, shuddering at the memory. “It’s not human.”
“Sure, Quinn. You ‘accidently’ walked in on us five times.”
“Put a sign on your door or something!”
“Or maybe you could try this radical idea of knocking!”
“I’m not arguing with you this early,” she says as she takes her bowl of cereal into the living room. She grabs the remote and then starts flipping through channels, looking for The Price is Right.
“Wrong, Q,” Santana calls from behind her in the kitchen. “We’re about to start arguing again because I wants to get my morning cartoons on!”
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Quinn takes one last look at her schedule before looking up at the classroom number. Room 326. This is definitely the one. She walks into her business class and is met with a couple of smiles and a few indifferent glances from upper classmen. She shrugs it off, but one exaggerated eye roll catches her attention.
She makes a bee line for a familiar pair of dark eyes and tan skin and sits right beside the girl.
“Hi, anonymous,” she greets warmly, taking the girl by surprise at her tone. “Fancy meeting you again.”
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “This is a three hundred level course. And no offense to you but I don’t think you belong here.”
“None taken,” she replies easily. “And I actually do belong. I took the hundred level course at a community college my senior year in high school.” She smiles smugly at the obvious surprise swirling in the pair of dark eyes staring back at her. “Took two hundred level last year, and here I am this year. Business is my major.”
“I see,” she replies quietly before facing forward.
Quinn frowns. She didn’t expect the conversation to end so quickly. And she doesn’t know why but she’s kind of disappointed.
“So…” she drawls. “Can I get your name, anonymous?”
Quinn watches a small, teasing smile grace those full, pink lips and she unconsciously licks her own. “No, Quinn. I don’t believe you can.”
“Now you’re just being annoying,” she says with a frown.
The girl’s eyes shine with mirth as she turns back to the blonde. “Gee Quinn, you sure know how to talk to a girl,” she comments. She eyes the professor as he finally walks in, sighing in relief.
“Oh baby, of course I know how to talk to a girl,” she says, voice instantly sultry as she reflexively flirts with the older girl beside her.
“Don’t call me baby,” she snaps back with a scowl before turning to face forward once more. Quinn winces, both at her scathing tone and her own flirting. Sometimes she really does go too far. She blames it on her roommate. Being friends with Santana since middle school has caused the brunette to rub off on her. Quinn never noticed it in high school because she was kept under the strict thumb of her parents. She didn’t even think about sex or relationships that much. She wasn’t even aware that she was attracted to women, or at least wasn’t ready to admit it, until Santana stepped in and offered what she called her ‘assistance’. So when she came to college and was surrounded by nothing but sex and alcohol, and not only women, but women that seemed to have no qualms about being with other women, she was instantly entranced. She never let her grades suffer and, to everyone outside of Santana and Brittany, she was the perfect angel that made the perfect grades. But in her free time, she did manage to chase a skirt or two.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I didn’t mean to flirt with you.”
She receives a curt nod in return and that’s the last time the girl pays her any attention for the entire class.
Quinn lets her be and instead focuses on taking notes written on the board. Truth be told, she finds all of her business classes really interesting. Something about owning her own business one day speaks to Quinn. She honestly thinks that it’s the aspect of having so many people under her that have to do as she says, but she’d also like to think that she’s just naturally shrewd and has a knack for this profession.
Her eyes stray from the board to Anonymous’ -she snorts. That girl sure does know how to annoy her- notebook as the girl quickly scribbles her notes down, dark, focused eyes darting from the board to her own paper and never once veering off course. Quinn smiles a little at how stiff the girl’s posture is in her seat, back completely erect and head held high. Her lips are pressed firmly together, only parting to give Quinn a glimpse of her pink tongue barely poking out. Quinn’s eyes soften with mirth as she takes in the girl’s concentrated face. She passes a fleeting glance over her neatly written notes before returning back to her own, brows furrowing as she silently judges her own hand writing.
“Alright, that’s it for the day,” the professor, Mr. Johnson, says as he dismisses the class. “Next time we actually get to crack open those hundred dollar books you all bought,” he jokes.
The girl quickly gathers her things to make a hasty exit but Quinn’s hand grips her wrist lightly. “Wait,” she says quietly.
