fic: The First Second Time (Part 2)
TITLE: The First Second Time (Part 2)
AUTHOR: Brio
SPOILERS: S03E05 (Canon really isn't my thing though)
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: After her first time fails to live up to her expectations, Rachel proposes an experiment.
WORDS: 6,038
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Rachel/Quinn
Fresh from a solid night’s sleep during which her subconscious had revelled in replaying every detail of her afternoon with Rachel, Quinn wakes up earlier than usual and heads to the running track close to the Fabray’s house. Winter is firmly starting to make its presence known in Ohio and Quinn makes a mental note to wear an extra layer the following day to keep the chill out. She tightens her laces and begins to run, her feet beating against the track in time to the music blasting into her ears.
Without cheerleading or any other substantial form of physical activity, it had been Judy who had suggested running track to Quinn. Something to keep ‘the baby weight off’. Once the baby weight had come off, Quinn had decided to keep running, figuring an hour or so spent at the track was an hour not spent in her house.
She manages to banish the dream and any thoughts of Rachel until she’s completing her second lap. Although she’d spent most of the previous evening coming up with ideas to make Rachel fall completely in love with her, Quinn’s decided to wait a few days before putting her plan into action.
Let the dust settle.
Not that she particularly wants to let anything settle. A part of her wants to march over to the Berry’s house six blocks away and finish what Rachel had started the day before; to ring the doorbell until Rachel opens the door in a state of total confusion and kiss her until the brunette’s knees buckle.
Maybe tomorrow.
Quinn smiles, continuing her way around the track as the mental image of her kisses making Rachel Berry’s knees go weak assaults her brain. By the end of her next lap, Quinn has to stop to actually talk herself out of going to Rachel’s. She’s pretty sure Rachel’s fathers wouldn’t be entirely pleased about someone calling this early in the morning anyway.
Stretching out her legs again, Quinn starts to run, pushing herself a little faster than before as more and more images start to drop into her mind: Rachel arching upwards, moaning Quinn’s name, reversing their positions, the look on Rachel’s face as she dips her mouth towards Quinn’s chest…
“Shit…” Quinn mutters, stumbling slightly. She glances at her watch and decides she’s had enough running for today. If she’s lucky, she’ll have enough time to get back in bed before heading off to school. Not that she’s opposed to the shower… “Bad,” Quinn exhales to herself and heads off the track, all but sprinting home.
xxxxx
Three days have passed by, all with minimal contact from both parties. They’ve shared smiles in the hallways, quiet pleasantries about the weather in the classes they have together and covert glances during Glee rehearsals, though Rachel is convinced that Quinn had been staring at her for longer than the second she had caught her for.
By day four, Rachel is ready to march up to the other girl and demand answers. When is the promised phone call going to happen? Isn’t four days a little too long to be ‘processing’ the mind-blowing sex they’d had? And, perhaps most importantly, is it going to happen again?
Over the course of the previous three days, Rachel has also had minimal contact with Finn. Mostly because he’s too busy with football and helping Burt out at the garage after school, but in all honesty, Rachel has needed time to try and figure out what to do next.
And to figure out a way of stopping herself from imagining ripping off Quinn’s clothes whenever she’s within five feet of the girl. Not that Quinn seems to be overly interested.
It’s a huge surprise on the morning of day four when she spies Quinn leaning against the bank of lockers, scribbling in a notebook without a care for the students passing her by. Rachel straightens her back and squares her shoulders and tries not to melt when Quinn glances over at her and flashes a grin.
“Morning,” Quinn says, closing her notepad when Rachel arrives at her locker.
“Good morning,” Rachel replies.
“How are you?” Quinn asks, watching the brunette get flustered as her locker refuses to open.
“I’m fine,” Rachel replies shortly. Quinn rolls her eyes at the lie.
“Really?” she asks.
“No, not really,” Rachel says, finally wrenching the door open. “When is ‘sometime’?”
Quinn gives her a confused look, brow furrowed as she tries to work out the question.
“You said you were going to call ‘sometime’. Is that going to be any time soon or can I stop obsessively checking to see if I have any missed calls? Even a text would do at this point, Quinn.”
“Oh,” Quinn says, feeling a knot twist in her stomach. “I wanted to but I couldn’t figure out what to say.”
Rachel pulls out her Spanish books and swings her locker door shut with a bang causing other students passing by to jump in fright. Rachel turns fully to look at Quinn who is still leaning against the lockers casually.
“Have you figured it out now?” Rachel asks, spotting Finn lumbering towards them, chatting with Rory.
“Can I walk you to class?” Quinn asks, reaching for Rachel’s books. Unable to resist the smile on the taller girl’s face, Rachel hands them over and they start off down the corridor towards their first class of the day. “How are you getting on with the project? It’s due next Friday, right?”
“I think I’m almost done,” Rachel says, glancing over her shoulder to see a confused expression on Finn’s face as he watches the two girls round the corner at the end of the corridor. “Spanish isn’t my strongest subject though. I always get marked down on my grammar. “
“I could take a look at it before you hand it in,” Quinn offers. “Maybe give you a few pointers on some of the grammar stuff.”
“That would be great,” Rachel says, glancing at Quinn warily, trying to figure out what her angle is. When they reach the class, Rachel expects Quinn to head to the other side of the room to her usual seat. Instead the blonde follows Rachel to the back of the room and sits down in the vacant seat next to Rachel’s, handing the books back over.
“It’s okay if I sit here, right?” Quinn asks, taking in the puzzled look on Rachel’s face.
“It’s a free country,” Rachel murmurs, sitting down on her chair and looking over at Quinn. “What’s your angle?”
“My angle?” Quinn asks, tapping her finger against her lips as though she has no idea what Rachel’s implying. “I don’t think I have an angle.”
“You’ve ignored me for three days and now you’re holding my books and walking me to class and sitting next to me…” Rachel tails off when Mr Schuester walks into the classroom. He calls for quiet and for the class to open their books at page forty-eight.
“You told me I’m hostile,” Quinn whispers as she flicks through her book. “Hostile to you. And I want that to change.”
“Quinn, do you have something to share with the class?” Mr Schuester gestures around the room to the rest of the students.
“No, Mr Schuester,” Quinn replies, picking up her pen and starting the exercises he’s assigned them for this period.
Distractedly, Rachel turns her focus to the assignment and tries to ignore Quinn. She tries desperately to ignore the way the blonde twirls her pen through her fingers as she conjugates verbs, the smile on her face when she completes an answer, the completely unsubtle way of glancing over to see how Rachel is getting on.
“Look at question three again,” Quinn says quietly, extending a finger to point at the verb. “What tense is that?”
“Present?” Rachel tries.
“Try again,” Quinn says. “Look at the ending.”
“Imperfect,” Rachel says. “So my answer should be…” She erases part of her sentence and writes in the correct answer.
“Yup,” Quinn says, going back to her own work.
“Thank you.”
The rest of the class passes quickly and before Rachel knows it, Quinn is closing her books and standing up from the desk.
“I’ll see you in English?” the taller girl asks. Rachel can only nod in return, still unsure what to make of this Quinn.
xxxxx
Quinn paces across her room one last time before taking a deep breath and sending the message she’s been composing for the past hour. It disappears from her screen and she sits down to wait for Rachel’s response.
The message that’s on its way to Rachel isn’t anything ground-breaking. Quinn had written a few sentences before deciding it was too much. A couple of words had seemed too few. She’d agonized over how many x’s to put at the end (and settled for two).
After seven minutes (which Quinn swears felt like an hour), her phone buzzes and lights up. One word. Two x’s. Quinn smiles and scrolls up on the screen before hitting the call button.
“Hello?” Rachel answers, silencing whatever music had been playing in the background.
