Fic: I Would Catch a Grenade for You
Title: I Would Catch a Grenade for You
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3k
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: “Black Ops came out today,” he whispered with a shrug, like that explained anything. Quinn was kind of stuck staring at her girlfriend, Xbox controller in her hands.
Notes: This was for Rachberry's birthday which was A MONTH AGO, but I kept forgetting to post it like the terrible friend that I am. I'M SO SORRY, GIRL. Minimal FPS knowledge is needed to understand what's going on in this fic.
Quinn was getting a little concerned. Well, no. She was getting really concerned.
“She’s fine,” Santana grumbled, downing the last of her Red Bull and throwing the empty into a nearby trashcan. The tapping sound of typing filled the room as Santana put her hands back on her computer, Brittany hunched over her own laptop next to her.
“She hasn’t called me in hours,” Quinn replied, tapping her fingers against the desk. Her eyes focused in and out on her computer screen, her avatar seated at the local tavern, the letters AFK next to her name.
“She’s fine,” Santana repeated, opening another can of Red Bull. “Britt, tell Quinn that Rachel’s fine.”
Brittany lifted her head up from the computer, looked between Santana and Quinn and dutifully said, “Rachel’s fine,” before turning back to her game.
Santana nodded. “See, there you go.”
“It’s not like her,” Quinn insisted. “It’s like me, but it’s not like her.”
Santana rolled her eyes. “You know what co-dependant means, right?”
Quinn gave her friend a pointed glare, shifting her gaze to the way Santana had her foot curled around Brittany’s ankle. “I’m going to call her again.”
“We have to raid,” Santana said, twisting around to glare back at her friend. “We don’t have time for The Adventures of Quinn Fabray: Pussy Whipped.”
Pouting, Brittany turned to look at her. “Quinn, I really want my chest piece tonight.”
“Puck’s not even here yet, anyway,” Quinn argued, fiddling with her phone as she swiveled a little in her chair.
Santana turned around again and studied Quinn for a moment, a curious expression on her face. “You’re right.”
“Yeah, I know I’m right, you moron. I know Rachel and this isn’t like her.”
“No. Where the fuck is Puck?”
Brittany looked up again, and Quinn glanced around and for the first time that evening the three of them realized that the fourth in their foursome was strangely nowhere to be found. “He was supposed to be here hours ago,” Quinn commented.
Santana flipped out her phone, a disgusted expression on her face, and hit a few buttons before putting it against her ear. Quinn heard the distant sound of Puck answering with a gruff, “Hello?”
“Where the hell are you? What do you mean nowhere? Nowhere is not a place.”
Santana’s head jerked back and she brought the phone away from her ear. “He hung up on me,” she said, her voice full of awe.
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Where is he?”
Staring suspiciously at her phone, Santana shook her head a little. “He wouldn’t say.”
“We can still raid,” Brittany chimed in.
“Asshole,” Santana continued, still staring at her phone.
“We can still raid,” Brittany repeated.
“I need to find Rachel,” Quinn argued, getting up and starting to pack her stuff.
Santana watched her with wide eyes. “You’re kidding. We had plans!”
“I just want to check and make sure she’s not like dead in a sewer somewhere okay?”
“How is it that your midget manages to ruin my night without even being here?”
Brittany, pouting a little as she began to realize that raiding was not going to be happening, turn back to her computer, moving her avatar around in petulant circles. “She’s probably with Puck.”
Quinn gave her a look as she stuffed her laptop back into her bag and began to fold her headphones up. “Yeah because that’s super comforting.”
--
“Rach?” Quinn kicked the door closed behind her and set her bag down by the door, glancing around the apartment. She opened her mouth to call her girlfriend’s name again when Puck walked out from the back of the apartment, scratching his stomach and holding two empty beer bottles in one hand. His eyes widened as he noticed her.
“Sup,” he croaked, managing a smile.
“Noah!” Quinn heard Rachel’s voice call out. “Hurry up, we’re getting dominated!”
Quinn’s eyebrows came together. “What the hell?”
“Uh, we were just,” Puck gestured behind him, his mouth opening and closing as he looked for an explanation.
“Noah!” Rachel her voice sounding characteristically impatient.
