Lonely Table, Empty Heart Part III
Because LJ-cut is making me ridiculously upset right now, Part III is going into my journal.
Lima, Ohio, only has one bowling alley, and Rachel encounters remarkably similar feelings when she enters it tonight as she did when walking in with Finn. Both times, it's with someone she hardly knows and both times, she's excited much more than she should be. With Finn the underlying reasons were so overtly romantic she's not even sure they can be classified as underlying at all. Quinn elicits odd tingles in the pit of her stomach and brush fires on her skin whenever they make contact- they are walking extremely close together, after all. It's not as though Rachel has never given thought to same sex attractions because she has, mostly since both her fathers obviously have said attractions. She doesn't think that she really has any of those but then again, she doesn't really have that many opposite sex attractions, either.
Quinn, on the other hand, has never been exposed to same sex attractions of any kind, except for that one time a young gay couple wandered into her church thinking it was the Universalist Unitarian church and her grandmother had kicked them out. The woman was old and feeble but screamed her ass off, and Quinn is certain that her Nana would've physically thrown both those boys out if she had the strength. “Rachel... we have to get shoes first.” The other girl is already halfway out to the alleys when Quinn calls after her, and she blushes on the way back over. Quinn thinks it's kind of adorable, and that thought makes her much more confused than it should.
They pay for their shoes and step onto the very last lane, tucked into the corner where the smell of pizza and burgers and other assorted bowling alley grub wafts toward them and over takes the general smell of sweaty feet and old socks. It's kind of weird and silent at first until Rachel picks up a pink ball (just like last time) and sinks a total gutter ball that she laughs off, which gets Quinn to laugh to.
It's not like the cheerleader's a regular pro at bowling, and they end up with a combined total score of 174 with Quinn just barely eking out the win. When they look back on this night in the future, though, they will not remember the winner or the dismal score, but the soft touches and raucous laughter and the one celebratory hug that occurred when Rachel bowled the only strike of the game. There's another hug at the end to celebrate Quinn's abysmal victory and Rachel's arms slip from Quinn's shoulders to her waist and Quinn knows that that's definitely not a platonic hug anymore. Not like she minds, though.
They go over to get food because it's 7:39 and neither of them have eaten anything since their side-splitting lunch at school. Rachel suggests they split something because she dislikes spending money and the portions are much too big here for her to polish off on her own and offers to let Quinn pick since she's pregnant. Quinn's not really sure why Rachel thinks her pregnancy will affect her food choice that drastically but decides to go with it. She orders them a small pizza with Rachel's feelings in the back of her mind: it seems to be the least greasy item on the menu, and she figures her “date” would appreciate that. It's impossible to deny that descriptor of their outing now, though Quinn's not even sure if her “date” recognizes this shift. Rachel has probably never been on a date in her life- except for the one with her boyfriend to this very bowling alley Quinn thinks with a wince- and therefore probably won't understand the signals that both she and Quinn are giving off.
“Can we go back into the corner? I really need to talk to you,” Quinn asks with pleading eyes. Her mind is still chock full of unresolved questions and no matter how fun their time together has been, she needs some answers because everything is just trying to push itself out and she's afraid that she might explode if she has to keep it all in for much longer.
Rachel just nods, having very acute suspicions as to what this talk will entail. She's holding the pizza and Quinn's holding their sodas, and she's nervous that Quinn will confront her about the non-platonic advances they've both been making toward each other all night. Or, at least, she thinks that Quinn has been doing the same thing. It appears that way to her, but she doesn't really have all that much experience to base it upon.
The table is squished more in the corner than the rest of the lane and they have to pull it a little bit away from the wall in order to give themselves some elbow room. Quinn slides Rachel her root beer and takes a sip from her Coke. It's like the first day of lunch as they munch on their pizza and don't talk, occasionally catching each other's eye. Rachel tries to smile, but Quinn won't ever quite meet it because she still doesn't feel worthy of this lovely treatment she's getting from the brunette.