“Hey,” Quinn says, lying back on her bed.
“Hi,” Rachel replies.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Is everything okay?” Rachel asks. Quinn tries to picture her before realising that she has no idea what Rachel’s room looks like.
Probably a lot of pink and Broadway posters.
“Yeah, things are okay. Things are great,” Quinn answers. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, I was supposed to be going to the movies with Finn but didn’t feel up to it. I’m just listening to some music and reading.”
“Sounds like a nice Friday night,” Quinn says.
“What about you? No plans?” Rachel asks. Quinn imagines Rachel playing with the hem of her t-shirt, fingertips brushing against the tan skin beneath it.
“Nothing, just thinking about you,” Quinn says before slapping her forehead. “I mean… not thinking about you like… that. Just thinking about what Rachel Berry does on a Friday night. I mean… wow, I suck at this.”
When Rachel giggles, Quinn stops internally berating herself.
“I can’t believe I make Quinn Fabray nervous,” she says in a sing-song voice. “So, you’re thinking about me, huh?”
“Yes,” Quinn says, nodding although the brunette can’t see her. “I’ve actually found it hard to stop thinking about you. Since… y’know. The experiment.”
“You might have crossed my mind a couple of times,” Rachel says, sounding a little bashful.
“Just a couple of times?” Quinn enquires.
“Maybe a lot,” Rachel admits. “It might be closer to ‘all the time’.”
Quinn is a little surprised by the reaction this admission causes and she bites down on her bottom lip before she starts begging Rachel to come over.
“Subtlety is clearly not my forte,” Rachel adds and Quinn can tell that she’s blushing furiously.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” Quinn asks, steering the conversation away to safer ground; ground that will not cause her untold amounts of frustration.
“I’ve booked an hour at the dance studio on Lincoln and have no other plans at the moment,” Rachel says. “What about you?”
“Lots of plans,” Quinn lies as she struggles to keep the image of Rachel in skin-tight dancewear out of her mind. “Let’s see, there’s a Grey’s Anatomy marathon I could watch… or I might go to the mall. Or I might ask if I can go along to the dance studio with my friend, Rachel. Then I might ask her if she wants to go to the movies.”
“You really are bad at this,” Rachel laughs.
“I’m sure it’s endearing to some people,” Quinn sighs. “Rachel, can I come to the dance studio with you tomorrow?”
“Let me think about it,” Rachel replies, humming to herself while Quinn rolls her eyes. “Won’t you be slightly bored? I’m just doing some extra ballet practice.”
“I’m just trying to make up for pretty much ignoring you for three days,” Quinn says. “Plus, I used to do ballet. Maybe I can teach you a few moves.”
Rachel scoffs and Quinn can’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
“I’ll pick you up?” Quinn offers.
“Fine,” Rachel says. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.”
“And the movies?” Quinn asks, aware that she’s sounding slightly desperate but not willing to let Rachel hang up yet. “Friends go to the movies, right?” she adds when Rachel hesitates. “They’re showing The Wizard of Oz at the old theatre downtown.”
“Let me think about it, okay?” Rachel says at last though Quinn’s pretty sure that she won’t pass up a chance to watch one of her favourite movies on the big screen. “I should get some sleep.”
“Me too,” Quinn says. “Night, Rachel.”
“Sleep well, Quinn.”
When the line goes dead, Quinn tosses her phone onto the bedspread and grins up at the ceiling before reaching across to her bedside cabinet and retrieving her scribbled plans. She glances over them before scoring out a couple of lines near the top and returning the pieces of paper to her drawer.
xxxxx
Drumming her fingers nervously on top of the breakfast bar, Rachel stares at the clock hanging to the left of the refrigerator. Her dad is flipping pancakes, glancing over at his daughter every so often.
“Are you okay?” he asks at last when the noise starts to grate on his nerves. Rachel’s gaze snaps over to meet his before falling down to her hand. She ceases the steady staccato-like noise she’s creating and flattens her palm against the counter top.
“I’m great,” Rachel responds. “Top notch. Couldn’t be better.”
“You’re as bad at lying as your papa is,” her dad says, rolling his eyes as he stacks the pancakes onto a plate. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re drilling holes into the counter?”
“Quinn is taking me to the dance studio today,” Rachel says.
“Quinn Fabray?” her dad asks, looking a little puzzled. “I didn’t realise you two were friends.”
“It’s a fairly recent development,” Rachel says quickly. “With Glee and having so many classes together this year, it seems a little silly for us not to be friends. She’s going to help me with my Spanish project.” Rachel pauses before rushing into her next sentence. “And we’re going to the movies this afternoon but I think it’s a little soon for that…”
Michael stops scraping the batter from the pan to look at his daughter curiously. Her gaze is on her hand which is still flattened against the counter as she continues to ramble on about her new friendship with Quinn.
“… but she says she used to do ballet, so having her there won’t be too much of a distraction hopefully.” Rachel finally looks up when her papa strolls into the room, immediately making a beeline for the pancakes.
“Yum,” he pronounces after the first bite before glancing between his husband and his daughter. “What’s going on? Rachel, you look incredibly tense.”
“I’m not tense, I’m fine,” Rachel says, practically jumping a foot in the air when a car horn sounds outside. “She’s here. I have to go. Bye!”
Michael and Raymond stare after their daughter before the taller of the two lifts the pancake to his mouth to take another bite.
“She was pretty tense, right?” he asks, carrying the rest of the pancakes towards the dining room. “What’s going on?”
Michael follows after him laden down with maple syrup, plates and cutlery.
“I think our daughter has a crush on Quinn Fabray,” he says, a frown creasing his brow.
Outside, Rachel tosses her bag in the back seat of Quinn’s car and climbs clumsily into the front, hitting the side of her head.
“Ow!” she exclaims, pressing a hand to it as she reaches to close the door.
“Are you alright?” Quinn asks, peering at her with concern. “Let me take a look.” She lifts her hand to pry Rachel’s away and checks for any cuts. “You’re not bleeding but you’ll probably have a little lump.” The pad of Quinn’s thumb runs softly over the already bruised flesh and Rachel winces slightly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel says, noticing that Quinn’s hand lingers a little too long against her skin but not minding in the slightest.
“It’s the place on Lincoln, right?” Quinn asks, finally retracting her hand and turning her attention to their destination.
“Yeah, there’s a parking lot around the back,” Rachel says, fastening her seatbelt and checking her head in the mirror again. A faint bruise adorns the left side of her forehead.
“I could kiss it better,” Quinn says, causing Rachel to look at her incredulously.
“If you want,” Rachel says.
“Huh?” Quinn asks, her eyebrow raised. “I asked if you were feeling better. Last night you said you didn’t feel up to going to the movies with Finn. Are you feeling better now?”
Realising that she’d misheard the other girl, Rachel blushes slightly and grimaces
“I felt fine,” she says. “It was my turn to choose a movie.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Quinn asks, keeping her eyes on the road as she reaches an intersection.
“He gets bored by the movies I pick. I get the pleasure of watching Zombie Apocalypse 4 or something starring Adam Sandler uninterrupted but whenever I pick a film, he wants to make out all the time because he’s bored,” Rachel says with a shrug. “I can’t remember the last time I actually watched a film that I want to see.”
“Well, you could today,” Quinn says. “I’ll try not to get bored.”
I probably wouldn’t mind if you did.
The thought crosses Rachel’s mind causing her to blush a little deeper but Quinn is too engrossed in driving to notice. The rest of their journey passes in silence and at the dance studio, Rachel leads Quinn down a corridor to a small room near the end. As they pass by, Quinn peers in through the windows of most of the doors seeing kids and adults of various ages engaged in everything from ballet to hip hop to jazz.
“So you used to dance?” Rachel asks, placing her bag on the floor near the mirrors at the far end of the room.
