Mario Kart is Sexy
Title: Mario Kart is Sexy
Author: musicbendr
Rating: PG-13 for language
Length: 5600
Spoilers: None really
Pairings/Characters: Quinn/Rachel, mentions Puckcedes, Kurt
Summary: Sequel to Let's Be Bros. Rachel recruits Puck to help her with her anniversary present to Quinn.
A/N: Based on this prompt at the rq_meme . The song is here. I have been working on I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, but that's been coupled with more research so it's taking a while to write. This just came out of nowhere, and I was forced to write it; plus, I needed some fluff in my life.
“Noah. I require your assistance.” Rachel Berry stands with her hands firmly on her hips which means she's going to rant his ass off if he doesn't answer right now.
So Puck shoves all his school books in his locker (it's the weekend; who needs them?) and slams it shut. “What's your problem, Berry?”
“I don't have one!” Puck seems to have taken his and Quinn's bro status and Rachel and Quinn's relationship status as an open invitation to mock Rachel whenever he feels like it. And for some reason the tiny brunette always allows it to get under her skin. “As you know, Quinn and I have been dating for what will be six months in ten days and I want to make our half-a-versary very special.”
“Half-a-versary?” Puck cringes at the romantic chick flick icky tinge to that word. “Do you have to call it that? It makes you sound like a toddler.”
Rachel takes offense to this but presses on anyway. “Quinn has confided in me that she finds it very arousing when I perform any musical selection, and I think that I could increase her desire if I picked an appropriate song and learned the instrumental accompaniment. I am hoping to consummate our relationship, you know.”
“Only you could make lesbian sex sound boring, Berry, only you,” Puck mutters. “But, uh, what does that have to do with me?”
She sighs as though she's explaining why 1+1=2 to a small child. “Because, Noah, while you have many unappealing qualities, I do admire your guitar abilities. Now I've been practicing some basic chords very adamantly for the past month or so, and feel as though I am ready to progress to a teacher.”
“Do I get to watch?”
“What?”
Puck leans back against the lockers with a sneer on his face. “I got you guys together, I'm gonna get you laid - don't I at least deserve to see a make out session?”
Rachel considers this, biting her lip in deep concentration. “I will purchase you a disproportionally large and artery clogging ten pound cheeseburger from Daredevil Dave's off the interstate. Is that sufficient?”
Damn. Rachel knows all his weaknesses, probably because Quinn told her all his secrets. He loves those burgers and really, how much hotter could it be watching Rachel and Quinn make out than it would be to watch lesbian porn? The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that Quinn and Rachel are going to have one of those annoyingly sappy first times where they stop every five seconds to say something like, “You're so beautiful” or “Is this OK?” That kind of mushy talk certainly kills the mood. Well, Puck's mood anyway. So he's probably better off with the burger. “Fine. You got a deal, Berry. I'm chilling with Quinn tonight - ”
“I know. As her girlfriend, I like to know her whereabouts so that I can be certain she comes home safely.”
“You know you just defined 'stalker', right?” Rachel's death glare makes Puck think his manhood may be in jeopardy, so he shuts up about that. “Anyway, Quinn and I are gonna tag team on Mario Kart tonight, take out this punk who thinks that he's better than us online. I know we've got an edge on him on Rainbow Road, and 'cause Quinn's like a fucking ninja with those green shells.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Rachel tells him, “but I admire your enthusiasm. You should transfer it to Glee. And Noah, please focus on finding a good song for me to sing. Your lump of deceased cow covered in artificial condiments depends on how satisfied Quinn is with the choice.”
With a scoff, Puck begins to walk away. “Whatever, Berry. You'll be thanking me when you hear Quinn yelling, 'Oh, Rachel!'” He puts on his girliest scream for the last part. If Puck had bothered to turn around, he would have seen that he achieved the impossible: he had rendered a blushing Rachel Barbra Berry utterly speechless.
~
“Fuck you, you bastard!” Quinn gets way too into Mario Kart. It's her favorite game, but Puck's pretty sure that's just because her first crush was Daisy when she was, like, six. Now she just yells at the TV and Puck whenever she thinks it's his fault. Which is of course totally never is.
“If you didn't have to pick that stupid princess every time, we might be winning!” Puck counters. The dream team of dancinSittinDown and sweetXsingingXgothXchick has just kicked his and Quinn's asses once more. “It's all because Princess Daisy has crappy special items!”
Quinn turns red in the face and looks like she might throw Puck's rather expensive Wii steering wheel controller at his “man parts,” as Finn likes to call them. “You ran us off the side of the road twice, Noah Puckerman! On Rainbow Road! That's our best track!”
“OK, Jesus, chill the fuck out,” Puck says, rubbing his temples. That's definitely a headache coming on. Rachel and Quinn must break glass with their yelling if Quinn uncontested can be this loud and annoying. “I'll set up a challenge for tomorrow night. We can beat these guys.” Puck punches in his and Quinn's user names (fireBadass2012 and HBICpianowoman) in a message to their arch rivals. “This time, we're goin' Grand Prix, babe. Those losers won't be able to keep up. I happen to know they suck hardcore on most of the retro tracks. We're pretty even on the Wii ones, so I think we can do it. You in?”
“Only if you promise to win,” Quinn says, still slightly grumpy from their recent loss. But her foot kicking Puck's leg means she's just teasing. “We need to meet up after school for some practice, because I have to go home now.”
Puck nods and puts down his controller. “Cool. I'll see you here?”
“Yeah. If Rachel hasn't planned some weirdly extravagant week long anniversary celebration or something,” Quinn chuckles. She loves her girlfriend, she really does, even the puppy dog like enthusiasm for almost every activity ever invented, but part of her is terrified of what Rachel would do for an occasion as monumental as this one.
Deciding to play dumb, Puck feigns confusion. “She hasn't, like, drawn up a schedule of where you need to be and when you need to be there yet?”
Quinn shakes her head. “No. Maybe she...maybe she forgot.”
“Bull,” Puck calls. “No way she forgot. I even remembered me and Mercedes' anniversary. I mean, I had to write it down and put it in my phone, but I remembered. If I can do it, a chick like Berry can do it in her sleep. I bet she just wants to surprise you.”
“You're probably right,” Quinn sighs as she moves towards the door. “Anyway, you'd better practice, Puckerman, because I am not losing to those bitches again.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
And suddenly Puck knows exactly which song Rachel needs to sing for Quinn.
~
“Noah! I am not serenading my girlfriend with a pornographic song!”
“What are you talking about?” Puck pushes the pause button on the Mario Kart YouTube love song video, which Rachel is totally not appreciating for how awesome it is and how perfect it is and how much she'll get laid for singing and how she should think about buying him two of those burgers as a testament to his genius. No, leave it to Rachel Berry to think Mario Kart is about porn. “This song is about one of the best games ever made!”