Quinn moved past Puck and stalked back into their apartment, heading toward Rachel’s office, but as she got to the door she noticed the door to her own study was slightly ajar, all the lights visibly on, and she could hear Rachel shifting around inside.
Pushing the door further open, Quinn was greeted by the sight of Rachel Berry, argyle sweater and ridiculously short skirt, perched on Quinn’s tall, black leather computer chair, a large headset on her head as she leaned towards one of Quinn’s television sets, the sounds of gunfire filling the room.
Puck shuffled up behind her, two new bottles of beer in his hands. “Black Ops came out today,” he whispered with a shrug, like that explained anything. Quinn was kind of stuck staring at her girlfriend, Xbox controller in her hands.
“Noah, honestly,” Rachel called out, not turning away from the TV and not seeming to have noticed Quinn’s arrival, “how long does it take to get to the kitchen and back here?”
“Seriously, what the hell?”
Rachel turned at Quinn’s voice, jumping a little in her seat. “Quinn!”
“Yeah,” Quinn replied, just now noticing that the controller clutched in her girlfriend’s hands was covered in gold stars. “Oh my God.”
“Quinn, have you ever played this game?”
Puck laughed as he moved into the room and set the two new beers on one of the desks in the room, sitting down in the chair next to Rachel and picking up his own, black controller.
“Why are you playing Black Ops?” Quinn said, avoiding the question.
“Oh, Noah introduced me to the game.”
Quinn glanced at Puck, her eyes narrowing a little as she did it. She liked the way his smile faded a little as he caught her look. “Yeah, why?”
Rachel pulled her headphones off and straighted up, pulling her shoulders back and pasting a look on her face that Quinn usually considered the I’m about to be supremely irritating look. “Well, Quinn, you spend a lot of time playing this video games, a lot of time that we could be spending together, and I felt that it was time I learn a few of these games myself so that we could partake in them as a couple!”
“So you picked a game that I don’t play?”
Smiling wide, Rachel nodded sharply. “Correct.”
“And you’re playing with Puck.”
Rachel glanced at the man in question. “Yes, he was introducing me to the game.”
Puck, wide-eyed next to them, put his hands up in a very I didn’t do it gesture.
“Quinn,” Rachel said before Quinn could say something scathing to Puck. “I thought maybe we could learn together.”
“Except you’re learning with Puck,” Quinn pointed out.
“Well he was giving me preliminary training,” Rachel explained. “You already have a leg up on this whole video game playing experience so I sought out someone equally qualified to help even the playing field.”
Quinn looked between Puck and her girlfriend, wide-eyed. “And you like it?”
Rachel nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course! I especially appreciate the ranking system in which the more effort and practice you put into the game translates into more experience which translates into higher accolades. It’s quite the incentive.”
“Right,” Quinn deadpanned.
Puck cleared his throat and waved the controller in his hand around a little. “So are we gonna play or what?”
“Get out,” Quinn ordered, glaring sharply at him.
“Babe,” Puck whined, drooping his shoulders.
“Quinn!” Rachel chastised.
“Get out of my apartment before I hack into your warcraft account and delete two of your level 80s for missing the raid tonight.”
Puck put his hands up, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as he slowly stood up and tiptoed around Quinn towards the door. “Everyone just calm down,” he said slowly. Quinn would have laughed if she hadn’t been so intent on getting him to leave.
With a small wave to Rachel and a hesitant smile towards Quinn, Puck left the room, the sound of the door shutting resounding through the apartment.
Rachel looked up at Quinn innocently, still clutching her controller as the main menu screen flashed on the TV in front of her.
“If we’re playing this,” Quinn said, moving around Rachel and shutting the Xbox off, “we’re playing it on the PS3.”
“But Noah made me this special controller,” Rachel pouted, holding it up towards Quinn.
Rolling her eyes, Quinn grabbed the golden monstrosity out of Rachel’s hands and set it on the shelf where she stored all her controllers. “I’ll make you a Playstation one.”
Rachel seemed to consider that, glancing between Quinn and her gold controller, before finally conceding. “Okay.”