“Yeah, before I moved to Lima,” Quinn says, looking for a spot to sit down. “Then I started cheerleading and had a lot less time.” Her attention is diverted however when Rachel slides down the sweatpants she’s wearing to reveal legs encased in skin-tight black lycra.
“Do you think you’ll take it up again now that you’ve stopped cheerleading?” Rachel asks, oblivious to the meltdown she’s causing in Quinn’s brain.
“Maybe,” Quinn says absentmindedly, shaking her head slightly and slouching down against the mirrors. She pulls out a book she’s supposed to be reading for an English assignment out of her bag but continues watching as Rachel ties her ballet shoes before pulling off her sweatshirt.
The brunette moves through a series of quick stretches forcing Quinn to stare at her book determinedly though she isn’t reading a word of what’s on the page. She reminds herself that she’s seen Rachel naked before realising that was possibly the most stupid thought she could have had at this moment.
Aware that Quinn’s eyes are following her, Rachel goes to set up her music and takes her position in the middle of the room, smiling when she meets Quinn’s eye and biting back a laugh when the other girl blushes and stares down at her book.
Quinn lasts half an hour before having to excuse herself from the room under the guise of going to the vending machine she’d spotted on the way in. She buys a bottle of water and wanders around the foyer for a couple of minutes, trying to collect her thoughts and berating herself for one of her worst ideas ever.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks when Quinn makes it back to the room. Quinn holds up her bottle of water and smiles.
“Just a little thirsty,” she says.
“Are you ready?” Rachel asks, leaving the blonde a little stumped.
“Ready for…?” Quinn replies, getting ready to sit down again.
“I believe you said you were going to show me some of your moves,” Rachel says with a smirk. Quinn pauses and glances over at Rachel.
“Oh,” Quinn says. “It’s okay. You’re doing really well on your own.”
“Quinn, come dance with me,” Rachel says, holding out her hands and pouting a little.
Unable to resist the look on Rachel’s face, Quinn drops her bottle of water to the ground and makes her way to the centre of the room.
“I don’t have the right shoes for ballet,” Quinn attempts to protest but Rachel shakes her head.
“Show me anything,” she says. Quinn hesitates before positioning her feet and performing a couple of steps. “You have good lines,” Rachel observes. “I can imagine you as a ballerina. Did you take part in any other classes?”
“Ballroom,” Quinn says, looking away bashfully. “It was my mom’s idea… she was a dancer when she was young. If she hadn’t met my dad, she probably would have ended up competing professionally. I took classes for a year or so.”
“Teach me,” Rachel says, skipping away from Quinn to change the music.
“Oh no,” Quinn objects, trying to back away from the brunette. “It’s been years and I don’t think I can remember the steps.”
“Try,” Rachel says with a grin, standing in the centre of the room. “Please, Quinn.”
“You can’t just pout at me and expect to get your way,” Quinn says, folding her arms across her chest. Rachel pouts back at her, unflinching in the face of Quinn’s statement. “And this music isn’t the right beat for a cha cha.” Quinn sighs wearily as she goes to change the music.
“Shouldn’t you teach me the steps before we try the music?” Rachel asks. Quinn pauses before hitting the Play button and walks back to Rachel, showing her how to hold her arms.
“So, step back, side, side, cha cha cha, forward, back, cha cha cha,” Quinn counts out as Rachel moves around the room. “Keep your arm locked.”
“It would be easier if I was dancing with you,” Rachel huffs, dropping her arms. “Can you lead?”
“I can try,” Quinn says, reluctantly stepping in front of Rachel. She positions their arms and starts to lead Rachel around the room. “Lock your frame,” she instructs, gripping Rachel’s hand a little tighter. “Shoulders back.”
“Bossy,” Rachel smirks. “Should we try this with music? We only have five minutes left. The woman who books this room after me is always early.”
“She can wait then,” Quinn says, going to start the song. “Step back on the left foot first…OW!”
“Oops,” Rachel cringes, retracting her right foot.
Quinn shakes her head then counts them in. Surprisingly they make it once around the room before Rachel missteps and trips over Quinn’s right foot. The blonde is quick to pull Rachel upright, locking the shorter girl’s arm again.
“Spaghetti arms,” she murmurs, spinning Rachel before continuing their circle around the room. The brunette giggles, letting her arm drop slightly. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Maybe,” Rachel says. “You’re really good at this.”
“Thank you.”
The music stops and both girls hesitate before letting go of one another. Rachel grabs Quinn’s arm before the taller girl can move away and pulls her close again. Quinn’s gaze wavers, not quite meeting Rachel’s as the brunette intertwines their fingers.
“We should…” Quinn whispers.
“Yes,” Rachel agrees before leaning in closer to Quinn.
Millimetres from each other, there’s a sharp knock on the door and the indignant face of an older woman appears at the window. Rachel sighs and moves away, grumbling under her breath. Quinn takes a shaky breath, running her hand through her hair before gathering up her things.
Both girls remain silent until they’re sitting outside Rachel’s house. Quinn kills the engine and shoots Rachel a nervous look.
“Thanks for letting me watch,” Quinn says. “I mean, come.”
Rachel grins, causing the blonde to blush furiously.
“I mean, it was nice to be back in a dance studio,” Quinn finishes lamely, wishing that the world would choose this moment to open up and swallow her.
“Thanks for driving me,” Rachel says. “And for the dance lesson.” She reaches into the back seat for her bag and gives Quinn a curious look. “What time is the movie?”
“Two,” Quinn replies, tired of trying to stop her stomach from doing cartwheels. She realises that she’s destined to be awkward around Rachel forever.
“See you in a couple of hours then,” Rachel says, leaning over to peck Quinn’s cheek.
Too surprised to contemplate doing anything else, Quinn drives away from the Berry household, grinning madly to herself.
xxxxx
The movie passes without incident. There are no significant moments where Quinn wants to go hide in a dark corner because she’s said or done something embarrassing. Quinn pays for the tickets, Rachel gets the popcorn. Their seats are near the back of the half-full theatre and during the previews, they avoid talking about anything related to their almost-kiss at the dance studio and Rachel’s subsequent cheek-kiss. During the movie, Rachel whispers along with all the words to all of the songs which Quinn finds ridiculously endearing.
The Berry’s house is in darkness when Quinn drops Rachel off; only one car is sitting in the driveway.
“My dads are having dinner with a few friends,” Rachel says.
“I think my mom is out tonight too,” Quinn replies.
“Do you have anything planned for this evening?” Quinn shakes her head. “Maybe you should come in for a while. We could order food or watch a movie or just… talk. Or something.”
Or something.
“Okay,” Quinn nods. “That all sounds… good.”
“Good,” Rachel says before climbing out of the car, leaving Quinn to follow after her. Self-consciously, Quinn walks into the Berry household as Rachel hangs up her coat and gestures for Quinn to take off hers. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Quinn says, patting her stomach. “I think I ate most of the popcorn.”
“… and we just watched a movie. I don’t think I could sit through another one right now. That leaves us with…” Rachel tails off, feeling her cheeks start to colour. “How about we talk?”
“I’m fine with talking,” Quinn says, just happy to be doing anything that prolongs leaving the Berry household.
After a brief discussion about how the perfect hot chocolate should be made (Quinn insisting that the perfect amount of mini-marshmallows is five, Rachel asserting that vegan whipped cream won’t ruin the overall taste), the pair settles in the lounge. Silence falls over them as each girl tries to figure out a starting place for their ‘talk’.
“I mean, we should talk,” Rachel says after eventually draining the contents of her favourite ‘I Heart NY’ mug. “There are things we need to discuss and figure out and… I can’t really focus on any of that because all I can think about is what happened when we were about to leave the dance studio.”