Rachel stares at him coldly. “You're just trying to trick me.”
“I'm getting a $25 burger out of this deal! Why would I trick you?” Puck says, exasperated.
A quick Google pulls up the lyrics and Rachel shoves them in Puck's face. “'When we slide together we generate sparks?' 'And the finish line is just around the bend?' All the references to being behind someone are metaphors for anal sex, and that last incoherent babbling of 'Wa-wa-wa-luigi' is an orgasm! How can you not see this?”
Puck can do nothing for a minutes but stare. “Berry! It's fucking Mario Kart! Sliding is something you can do with your car to make tight turns! There's a finish line 'cause it's a race where people fall behind. And Waluigi is a character!”
“Oh.” Rachel sort of slumps in her chair and grumbles, “It sounds like sex if you don't know anything about the game.”
“Which is why Fabray will make you shudder 'til your socks come off if you play this for her! She loves this game. I'm serious. Although she might not like it if we lose to dancinSittinDown again - ”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“That's Artie's...internet persona,” Rachel informs him. “He and Tina were discussing their latest high scores during Glee, which I had to stop because it was distracting.”
“Are you for serious?” Puck nearly falls out of his chair. “Artie and Tina are kicking our asses! It is so fucking on!”
Rachel waits about twenty seconds for Puck to calm down before saying, “Now that you have finished obsessing over silly fantasy games rife with sexual innuendo, will teach me to play this song?”
“You don't understand. This is war,” Puck mutters through gritted teeth.
This forces Rachel to do one of her patented diva huffs. “Noah Puckerman, if you do not teach me this song to a satisfactory level by the 27th, you can kiss your dreams of murdered cow goodbye.”
Puck winces. “You don't have to call it 'murdered cow.' That makes it sound like I'm eating, like, raw roadkill or some sick shit.”
“Meat is murder,” Rachel hums cheerfully. “You should take this as a sign of my utter devotion to Quinn, the fact that I'm willing to condemn a cow to slaughter. I know that as bros, you are obliged to hate anyone Quinn dates and vice versa.”
Rachel once again proves that the Internet is no substitute for real life experiences. “Dude, I don't have to hate you unless you're annoying or force Quinn to not hang out with me or something. Besides, she and Mercedes are, like, best friends forever or whatever you call it. You are not a bro so you clearly don't understand the bro code.”
“Oh, I understand it well enough. I had to make sure that Quinn wasn't going to come back completely wasted or in possession of some 'ink' after one of your bro nights,” Rachel tells him. “Are you going to help me now or are we going to continue with this childish arguing?”
“Fine,” Puck groans. He takes out his guitar and Rachel pulls out hers (one of her daddy's old ones that she put some sequins on because any respectable musical instrument should have sequins). “Ready for the first chord?”
Rachel nods enthusiastically and scoots closer to her mohawked compatriot. Revenge - and ten glorious pounds of meat - will just have to wait.
~
Once Puck reveals their nemesis' identity to Quinn, they attack the problem with double the will to win. At approximately 11:37 that night, Quinn and Puck wake up Ms. Puckerman with their whoops of victory. The woman shuffles into the living room and tells Puck that if Quinn were a nice Jewish girl, she would know how to be quiet.
At approximately 11:37 that night, Tina and Artie have both dropped their controllers to the ground in shock. Tina turns to Artie and says, with complete and utter resignation, “We...lost.”
The next day in Glee, Puck greets the (still) grieving couple with a few choice words: “Bet you losers had fun eating me and Quinn's dust on the Grand Prix last night.” Artie rams his wheelchair into Puck's legs, but Mr. Schue restrains them both before any serious shit can go down.
~
“Yo, Lance Bass, I need your help again.” Puck grabs Kurt roughly by the shoulder, stealing him from the swarming sea of students pushing out the door. Kurt looks incredibly offended - though whether it's 'cause Puck just compared him to a lame has-been boy band star or 'cause he totally jacked Kurt's probably really expensive silk pink shirt. “You probably got this since Quinn keeps sending Rachel weird little gifts, but their six month anniversary is on Friday - well, actually, it's on Wednesday, but they're celebrating on Friday.”
“I fail to see how this involves me,” Kurt tells him. Despite the fact that he helped Puck set up the two girls, he'd rather not have to hear about their romantic entanglements.
Puck fixes him with a “for real?” stare. “Dude. Dating Quinn hasn't really made Rachel dress better. Since we're bros and all, I know that Quinn likes Rachel's freakish sweaters - ”
“Oh, please,” Kurt interrupts. “She only likes them because it's much more satisfying to unwrap ugly wrapping paper and find a pretty gift inside than it is to unwrap pretty paper with the same gift.”
It takes Puck a second, but he gets it. “Nice one, Hummel. But we gotta focus. Clothes. I know that Quinn thinks girls with guitars are, like, the hottest thing ever. And for some reason she has a crush on Joan Jett, which is weird 'cause that chick has a mullet.”
“You want me to turn Rachel into Joan Jett?”
“No!” Puck looks overwhelmingly panicked by the idea. “I guess I was trying to say that Quinn has, uh, diverse tastes in girls - women - whichever one isn't offensive.” In response to Kurt's blank stare, Puck responds, “Hey, look. Half of my fight club is lesbians, my best friend is a lesbian, and my girlfriend is the biggest baddest diva around in a totally good way. I know shit about feminism.”
Kurt rolls his eyes dismissively. “OK, whatever. You still haven't told me why you need my help.”
“So. The six month anniversary is kind of a big one, you know? And Rachel wants to, uh, how do I say this...let Quinn deflower her as a sign of their love or something,” Puck trails off.
Kurt snorts. “Yes, that's very romantic.”
“Right!” Puck says happily. “You see, I suck at romance. And I think Berry's way too crazy to be let near that kind of shit. So I was kinda hoping you'd help Berry not freak out Quinn with her creepy idea of romance.”
The smaller boy takes this into consideration. On one hand, having any sort of sex talk with Rachel is highly unappealing and potentially scarring considering the girl has no filter. On the other, Puck has been good to Mercedes and he seems to really want things to go well for Quinn. “Maybe. What do I get out of it?”
Shit. This is not good. Puck only has one bargaining chip, and that's his ten pound burger at Daredevil Dave's. He did use to share those with Finn...but they were only fourteen. He sneaks a glance at Kurt: the kid's tiny as hell, couldn't eat more than two pounds at the most. That leaves eight pounds for Puck plus Quinn's eternal gratitude. Sounds like a fair trade. “Berry promised to buy me one of Daredevil Dave's Deluxe DecaPound burgers if it goes good. I'll split it with you.”