“I know I asked you this before,” Quinn begins as she sets down her pizza, “but I still don't understand. Why are you being so nice to me, when you could just be horrible to me like I've been to you since freshman year?”
Rachel wasn't expecting the conversation to go down this road. She composes herself and a reply. “Yes, that would be easy, but it wouldn't be right. If we all tried to right wrongs with more wrongs, the world would be in a lot of trouble. I'm not out to hurt you, Quinn, I'm really not. I think you can be a good person, if you just try a little.”
“I want to,” Quinn whispers, a hand sliding to her stomach and tears slipping from her eyes. “For the baby, and for you. To thank you, because you're a better person than anyone's ever given you credit for.”
There's not much more for Quinn to say because Rachel's answered her question and though it's difficult for her, she'll just have to believe that someone really can be this understanding. But with the talking over, there's no need to hold back the tears anymore. Rachel has never before been in a situation that involves comforting a former enemy over pizza in a bowling alley, so she takes her best guess as to what to do. She starts off with just a couple of strained pats on Quinn's back, but the cheerleader pretty much throws herself into Rachel's arms and bawls her eyes out.
It's wet and messy and uncomfortable because of the positioning of the chairs but it's so real that hurt and pain and comfort and friendship all roll up into one and neither of them can really deny much of anything anymore.
~
Rachel has to drive them both back to her house, even though that's totally illegal because she only has a learner's permit and Ohio law states that she must have someone over the age of 18 in the car with her at all times. The sobs wracking Quinn's body and the tears blurring her vision, however, make it totally impossible for her to properly operate a motor vehicle, and Rachel's certain that she's probably a safer driver than most licensed teens, anyway. That doesn't mean that she still isn't terrified out of her mind.
It takes almost twice as long to get to the Berrys' house because Rachel insisting on using all the back roads so that she can drive at 10 miles an hour without causing a major accident and lots of road rage. Quinn doesn't even notice the elongated duration of their ride on account of how she's tired and exhausted and still sobbing profusely in the passenger seat. At the beginning of the ride, Rachel had to lean over and buckle her in because Quinn couldn't stop her hands from shaking long enough to do it herself. She hates how Rachel has to treat her like a little kid whenever she loses her motor control, which seems to be occurring more and more frequently as of late.
They arrive at the house and Rachel offers to let Quinn spend the night because she's clearly in no state to drive home. Quinn really doesn't want to take up any more of Rachel's time, but she's slowly realizing that their socialization isn't a huge imposition on the singer. Rachel locks the door to the car and slips the keys back into Quinn's pocket, and that fills both of them with a sensation they both understand but would rather not acknowledge.
She helps Quinn make her way up the steps because even though she's finally stopped crying, her ankles don't seem to be working right and they look kind of swollen to Rachel, anyway. Keys fumble and slip through Rachel's fingers until she gains control of them under the porch light's soft yellow glow, and it's then that the redness of Quinn's eyes and the shiny streaks on her face become painfully noticeable.
James is still lying on the couch when they shuffle in, but the television has changed to some cop drama that James doesn't seem to be invested in. He looks over to his daughter and refrains from making a comment about her being home slightly late when he sees the girl draped around his daughter's shoulders. Rachel mouths that she's spending the night and he gives a thumbs up. Rachel's Dad, Danny, comes in, ready to bust on Rachel, but James holds up his finger to his lips and points at their little girl. She's grown up so fast, it seems to Danny, when he sees her helping a girl up the stairs like someone who has gladly lifted the weight of the world off someone else's shoulders and hoisted it on their own.
Once they reach the safety of Rachel's room, the star-in-training goes into hyper mode, moving through the room at a fast pace. “Do you want some pajamas, Quinn? Or a toothbrush? Because we have all of those, and if you need anything, you can just ask-”
“I need to sleep,” Quinn chokes out, her voice slightly hoarse from crying. “That's all... that's all.”