Quinn nods a couple of times before setting her mug on the coffee table in front of them and turning to face Rachel. She has to cover her mouth to stop that laugh that bubbles up almost immediately.
“What?” Rachel asks, eyeing the blonde curiously, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?”
“Like you don’t know,” Quinn replies, reaching over to wipe the splodge of whipped cream from Rachel’s nose. Hesitantly, she brings her finger to her lips and licks it clean. “That actually isn’t bad.”
“Told you,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes. “So, the almost-kiss.”
“The almost-kiss,” Quinn repeats, though thoroughly distracted by the thought of Rachel and whipped cream and kissing and… Quinn shifts uncomfortably on the couch and tries to focus elsewhere.
Maybe try listening to the girl instead of fantasising about her…
“You’re not listening,” Rachel says exasperatedly.
“You’re really distracting,” Quinn blushes. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to go upstairs and continue what we started earlier this week but since you didn’t hear any of it, I guess we’ll just have to find something else to talk about,” Rachel says, watching as Quinn’s blush deepens and her jaw works furiously as she tries to find a way to backtrack.
“Did I mention how sorry I am?” Quinn asks. “Really, truly, very sorry.”
“I’m not sure I believe you, Quinn,” Rachel sighs, her bottom lip protruding ever so slightly. Quinn imagines tugging on that bottom lip before shaking her head slightly. “Show me.”
“Show you?” Quinn says blankly.
“Show me,” Rachel repeats, kicking off her shoes and turning her body fully to face Quinn. She swings her legs up onto the couch and slides backwards until she’s leaning against the armrest. Quinn swallows hard before regaining use of her basic motor skills.
“You’re sure about the lack of talking?” Quinn asks, bending down to unlace her sneakers when Rachel rolls her eyes, positive that Rachel’s dads wouldn’t be happy about her shoes leaving marks on their upholstery.
Or that I’m making out with their daughter.
“What are you smirking at?” Rachel asks, interrupting Quinn’s thoughts.
“I’m worrying about keeping my shoes off the couch when I really should be more concerned about what your dads would do if they caught us…” Quinn trails off, sliding off her Converse and shifting her body to kneel on the couch. The way Rachel is gazing up at her is enough to send her pulse racing.
Quinn feels eager hands tugging at the front of her cardigan and finds herself flat out against Rachel. Any trace of nervousness that the brunette had displayed earlier in the week is gone and replaced by an assuredness and a confidence that Quinn finds ridiculously hot. Their kiss is light, teasing at first, as they manoeuvre themselves into a comfortable position, hips pressing together as arms and legs find purchase in the soft cushions.
“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” Rachel murmurs between kisses. Quinn shakes her head slightly before nipping at Rachel’s bottom lip eliciting a soft whimper from the brunette.
“No,” Quinn answers, eyes closing when insistent hands start pulling at the buttons of her cardigan and an overwhelming desire to have Rachel wearing as little clothing as possible rushes over her.
This isn’t part of the plan…
Quinn feels the cardigan being pulled down over her arms before Rachel’s hands immediately set about removing the next layer, a t-shirt that had belonged to her sister once upon a time until it had found its way into Quinn’s wardrobe and never quite made it back across the hallway. The t-shirt is wrenched up and over her head, tossed to the side as carelessly as the cardigan had been.
Rachel unabashedly stares down between their bodies, drinking in the sight of Quinn’s abdomen before letting her nails rake over the pale flesh, leaving faint red marks behind. Quinn all but growls as the feeling of being marked by Rachel sends sensations running through her body.
Screw the plan.
“Maybe we should…” Quinn gestures upwards with her head, implying that they should go upstairs because as much as she loves this couch and the delicious friction it’s creating between them, she has this horrible feeling that they’re going to get caught.
Rachel ignores her request however and brings Quinn’s lips crashing back to hers, causing the blonde to cease all coherent thought. Completely aware of the power that she holds over Quinn, Rachel unclasps the blonde’s bra; the taller girl pulls away, breathless and surprised.
“Rach…” she mutters. “What if…”
“They won’t,” Rachel says soothingly, cupping Quinn’s cheek. “I want to make up for running out on you.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Quinn says with a smile. “Just because I…” Quinn blushes. “It doesn’t mean you have to…” Quinn gestures helplessly. “Sometime soon, I’m going to finish a sentence around you.”
“I highly doubt that,” Rachel says, fastening the clasp of Quinn’s bra again and pressing her lips tentatively against the blonde’s. Rachel’s hands follow the curve of Quinn’s spine, coming to rest over the top of her jeans. “I think it’s cute.”
“I’m cute?” Quinn asks, her eyebrow arching.
“I’m going to go as far as very cute,” Rachel murmurs, bringing her lips to Quinn’s once more.
Words slip both girls minds as the kiss deepens quickly. So much so that somewhere between Rachel’s hands grasping at Quinn a little firmer, Quinn’s hips grinding down against Rachel a little harder and both girls’ moans becoming a little bit louder, they fail to hear the sound of a car slowing to a stop outside the house or the quick footsteps on the path or the key turning in the lock.
Raymond Berry takes five steps inside his house before he shouts a hello to his daughter and her friend, whose car is sitting at the bottom of the driveway. Three more steps take him to the doorway of the lounge where he leaps back in surprise, covering his eyes at the sight of his daughter shoving clothes at her friend. Her half-naked friend. Her half-naked friend who is a girl. A girl who is not his daughter’s boyfriend.
“Oh god,” he mutters, leaning against the wall.
“Papa?”
“I didn’t see anything,” he calls back, moving quickly past the doorway to the kitchen to get… something. The reason he’d returned to the house. The house where he lives with his daughter. He scans the countertop before spotting it: his wallet. He slides it into his pocket and turns, jumping when he finds Rachel waiting in the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel says nervously, waiting to see what kind of response her papa has for her. He sighs heavily, not entirely sure where to start. He can’t lecture her for being too young; she’s nearly eighteen after all. But this is going to require some sort of discipline and discussion about relationships and half-nakedness in communal rooms.
“We’ll discuss it later,” he says. “When your dad and I get home.”
“Okay,” Rachel replies in the smallest voice imaginable.
“I’m not mad,” he whispers, embracing his daughter in a side-hug. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and hurries down the hall, pausing in the doorway of the lounge. A now-clothed Quinn is sitting hunched on the sofa, head in her hands. “Nice to meet you, Ms Fabray.”
“You too, Mr Berry,” she says, unable to meet his eye as her cheeks blaze crimson. “Sir.”
He chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he leaves the house. His husband must be a little bit psychic after all.
“So, your parents are going to hate me,” Quinn says when Rachel joins her on the couch again.
“They won’t,” Rachel reassures her, sliding her hand into Quinn’s and watching as the blonde’s fingers tighten between hers. “They’re going to be upset with me because of… because of what I’m doing to Finn.”
Quinn falls silent, leaning back against the cushions as an uncomfortable feeling of guilt settles over her. She can’t come up with anything to say and her cheeks are still burning as the shocked look on Mr Berry’s face replays over and over in her brain.
“I think I should go,” she says at last.
“Quinn…” Rachel begins, tightening her grip on the blonde.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Quinn says resignedly. “I’m just too embarrassed to be in this house right now.”
Rachel nods and drops Quinn’s hand, watching helplessly as the other girl grabs her sneakers and pulls them back on. She walks Quinn to the door and tries to figure out what to say to make this situation better.
“I’ll call,” Quinn promises, pressing a kiss to Rachel’s cheek as she leaves the house. Rachel closes the door after Quinn pulls away and heads back to the lounge to clear away the empty mugs. As she stands at the sink, scrubbing absentmindedly, she tries to figure out what she’s going to say to her dads.