“Those burgers are so sinfully delicious, I can feel my body sinking pound by pound closer to hell every time I eat one,” Kurt responds with a smirk. “I accept your offering. And don't worry about your little 'bro'. I'll take care of everything. Quinn will feel like she's walking into a romance novel. Only, with less cheese and cliché.” With a small smile, Kurt saunters down the now empty hobby, confident that he's going to make this the best damn lesbian sex seduction ever.
~
“Rachel, what the hell is this?” Kurt holds up the fleshy colored part of some smushed red circle with a huge white dot in the middle.
“That,” Rachel begins as she consults a list in front of her, “is a mushroom.” Kurt is vaguely flabbergasted.
“That doesn't help at all,” he mutters, tossing the plush toy back on the bed. “Why is it there?”
“It's from Quinn's video game of choice, Mario Kart,” Rachel explains. “I thought that she might enjoy seeing a themed - ”
“Hold up one shiny second. You do not think that you will be getting, you know, down and dirty with that thing staring at you,” Kurt says with vigor, pointing at the mushroom.
Rachel is aware that the correct answer is “No” but she can't quite fathom why. “What's wrong with the mushroom? Quinn really likes that game, and Puck says it's her favorite power-up.” Rachel pauses awkwardly. “I don't really know what that means, but it seems to be some sort of heaven in their geek kingdom.”
“Rachel!” Kurt squeals. “It looks like a baby! That would completely kill the mood and freak her out. You do want to lose it, don't you?” This actually seems to wound Rachel deeply and she may start sulking. Time for some damage control. “Look, why don't you give it to her as a present while you sing? That would be sweet and not weird during your, um - ”
“Sex?”
Kurt winces. “Yes. That.” Rachel nods her approval for this plan and begins to rummage around under her desk, producing a box of turtle shell paper cut-outs and smiley face stars.
“Where should we put the decorations?”
Kurt's jaw goes slack. This is going to be a long night.
~
“I thought we could put rose petals on the bed, as a sweet gesture and to set the mood,” Rachel bubbles. She's been getting steadily more happy as the afternoon wears on in anticipation of the evening ahead of her.
Kurt counts to ten. Again. “Rose petals are so Humphrey Bogart, but that's the thing. It's only good in the movies. Because in real life you have to deal with them getting stuck in nasty places and then they cling to your back and then you have to clean it up...trust me. You want something simpler. Plus, that's too obvious. If you go that over the top, you'll just end up looking like Puck.”
“I don't want to end up like Noah. Quinn has already made it clear that she does not appreciate his romantic stylings,” Rachel muses idly as she starts looking through her closet for something to decorate the room with.
Kurt walks around Rachel's tiny space, observing, taking in the colors and patterns. “I think a few well placed candles will do the trick for you. You and Quinn are already wrapped around each others' fingers. Once you finish the song, she'll be pretty much ready to jump you. I think that you and Quinn would do better with the au naturale approach. The candles would be nice - do you have anything scented?”
“My dads stocked up on the post-Christmas Bed, Bath, & Beyond candle sale, so we have an entire linen closet of various scents.” Rachel prances off to the closet and returns with some candles that smell like they're from the vanilla family.
“Those are good.” Kurt smiles in approval, like he may soon be free of this hell hole and back to watching Kathy Griffin stand up on his couch. “The only other thing you need is to change the sheets.”
Rachel glares at the offending article. “What's wrong with them?”
“Rachel.” Kurt crosses his arms and puts on his best don't-mess-with-me face. “Are you honestly prepared to have sex on a pink bedspread covered in cute cartoon insects?”
“...I guess not.”
~
Quinn doesn't like being out of control, so she definitely doesn't like being led through Rachel's house blindfolded. It's kind of pointless anyway, since Quinn knows exactly where Rachel's taking her. She's not dumb: the way that Rachel's been sending her these shy, coy smiles all day long, how nervous she acts, how she's been wringing her hands. Quinn knows that she and Rachel are going to give themselves to each other tonight, and she's prepared for it. It just seems that Rachel wants to do what's probably a grand romantic gesture before. Which of course Quinn will approve of because grand gestures are kind of Rachel's thing and they're usually meticulously executed.
She's kind of confused, however, when her intuition tells her that Rachel's led her to the basement music room where sixteen years of accumulated sheet music sits in perfectly alphabetized library to the left of the white baby grand Rachel's dads got as a wedding present. Quinn knows this room well, as she and Rachel spend much of their time down here: Rachel singing, Quinn accompanying on piano and occasionally a harmony if the song calls for it. “Rachel, what are we doing down here?” Despite the fact that one of Quinn's recurring fantasies is to throw Rachel on the baby grand and have hot piano sex, she pictured their first time being in, well, a bed.
“You know where we are?” Quinn can picture the dorky grin sliding right off her girlfriend's face.
“Well, yeah; your house isn't that big,” Quinn replies. “Can I take this off now?” She gestures to her blindfold.
Rachel gives a resigned sigh and then says, “Sure. The surprise is ruined anyway.”
“No it isn't,” Quinn assures her as she lets her eyes readjust to the light. “I don't know what you're going to do here. So surprise me.” She takes a seat on the piano bench and looks at Rachel for the first time. The tiny brunette looks very nervous, and she's holding a guitar. This is a new development. “What are you going to do, Rachel?”
With a deep breath, Rachel begins explaining. “I asked Noah to help me learn the guitar and pick an appropriate song with which to serenade you, because I know how much you enjoy that. I've been practicing, and I really wanted to make this special for you. Though I was wary of the song at first, after some research, I was convinced Noah wasn't tricking me - ”
“Rachel. You babble more when you're nervous,” Quinn says. Her girlfriend blushes and smiles shyly at her. “Just play it.”
With less confidence than Quinn's ever seen in her features, Rachel picks up the acoustic guitar and settles it unsteadily on her knees. By the time Rachel strums through the first few chords, Quinn recognizes the song. She can't exactly help her enormous grin because Rachel is singing to her and playing a guitar and it's the most adorkable love song ever. Quinn's favorite love song, actually. However, Rachel's not the world's best guitar player and by the time she gets past the “do do do” part and into the actual lyrics, one of her fingers slips and she starts berating at herself for messing up what was supposed to be the perfect anniversary gift. She begins to apologize profusely to Quinn, who just ignores the tirade and sits at the piano. With a little bit of strain Quinn lets the notes and chords and rhythms come back to her, siphoning down from her brain into her hands and over the keys.
Rachel just stares at her.
“I know you had this whole thing planned out,” Quinn explains, repeating the intro on a loop, “but to be honest I like to play while you sing more than I like just listening to you sing. It makes it feel like it's our song, not just your song.” The pouting smile at the end of this placates Rachel enough for her to sing along to Quinn's beautiful playing.