--
Two weeks later, after Quinn finally got Rachel’s custom controller in the mail, Quinn finally sat down with her girlfriend in front of one of their many TVs and booted up her PS3, sliding in her Call of Duty: Black Ops disc.
Rachel fit her iPod into a small dock on the coffee table and scrolled through her playlists until she was satisfied, music beginning to play throughout the room. Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow at her girlfriend.
“I made a Call of Duty mix for us!” Rachel explained enthusiastically.
Resisting the urge to laugh, Quinn just smiled at her, nodding a little. “Awesome,” she said, kind of meaning it.
It was a surreal experience to be sitting next to Rachel on their couch, both holding video game controllers as the opening credits to a first person shooter rolled on the screen in front of them. They were silent as Quinn started up the game, passing through the menus to pick the game mode and set their party up.
As they waited for the match to start, Rachel tilted her head a little to the side and brought up her class creation menu, rapidly clicking through the different options and rearranging her guns like she’d been doing it forever. “It’s nice that I get to play at your level,” Rachel commented absently. “That way I don’t have to wait to get the guns I want.”
“Yeah,” Quinn drawled out softly. “Totally.”
Rachel just beamed, like this whole thing was completely normal, and straightened up in her seat as the matchmaking lobby sorted itself out and loaded the map. “Oh, everyone complains about Nuketown,” Rachel said, choosing her class as Quinn did the same, “but I like it. I actually enjoy the more close quarters maps. I tend to do much better.”
Quinn may have thought it was weird that Rachel was doing things like talking about map preferences and the correct perk choices for different game modes, but it was only minutes later when things got even weirder.
“They stole my kill!” Rachel shouted, half-standing from the couch and pointing at the television. “Kill stealer!”
“He probably didn’t mean to,” Quinn argued, squinting at the screen as her character reloaded his weapon and crouched behind a car.
“That’s not the point, Quinn,” Rachel sputtered, sitting back down and leaning forward, eyes intent on the game. “The point is that their carelessness is going to completely ruin my KDR.”
“Your KDR,” Quinn repeated, trying to decide if she should laugh or not.
“Kill death ratio,” Rachel explained, rolling her eyes, shaking her head, but never turning away from the screen.
“Yeah,” Quinn said, nodding, “I know what it is.”
“Well then you should realize what a serious thing kill stealing is!”
“Rachel, calm down.”
“I will not calm down!”
Sighing, Quinn pressed her lips together in order not to laugh and watched as her character took a headshot from a sniper across the map. “I didn’t know you were that into first person shooters.”
“Honestly,” Rachel said in that we’ve been dating for years, Quinn, you should know these things voice that she tended to use, “if I’m going to do something, I’m going to be the best at that something and these thieves are preventing me from doing so.”
The next part was pure instinct. Yeah, their characters were virtual representations of themselves, but Quinn’s programing to protect Rachel couldn’t be turned off, no matter the circumstances. So when she saw an enemy player about to throw a grenade in Rachel’s direction, she stepped in front of her girlfriend’s character, taking the frag hit, but managing to unload her clip into the enemy, taking them both down.
Rachel turned accusatory eyes on Quinn. “What did I just tell you?!”
“I just rescued you!” Quinn replied, stopping her killcam and respawning.
“No,” Rachel corrected. “You just stole my kill. Exactly the sort of thing I was just explaining to you about.”
“Rachel,” Quinn intoned, rolling her eyes.
“You stole my kill!” Rachel repeated.
“You were about to be hit by a grenade, it wouldn’t have matter.”
Rachel shook her head back and forth slowly, her jaw clenched. “I would have thrown his grenade back and killed him, getting the kill and the achievement.”
“Sure,” Quinn drawled, focusing on the game as she got a seven killstreak and summoned her attack helicopter.
“That’s it,” Rachel said, standing and throwing her controller onto the couch.
“Rachel,” Quinn laughed, “come on, baby.”
“No,” Rachel replied firmly. “I’m not going to play with you if you can’t respect the importance of my statistics.”
“Fine,” Quinn sighed, standing up. “I respect your weird obsession with KDR that is entirely juvenile.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and Quinn realized about four seconds too late that maybe insulting something she’s supposed to be respecting wasn’t the best route for her to take. The sounds of their team’s defeat resounded through the living room as Rachel turned on her heel and stormed out, her gold star covered controller left discarded on the couch.