And what she’s going to say to Finn.
Part 3
AUTHOR: Brio
SPOILERS: S03E05 (Canon really isn't my thing though)
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: After her first time fails to live up to her expectations, Rachel proposes an experiment.
WORDS: 6,038
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Rachel/Quinn
Fresh from a solid night’s sleep during which her subconscious had revelled in replaying every detail of her afternoon with Rachel, Quinn wakes up earlier than usual and heads to the running track close to the Fabray’s house. Winter is firmly starting to make its presence known in Ohio and Quinn makes a mental note to wear an extra layer the following day to keep the chill out. She tightens her laces and begins to run, her feet beating against the track in time to the music blasting into her ears.
Without cheerleading or any other substantial form of physical activity, it had been Judy who had suggested running track to Quinn. Something to keep ‘the baby weight off’. Once the baby weight had come off, Quinn had decided to keep running, figuring an hour or so spent at the track was an hour not spent in her house.
She manages to banish the dream and any thoughts of Rachel until she’s completing her second lap. Although she’d spent most of the previous evening coming up with ideas to make Rachel fall completely in love with her, Quinn’s decided to wait a few days before putting her plan into action.
Let the dust settle.
Not that she particularly wants to let anything settle. A part of her wants to march over to the Berry’s house six blocks away and finish what Rachel had started the day before; to ring the doorbell until Rachel opens the door in a state of total confusion and kiss her until the brunette’s knees buckle.
Maybe tomorrow.
Quinn smiles, continuing her way around the track as the mental image of her kisses making Rachel Berry’s knees go weak assaults her brain. By the end of her next lap, Quinn has to stop to actually talk herself out of going to Rachel’s. She’s pretty sure Rachel’s fathers wouldn’t be entirely pleased about someone calling this early in the morning anyway.
Stretching out her legs again, Quinn starts to run, pushing herself a little faster than before as more and more images start to drop into her mind: Rachel arching upwards, moaning Quinn’s name, reversing their positions, the look on Rachel’s face as she dips her mouth towards Quinn’s chest…
“Shit…” Quinn mutters, stumbling slightly. She glances at her watch and decides she’s had enough running for today. If she’s lucky, she’ll have enough time to get back in bed before heading off to school. Not that she’s opposed to the shower… “Bad,” Quinn exhales to herself and heads off the track, all but sprinting home.
xxxxx
Three days have passed by, all with minimal contact from both parties. They’ve shared smiles in the hallways, quiet pleasantries about the weather in the classes they have together and covert glances during Glee rehearsals, though Rachel is convinced that Quinn had been staring at her for longer than the second she had caught her for.
By day four, Rachel is ready to march up to the other girl and demand answers. When is the promised phone call going to happen? Isn’t four days a little too long to be ‘processing’ the mind-blowing sex they’d had? And, perhaps most importantly, is it going to happen again?
Over the course of the previous three days, Rachel has also had minimal contact with Finn. Mostly because he’s too busy with football and helping Burt out at the garage after school, but in all honesty, Rachel has needed time to try and figure out what to do next.
And to figure out a way of stopping herself from imagining ripping off Quinn’s clothes whenever she’s within five feet of the girl. Not that Quinn seems to be overly interested.
It’s a huge surprise on the morning of day four when she spies Quinn leaning against the bank of lockers, scribbling in a notebook without a care for the students passing her by. Rachel straightens her back and squares her shoulders and tries not to melt when Quinn glances over at her and flashes a grin.
“Morning,” Quinn says, closing her notepad when Rachel arrives at her locker.
“Good morning,” Rachel replies.
“How are you?” Quinn asks, watching the brunette get flustered as her locker refuses to open.
“I’m fine,” Rachel replies shortly. Quinn rolls her eyes at the lie.
“Really?” she asks.
“No, not really,” Rachel says, finally wrenching the door open. “When is ‘sometime’?”
Quinn gives her a confused look, brow furrowed as she tries to work out the question.
“You said you were going to call ‘sometime’. Is that going to be any time soon or can I stop obsessively checking to see if I have any missed calls? Even a text would do at this point, Quinn.”
“Oh,” Quinn says, feeling a knot twist in her stomach. “I wanted to but I couldn’t figure out what to say.”
Rachel pulls out her Spanish books and swings her locker door shut with a bang causing other students passing by to jump in fright. Rachel turns fully to look at Quinn who is still leaning against the lockers casually.
“Have you figured it out now?” Rachel asks, spotting Finn lumbering towards them, chatting with Rory.
“Can I walk you to class?” Quinn asks, reaching for Rachel’s books. Unable to resist the smile on the taller girl’s face, Rachel hands them over and they start off down the corridor towards their first class of the day. “How are you getting on with the project? It’s due next Friday, right?”
“I think I’m almost done,” Rachel says, glancing over her shoulder to see a confused expression on Finn’s face as he watches the two girls round the corner at the end of the corridor. “Spanish isn’t my strongest subject though. I always get marked down on my grammar. “
“I could take a look at it before you hand it in,” Quinn offers. “Maybe give you a few pointers on some of the grammar stuff.”
“That would be great,” Rachel says, glancing at Quinn warily, trying to figure out what her angle is. When they reach the class, Rachel expects Quinn to head to the other side of the room to her usual seat. Instead the blonde follows Rachel to the back of the room and sits down in the vacant seat next to Rachel’s, handing the books back over.
“It’s okay if I sit here, right?” Quinn asks, taking in the puzzled look on Rachel’s face.
“It’s a free country,” Rachel murmurs, sitting down on her chair and looking over at Quinn. “What’s your angle?”
“My angle?” Quinn asks, tapping her finger against her lips as though she has no idea what Rachel’s implying. “I don’t think I have an angle.”
“You’ve ignored me for three days and now you’re holding my books and walking me to class and sitting next to me…” Rachel tails off when Mr Schuester walks into the classroom. He calls for quiet and for the class to open their books at page forty-eight.
“You told me I’m hostile,” Quinn whispers as she flicks through her book. “Hostile to you. And I want that to change.”
“Quinn, do you have something to share with the class?” Mr Schuester gestures around the room to the rest of the students.
“No, Mr Schuester,” Quinn replies, picking up her pen and starting the exercises he’s assigned them for this period.
Distractedly, Rachel turns her focus to the assignment and tries to ignore Quinn. She tries desperately to ignore the way the blonde twirls her pen through her fingers as she conjugates verbs, the smile on her face when she completes an answer, the completely unsubtle way of glancing over to see how Rachel is getting on.
“Look at question three again,” Quinn says quietly, extending a finger to point at the verb. “What tense is that?”
“Present?” Rachel tries.
“Try again,” Quinn says. “Look at the ending.”
“Imperfect,” Rachel says. “So my answer should be…” She erases part of her sentence and writes in the correct answer.
“Yup,” Quinn says, going back to her own work.
“Thank you.”
The rest of the class passes quickly and before Rachel knows it, Quinn is closing her books and standing up from the desk.
“I’ll see you in English?” the taller girl asks. Rachel can only nod in return, still unsure what to make of this Quinn.
xxxxx
Quinn paces across her room one last time before taking a deep breath and sending the message she’s been composing for the past hour. It disappears from her screen and she sits down to wait for Rachel’s response.
The message that’s on its way to Rachel isn’t anything ground-breaking. Quinn had written a few sentences before deciding it was too much. A couple of words had seemed too few. She’d agonized over how many x’s to put at the end (and settled for two).
After seven minutes (which Quinn swears felt like an hour), her phone buzzes and lights up. One word. Two x’s. Quinn smiles and scrolls up on the screen before hitting the call button.
“Hello?” Rachel answers, silencing whatever music had been playing in the background.
“Hey,” Quinn says, lying back on her bed.