Rachel has to admit there is something extra she feels when Quinn plays the piano to her voice, something more than when she's banging out piano or guitar chords and singing on her own for Quinn. They click somewhere in the stream of the melody, which is not surprising considering music has always been the one enduring connection between them. Even in fights, even when they hated each other, there was always music pushing, pulsating, against their stubborn personalities. It drifted through the air of the choir room and seeped into both of them, cementing its presence in their lives forever. It's no wonder that they communicate best through music instead of words.
As they approach the end of the song, Rachel slips onto the piano bench next to Quinn and rests her head on the blonde's shoulder. Even with her terrible posture Rachel manages to hit the highest of the Waluigi notes perfectly while Quinn drags out the final chords for a second longer than necessary because there is nothing she likes better than making music with Rachel. Of course making music generally tends to lead to making out, but that's not why Quinn loves it. She loves it because when the two of them create songs that sound full and cohesive, it produces a shy little glimmer of hope that maybe they don't need anything more than the two of them.
Rachel releases the final note and Quinn lifts up the pedal. “Did you enjoy my selection?”
“You couldn't have picked a better song,” Quinn says honestly. “Really, Rachel, that was sweet.”
“Thank you,” Rachel replies with a satisfied smirk. “Although I do wish I could have mastered the guitar part. I think it's due to your feminine wiles, because I could play it just fine with Noah - ”
“Rachel.” Quinn puts her hand on Rachel's thigh, leans over to whisper in her ear. “I liked it better this way.” And when Quinn feels back they can see the desire in each other's eyes etching out in front of the love and the passion. Quinn initiates the first kiss, turned on as always from watching Rachel perform. She pulls the girl up onto her lap as usual - Quinn enjoys the feeling of Rachel's entire body pressed against hers, as though the closer they become the more real the experience is. Sometimes, in Quinn's mind, she equates it to some kind of cheesy Disney movie feeling, like Snow White. Most times, however, Quinn's mind is far too occupied with soft fabric and soft skin and soft lips to be paying attention to symbolic allegories.
Like right now, for instance, as Rachel turns her body so that her legs are wrapped around Quinn's waist and her thighs digging into the blonde's sides with a subdued urgency that neither of them can ignore. Once again the ache between Quinn's legs settles in, but this time it's met with a strange fluttering in her stomach that says something will be done about that tonight. “Quinn, I believe that it's time to move this to the bedroom,” Rachel says in what she probably assumes is a sexy voice, but just comes out breathy and kind of silly. Quinn doesn't have the heart to laugh because she's so turned on right now that she needs Rachel all over her, right now.
“Yeah. Let's go.”
~
Quinn can't remember the last time she had sex. It was with Puck and she was drunk and it probably hurt a little. She knows that she bled some because she spent the next day (it was a Sunday) scrubbing the tiniest drops of blood off her sheets. There may or may not have been someone (Karofsky? Azimio?) stumbling in drunk as Puck was taking off her shirt before the mohawked boy screamed at whoever it was to get out. She's pretty sure Puck was on top and that he took a ridiculously long time to finish for drunken sex. What she remembers more than the actual sex was waking up the next morning with her bra and skirt on, but no underwear with a killer headache and a sudden urge to throw up. That was actually the first time she had a pregnancy panic, but it turned out to be just a hangover. Then there was the guilt, the shame, the trying to piece back together what exactly happened last night. And finally the crying once she realized what she'd done and with whom. And praying, of course. And searching her room like a mad woman for a condom or at least its wrapper. But nothing.
Now, though, it's completely different. For one thing Quinn can actually remember having sex this time. There's no need to blindly through herself out of bed and scour the floor for a sliver of latex or to run to the bathroom or to cry. Quinn has to admit that she was terrified of doing this because of her upbringing and her unfortunate first time. That fear had to be conquered by the act itself, for Quinn knew that nothing else would be able to assuage her misgivings. And afterward? Quinn doesn't regret a second of it especially in the afterglow, Rachel totally exhausted and asleep against her chest with her tan legs curled around Quinn's own and her arms nearly choking Quinn as though she never wants to let go.
Kurt and Rachel did a really nice job with the room, setting up candles that smelled like vanilla and that berry shampoo of Rachel's Quinn absolutely adores. They changed the sheets from cartoon characters to a deep burgundy that in the darkness complemented the pink of Rachel's room. Some light designer scarves that obviously belonged to Kurt were placed over lamps Quinn recognized as being dragged from all corners of the Berry household to create the perfect blend of light blue and pink hues casting shadows over the dim room. It was just slightly over-the-top, which added a ring of Rachel Berry authenticity to it, without suffocating Quinn under a hoarde of cliched romantic gestures. She makes a mental note to thank Kurt - and Puck - in the morning, after she's managed to get some sleep. Right now she's having a bit of trouble with that, probably in part due to the smile she can't seem to get off her face. Quinn thinks that this final physical step in their relationship may have finally been the one to rid her of the demons her parents implanted so deeply in her brain.
She had premarital sex with a girl, and the world didn't end. Nuclear bombs didn't go off in the backyard and no one suffered a spontaneous heart attack. So it's OK. Quinn had sex with a girl whom she loves very much, and everything's still OK.
~
“Damn, Hummel, you're a fucking BAMF.” Puck is staring at Kurt in the middle of Daredevil Dave's dingy dining as the smaller boy finishes off the ten pound monstrosity in front of him. Approximately three and a half pounds still wait to be chewed in front of Puck, and he's not sure how much more he can eat. He kind of wants to make a joke about how Hummel's used to eating “meat”, so this should be no problem for him, but damn if this isn't really impressive. “Seriously. How did you finish all that so fast?”
Kurt wipes his uber-clean face daintily with his napkin because even though he just out-manned Noah Puckerman, he still needs to have some class. “My dad and I used to come here on Father's Day all the time. Plus, since I have little fat it's easier for my stomach to expand.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Who cares if Puck just totally sounded like a chick because no one gets to call Puckasaurus fat.
“No, but you have strong abs, which I think make it harder for your stomach to expand,” Kurt explains thoughtfully. “I'm not sure if that's quite right, but I think it is.”
Puck stares at the tiny impish kid in front of him again. Yeah, Hummel's not exactly well-built but neither is Quinn, and he probably would like painting his nails instead of playing video games but that would leave more time for Puck to play, and maybe having a gay dude as a bro would help his romantic life 'cause Puck sucks at romance and Kurt is Mercedes' best friend. Sure they've only ever hung out as a result of Quinn and Rachel's messed up mating dance, but it hasn't been that bad - in fact, Hummel's kind of chill. Anyone who can eat a ten pound burger is kind of chill in Puck's book. “Hey, Hummel?”
“Yes, Puckerman?” Kurt's tone drips with sarcasm.
