Fic: It Happened One Night - Part 1
AN: Alright, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and was the reason Chapter 3 of my other story took so long. Basically, this takes place during Blame It On The Alcohol, after the ?Blainchel? duet, because that wasn’t the end of the night. While this is obviously not canon, it is supposed to take place behind the scenes and play into canon. Everything that happens afterward is just like on the show. Enjoy!
It Happened One Night
Quinn flopped herself onto a nearby couch, scowling as she took a sip of the mixed drink in her hand. The sharp taste just made her scowl further. Some might find it funny that she, a member of the popular crowd and thus someone who actually spent time in parties, had no tolerance for either the taste or the effects of alcohol, but there was a reason she mostly stuck to wine coolers. Though, stupid as it sounds, she’d been avoiding those since…that night.
She was actually having a mostly decent time, at least once Rachel opened up the liquor cabinet. It was annoying because she knew, even in her drunken state, why she was enjoying herself. She had been keeping such a tight lid on her frustrations this year, avoiding some of her harsher impulses and trying to be the better person. She had, of course, still had a couple of moments she couldn’t control, but even those were unfortunate necessities to regaining her place. She had even been playing nice (mostly) with Rachel “Manhands” Berry.
But the flow of alcohol was numbing the need to hold on so tightly to her emotions and it was all bubbling out. And it felt fantastic. Refreshing. Alcohol always made her feel so much worse, but so much freer at the same time. Sure, she felt a little more insecure about things, and who wouldn’t with Sam attached at the lips with Santana and Berry clinging to Finn like he was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. Or maybe she was clinging to the sinking ship. Heh. But mostly, she just felt royally pissed off about everything. And anger was such an easy, safe emotion, and so cathartic to release. Maybe she couldn’t let loose during the school day, she was trying to regain and maintain her popularity not make it worse after all, and she couldn’t release it at home with her mom, but this party and the alcohol was really loosening her up and making everything so simple.
She was staying away from Sam-tana, though, knowing that Santana would probably just end up bawling and she’d just look like a bitch and she really wasn’t ready to talk to Sam yet. And, while she could think of a million and one ways to release that anger with Stubble McUgly-Dress, it didn’t seem like the smartest idea to yell at the host of the party. Luckily, she had a whole lot of bottled up aggression festering in her mind at Puck, whose personality did a complete 180 when wasted.
Then Rachel, for some reason, called for a game of Spin the Bottle, probably hoping for a chance to make-out with Finn, and her anger chew toy was taken away. She participated, reluctantly, sharing a quick peck with Mike, but mostly just sat there and glared, occasionally throwing a punch or empty bottle of alcohol at Puck, whose was hanging all over Mike for some reason. She really didn’t want the bottle to hit her again. Mike was bad enough, at least he was a gentlemen, but she already had to make out with Finn if she wanted prom queen (and she did want prom queen, like a lot) and she didn’t like the idea of swapping spit with a random guy for fun. She flinched a little, averting her eyes, as she watched Brittany and Sam make out, definitely more tongue than necessary, until Santana pulled him away.
She didn’t even know why she was playing this stupid game. Stupid Rachel for asking everyone to join in, looking hopeful for what was pathetically probably her first real party game. Not to mention Santana saying no, crying about something as Rachel tried to hug it out, and too busy stomping around the room sobbing to sit still for the bottle to land on her. And if Santana said no then Quinn had to say yes, show everyone she was better.
Spin the bottle did not lead to the fun that Rachel had promised, however. All it led to was a painful to watch kiss between the only other blondes in glee club and …wow. Apparently Rachel really was enthusiastic about this game.
At the spin of the bottle, and against protest from Kurt, Rachel began sucking face with Kurt’s pseudo-boyfriend, whose name was apparently Blaine Warbler. Quinn didn’t care. According to Mercedes, he was just another boy who Kurt was crushing on that didn’t feel the same way, but was at least gay. Although he didn’t look very gay right now, drowning in Rupaul’s lips.
Then again, that was probably the appeal. Quinn looked closer at the kiss despite herself, noticing that they were definitely using tongue. Blake - or whatever his name was - was probably getting confused by how masculine Stubbles was. And apparently Rachel, who Quinn was sure was still completely into Finn, just took to whatever dark-haired male lead of a glee club happened to be closest. Finn, Jesse, and this Warbler fit, and even Puck only went out with her after he sang a Sweet Caroline.
Quinn wrinkled her nose in disgust at the pair, but at least Manhands is finally getting some gain from her complete lack of femininity. Quinn is sure she hears an audible pop as the two separate.
“You taste awesome,” Rachel croons, starry-eyed at her kissing partner (for a game, seriously). “I think I found my new duet partner!” she yells to the crowd, pulling Brent up with her.
Quinn wants to laugh for a moment, and she sees Mercedes and Tina giving into the impulse, because, of course, Rachel’s sexuality is just so freakishly tied into music that one kiss equals a duet to further test compatibility. Quinn imagined it in her head…
Rachel Berry’s Guide to Choosing a Future Leading Man
1. Physically, he must be somewhat taller than one Rachel Berry - who is of course completely normal height - and be good-looking with dark hair.