Deep, brown eyes stare at their point of contact before meeting Quinn’s eyes. “Is there something I can do for you, Quinn?”
Quinn uses her unoccupied hand to grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder, taking a step closer to the enigmatic girl. “If you won’t tell me your name, will you at least tell me your major? I think it’s only fair considering you know my name, the building I live in, and my major by now and I know nothing about you.”
“Why do you care?” the girl asks carefully and the question catches Quinn off guard.
“I don’t know,” she replies honestly.
The girl bites her lip in contemplation as she continues to stare at Quinn. She pulls her hand back and turns to walk away. “Theater,” she calls over her shoulder. “With a concentration in acting.”
Quinn follows her to the door, nearly running into the smaller girl as she turns around. “And my name is Rachel. Rachel Berry.”
A huge smile graces Quinn’s features as she extends her hand. “Can I walk you to class, Rachel?” she asks, rolling the girl’s name around her tongue, tasting it.
Rachel studies her carefully, eyes narrowing briefly. “This is a far cry from how rude you were the first time I met you.”
She shrugs. “I can be nice.”
“I suppose. Regardless, you walking me to class won’t be necessary Quinn, but I very much appreciate the offer.” She’s out of the door and down the hall in a flash, leaving Quinn feeling just as confused and annoyed as she was during their first encounter.
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“She totally ditched your sorry ass,” Santana exclaims with a boisterous laugh, accepting the fry Brittany feeds her. “She high tailed it outta there. I bet she was all, who’s this crazy bitch stalking me?”
Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose sharply to thwart the building migraine she feels coming on. Santana’s been laughing at her for the past five minutes. “Shut up, San.”
“It’s probs because she’s a third year,” Santana continues. “Can’t be seen by the likes of you. You’d cramp her style.”
“Thanks for the support,” she says wryly.
Her laughter dies down when Brittany whispers something in her ear. Hanging her head, she apologizes to Quinn. But the damage is already done. Quinn’s face is flaming as she stares at the food on her plate, suddenly losing her appetite.
“Do you really think she thought that?”
“No, Q,” Brittany says reassuringly. “Santana was just being mean, I’m sure it wasn’t like that at all.”
Quinn nods, swallowing thickly. “Then why’d she blow me off like that?”
“Oh, for fucks sake, suck it up, Q! She’s the first woman since ever to turn you down. Why are you so worried about her? Where’s Chloe?” she replies distractedly, eyes scanning the cafeteria for the brunette in question, trying to take Quinn’s mind off the whole situation.
“You’re right. Forget it,” Quinn says resolutely. “I was just being foolish. She doesn’t matter.”
“She’s probably not even a good fuck,” Santana agrees.
“Is that all you care about?”
“Sex is important,” she nods.
“Everyone come out to audition for the play! Tiring Tryst of Love everyone come out to audition!”
“What do you want, Jew Fro?” Puck sneers as a small boy with glasses and a large afro approaches the jocks with an arm full of fliers.
“Greetings Noah Puckerman. You’re looking as swollen and muscular as usual,” the boy, Jacob Ben Israel, replies, voice trembling with fear as he readjusts his glasses. “I’m simply here to pass out fliers for the play that we’re putting on. Our resident most talented actress Rachel Berry has agreed to star in the play and we’re looking for another female lead to play opposite her, as well as an understudy.”
Quinn perks up at Rachel’s name and she turns her head to where Jacob is. She slides out of her seat gracefully before walking over to him. “Can I have one of those?”
“S-sure,” he stutters out before handing her a copy. “Quinn Fabray I think that you would be lovely for the part. I’ve always loved an attractive blonde and brunette pairing and the love making scene between you and Rachel would be enough to make me arrive early if you know what I mean.”
Quinn makes a disgusted face before telling Jacob to get lost, glancing down at the flier with Rachel’s face on it in her hand. Santana and Brittany are by her side in seconds, peering down at the flier.
“She’s hot.”
“Totally.”
“Way too hot for Q. We should invite her into our bed, Brits.”
“Look at her lips, San. They’re just perfect for sucking my-”
“Okay,” Quinn growls, crumbling up the paper in her hand. “That’s enough. The both of you. Keep it in your pants.”
“I’d rather keep it in hers,” Santana snickers.