--
Quinn was pretty much beyond used to getting into the stupidest of fights with Rachel. So even though she was dismayed that Rachel stormed out of their gaming session and was currently locking her out of the bedroom, she knew how to fix it.
“Rach, baby,” she cooed through the door, her forehead resting against the wood, “I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Rachel called back, her voice muffled.
“Yes, I am. Will you please let me in?”
“You need to learn to respect me.”
“I do respect you, Rachel,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes only because she knew Rachel couldn’t see her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The door flew open to reveal Rachel, glaring up at Quinn. “You don’t respect my pursuit to be the best at everything I do.”
“Because you’re hyper obsessive about it to the point of annoyance,” Quinn countered. Before Rachel could say anything else, Quinn continued, pressing her finger against Rachel’s lips. “It’s one of the things I both love and hate about you.”
Still glaring, Rachel pouted a little. “That’s not very nice,” she said around Quinn’s finger.
“I’m sorry I stole your kill,” Quinn said in a whisper, leaning closer. “I was just trying to protect you. It was a kneejerk reaction to seeing a grenade being thrown your way.”
“A virtual grenade,” Rachel clarified, eyes flickering down to Quinn’s lips.
“Doesn’t matter,” Quinn said, smirking a little and moving her finger away from Rachel’s mouth to wrap her arm around her girlfriend’s waist. She tugged them together. “I love you. Virtual or not.”
It was the one thing she knew would get Rachel to forgive her, her figurative tactical nuke in a way, and sure enough, Rachel’s face softened, her eyes going this shade of brown that Quinn loved.
“I love you too,” Rachel whispered back.
Quinn pressed their lips together, her free hand wrapping into Rachel’s hair as she stroked her tongue into her mouth. Moments later, she walked them further into the bedroom towards their bed, and smiled when she felt Rachel’s knowing grin against her lips.
“I want to play again later,” Rachel said between kisses, her hands working fast to divest Quinn of any clothing.
Quinn palmed Rachel’s boob and bit down lightly on her bottom lip. “Whatever you say.”
“I won’t be so forgiving if you steal my kills again.” Rachel managed to keep talking despite the desperate way Quinn began to tug at her clothing, keeping their lips pressed together as often as possible.
“Sure, fine,” Quinn muttered, distracted by Rachel’s bra falling away from her chest. Her stomach tightened, and twisted and she really could care less about Call of Duty right now.
Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck, rubbing her body up against Quinn’s and putting her lips right next to Quinn’s ear. “If you do it again, we won’t have sex for two weeks.”
Eyes wide, Quinn suddenly became a lot more attentive to what Rachel was saying and nodded her head up and down rapidly. “Got it.”
Smiling, Rachel pulled back and looked up at Quinn with hooded. “Good, now take your pants off.”
Quinn laughed as she pushed Rachel back onto the mattress and did exactly as she was told.
--
A few days later, on their living room couch, in the same position they were previously, Quinn saw a RC-XD car head straight for Rachel’s character. Her thumb jerked to step in front of it, but she stopped herself, remembering Rachel’s words in the bedroom days before.
Smiling a little and shaking her head, she pulls her character back and laughs at Rachel’s indignant shriek as the little car explodes and sends her character flying backwards to their death.
“Those cars are so overpowered! A real player with any kind of skill would never stoop so low as to use one.”
Quinn watched her girlfriend glare at the television and lean forward, clearly intent about enacting vengeance on the player that dared use that particular killstreak in the game. Having learned from her last gaming experience with Rachel, Quinn just nodded in agreement. “You’re totally right.”
Rachel’s little of course I am made Quinn smile and she watched with amused admiration as Rachel racked up kill after kill, mumbling about overpowered killstreaks and noobtubes under her breath.
Her life was little weirder these days, sure, but Quinn wouldn't have changed it for anything. Their game ended, Rachel's name on the top of the list for kills and her girlfriend did a small, adorable happy dance in front of their couch, kissing Quinn firmly on the lips at the end of it.