“How would you like to be my bro?”
Author: musicbendr
Rating: PG-13 for language
Length: 5600
Spoilers: None really
Pairings/Characters: Quinn/Rachel, mentions Puckcedes, Kurt
Summary: Sequel to Let's Be Bros. Rachel recruits Puck to help her with her anniversary present to Quinn.
A/N: Based on this prompt at the rq_meme . The song is here. I have been working on I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, but that's been coupled with more research so it's taking a while to write. This just came out of nowhere, and I was forced to write it; plus, I needed some fluff in my life.
“Noah. I require your assistance.” Rachel Berry stands with her hands firmly on her hips which means she's going to rant his ass off if he doesn't answer right now.
So Puck shoves all his school books in his locker (it's the weekend; who needs them?) and slams it shut. “What's your problem, Berry?”
“I don't have one!” Puck seems to have taken his and Quinn's bro status and Rachel and Quinn's relationship status as an open invitation to mock Rachel whenever he feels like it. And for some reason the tiny brunette always allows it to get under her skin. “As you know, Quinn and I have been dating for what will be six months in ten days and I want to make our half-a-versary very special.”
“Half-a-versary?” Puck cringes at the romantic chick flick icky tinge to that word. “Do you have to call it that? It makes you sound like a toddler.”
Rachel takes offense to this but presses on anyway. “Quinn has confided in me that she finds it very arousing when I perform any musical selection, and I think that I could increase her desire if I picked an appropriate song and learned the instrumental accompaniment. I am hoping to consummate our relationship, you know.”
“Only you could make lesbian sex sound boring, Berry, only you,” Puck mutters. “But, uh, what does that have to do with me?”
She sighs as though she's explaining why 1+1=2 to a small child. “Because, Noah, while you have many unappealing qualities, I do admire your guitar abilities. Now I've been practicing some basic chords very adamantly for the past month or so, and feel as though I am ready to progress to a teacher.”
“Do I get to watch?”
“What?”
Puck leans back against the lockers with a sneer on his face. “I got you guys together, I'm gonna get you laid - don't I at least deserve to see a make out session?”
Rachel considers this, biting her lip in deep concentration. “I will purchase you a disproportionally large and artery clogging ten pound cheeseburger from Daredevil Dave's off the interstate. Is that sufficient?”
Damn. Rachel knows all his weaknesses, probably because Quinn told her all his secrets. He loves those burgers and really, how much hotter could it be watching Rachel and Quinn make out than it would be to watch lesbian porn? The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that Quinn and Rachel are going to have one of those annoyingly sappy first times where they stop every five seconds to say something like, “You're so beautiful” or “Is this OK?” That kind of mushy talk certainly kills the mood. Well, Puck's mood anyway. So he's probably better off with the burger. “Fine. You got a deal, Berry. I'm chilling with Quinn tonight - ”
“I know. As her girlfriend, I like to know her whereabouts so that I can be certain she comes home safely.”
“You know you just defined 'stalker', right?” Rachel's death glare makes Puck think his manhood may be in jeopardy, so he shuts up about that. “Anyway, Quinn and I are gonna tag team on Mario Kart tonight, take out this punk who thinks that he's better than us online. I know we've got an edge on him on Rainbow Road, and 'cause Quinn's like a fucking ninja with those green shells.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Rachel tells him, “but I admire your enthusiasm. You should transfer it to Glee. And Noah, please focus on finding a good song for me to sing. Your lump of deceased cow covered in artificial condiments depends on how satisfied Quinn is with the choice.”
With a scoff, Puck begins to walk away. “Whatever, Berry. You'll be thanking me when you hear Quinn yelling, 'Oh, Rachel!'” He puts on his girliest scream for the last part. If Puck had bothered to turn around, he would have seen that he achieved the impossible: he had rendered a blushing Rachel Barbra Berry utterly speechless.
~
“Fuck you, you bastard!” Quinn gets way too into Mario Kart. It's her favorite game, but Puck's pretty sure that's just because her first crush was Daisy when she was, like, six. Now she just yells at the TV and Puck whenever she thinks it's his fault. Which is of course totally never is.
“If you didn't have to pick that stupid princess every time, we might be winning!” Puck counters. The dream team of dancinSittinDown and sweetXsingingXgothXchick has just kicked his and Quinn's asses once more. “It's all because Princess Daisy has crappy special items!”
Quinn turns red in the face and looks like she might throw Puck's rather expensive Wii steering wheel controller at his “man parts,” as Finn likes to call them. “You ran us off the side of the road twice, Noah Puckerman! On Rainbow Road! That's our best track!”
“OK, Jesus, chill the fuck out,” Puck says, rubbing his temples. That's definitely a headache coming on. Rachel and Quinn must break glass with their yelling if Quinn uncontested can be this loud and annoying. “I'll set up a challenge for tomorrow night. We can beat these guys.” Puck punches in his and Quinn's user names (fireBadass2012 and HBICpianowoman) in a message to their arch rivals. “This time, we're goin' Grand Prix, babe. Those losers won't be able to keep up. I happen to know they suck hardcore on most of the retro tracks. We're pretty even on the Wii ones, so I think we can do it. You in?”
“Only if you promise to win,” Quinn says, still slightly grumpy from their recent loss. But her foot kicking Puck's leg means she's just teasing. “We need to meet up after school for some practice, because I have to go home now.”
Puck nods and puts down his controller. “Cool. I'll see you here?”
“Yeah. If Rachel hasn't planned some weirdly extravagant week long anniversary celebration or something,” Quinn chuckles. She loves her girlfriend, she really does, even the puppy dog like enthusiasm for almost every activity ever invented, but part of her is terrified of what Rachel would do for an occasion as monumental as this one.
Deciding to play dumb, Puck feigns confusion. “She hasn't, like, drawn up a schedule of where you need to be and when you need to be there yet?”
Quinn shakes her head. “No. Maybe she...maybe she forgot.”
“Bull,” Puck calls. “No way she forgot. I even remembered me and Mercedes' anniversary. I mean, I had to write it down and put it in my phone, but I remembered. If I can do it, a chick like Berry can do it in her sleep. I bet she just wants to surprise you.”
“You're probably right,” Quinn sighs as she moves towards the door. “Anyway, you'd better practice, Puckerman, because I am not losing to those bitches again.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
And suddenly Puck knows exactly which song Rachel needs to sing for Quinn.
~
“Noah! I am not serenading my girlfriend with a pornographic song!”
“What are you talking about?” Puck pushes the pause button on the Mario Kart YouTube love song video, which Rachel is totally not appreciating for how awesome it is and how perfect it is and how much she'll get laid for singing and how she should think about buying him two of those burgers as a testament to his genius. No, leave it to Rachel Berry to think Mario Kart is about porn. “This song is about one of the best games ever made!”
