The ways of self-expression
Title:The ways of self-expression
Author: girlnamedclark
Rating: PG
Length: 1240 words
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: Quinn struggles with showing her feelings. Future fic.
A/N: my first attempt at Faberry after reading a lot of them to inspire me. English is not my first language so I apologize for any eventual mistake ;)
A/N2: I originally had titled it as “Express yourself” but then figured that some of you might think it was somehow related to the Madonna song and it really isn’t. Let me know if you preferred that title.
Quinn Fabray was often raised to the category of perfect. People thought that once you had the looks, the last name and social status, the intelligence, the confidence, the snarky humour and the job, you had it all. People were jealous of her because the innate elegance and effortless distinctiveness she had and they often wondered how it was to be Quinn Fabray. Sometimes - when stuck at a crappy job, with your favourite shirt stained with mustard, a few extra pounds due to the holidays and on a bad hair day - people wondered how it would be like to be the one that was envied by everyone and envied no one. How it would be like to be perfect and having nothing to change about yourself.
Well, Quinn Fabray wouldn’t know. Because - despite of what everyone saw - she didn’t see herself as perfect. She actually thought that she lacked one of the most important abilities in a person and she envied everyone that had it.
Sure she was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And she was confident, oh yes. And her job - she was only 27 years old and already the deputy manager in one of the finest hotels in New York City - she couldn’t complain, at all. And, let’s not forget, she had an amazing relationship with the Broadway star Rachel Berry. But there was something missing, something that Quinn wished so bad she had.
Quinn had never been able to express her feelings to people. Never. And when she saw the people all around her expressing their feelings away - singing out their emotions, interpretive dancing their feelings, poetry reading their deepest thoughts - so effortlessly and naturally, she wondered if there was something sincerely wrong with her that made her not to being able to do so. For the first time in her life, Quinn felt like an handicap; she didn’t feel normal.
Quinn had always known she was more controlled than the rest of people. Her parents had taught her that by only being themselves. It was an unspoken Fabray characteristic. But she had never really cared about that, even though it often led people to mistaken judgements of her lack of ability to express her feelings with coldness, indifference and - let’s face it - bitchyness. And Quinn - being Quinn Fabray - didn’t give a damn about what they thought.
But now Quinn had found out someone whom she really wanted to open herself to. Since Quinn and Rachel started their relationship that the blonde really wishes she could express herself better. It was so frustrating for her to love somebody that much and not be able to exactly tell her so. She wished she could just go to a mountain top a scream to the world of what she felt for Rachel, but she can’t bring herself to doing it. Sometimes, when they are alone, enjoying a relaxing dinner with each other, Quinn stares at Rachel, her lips about to part apart so that she can tell Rachel exactly how much she means to her. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out. Rachel looks at Quinn and then presses her lips together in a mysterious smile that Quinn doesn’t quite know what means. Once, Quinn thought about writing a letter to Rachel. She thought that maybe if she had wrote it down in paper she could do express herself better, she could organise her ideas and put down an elaborate essay on her love for Rachel. It was huge failure. When Rachel arrived home and tried to peek over Quinn’s shoulder to the unwritten piece of paper to see what her girlfriend was up to, she could only see some drawings at the sides of the sheet. When Rachel is about to leave the city for a few days because of her work, Quinn says goodbye to her and she thinks about how much she’s going to miss the brunette, but she’s never is able to say it. When Rachel calls from the other side of the ocean, Quinn feels like crying for how much she longs for her to be back at home, but instead she advices Rachel to not adventure on the unknown streets of London because she’s got the most terrible sense of orientation and she will get lost, even though she’s on the corner of her hotel street.
So Quinn hoped that the little gestures gave her in. She hoped that whispering “I love you” when they were alone was enough. She hoped that bringing her breakfast to bed, or the lingering looks, or worrying about her well-being left Rachel know how much she loved her. She hoped that what she could do was enough.
Walking inside her apartment, after a dinner night with some college friends that were in city for the week, Quinn could practically feel the warmness and the feeling of “home” that exhumed from the fact that Rachel was there, inside her apartment, on her bed.