Smiling with the air of an emergency room nurse, Rachel slides her perfectly made up pink sheets down the bed and untucks the blanket from the mattress. Quinn still stands awkwardly at the foot of her bed and watches her go through these motions, not really seeing anything but her soft hands busily folding and turning and touching.
“Are you going to take off your shoes first?” Rachel's hand is on her arm and that's what draws her out of the trance more so than the girl's words. Everything is just so surreal.
“Y-yeah.” Reaching down, she quickly removes her shoes and resists the temptation to fling herself into Rachel's pristine bed.
Sighing, Rachel says, “You can get in the bed, Quinn. I need to grab a sleeping bag for myself anyway.”
“No. Stay with me.” It's clear what Quinn means by that and Rachel doesn't hesitate to abide by these rules. She steps one bold step closer and holds Quinn's small face in her right hand.
Naturally, as those they've been doing this forever, Rachel kisses Quinn's lips and comes to the realization that while Finn tasted like greasy pizza and stale bowling alley air, Quinn tastes like salty tears and some sort of mixed fruit lip gloss. Finn's mouth was kind of chapped and rough, while Quinn's is wet from her emotional breakdown. Finn's big hands grabbed her waist tightly, but Quinn's only linger there in a feather light touch that keeps Rachel both hooked on the taste and grounded from deepening it. There's a certain way that their bodies fit together that's unlike the way Rachel's and Finn's did, something that she appreciates a lot. Plus, she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes to reach Quinn's tantalizing lips.
When she pulls back, Quinn's eyes are still closed like she's in shock, but that doesn't last for long. Her eyelids flutter open and she smiles and Rachel knows that it's time for bed. They slip under the covers and the bed is kind of small for both of their bodies and a little too short for Quinn's legs, but that's alright because Rachel lets Quinn snuggle up against her. The cheerleader's blonde hair rests on her chest and Rachel leans over to take Quinn's ponytail out, silky strands of gold cascading across her torso. Quinn looks even prettier like this. She closes her eyes in no time and wiggles closer to Rachel's warm form, arm across her stomach and body half on top of hers. Rachel doesn't mind, though, because there's no way in hell anyone could ever be upset at something so peaceful.
~
At 9 o' clock the next morning, James and Danny make their way over to Rachel's room to see if she and her friend want pancakes for breakfast because 9 o' clock is an hour later than Rachel usually sleeps on Saturdays. James says that they should just let the girls rest because clearly that Quinn girl was upset last night and that they'll come out when they're ready. Danny sighs but does not give in.
He opens Rachel's door slowly, allowing it to creak just the slightest before he and his husband peer in to see both girls still asleep and in a more intimate position than Danny would have liked to see his baby girl in. There's nothing inherently wrong with how they're arranged, but Danny knows he would be flipping a shit if Rachel was in bed like that with a boy, and, well, he's always been a fan of equal treatment. Besides, he's never been sure that his daughter's 100% straight, so he knows that it's very likely she and this Quinn girl could have done something.
“Relax,” James urges, pressing a hand onto Danny's arm. “They're both fully clothed still, and it looks like the same ones as from last night. And did you see the state Quinn was in when they came back? No way anything happened.”
Danny has to admit that James brings up couple of good points. “Fine. Can we wake them up?”
“Hell no,” James scoffs, careful to keep his voice down as Quinn lets out a small sigh of content and scoots closer to Rachel's body heat. “Besides, they're a lot cuter together than her and that horrible oaf of a boy she's always with whenever we pick her up from glee club.”
Still not sold, Danny folds his arms and James lays his head against Danny's shoulder. Rachel grips Quinn a little tighter in her sleep and a soft smile appears on her face. Even Danny has to say that it's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen. “Aw!” James coos as they back out of the room and shut the door.
“Forget that Finn boy,” James says to his husband once they've started down the stairs. “I've switched my allegiance to Team Quinn.”