Rachel stares at him coldly. “You're just trying to trick me.”
“I'm getting a $25 burger out of this deal! Why would I trick you?” Puck says, exasperated.
A quick Google pulls up the lyrics and Rachel shoves them in Puck's face. “'When we slide together we generate sparks?' 'And the finish line is just around the bend?' All the references to being behind someone are metaphors for anal sex, and that last incoherent babbling of 'Wa-wa-wa-luigi' is an orgasm! How can you not see this?”
Puck can do nothing for a minutes but stare. “Berry! It's fucking Mario Kart! Sliding is something you can do with your car to make tight turns! There's a finish line 'cause it's a race where people fall behind. And Waluigi is a character!”
“Oh.” Rachel sort of slumps in her chair and grumbles, “It sounds like sex if you don't know anything about the game.”
“Which is why Fabray will make you shudder 'til your socks come off if you play this for her! She loves this game. I'm serious. Although she might not like it if we lose to dancinSittinDown again - ”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“That's Artie's...internet persona,” Rachel informs him. “He and Tina were discussing their latest high scores during Glee, which I had to stop because it was distracting.”
“Are you for serious?” Puck nearly falls out of his chair. “Artie and Tina are kicking our asses! It is so fucking on!”
Rachel waits about twenty seconds for Puck to calm down before saying, “Now that you have finished obsessing over silly fantasy games rife with sexual innuendo, will teach me to play this song?”
“You don't understand. This is war,” Puck mutters through gritted teeth.
This forces Rachel to do one of her patented diva huffs. “Noah Puckerman, if you do not teach me this song to a satisfactory level by the 27th, you can kiss your dreams of murdered cow goodbye.”
Puck winces. “You don't have to call it 'murdered cow.' That makes it sound like I'm eating, like, raw roadkill or some sick shit.”
“Meat is murder,” Rachel hums cheerfully. “You should take this as a sign of my utter devotion to Quinn, the fact that I'm willing to condemn a cow to slaughter. I know that as bros, you are obliged to hate anyone Quinn dates and vice versa.”
Rachel once again proves that the Internet is no substitute for real life experiences. “Dude, I don't have to hate you unless you're annoying or force Quinn to not hang out with me or something. Besides, she and Mercedes are, like, best friends forever or whatever you call it. You are not a bro so you clearly don't understand the bro code.”
“Oh, I understand it well enough. I had to make sure that Quinn wasn't going to come back completely wasted or in possession of some 'ink' after one of your bro nights,” Rachel tells him. “Are you going to help me now or are we going to continue with this childish arguing?”
“Fine,” Puck groans. He takes out his guitar and Rachel pulls out hers (one of her daddy's old ones that she put some sequins on because any respectable musical instrument should have sequins). “Ready for the first chord?”
Rachel nods enthusiastically and scoots closer to her mohawked compatriot. Revenge - and ten glorious pounds of meat - will just have to wait.
~
Once Puck reveals their nemesis' identity to Quinn, they attack the problem with double the will to win. At approximately 11:37 that night, Quinn and Puck wake up Ms. Puckerman with their whoops of victory. The woman shuffles into the living room and tells Puck that if Quinn were a nice Jewish girl, she would know how to be quiet.
At approximately 11:37 that night, Tina and Artie have both dropped their controllers to the ground in shock. Tina turns to Artie and says, with complete and utter resignation, “We...lost.”
The next day in Glee, Puck greets the (still) grieving couple with a few choice words: “Bet you losers had fun eating me and Quinn's dust on the Grand Prix last night.” Artie rams his wheelchair into Puck's legs, but Mr. Schue restrains them both before any serious shit can go down.
~
“Yo, Lance Bass, I need your help again.” Puck grabs Kurt roughly by the shoulder, stealing him from the swarming sea of students pushing out the door. Kurt looks incredibly offended - though whether it's 'cause Puck just compared him to a lame has-been boy band star or 'cause he totally jacked Kurt's probably really expensive silk pink shirt. “You probably got this since Quinn keeps sending Rachel weird little gifts, but their six month anniversary is on Friday - well, actually, it's on Wednesday, but they're celebrating on Friday.”
“I fail to see how this involves me,” Kurt tells him. Despite the fact that he helped Puck set up the two girls, he'd rather not have to hear about their romantic entanglements.
Puck fixes him with a “for real?” stare. “Dude. Dating Quinn hasn't really made Rachel dress better. Since we're bros and all, I know that Quinn likes Rachel's freakish sweaters - ”
“Oh, please,” Kurt interrupts. “She only likes them because it's much more satisfying to unwrap ugly wrapping paper and find a pretty gift inside than it is to unwrap pretty paper with the same gift.”
It takes Puck a second, but he gets it. “Nice one, Hummel. But we gotta focus. Clothes. I know that Quinn thinks girls with guitars are, like, the hottest thing ever. And for some reason she has a crush on Joan Jett, which is weird 'cause that chick has a mullet.”
“You want me to turn Rachel into Joan Jett?”
“No!” Puck looks overwhelmingly panicked by the idea. “I guess I was trying to say that Quinn has, uh, diverse tastes in girls - women - whichever one isn't offensive.” In response to Kurt's blank stare, Puck responds, “Hey, look. Half of my fight club is lesbians, my best friend is a lesbian, and my girlfriend is the biggest baddest diva around in a totally good way. I know shit about feminism.”
Kurt rolls his eyes dismissively. “OK, whatever. You still haven't told me why you need my help.”
“So. The six month anniversary is kind of a big one, you know? And Rachel wants to, uh, how do I say this...let Quinn deflower her as a sign of their love or something,” Puck trails off.
Kurt snorts. “Yes, that's very romantic.”
“Right!” Puck says happily. “You see, I suck at romance. And I think Berry's way too crazy to be let near that kind of shit. So I was kinda hoping you'd help Berry not freak out Quinn with her creepy idea of romance.”
The smaller boy takes this into consideration. On one hand, having any sort of sex talk with Rachel is highly unappealing and potentially scarring considering the girl has no filter. On the other, Puck has been good to Mercedes and he seems to really want things to go well for Quinn. “Maybe. What do I get out of it?”
Shit. This is not good. Puck only has one bargaining chip, and that's his ten pound burger at Daredevil Dave's. He did use to share those with Finn...but they were only fourteen. He sneaks a glance at Kurt: the kid's tiny as hell, couldn't eat more than two pounds at the most. That leaves eight pounds for Puck plus Quinn's eternal gratitude. Sounds like a fair trade. “Berry promised to buy me one of Daredevil Dave's Deluxe DecaPound burgers if it goes good. I'll split it with you.”