Rachel had asked Quinn if she could skip dinner with her friends that night, because she had been exhausted from her work and she was really needing an early night. Quinn was shocked that Rachel even had to ask, and kissed her on the nose affectionately, as she promised she wouldn’t come home late.
Stumbling through her apartment, without bothering to turn the lights on, Quinn found her way to the bedroom and she gently pushed the door open, only to reveal the shade of a sleeping tiny brunette, curled bellow the white sheets, peacefully.
Quinn almost didn’t breathe as she came inside the room, so that she wouldn’t wake up the sleeping beauty. When she closed the door behind her, they fell into complete darkness. Quinn blindly tugged her dress over her head, and, down to her underwear, she was drawn towards the bed by the simple warmness of Rachel’s body.
Quinn slowly sunk on the bed. Automatically, her body puzzled with Rachel’s; her knees bent behind the brunette’s, her nose drowned in the scent of Rachel’s hair. She involved Rachel’s waist with her arms, softly kissing the sleepyhead’s shoulder.
Rachel mumbled, still half-asleep and - if Quinn could see her face - she would see that her lips were tracing a lazy smile. Rachel’s hands involved Quinn’s, intertwining their fingers and her thumbs brushing patterns on the blonde’s palm.
And then Quinn knew that Rachel knew exactly how Quinn felt for her. She didn’t need to write her poems, or dedicate songs in the radio stations, or talk about it to everyone. Rachel knew how Quinn loved her and she had never doubted it. It was the little things that had her arrive to that conclusion. Quinn had told her how much she loved her - in her own way.
Quinn found out that the reason why she felt like she couldn’t express her feelings to Rachel was because she had been trying to do it the wrong way for her - using spoken or written words. There was nothing wrong about not being able to use the words to express herself, as long as her feelings were understood.
And Quinn, lying there, with her girl on her arms, knew that - even though the entire world might misunderstand her - Rachel didn’t, and that was enough for her.
Author: girlnamedclark
Rating: PG
Length: 1240 words
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: Quinn struggles with showing her feelings. Future fic.
A/N: my first attempt at Faberry after reading a lot of them to inspire me. English is not my first language so I apologize for any eventual mistake ;)
A/N2: I originally had titled it as “Express yourself” but then figured that some of you might think it was somehow related to the Madonna song and it really isn’t. Let me know if you preferred that title.
Quinn Fabray was often raised to the category of perfect. People thought that once you had the looks, the last name and social status, the intelligence, the confidence, the snarky humour and the job, you had it all. People were jealous of her because the innate elegance and effortless distinctiveness she had and they often wondered how it was to be Quinn Fabray. Sometimes - when stuck at a crappy job, with your favourite shirt stained with mustard, a few extra pounds due to the holidays and on a bad hair day - people wondered how it would be like to be the one that was envied by everyone and envied no one. How it would be like to be perfect and having nothing to change about yourself.
Well, Quinn Fabray wouldn’t know. Because - despite of what everyone saw - she didn’t see herself as perfect. She actually thought that she lacked one of the most important abilities in a person and she envied everyone that had it.
Sure she was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And she was confident, oh yes. And her job - she was only 27 years old and already the deputy manager in one of the finest hotels in New York City - she couldn’t complain, at all. And, let’s not forget, she had an amazing relationship with the Broadway star Rachel Berry. But there was something missing, something that Quinn wished so bad she had.
Quinn had never been able to express her feelings to people. Never. And when she saw the people all around her expressing their feelings away - singing out their emotions, interpretive dancing their feelings, poetry reading their deepest thoughts - so effortlessly and naturally, she wondered if there was something sincerely wrong with her that made her not to being able to do so. For the first time in her life, Quinn felt like an handicap; she didn’t feel normal.