“Hi,” Rachel replies.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Is everything okay?” Rachel asks. Quinn tries to picture her before realising that she has no idea what Rachel’s room looks like.
Probably a lot of pink and Broadway posters.
“Yeah, things are okay. Things are great,” Quinn answers. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, I was supposed to be going to the movies with Finn but didn’t feel up to it. I’m just listening to some music and reading.”
“Sounds like a nice Friday night,” Quinn says.
“What about you? No plans?” Rachel asks. Quinn imagines Rachel playing with the hem of her t-shirt, fingertips brushing against the tan skin beneath it.
“Nothing, just thinking about you,” Quinn says before slapping her forehead. “I mean… not thinking about you like… that. Just thinking about what Rachel Berry does on a Friday night. I mean… wow, I suck at this.”
When Rachel giggles, Quinn stops internally berating herself.
“I can’t believe I make Quinn Fabray nervous,” she says in a sing-song voice. “So, you’re thinking about me, huh?”
“Yes,” Quinn says, nodding although the brunette can’t see her. “I’ve actually found it hard to stop thinking about you. Since… y’know. The experiment.”
“You might have crossed my mind a couple of times,” Rachel says, sounding a little bashful.
“Just a couple of times?” Quinn enquires.
“Maybe a lot,” Rachel admits. “It might be closer to ‘all the time’.”
Quinn is a little surprised by the reaction this admission causes and she bites down on her bottom lip before she starts begging Rachel to come over.
“Subtlety is clearly not my forte,” Rachel adds and Quinn can tell that she’s blushing furiously.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” Quinn asks, steering the conversation away to safer ground; ground that will not cause her untold amounts of frustration.
“I’ve booked an hour at the dance studio on Lincoln and have no other plans at the moment,” Rachel says. “What about you?”
“Lots of plans,” Quinn lies as she struggles to keep the image of Rachel in skin-tight dancewear out of her mind. “Let’s see, there’s a Grey’s Anatomy marathon I could watch… or I might go to the mall. Or I might ask if I can go along to the dance studio with my friend, Rachel. Then I might ask her if she wants to go to the movies.”
“You really are bad at this,” Rachel laughs.
“I’m sure it’s endearing to some people,” Quinn sighs. “Rachel, can I come to the dance studio with you tomorrow?”
“Let me think about it,” Rachel replies, humming to herself while Quinn rolls her eyes. “Won’t you be slightly bored? I’m just doing some extra ballet practice.”
“I’m just trying to make up for pretty much ignoring you for three days,” Quinn says. “Plus, I used to do ballet. Maybe I can teach you a few moves.”
Rachel scoffs and Quinn can’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
“I’ll pick you up?” Quinn offers.
“Fine,” Rachel says. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.”
“And the movies?” Quinn asks, aware that she’s sounding slightly desperate but not willing to let Rachel hang up yet. “Friends go to the movies, right?” she adds when Rachel hesitates. “They’re showing The Wizard of Oz at the old theatre downtown.”
“Let me think about it, okay?” Rachel says at last though Quinn’s pretty sure that she won’t pass up a chance to watch one of her favourite movies on the big screen. “I should get some sleep.”
“Me too,” Quinn says. “Night, Rachel.”
“Sleep well, Quinn.”
When the line goes dead, Quinn tosses her phone onto the bedspread and grins up at the ceiling before reaching across to her bedside cabinet and retrieving her scribbled plans. She glances over them before scoring out a couple of lines near the top and returning the pieces of paper to her drawer.
xxxxx
Drumming her fingers nervously on top of the breakfast bar, Rachel stares at the clock hanging to the left of the refrigerator. Her dad is flipping pancakes, glancing over at his daughter every so often.
“Are you okay?” he asks at last when the noise starts to grate on his nerves. Rachel’s gaze snaps over to meet his before falling down to her hand. She ceases the steady staccato-like noise she’s creating and flattens her palm against the counter top.
“I’m great,” Rachel responds. “Top notch. Couldn’t be better.”
“You’re as bad at lying as your papa is,” her dad says, rolling his eyes as he stacks the pancakes onto a plate. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re drilling holes into the counter?”
“Quinn is taking me to the dance studio today,” Rachel says.
“Quinn Fabray?” her dad asks, looking a little puzzled. “I didn’t realise you two were friends.”
“It’s a fairly recent development,” Rachel says quickly. “With Glee and having so many classes together this year, it seems a little silly for us not to be friends. She’s going to help me with my Spanish project.” Rachel pauses before rushing into her next sentence. “And we’re going to the movies this afternoon but I think it’s a little soon for that…”
Michael stops scraping the batter from the pan to look at his daughter curiously. Her gaze is on her hand which is still flattened against the counter as she continues to ramble on about her new friendship with Quinn.
“… but she says she used to do ballet, so having her there won’t be too much of a distraction hopefully.” Rachel finally looks up when her papa strolls into the room, immediately making a beeline for the pancakes.
“Yum,” he pronounces after the first bite before glancing between his husband and his daughter. “What’s going on? Rachel, you look incredibly tense.”
“I’m not tense, I’m fine,” Rachel says, practically jumping a foot in the air when a car horn sounds outside. “She’s here. I have to go. Bye!”
Michael and Raymond stare after their daughter before the taller of the two lifts the pancake to his mouth to take another bite.
“She was pretty tense, right?” he asks, carrying the rest of the pancakes towards the dining room. “What’s going on?”
Michael follows after him laden down with maple syrup, plates and cutlery.
“I think our daughter has a crush on Quinn Fabray,” he says, a frown creasing his brow.
Outside, Rachel tosses her bag in the back seat of Quinn’s car and climbs clumsily into the front, hitting the side of her head.
“Ow!” she exclaims, pressing a hand to it as she reaches to close the door.
“Are you alright?” Quinn asks, peering at her with concern. “Let me take a look.” She lifts her hand to pry Rachel’s away and checks for any cuts. “You’re not bleeding but you’ll probably have a little lump.” The pad of Quinn’s thumb runs softly over the already bruised flesh and Rachel winces slightly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel says, noticing that Quinn’s hand lingers a little too long against her skin but not minding in the slightest.
“It’s the place on Lincoln, right?” Quinn asks, finally retracting her hand and turning her attention to their destination.
“Yeah, there’s a parking lot around the back,” Rachel says, fastening her seatbelt and checking her head in the mirror again. A faint bruise adorns the left side of her forehead.
“I could kiss it better,” Quinn says, causing Rachel to look at her incredulously.
“If you want,” Rachel says.
“Huh?” Quinn asks, her eyebrow raised. “I asked if you were feeling better. Last night you said you didn’t feel up to going to the movies with Finn. Are you feeling better now?”
Realising that she’d misheard the other girl, Rachel blushes slightly and grimaces
“I felt fine,” she says. “It was my turn to choose a movie.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Quinn asks, keeping her eyes on the road as she reaches an intersection.
“He gets bored by the movies I pick. I get the pleasure of watching Zombie Apocalypse 4 or something starring Adam Sandler uninterrupted but whenever I pick a film, he wants to make out all the time because he’s bored,” Rachel says with a shrug. “I can’t remember the last time I actually watched a film that I want to see.”
“Well, you could today,” Quinn says. “I’ll try not to get bored.”
I probably wouldn’t mind if you did.
The thought crosses Rachel’s mind causing her to blush a little deeper but Quinn is too engrossed in driving to notice. The rest of their journey passes in silence and at the dance studio, Rachel leads Quinn down a corridor to a small room near the end. As they pass by, Quinn peers in through the windows of most of the doors seeing kids and adults of various ages engaged in everything from ballet to hip hop to jazz.
“So you used to dance?” Rachel asks, placing her bag on the floor near the mirrors at the far end of the room.