Yeah, Quinn wouldn't have changed a thing.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3k
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: “Black Ops came out today,” he whispered with a shrug, like that explained anything. Quinn was kind of stuck staring at her girlfriend, Xbox controller in her hands.
Notes: This was for Rachberry's birthday which was A MONTH AGO, but I kept forgetting to post it like the terrible friend that I am. I'M SO SORRY, GIRL. Minimal FPS knowledge is needed to understand what's going on in this fic.
Quinn was getting a little concerned. Well, no. She was getting really concerned.
“She’s fine,” Santana grumbled, downing the last of her Red Bull and throwing the empty into a nearby trashcan. The tapping sound of typing filled the room as Santana put her hands back on her computer, Brittany hunched over her own laptop next to her.
“She hasn’t called me in hours,” Quinn replied, tapping her fingers against the desk. Her eyes focused in and out on her computer screen, her avatar seated at the local tavern, the letters AFK next to her name.
“She’s fine,” Santana repeated, opening another can of Red Bull. “Britt, tell Quinn that Rachel’s fine.”
Brittany lifted her head up from the computer, looked between Santana and Quinn and dutifully said, “Rachel’s fine,” before turning back to her game.
Santana nodded. “See, there you go.”
“It’s not like her,” Quinn insisted. “It’s like me, but it’s not like her.”
Santana rolled her eyes. “You know what co-dependant means, right?”
Quinn gave her friend a pointed glare, shifting her gaze to the way Santana had her foot curled around Brittany’s ankle. “I’m going to call her again.”
“We have to raid,” Santana said, twisting around to glare back at her friend. “We don’t have time for The Adventures of Quinn Fabray: Pussy Whipped.”
Pouting, Brittany turned to look at her. “Quinn, I really want my chest piece tonight.”
“Puck’s not even here yet, anyway,” Quinn argued, fiddling with her phone as she swiveled a little in her chair.
Santana turned around again and studied Quinn for a moment, a curious expression on her face. “You’re right.”
“Yeah, I know I’m right, you moron. I know Rachel and this isn’t like her.”
“No. Where the fuck is Puck?”
Brittany looked up again, and Quinn glanced around and for the first time that evening the three of them realized that the fourth in their foursome was strangely nowhere to be found. “He was supposed to be here hours ago,” Quinn commented.
Santana flipped out her phone, a disgusted expression on her face, and hit a few buttons before putting it against her ear. Quinn heard the distant sound of Puck answering with a gruff, “Hello?”
“Where the hell are you? What do you mean nowhere? Nowhere is not a place.”
Santana’s head jerked back and she brought the phone away from her ear. “He hung up on me,” she said, her voice full of awe.
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Where is he?”
Staring suspiciously at her phone, Santana shook her head a little. “He wouldn’t say.”
“We can still raid,” Brittany chimed in.
“Asshole,” Santana continued, still staring at her phone.
“We can still raid,” Brittany repeated.
“I need to find Rachel,” Quinn argued, getting up and starting to pack her stuff.
Santana watched her with wide eyes. “You’re kidding. We had plans!”
“I just want to check and make sure she’s not like dead in a sewer somewhere okay?”
“How is it that your midget manages to ruin my night without even being here?”
Brittany, pouting a little as she began to realize that raiding was not going to be happening, turn back to her computer, moving her avatar around in petulant circles. “She’s probably with Puck.”
Quinn gave her a look as she stuffed her laptop back into her bag and began to fold her headphones up. “Yeah because that’s super comforting.”
--
“Rach?” Quinn kicked the door closed behind her and set her bag down by the door, glancing around the apartment. She opened her mouth to call her girlfriend’s name again when Puck walked out from the back of the apartment, scratching his stomach and holding two empty beer bottles in one hand. His eyes widened as he noticed her.
“Sup,” he croaked, managing a smile.
“Noah!” Quinn heard Rachel’s voice call out. “Hurry up, we’re getting dominated!”
Quinn’s eyebrows came together. “What the hell?”
“Uh, we were just,” Puck gestured behind him, his mouth opening and closing as he looked for an explanation.
“Noah!” Rachel her voice sounding characteristically impatient.