Quinn had always known she was more controlled than the rest of people. Her parents had taught her that by only being themselves. It was an unspoken Fabray characteristic. But she had never really cared about that, even though it often led people to mistaken judgements of her lack of ability to express her feelings with coldness, indifference and - let’s face it - bitchyness. And Quinn - being Quinn Fabray - didn’t give a damn about what they thought.
But now Quinn had found out someone whom she really wanted to open herself to. Since Quinn and Rachel started their relationship that the blonde really wishes she could express herself better. It was so frustrating for her to love somebody that much and not be able to exactly tell her so. She wished she could just go to a mountain top a scream to the world of what she felt for Rachel, but she can’t bring herself to doing it. Sometimes, when they are alone, enjoying a relaxing dinner with each other, Quinn stares at Rachel, her lips about to part apart so that she can tell Rachel exactly how much she means to her. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out. Rachel looks at Quinn and then presses her lips together in a mysterious smile that Quinn doesn’t quite know what means. Once, Quinn thought about writing a letter to Rachel. She thought that maybe if she had wrote it down in paper she could do express herself better, she could organise her ideas and put down an elaborate essay on her love for Rachel. It was huge failure. When Rachel arrived home and tried to peek over Quinn’s shoulder to the unwritten piece of paper to see what her girlfriend was up to, she could only see some drawings at the sides of the sheet. When Rachel is about to leave the city for a few days because of her work, Quinn says goodbye to her and she thinks about how much she’s going to miss the brunette, but she’s never is able to say it. When Rachel calls from the other side of the ocean, Quinn feels like crying for how much she longs for her to be back at home, but instead she advices Rachel to not adventure on the unknown streets of London because she’s got the most terrible sense of orientation and she will get lost, even though she’s on the corner of her hotel street.
So Quinn hoped that the little gestures gave her in. She hoped that whispering “I love you” when they were alone was enough. She hoped that bringing her breakfast to bed, or the lingering looks, or worrying about her well-being left Rachel know how much she loved her. She hoped that what she could do was enough.
Walking inside her apartment, after a dinner night with some college friends that were in city for the week, Quinn could practically feel the warmness and the feeling of “home” that exhumed from the fact that Rachel was there, inside her apartment, on her bed.
Rachel had asked Quinn if she could skip dinner with her friends that night, because she had been exhausted from her work and she was really needing an early night. Quinn was shocked that Rachel even had to ask, and kissed her on the nose affectionately, as she promised she wouldn’t come home late.
Stumbling through her apartment, without bothering to turn the lights on, Quinn found her way to the bedroom and she gently pushed the door open, only to reveal the shade of a sleeping tiny brunette, curled bellow the white sheets, peacefully.
Quinn almost didn’t breathe as she came inside the room, so that she wouldn’t wake up the sleeping beauty. When she closed the door behind her, they fell into complete darkness. Quinn blindly tugged her dress over her head, and, down to her underwear, she was drawn towards the bed by the simple warmness of Rachel’s body.
Quinn slowly sunk on the bed. Automatically, her body puzzled with Rachel’s; her knees bent behind the brunette’s, her nose drowned in the scent of Rachel’s hair. She involved Rachel’s waist with her arms, softly kissing the sleepyhead’s shoulder.
Rachel mumbled, still half-asleep and - if Quinn could see her face - she would see that her lips were tracing a lazy smile. Rachel’s hands involved Quinn’s, intertwining their fingers and her thumbs brushing patterns on the blonde’s palm.
And then Quinn knew that Rachel knew exactly how Quinn felt for her. She didn’t need to write her poems, or dedicate songs in the radio stations, or talk about it to everyone. Rachel knew how Quinn loved her and she had never doubted it. It was the little things that had her arrive to that conclusion. Quinn had told her how much she loved her - in her own way.
Quinn found out that the reason why she felt like she couldn’t express her feelings to Rachel was because she had been trying to do it the wrong way for her - using spoken or written words. There was nothing wrong about not being able to use the words to express herself, as long as her feelings were understood.
And Quinn, lying there, with her girl on her arms, knew that - even though the entire world might misunderstand her - Rachel didn’t, and that was enough for her.