“Yeah, before I moved to Lima,” Quinn says, looking for a spot to sit down. “Then I started cheerleading and had a lot less time.” Her attention is diverted however when Rachel slides down the sweatpants she’s wearing to reveal legs encased in skin-tight black lycra.
“Do you think you’ll take it up again now that you’ve stopped cheerleading?” Rachel asks, oblivious to the meltdown she’s causing in Quinn’s brain.
“Maybe,” Quinn says absentmindedly, shaking her head slightly and slouching down against the mirrors. She pulls out a book she’s supposed to be reading for an English assignment out of her bag but continues watching as Rachel ties her ballet shoes before pulling off her sweatshirt.
The brunette moves through a series of quick stretches forcing Quinn to stare at her book determinedly though she isn’t reading a word of what’s on the page. She reminds herself that she’s seen Rachel naked before realising that was possibly the most stupid thought she could have had at this moment.
Aware that Quinn’s eyes are following her, Rachel goes to set up her music and takes her position in the middle of the room, smiling when she meets Quinn’s eye and biting back a laugh when the other girl blushes and stares down at her book.
Quinn lasts half an hour before having to excuse herself from the room under the guise of going to the vending machine she’d spotted on the way in. She buys a bottle of water and wanders around the foyer for a couple of minutes, trying to collect her thoughts and berating herself for one of her worst ideas ever.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks when Quinn makes it back to the room. Quinn holds up her bottle of water and smiles.
“Just a little thirsty,” she says.
“Are you ready?” Rachel asks, leaving the blonde a little stumped.
“Ready for…?” Quinn replies, getting ready to sit down again.
“I believe you said you were going to show me some of your moves,” Rachel says with a smirk. Quinn pauses and glances over at Rachel.
“Oh,” Quinn says. “It’s okay. You’re doing really well on your own.”
“Quinn, come dance with me,” Rachel says, holding out her hands and pouting a little.
Unable to resist the look on Rachel’s face, Quinn drops her bottle of water to the ground and makes her way to the centre of the room.
“I don’t have the right shoes for ballet,” Quinn attempts to protest but Rachel shakes her head.
“Show me anything,” she says. Quinn hesitates before positioning her feet and performing a couple of steps. “You have good lines,” Rachel observes. “I can imagine you as a ballerina. Did you take part in any other classes?”
“Ballroom,” Quinn says, looking away bashfully. “It was my mom’s idea… she was a dancer when she was young. If she hadn’t met my dad, she probably would have ended up competing professionally. I took classes for a year or so.”
“Teach me,” Rachel says, skipping away from Quinn to change the music.
“Oh no,” Quinn objects, trying to back away from the brunette. “It’s been years and I don’t think I can remember the steps.”
“Try,” Rachel says with a grin, standing in the centre of the room. “Please, Quinn.”
“You can’t just pout at me and expect to get your way,” Quinn says, folding her arms across her chest. Rachel pouts back at her, unflinching in the face of Quinn’s statement. “And this music isn’t the right beat for a cha cha.” Quinn sighs wearily as she goes to change the music.
“Shouldn’t you teach me the steps before we try the music?” Rachel asks. Quinn pauses before hitting the Play button and walks back to Rachel, showing her how to hold her arms.
“So, step back, side, side, cha cha cha, forward, back, cha cha cha,” Quinn counts out as Rachel moves around the room. “Keep your arm locked.”
“It would be easier if I was dancing with you,” Rachel huffs, dropping her arms. “Can you lead?”
“I can try,” Quinn says, reluctantly stepping in front of Rachel. She positions their arms and starts to lead Rachel around the room. “Lock your frame,” she instructs, gripping Rachel’s hand a little tighter. “Shoulders back.”
“Bossy,” Rachel smirks. “Should we try this with music? We only have five minutes left. The woman who books this room after me is always early.”
“She can wait then,” Quinn says, going to start the song. “Step back on the left foot first…OW!”
“Oops,” Rachel cringes, retracting her right foot.
Quinn shakes her head then counts them in. Surprisingly they make it once around the room before Rachel missteps and trips over Quinn’s right foot. The blonde is quick to pull Rachel upright, locking the shorter girl’s arm again.
“Spaghetti arms,” she murmurs, spinning Rachel before continuing their circle around the room. The brunette giggles, letting her arm drop slightly. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Maybe,” Rachel says. “You’re really good at this.”
“Thank you.”
The music stops and both girls hesitate before letting go of one another. Rachel grabs Quinn’s arm before the taller girl can move away and pulls her close again. Quinn’s gaze wavers, not quite meeting Rachel’s as the brunette intertwines their fingers.
“We should…” Quinn whispers.
“Yes,” Rachel agrees before leaning in closer to Quinn.
Millimetres from each other, there’s a sharp knock on the door and the indignant face of an older woman appears at the window. Rachel sighs and moves away, grumbling under her breath. Quinn takes a shaky breath, running her hand through her hair before gathering up her things.
Both girls remain silent until they’re sitting outside Rachel’s house. Quinn kills the engine and shoots Rachel a nervous look.
“Thanks for letting me watch,” Quinn says. “I mean, come.”
Rachel grins, causing the blonde to blush furiously.
“I mean, it was nice to be back in a dance studio,” Quinn finishes lamely, wishing that the world would choose this moment to open up and swallow her.
“Thanks for driving me,” Rachel says. “And for the dance lesson.” She reaches into the back seat for her bag and gives Quinn a curious look. “What time is the movie?”
“Two,” Quinn replies, tired of trying to stop her stomach from doing cartwheels. She realises that she’s destined to be awkward around Rachel forever.
“See you in a couple of hours then,” Rachel says, leaning over to peck Quinn’s cheek.
Too surprised to contemplate doing anything else, Quinn drives away from the Berry household, grinning madly to herself.
xxxxx
The movie passes without incident. There are no significant moments where Quinn wants to go hide in a dark corner because she’s said or done something embarrassing. Quinn pays for the tickets, Rachel gets the popcorn. Their seats are near the back of the half-full theatre and during the previews, they avoid talking about anything related to their almost-kiss at the dance studio and Rachel’s subsequent cheek-kiss. During the movie, Rachel whispers along with all the words to all of the songs which Quinn finds ridiculously endearing.
The Berry’s house is in darkness when Quinn drops Rachel off; only one car is sitting in the driveway.
“My dads are having dinner with a few friends,” Rachel says.
“I think my mom is out tonight too,” Quinn replies.
“Do you have anything planned for this evening?” Quinn shakes her head. “Maybe you should come in for a while. We could order food or watch a movie or just… talk. Or something.”
Or something.
“Okay,” Quinn nods. “That all sounds… good.”
“Good,” Rachel says before climbing out of the car, leaving Quinn to follow after her. Self-consciously, Quinn walks into the Berry household as Rachel hangs up her coat and gestures for Quinn to take off hers. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Quinn says, patting her stomach. “I think I ate most of the popcorn.”
“… and we just watched a movie. I don’t think I could sit through another one right now. That leaves us with…” Rachel tails off, feeling her cheeks start to colour. “How about we talk?”
“I’m fine with talking,” Quinn says, just happy to be doing anything that prolongs leaving the Berry household.
After a brief discussion about how the perfect hot chocolate should be made (Quinn insisting that the perfect amount of mini-marshmallows is five, Rachel asserting that vegan whipped cream won’t ruin the overall taste), the pair settles in the lounge. Silence falls over them as each girl tries to figure out a starting place for their ‘talk’.
“I mean, we should talk,” Rachel says after eventually draining the contents of her favourite ‘I Heart NY’ mug. “There are things we need to discuss and figure out and… I can’t really focus on any of that because all I can think about is what happened when we were about to leave the dance studio.”