Quinn moved past Puck and stalked back into their apartment, heading toward Rachel’s office, but as she got to the door she noticed the door to her own study was slightly ajar, all the lights visibly on, and she could hear Rachel shifting around inside.
Pushing the door further open, Quinn was greeted by the sight of Rachel Berry, argyle sweater and ridiculously short skirt, perched on Quinn’s tall, black leather computer chair, a large headset on her head as she leaned towards one of Quinn’s television sets, the sounds of gunfire filling the room.
Puck shuffled up behind her, two new bottles of beer in his hands. “Black Ops came out today,” he whispered with a shrug, like that explained anything. Quinn was kind of stuck staring at her girlfriend, Xbox controller in her hands.
“Noah, honestly,” Rachel called out, not turning away from the TV and not seeming to have noticed Quinn’s arrival, “how long does it take to get to the kitchen and back here?”
“Seriously, what the hell?”
Rachel turned at Quinn’s voice, jumping a little in her seat. “Quinn!”
“Yeah,” Quinn replied, just now noticing that the controller clutched in her girlfriend’s hands was covered in gold stars. “Oh my God.”
“Quinn, have you ever played this game?”
Puck laughed as he moved into the room and set the two new beers on one of the desks in the room, sitting down in the chair next to Rachel and picking up his own, black controller.
“Why are you playing Black Ops?” Quinn said, avoiding the question.
“Oh, Noah introduced me to the game.”
Quinn glanced at Puck, her eyes narrowing a little as she did it. She liked the way his smile faded a little as he caught her look. “Yeah, why?”
Rachel pulled her headphones off and straighted up, pulling her shoulders back and pasting a look on her face that Quinn usually considered the I’m about to be supremely irritating look. “Well, Quinn, you spend a lot of time playing this video games, a lot of time that we could be spending together, and I felt that it was time I learn a few of these games myself so that we could partake in them as a couple!”
“So you picked a game that I don’t play?”
Smiling wide, Rachel nodded sharply. “Correct.”
“And you’re playing with Puck.”
Rachel glanced at the man in question. “Yes, he was introducing me to the game.”
Puck, wide-eyed next to them, put his hands up in a very I didn’t do it gesture.
“Quinn,” Rachel said before Quinn could say something scathing to Puck. “I thought maybe we could learn together.”
“Except you’re learning with Puck,” Quinn pointed out.
“Well he was giving me preliminary training,” Rachel explained. “You already have a leg up on this whole video game playing experience so I sought out someone equally qualified to help even the playing field.”
Quinn looked between Puck and her girlfriend, wide-eyed. “And you like it?”
Rachel nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course! I especially appreciate the ranking system in which the more effort and practice you put into the game translates into more experience which translates into higher accolades. It’s quite the incentive.”
“Right,” Quinn deadpanned.
Puck cleared his throat and waved the controller in his hand around a little. “So are we gonna play or what?”
“Get out,” Quinn ordered, glaring sharply at him.
“Babe,” Puck whined, drooping his shoulders.
“Quinn!” Rachel chastised.
“Get out of my apartment before I hack into your warcraft account and delete two of your level 80s for missing the raid tonight.”
Puck put his hands up, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as he slowly stood up and tiptoed around Quinn towards the door. “Everyone just calm down,” he said slowly. Quinn would have laughed if she hadn’t been so intent on getting him to leave.
With a small wave to Rachel and a hesitant smile towards Quinn, Puck left the room, the sound of the door shutting resounding through the apartment.
Rachel looked up at Quinn innocently, still clutching her controller as the main menu screen flashed on the TV in front of her.
“If we’re playing this,” Quinn said, moving around Rachel and shutting the Xbox off, “we’re playing it on the PS3.”
“But Noah made me this special controller,” Rachel pouted, holding it up towards Quinn.
Rolling her eyes, Quinn grabbed the golden monstrosity out of Rachel’s hands and set it on the shelf where she stored all her controllers. “I’ll make you a Playstation one.”
Rachel seemed to consider that, glancing between Quinn and her gold controller, before finally conceding. “Okay.”