Quinn rolls her eyes before sitting back down at the table. “So you’re going to really do this play?”
She bobs her head up and down. “If they’ll have me. I mean, the chances of me getting the part are definitely slim, but I was thinking that playing my hand in theater will help balance the fact that I’m lumped in the ‘jerk jock’ category.” She jerks her thumb backwards to emphasize her point as two of the guys engage in an arm wrestle, her Cheerios squad on stand by making airy comments.
“Please,” Santana scoffs. “You’re just doing this to get into that Berry girl’s pants.”
She smirks easily at having been caught. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”
“Stalker.”
Quinn frowns.
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Rachel huffs quietly as yet another girl is sent from the stage by the director of the play. She eyes the man wearily. She’s always loved and hated being casted first in a play. Being casted first is, well, being casted…first. It was exhilarating for her to know that she had made such an impression on a director that she was the first person to get the call to join a cast. But being casted first also meant having to read your lines over and over again while average and sub-par aspiring actors and actresses stumbled and sputtered out their lines until that one special person out of a sea of mediocrity shined through and won over the heart of the writer and director of the play.
“We’ll find her, Rach,” the director, Mr. Schuester, says reassuringly. “You just have to be patient.”
Rachel nods, her eyes finding the floor as she tries to expel the exhaustion from her body. They’d been at this for hours. She’s been on her feet for hours. Hell, she’s been cranky for weeks. To put it mildly, the play she’s staring in isn’t worthy of any kind of award. That’s why there aren’t many people showing up and auditioning. Well, not the talented people anyway. It’s not the most well written play she’s been in but Rachel’s known Mr. Schuester for the three years she’s been attending NYU and when he came to her and practically begged her to star in his play she couldn’t turn him down.
Being in this play has been exceptionally tiring for the girl because she’s been trying desperately to find someone to play opposite her. She’s scouted for talent in the senior dorms, all the way to the freshman dorms and all she’s managed to do is meet an annoying blonde that won’t seem to leave her alone.
“Next,” Mr. Schuester calls from his seat in front of the stage.
Rachel turns to the door to see a girl clad in a purple NYU cheering uniform walk in. Her lip presses into a firm line as she takes in the girl’s blonde ponytail, determined eyes, and…was she smirking? Rachel rolls her eyes before she walks back over to her mark.
“Hello,” Mr. Schuester says with a wide smile, extending his hand. “I’m William Schuester.”
“Quinn Fabray,” Rachel hears the girl reply confidently. “I’m here to audition for the roll of Brooke.”
“Do you have a script already, Quinn?”
“Umm…no,” she falters, hearing Rachel scoff behind her. “I was just given a paper from that Jacob kid saying that anyone could try out.”
Mr. Schuester nods before reaching into a box under the table. “Here you go.” He hands her the script. “You’ll be playing opposite Rachel. Do you have any experience in theater?”
“I was in The Nutcracker in second grade,” she says. She hears Rachel’s quiet laugh behind her and Quinn can’t decide if the girl is laughing with her or at her.
“Uh, okay,” the man draws out. “How about you hop up on stage and just show us what you got?”
“Sure thing.”
She walks onto the stage to stand directly in front of Rachel, noting their height difference and smirking a little. “Bet you didn’t plan on seeing me twice in one day.”
“I’m utterly thrilled,” Rachel replies sarcastically.
“Anytime you’re ready girls,” Mr. Schuester cuts in.
She watches as Rachel closes her eyes and sighs deeply. When she looks back at Quinn again there’s so much love and adoration shining in her eyes that Quinn would swear it was real.
“Say it again,” Rachel says, giggling quietly as she takes a step closer to Quinn and grabs the blonde’s hands. “I wanna hear you say it,” she whispers.
Quinn glances briefly at the script for direction before meeting Rachel’s eyes. She loosens her hold on Rachel’s hand to draw it up her arm, noticing how the older girl shivers slightly. She tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek before leaning closer. “I love you,” she whispers.
“Again,” Rachel breathes against her lips.
Quinn swallows thickly, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. “I love you so much, Alyssa.”
They stay like that for a moment longer, Rachel’s head tilting as she studies Quinn silently.