Quinn nods a couple of times before setting her mug on the coffee table in front of them and turning to face Rachel. She has to cover her mouth to stop that laugh that bubbles up almost immediately.
“What?” Rachel asks, eyeing the blonde curiously, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?”
“Like you don’t know,” Quinn replies, reaching over to wipe the splodge of whipped cream from Rachel’s nose. Hesitantly, she brings her finger to her lips and licks it clean. “That actually isn’t bad.”
“Told you,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes. “So, the almost-kiss.”
“The almost-kiss,” Quinn repeats, though thoroughly distracted by the thought of Rachel and whipped cream and kissing and… Quinn shifts uncomfortably on the couch and tries to focus elsewhere.
Maybe try listening to the girl instead of fantasising about her…
“You’re not listening,” Rachel says exasperatedly.
“You’re really distracting,” Quinn blushes. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to go upstairs and continue what we started earlier this week but since you didn’t hear any of it, I guess we’ll just have to find something else to talk about,” Rachel says, watching as Quinn’s blush deepens and her jaw works furiously as she tries to find a way to backtrack.
“Did I mention how sorry I am?” Quinn asks. “Really, truly, very sorry.”
“I’m not sure I believe you, Quinn,” Rachel sighs, her bottom lip protruding ever so slightly. Quinn imagines tugging on that bottom lip before shaking her head slightly. “Show me.”
“Show you?” Quinn says blankly.
“Show me,” Rachel repeats, kicking off her shoes and turning her body fully to face Quinn. She swings her legs up onto the couch and slides backwards until she’s leaning against the armrest. Quinn swallows hard before regaining use of her basic motor skills.
“You’re sure about the lack of talking?” Quinn asks, bending down to unlace her sneakers when Rachel rolls her eyes, positive that Rachel’s dads wouldn’t be happy about her shoes leaving marks on their upholstery.
Or that I’m making out with their daughter.
“What are you smirking at?” Rachel asks, interrupting Quinn’s thoughts.
“I’m worrying about keeping my shoes off the couch when I really should be more concerned about what your dads would do if they caught us…” Quinn trails off, sliding off her Converse and shifting her body to kneel on the couch. The way Rachel is gazing up at her is enough to send her pulse racing.
Quinn feels eager hands tugging at the front of her cardigan and finds herself flat out against Rachel. Any trace of nervousness that the brunette had displayed earlier in the week is gone and replaced by an assuredness and a confidence that Quinn finds ridiculously hot. Their kiss is light, teasing at first, as they manoeuvre themselves into a comfortable position, hips pressing together as arms and legs find purchase in the soft cushions.
“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” Rachel murmurs between kisses. Quinn shakes her head slightly before nipping at Rachel’s bottom lip eliciting a soft whimper from the brunette.
“No,” Quinn answers, eyes closing when insistent hands start pulling at the buttons of her cardigan and an overwhelming desire to have Rachel wearing as little clothing as possible rushes over her.
This isn’t part of the plan…
Quinn feels the cardigan being pulled down over her arms before Rachel’s hands immediately set about removing the next layer, a t-shirt that had belonged to her sister once upon a time until it had found its way into Quinn’s wardrobe and never quite made it back across the hallway. The t-shirt is wrenched up and over her head, tossed to the side as carelessly as the cardigan had been.
Rachel unabashedly stares down between their bodies, drinking in the sight of Quinn’s abdomen before letting her nails rake over the pale flesh, leaving faint red marks behind. Quinn all but growls as the feeling of being marked by Rachel sends sensations running through her body.
Screw the plan.
“Maybe we should…” Quinn gestures upwards with her head, implying that they should go upstairs because as much as she loves this couch and the delicious friction it’s creating between them, she has this horrible feeling that they’re going to get caught.
Rachel ignores her request however and brings Quinn’s lips crashing back to hers, causing the blonde to cease all coherent thought. Completely aware of the power that she holds over Quinn, Rachel unclasps the blonde’s bra; the taller girl pulls away, breathless and surprised.
“Rach…” she mutters. “What if…”
“They won’t,” Rachel says soothingly, cupping Quinn’s cheek. “I want to make up for running out on you.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Quinn says with a smile. “Just because I…” Quinn blushes. “It doesn’t mean you have to…” Quinn gestures helplessly. “Sometime soon, I’m going to finish a sentence around you.”
“I highly doubt that,” Rachel says, fastening the clasp of Quinn’s bra again and pressing her lips tentatively against the blonde’s. Rachel’s hands follow the curve of Quinn’s spine, coming to rest over the top of her jeans. “I think it’s cute.”
“I’m cute?” Quinn asks, her eyebrow arching.
“I’m going to go as far as very cute,” Rachel murmurs, bringing her lips to Quinn’s once more.
Words slip both girls minds as the kiss deepens quickly. So much so that somewhere between Rachel’s hands grasping at Quinn a little firmer, Quinn’s hips grinding down against Rachel a little harder and both girls’ moans becoming a little bit louder, they fail to hear the sound of a car slowing to a stop outside the house or the quick footsteps on the path or the key turning in the lock.
Raymond Berry takes five steps inside his house before he shouts a hello to his daughter and her friend, whose car is sitting at the bottom of the driveway. Three more steps take him to the doorway of the lounge where he leaps back in surprise, covering his eyes at the sight of his daughter shoving clothes at her friend. Her half-naked friend. Her half-naked friend who is a girl. A girl who is not his daughter’s boyfriend.
“Oh god,” he mutters, leaning against the wall.
“Papa?”
“I didn’t see anything,” he calls back, moving quickly past the doorway to the kitchen to get… something. The reason he’d returned to the house. The house where he lives with his daughter. He scans the countertop before spotting it: his wallet. He slides it into his pocket and turns, jumping when he finds Rachel waiting in the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel says nervously, waiting to see what kind of response her papa has for her. He sighs heavily, not entirely sure where to start. He can’t lecture her for being too young; she’s nearly eighteen after all. But this is going to require some sort of discipline and discussion about relationships and half-nakedness in communal rooms.
“We’ll discuss it later,” he says. “When your dad and I get home.”
“Okay,” Rachel replies in the smallest voice imaginable.
“I’m not mad,” he whispers, embracing his daughter in a side-hug. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and hurries down the hall, pausing in the doorway of the lounge. A now-clothed Quinn is sitting hunched on the sofa, head in her hands. “Nice to meet you, Ms Fabray.”
“You too, Mr Berry,” she says, unable to meet his eye as her cheeks blaze crimson. “Sir.”
He chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he leaves the house. His husband must be a little bit psychic after all.
“So, your parents are going to hate me,” Quinn says when Rachel joins her on the couch again.
“They won’t,” Rachel reassures her, sliding her hand into Quinn’s and watching as the blonde’s fingers tighten between hers. “They’re going to be upset with me because of… because of what I’m doing to Finn.”
Quinn falls silent, leaning back against the cushions as an uncomfortable feeling of guilt settles over her. She can’t come up with anything to say and her cheeks are still burning as the shocked look on Mr Berry’s face replays over and over in her brain.
“I think I should go,” she says at last.
“Quinn…” Rachel begins, tightening her grip on the blonde.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Quinn says resignedly. “I’m just too embarrassed to be in this house right now.”
Rachel nods and drops Quinn’s hand, watching helplessly as the other girl grabs her sneakers and pulls them back on. She walks Quinn to the door and tries to figure out what to say to make this situation better.
“I’ll call,” Quinn promises, pressing a kiss to Rachel’s cheek as she leaves the house. Rachel closes the door after Quinn pulls away and heads back to the lounge to clear away the empty mugs. As she stands at the sink, scrubbing absentmindedly, she tries to figure out what she’s going to say to her dads.
And what she’s going to say to Finn.
Part 3