--
Two weeks later, after Quinn finally got Rachel’s custom controller in the mail, Quinn finally sat down with her girlfriend in front of one of their many TVs and booted up her PS3, sliding in her Call of Duty: Black Ops disc.
Rachel fit her iPod into a small dock on the coffee table and scrolled through her playlists until she was satisfied, music beginning to play throughout the room. Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow at her girlfriend.
“I made a Call of Duty mix for us!” Rachel explained enthusiastically.
Resisting the urge to laugh, Quinn just smiled at her, nodding a little. “Awesome,” she said, kind of meaning it.
It was a surreal experience to be sitting next to Rachel on their couch, both holding video game controllers as the opening credits to a first person shooter rolled on the screen in front of them. They were silent as Quinn started up the game, passing through the menus to pick the game mode and set their party up.
As they waited for the match to start, Rachel tilted her head a little to the side and brought up her class creation menu, rapidly clicking through the different options and rearranging her guns like she’d been doing it forever. “It’s nice that I get to play at your level,” Rachel commented absently. “That way I don’t have to wait to get the guns I want.”
“Yeah,” Quinn drawled out softly. “Totally.”
Rachel just beamed, like this whole thing was completely normal, and straightened up in her seat as the matchmaking lobby sorted itself out and loaded the map. “Oh, everyone complains about Nuketown,” Rachel said, choosing her class as Quinn did the same, “but I like it. I actually enjoy the more close quarters maps. I tend to do much better.”
Quinn may have thought it was weird that Rachel was doing things like talking about map preferences and the correct perk choices for different game modes, but it was only minutes later when things got even weirder.
“They stole my kill!” Rachel shouted, half-standing from the couch and pointing at the television. “Kill stealer!”
“He probably didn’t mean to,” Quinn argued, squinting at the screen as her character reloaded his weapon and crouched behind a car.
“That’s not the point, Quinn,” Rachel sputtered, sitting back down and leaning forward, eyes intent on the game. “The point is that their carelessness is going to completely ruin my KDR.”
“Your KDR,” Quinn repeated, trying to decide if she should laugh or not.
“Kill death ratio,” Rachel explained, rolling her eyes, shaking her head, but never turning away from the screen.
“Yeah,” Quinn said, nodding, “I know what it is.”
“Well then you should realize what a serious thing kill stealing is!”
“Rachel, calm down.”
“I will not calm down!”
Sighing, Quinn pressed her lips together in order not to laugh and watched as her character took a headshot from a sniper across the map. “I didn’t know you were that into first person shooters.”
“Honestly,” Rachel said in that we’ve been dating for years, Quinn, you should know these things voice that she tended to use, “if I’m going to do something, I’m going to be the best at that something and these thieves are preventing me from doing so.”
The next part was pure instinct. Yeah, their characters were virtual representations of themselves, but Quinn’s programing to protect Rachel couldn’t be turned off, no matter the circumstances. So when she saw an enemy player about to throw a grenade in Rachel’s direction, she stepped in front of her girlfriend’s character, taking the frag hit, but managing to unload her clip into the enemy, taking them both down.
Rachel turned accusatory eyes on Quinn. “What did I just tell you?!”
“I just rescued you!” Quinn replied, stopping her killcam and respawning.
“No,” Rachel corrected. “You just stole my kill. Exactly the sort of thing I was just explaining to you about.”
“Rachel,” Quinn intoned, rolling her eyes.
“You stole my kill!” Rachel repeated.
“You were about to be hit by a grenade, it wouldn’t have matter.”
Rachel shook her head back and forth slowly, her jaw clenched. “I would have thrown his grenade back and killed him, getting the kill and the achievement.”
“Sure,” Quinn drawled, focusing on the game as she got a seven killstreak and summoned her attack helicopter.
“That’s it,” Rachel said, standing and throwing her controller onto the couch.
“Rachel,” Quinn laughed, “come on, baby.”
“No,” Rachel replied firmly. “I’m not going to play with you if you can’t respect the importance of my statistics.”
“Fine,” Quinn sighed, standing up. “I respect your weird obsession with KDR that is entirely juvenile.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and Quinn realized about four seconds too late that maybe insulting something she’s supposed to be respecting wasn’t the best route for her to take. The sounds of their team’s defeat resounded through the living room as Rachel turned on her heel and stormed out, her gold star covered controller left discarded on the couch.