“Those burgers are so sinfully delicious, I can feel my body sinking pound by pound closer to hell every time I eat one,” Kurt responds with a smirk. “I accept your offering. And don't worry about your little 'bro'. I'll take care of everything. Quinn will feel like she's walking into a romance novel. Only, with less cheese and cliché.” With a small smile, Kurt saunters down the now empty hobby, confident that he's going to make this the best damn lesbian sex seduction ever.
~
“Rachel, what the hell is this?” Kurt holds up the fleshy colored part of some smushed red circle with a huge white dot in the middle.
“That,” Rachel begins as she consults a list in front of her, “is a mushroom.” Kurt is vaguely flabbergasted.
“That doesn't help at all,” he mutters, tossing the plush toy back on the bed. “Why is it there?”
“It's from Quinn's video game of choice, Mario Kart,” Rachel explains. “I thought that she might enjoy seeing a themed - ”
“Hold up one shiny second. You do not think that you will be getting, you know, down and dirty with that thing staring at you,” Kurt says with vigor, pointing at the mushroom.
Rachel is aware that the correct answer is “No” but she can't quite fathom why. “What's wrong with the mushroom? Quinn really likes that game, and Puck says it's her favorite power-up.” Rachel pauses awkwardly. “I don't really know what that means, but it seems to be some sort of heaven in their geek kingdom.”
“Rachel!” Kurt squeals. “It looks like a baby! That would completely kill the mood and freak her out. You do want to lose it, don't you?” This actually seems to wound Rachel deeply and she may start sulking. Time for some damage control. “Look, why don't you give it to her as a present while you sing? That would be sweet and not weird during your, um - ”
“Sex?”
Kurt winces. “Yes. That.” Rachel nods her approval for this plan and begins to rummage around under her desk, producing a box of turtle shell paper cut-outs and smiley face stars.
“Where should we put the decorations?”
Kurt's jaw goes slack. This is going to be a long night.
~
“I thought we could put rose petals on the bed, as a sweet gesture and to set the mood,” Rachel bubbles. She's been getting steadily more happy as the afternoon wears on in anticipation of the evening ahead of her.
Kurt counts to ten. Again. “Rose petals are so Humphrey Bogart, but that's the thing. It's only good in the movies. Because in real life you have to deal with them getting stuck in nasty places and then they cling to your back and then you have to clean it up...trust me. You want something simpler. Plus, that's too obvious. If you go that over the top, you'll just end up looking like Puck.”
“I don't want to end up like Noah. Quinn has already made it clear that she does not appreciate his romantic stylings,” Rachel muses idly as she starts looking through her closet for something to decorate the room with.
Kurt walks around Rachel's tiny space, observing, taking in the colors and patterns. “I think a few well placed candles will do the trick for you. You and Quinn are already wrapped around each others' fingers. Once you finish the song, she'll be pretty much ready to jump you. I think that you and Quinn would do better with the au naturale approach. The candles would be nice - do you have anything scented?”
“My dads stocked up on the post-Christmas Bed, Bath, & Beyond candle sale, so we have an entire linen closet of various scents.” Rachel prances off to the closet and returns with some candles that smell like they're from the vanilla family.
“Those are good.” Kurt smiles in approval, like he may soon be free of this hell hole and back to watching Kathy Griffin stand up on his couch. “The only other thing you need is to change the sheets.”
Rachel glares at the offending article. “What's wrong with them?”
“Rachel.” Kurt crosses his arms and puts on his best don't-mess-with-me face. “Are you honestly prepared to have sex on a pink bedspread covered in cute cartoon insects?”
“...I guess not.”
~
Quinn doesn't like being out of control, so she definitely doesn't like being led through Rachel's house blindfolded. It's kind of pointless anyway, since Quinn knows exactly where Rachel's taking her. She's not dumb: the way that Rachel's been sending her these shy, coy smiles all day long, how nervous she acts, how she's been wringing her hands. Quinn knows that she and Rachel are going to give themselves to each other tonight, and she's prepared for it. It just seems that Rachel wants to do what's probably a grand romantic gesture before. Which of course Quinn will approve of because grand gestures are kind of Rachel's thing and they're usually meticulously executed.
She's kind of confused, however, when her intuition tells her that Rachel's led her to the basement music room where sixteen years of accumulated sheet music sits in perfectly alphabetized library to the left of the white baby grand Rachel's dads got as a wedding present. Quinn knows this room well, as she and Rachel spend much of their time down here: Rachel singing, Quinn accompanying on piano and occasionally a harmony if the song calls for it. “Rachel, what are we doing down here?” Despite the fact that one of Quinn's recurring fantasies is to throw Rachel on the baby grand and have hot piano sex, she pictured their first time being in, well, a bed.
“You know where we are?” Quinn can picture the dorky grin sliding right off her girlfriend's face.
“Well, yeah; your house isn't that big,” Quinn replies. “Can I take this off now?” She gestures to her blindfold.
Rachel gives a resigned sigh and then says, “Sure. The surprise is ruined anyway.”
“No it isn't,” Quinn assures her as she lets her eyes readjust to the light. “I don't know what you're going to do here. So surprise me.” She takes a seat on the piano bench and looks at Rachel for the first time. The tiny brunette looks very nervous, and she's holding a guitar. This is a new development. “What are you going to do, Rachel?”
With a deep breath, Rachel begins explaining. “I asked Noah to help me learn the guitar and pick an appropriate song with which to serenade you, because I know how much you enjoy that. I've been practicing, and I really wanted to make this special for you. Though I was wary of the song at first, after some research, I was convinced Noah wasn't tricking me - ”
“Rachel. You babble more when you're nervous,” Quinn says. Her girlfriend blushes and smiles shyly at her. “Just play it.”
With less confidence than Quinn's ever seen in her features, Rachel picks up the acoustic guitar and settles it unsteadily on her knees. By the time Rachel strums through the first few chords, Quinn recognizes the song. She can't exactly help her enormous grin because Rachel is singing to her and playing a guitar and it's the most adorkable love song ever. Quinn's favorite love song, actually. However, Rachel's not the world's best guitar player and by the time she gets past the “do do do” part and into the actual lyrics, one of her fingers slips and she starts berating at herself for messing up what was supposed to be the perfect anniversary gift. She begins to apologize profusely to Quinn, who just ignores the tirade and sits at the piano. With a little bit of strain Quinn lets the notes and chords and rhythms come back to her, siphoning down from her brain into her hands and over the keys.
Rachel just stares at her.
“I know you had this whole thing planned out,” Quinn explains, repeating the intro on a loop, “but to be honest I like to play while you sing more than I like just listening to you sing. It makes it feel like it's our song, not just your song.” The pouting smile at the end of this placates Rachel enough for her to sing along to Quinn's beautiful playing.