“Alright cut!” Mr. Schuester replies as he leans back in his seat. “Well I’d definitely say that the two of you have chemistry. That’s half the battle,” he sighs. “Now we have to see if you guys have enough stage presence as a duo to carry a scene together. But I think we should save that and we’ll pick it back up in a couple of days when we rehearse again.”
“What?” Rachel questions. “But Mr. Schuester we have -what would admittedly not be my first choice- a great Brook on our hands compared to the lack luster renditions we’ve been receiving of a character that is as deep as she is complex,” she embellishes. “Are we really going to wait until days later to try out another scene?”
“Rachel, you’re tired. And more than a little cranky,” he replies, exhaustion in his own voice. “I’d honestly hate to push you any further. We have a great possibility on our hands with Quinn; can we just leave it at that for a few days? Let it marinate. We’ve been waiting for this break for a month now and we finally have it. Let’s count it as a small victory for now.”
Quinn stands idly by, feeling awkward at being talked about as if she isn’t there. She feels like she’s watching an argument between a father and his bossy daughter. “I think Mr. Schuester is right,” she pipes up to take some of the heat off the guy. “What’s a few more days?”
Rachel stands there, glaring at them both before turning on her heel and storming out. Quinn’s jaw drops in surprise at the very dramatic act. Who even does storm outs anymore?
“You’ll get used to that,” Mr. Schuester supplies helpfully.
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It’s eight at night by the time Quinn makes it back to her dorm. She drags her feet, thinking about her econ homework and the French test she has to study for. She has a long night ahead of her and she just hopes that either Brittany’s not at hers and Santana’s apartment, or that Santana went to spend the night over at Brittany’s because the two of them together are…loud.
She walks into her building and catches sight of Ashley, offering her a small wave.
“Wanna come over tonight?” the brunette asks impishly and Quinn already knows what would be in store for her if she actually says yes.
“Not tonight,” she says instead. “I have a lot of homework, a test to study for, and a script I have to memorize for this play.”
“A play?” Ashley asks incredulously. “Since when are you an actor, Quinn? Leave the theater for the geeks and come in my room for some fun tonight.”
The geek comment hits a nerve that Quinn never knew she had. “Since when is theater for the geeks?” she asks coldly. “Is acting just as nerdy when you’re watching Brad Pitt or Jake Gyllenhaal take their shirts off for a love scene? Hmm?” She doesn’t know where this sudden burst of anger is coming from considering a few weeks ago, hell a few days ago she probably would have laughed about the joke with Ashley and joined her in her room for the night.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Ashley says gently. She grabs Quinn’s hand, stroking her fingertips. “Come on. I’m sorry. Lemme make it up to you.”
Her fingers slip through Ashley’s hand as she looks the girl in the eye. “Honestly Ashley, I just want some alone time tonight. I’m tired, it’s been a long day, and I just want some solitude.”
“Okay.” She nods her head a little dejectedly. “Some other time, then?”
“Sure,” she replies noncommittally with a crooked smile before walking up the stairs to her own room.
She turns on the light at her desk and slumps in her seat, dragging her econ book from her bag. Flipping through the pages, she tries her hardest to concentrate but keeps thinking about that girl.
“Rachel Berry,” she says quietly, smiling around the syllables.
Knowing that her econ isn’t due for another day and opting to do it later when she has a clear mind, she rummages through her bag for the script of the play. Her eyes scan the pages as she reads Brook’s lines.
“Don’t you see that I love you? I wanna make this work, I really do but what if it can’t?”
She continues reading, catching the gist of the play. Brooke and Alyssa, who have been best friends since grade school and lovers since the tenth grade, are forced on two different paths as they journey to receive higher education at two different colleges. Brooke, who’s the more disciplined of the two goes to UCLA to study medicine and Alyssa, the more free spirited one moves to Florida with an undecided major. The play chronicles their ups and downs and inevitable break up.
And, Quinn notices with an arched eyebrow, there’s a love scene. Suddenly what that Jacob kid said makes sense. It’s very detailed in Quinn’s opinion. There isn’t much shedding of clothes, however she does get to touch Rachel’s breast, she notices with a smirk.
Sighing quietly, she closes the script and hops into bed, idly wondering for the first time what Rachel’s doing.