--
Quinn was pretty much beyond used to getting into the stupidest of fights with Rachel. So even though she was dismayed that Rachel stormed out of their gaming session and was currently locking her out of the bedroom, she knew how to fix it.
“Rach, baby,” she cooed through the door, her forehead resting against the wood, “I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Rachel called back, her voice muffled.
“Yes, I am. Will you please let me in?”
“You need to learn to respect me.”
“I do respect you, Rachel,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes only because she knew Rachel couldn’t see her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The door flew open to reveal Rachel, glaring up at Quinn. “You don’t respect my pursuit to be the best at everything I do.”
“Because you’re hyper obsessive about it to the point of annoyance,” Quinn countered. Before Rachel could say anything else, Quinn continued, pressing her finger against Rachel’s lips. “It’s one of the things I both love and hate about you.”
Still glaring, Rachel pouted a little. “That’s not very nice,” she said around Quinn’s finger.
“I’m sorry I stole your kill,” Quinn said in a whisper, leaning closer. “I was just trying to protect you. It was a kneejerk reaction to seeing a grenade being thrown your way.”
“A virtual grenade,” Rachel clarified, eyes flickering down to Quinn’s lips.
“Doesn’t matter,” Quinn said, smirking a little and moving her finger away from Rachel’s mouth to wrap her arm around her girlfriend’s waist. She tugged them together. “I love you. Virtual or not.”
It was the one thing she knew would get Rachel to forgive her, her figurative tactical nuke in a way, and sure enough, Rachel’s face softened, her eyes going this shade of brown that Quinn loved.
“I love you too,” Rachel whispered back.
Quinn pressed their lips together, her free hand wrapping into Rachel’s hair as she stroked her tongue into her mouth. Moments later, she walked them further into the bedroom towards their bed, and smiled when she felt Rachel’s knowing grin against her lips.
“I want to play again later,” Rachel said between kisses, her hands working fast to divest Quinn of any clothing.
Quinn palmed Rachel’s boob and bit down lightly on her bottom lip. “Whatever you say.”
“I won’t be so forgiving if you steal my kills again.” Rachel managed to keep talking despite the desperate way Quinn began to tug at her clothing, keeping their lips pressed together as often as possible.
“Sure, fine,” Quinn muttered, distracted by Rachel’s bra falling away from her chest. Her stomach tightened, and twisted and she really could care less about Call of Duty right now.
Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck, rubbing her body up against Quinn’s and putting her lips right next to Quinn’s ear. “If you do it again, we won’t have sex for two weeks.”
Eyes wide, Quinn suddenly became a lot more attentive to what Rachel was saying and nodded her head up and down rapidly. “Got it.”
Smiling, Rachel pulled back and looked up at Quinn with hooded. “Good, now take your pants off.”
Quinn laughed as she pushed Rachel back onto the mattress and did exactly as she was told.
--
A few days later, on their living room couch, in the same position they were previously, Quinn saw a RC-XD car head straight for Rachel’s character. Her thumb jerked to step in front of it, but she stopped herself, remembering Rachel’s words in the bedroom days before.
Smiling a little and shaking her head, she pulls her character back and laughs at Rachel’s indignant shriek as the little car explodes and sends her character flying backwards to their death.
“Those cars are so overpowered! A real player with any kind of skill would never stoop so low as to use one.”
Quinn watched her girlfriend glare at the television and lean forward, clearly intent about enacting vengeance on the player that dared use that particular killstreak in the game. Having learned from her last gaming experience with Rachel, Quinn just nodded in agreement. “You’re totally right.”
Rachel’s little of course I am made Quinn smile and she watched with amused admiration as Rachel racked up kill after kill, mumbling about overpowered killstreaks and noobtubes under her breath.
Her life was little weirder these days, sure, but Quinn wouldn't have changed it for anything. Their game ended, Rachel's name on the top of the list for kills and her girlfriend did a small, adorable happy dance in front of their couch, kissing Quinn firmly on the lips at the end of it.
Yeah, Quinn wouldn't have changed a thing.