Rachel has to admit there is something extra she feels when Quinn plays the piano to her voice, something more than when she's banging out piano or guitar chords and singing on her own for Quinn. They click somewhere in the stream of the melody, which is not surprising considering music has always been the one enduring connection between them. Even in fights, even when they hated each other, there was always music pushing, pulsating, against their stubborn personalities. It drifted through the air of the choir room and seeped into both of them, cementing its presence in their lives forever. It's no wonder that they communicate best through music instead of words.
As they approach the end of the song, Rachel slips onto the piano bench next to Quinn and rests her head on the blonde's shoulder. Even with her terrible posture Rachel manages to hit the highest of the Waluigi notes perfectly while Quinn drags out the final chords for a second longer than necessary because there is nothing she likes better than making music with Rachel. Of course making music generally tends to lead to making out, but that's not why Quinn loves it. She loves it because when the two of them create songs that sound full and cohesive, it produces a shy little glimmer of hope that maybe they don't need anything more than the two of them.
Rachel releases the final note and Quinn lifts up the pedal. “Did you enjoy my selection?”
“You couldn't have picked a better song,” Quinn says honestly. “Really, Rachel, that was sweet.”
“Thank you,” Rachel replies with a satisfied smirk. “Although I do wish I could have mastered the guitar part. I think it's due to your feminine wiles, because I could play it just fine with Noah - ”
“Rachel.” Quinn puts her hand on Rachel's thigh, leans over to whisper in her ear. “I liked it better this way.” And when Quinn feels back they can see the desire in each other's eyes etching out in front of the love and the passion. Quinn initiates the first kiss, turned on as always from watching Rachel perform. She pulls the girl up onto her lap as usual - Quinn enjoys the feeling of Rachel's entire body pressed against hers, as though the closer they become the more real the experience is. Sometimes, in Quinn's mind, she equates it to some kind of cheesy Disney movie feeling, like Snow White. Most times, however, Quinn's mind is far too occupied with soft fabric and soft skin and soft lips to be paying attention to symbolic allegories.
Like right now, for instance, as Rachel turns her body so that her legs are wrapped around Quinn's waist and her thighs digging into the blonde's sides with a subdued urgency that neither of them can ignore. Once again the ache between Quinn's legs settles in, but this time it's met with a strange fluttering in her stomach that says something will be done about that tonight. “Quinn, I believe that it's time to move this to the bedroom,” Rachel says in what she probably assumes is a sexy voice, but just comes out breathy and kind of silly. Quinn doesn't have the heart to laugh because she's so turned on right now that she needs Rachel all over her, right now.
“Yeah. Let's go.”
~
Quinn can't remember the last time she had sex. It was with Puck and she was drunk and it probably hurt a little. She knows that she bled some because she spent the next day (it was a Sunday) scrubbing the tiniest drops of blood off her sheets. There may or may not have been someone (Karofsky? Azimio?) stumbling in drunk as Puck was taking off her shirt before the mohawked boy screamed at whoever it was to get out. She's pretty sure Puck was on top and that he took a ridiculously long time to finish for drunken sex. What she remembers more than the actual sex was waking up the next morning with her bra and skirt on, but no underwear with a killer headache and a sudden urge to throw up. That was actually the first time she had a pregnancy panic, but it turned out to be just a hangover. Then there was the guilt, the shame, the trying to piece back together what exactly happened last night. And finally the crying once she realized what she'd done and with whom. And praying, of course. And searching her room like a mad woman for a condom or at least its wrapper. But nothing.
Now, though, it's completely different. For one thing Quinn can actually remember having sex this time. There's no need to blindly through herself out of bed and scour the floor for a sliver of latex or to run to the bathroom or to cry. Quinn has to admit that she was terrified of doing this because of her upbringing and her unfortunate first time. That fear had to be conquered by the act itself, for Quinn knew that nothing else would be able to assuage her misgivings. And afterward? Quinn doesn't regret a second of it especially in the afterglow, Rachel totally exhausted and asleep against her chest with her tan legs curled around Quinn's own and her arms nearly choking Quinn as though she never wants to let go.
Kurt and Rachel did a really nice job with the room, setting up candles that smelled like vanilla and that berry shampoo of Rachel's Quinn absolutely adores. They changed the sheets from cartoon characters to a deep burgundy that in the darkness complemented the pink of Rachel's room. Some light designer scarves that obviously belonged to Kurt were placed over lamps Quinn recognized as being dragged from all corners of the Berry household to create the perfect blend of light blue and pink hues casting shadows over the dim room. It was just slightly over-the-top, which added a ring of Rachel Berry authenticity to it, without suffocating Quinn under a hoarde of cliched romantic gestures. She makes a mental note to thank Kurt - and Puck - in the morning, after she's managed to get some sleep. Right now she's having a bit of trouble with that, probably in part due to the smile she can't seem to get off her face. Quinn thinks that this final physical step in their relationship may have finally been the one to rid her of the demons her parents implanted so deeply in her brain.
She had premarital sex with a girl, and the world didn't end. Nuclear bombs didn't go off in the backyard and no one suffered a spontaneous heart attack. So it's OK. Quinn had sex with a girl whom she loves very much, and everything's still OK.
~
“Damn, Hummel, you're a fucking BAMF.” Puck is staring at Kurt in the middle of Daredevil Dave's dingy dining as the smaller boy finishes off the ten pound monstrosity in front of him. Approximately three and a half pounds still wait to be chewed in front of Puck, and he's not sure how much more he can eat. He kind of wants to make a joke about how Hummel's used to eating “meat”, so this should be no problem for him, but damn if this isn't really impressive. “Seriously. How did you finish all that so fast?”
Kurt wipes his uber-clean face daintily with his napkin because even though he just out-manned Noah Puckerman, he still needs to have some class. “My dad and I used to come here on Father's Day all the time. Plus, since I have little fat it's easier for my stomach to expand.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Who cares if Puck just totally sounded like a chick because no one gets to call Puckasaurus fat.
“No, but you have strong abs, which I think make it harder for your stomach to expand,” Kurt explains thoughtfully. “I'm not sure if that's quite right, but I think it is.”
Puck stares at the tiny impish kid in front of him again. Yeah, Hummel's not exactly well-built but neither is Quinn, and he probably would like painting his nails instead of playing video games but that would leave more time for Puck to play, and maybe having a gay dude as a bro would help his romantic life 'cause Puck sucks at romance and Kurt is Mercedes' best friend. Sure they've only ever hung out as a result of Quinn and Rachel's messed up mating dance, but it hasn't been that bad - in fact, Hummel's kind of chill. Anyone who can eat a ten pound burger is kind of chill in Puck's book. “Hey, Hummel?”
“Yes, Puckerman?” Kurt's tone drips with sarcasm.
“How would you like to be my bro?”