2. Willing and able to sing in front of an audience and have a physical stage presence and voice that is compatible with one Rachel Berry.
3. Being somewhat attracted to one Rachel Berry is a positive, but not necessary.
4. Also, willingness to stand up and be a leader or stick up for one Rachel Berry is also appreciated, but once again not required.
It was pathetic.
It didn’t seem to matter if the boy was gay, an idiot, a spy, or someone who used to throw Slushees in her face. As long as he looked and sounded nice with her, they could treat her like trash and she would still throw herself at them and praise them and not call them sharp.
The only thing worse than Rachel’s taste in men was how easily they were drawn into her Siren’s Song. Apparently even gay men (probably due to her manly appearance) found the troll irresistible.
Although, considering how much Blade looks like a hobbit and the stupid faces he’s making as he sings, maybe the two really are meant to be. If Rachel’s going to be a big Broadway star, she’ll probably have many gay boyfriends in her career. As Rachel finally joins in on the song, her cloudy alcohol infused mind lets go of the anger a little bit and just enjoys the song.
It was probably the single most annoying thing about Rachel. She might dress like her closet threw up on her and acts like she needs an instruction manual on being a teenager, but put her on a stage and Quinn is lost. Even when she was singing with Finn the first time around, Quinn barely ever felt the anger or jealousy while the girl was singing. Afterwards, when she thought of what they were doing and who Finn was touching, sure, she wanted to murder the both of them. But as long as Rachel was singing…everything was fine in the world.
The performance was fun. It was, even with the two hobbits being quite drunk, noticeably so, very good. Quinn thinks, barring laryngitis, it was impossible for Rachel to sound bad. Even as the two hopped around the stage and swayed and stumbled around, they looked like they were having a blast and Rachel looked relaxed. Quinn found herself wondering how often Rachel just sang for the hell of it. She knew the girl loved performing, but most of the time those performances were tied to displaying her talent or winning a competition. She wonders what it would be like to be on the stage with Rachel, singing just for fun and not really worrying about being pitchy or breathy or sharp. Rachel would still be better than her, but they’d sound great together. Probably better than Berry’s wannabe boyfriend, Blank. Wait, that’s not even a name…Blair? Bart? Benjamin? Darren?
Whatever!
She didn’t even want to be here. She liked Glee Club. She liked performing with them and they were incredible during her fall from grace. Sometimes it was emotionally draining, but it was still so much better than Cheerios, even if she was less likely to gain anything long term from it. And, as much as the boys complained about it, girls don’t really get flak for being a part of Glee. But she was on the outs with half the people in the room and it was at Rachel Berry’s - her arch-nemesis/victim/romantic rival - house. But she had to go. She couldn’t be the only one not going, and she especially couldn’t leave Finn alone with Quasimodo, especially with alcohol involved.
Stupid Puck and his need to create a freakin’ party at all times. He just wanted a place for alcohol and sex so why did she have to get drawn into this. Stupid drunk Puck, who was incessantly needy and clingy (currently draped over Sam) and didn’t know the meaning of personal space. At least he stayed away from her when she yelled at him…she hated it when he grabbed at her.
Her glass was empty…that sucked. She left the safety of the couch to scour for more alcohol, chuckling as she watched the sober Kurt pull the Warbler away from where he and Rachel were falling all over each other.
Good. The last thing Quinn wanted to see was another walking microphone drooling all over Rachel for the rest of the night. It always made her stomach turn when she saw Rachel throwing herself at guys. It was disgusting. The two would probably be making out again if not for Kurt and his claims that the other boy wasn’t in his right mind and had to be taken home.
If Kurt was a typical boy, Quinn would worry about the Warbler being the one taken advantage of, but Quinn guesses Kurt would have no idea what to do with a willing boy.
She watched Rachel put on an annoying pout - like a kicked mutt or a brat whose favorite toy was taken away - as Kurt prissily pulled Warbler away from the girl, giving what appeared to be a half-hearted goodbye. It was his own fault for bringing his wannabe boyfriend to a party to get drunk and decide to stay sober. He wouldn’t be calling foul if he was the one drunkenly making out with the other boy, but instead he was left wishing he was Rachel again.
Unfortunately, Quinn must have stared a little too long, because Rachel’s eyes find hers and her mopey face lights up like a Christmas tree, or a Hanukah candle thing (just because Puck was Jewish didn’t mean she knew anything about it, okay). Rachel struts and stumbles her way over - the combination hilarious to watch, but Quinn is too pissed off with herself for the maintained eye contact to laugh - and flops down on the couch.
Of course, whether by accident or on purpose, Rachel ended up half-draped over Quinn. Quinn does try to shove her off gently a little, but for every push away just led to Rachel falling right back into her and Quinn gives up, deciding it’s an exercise in futility.
Besides, at least it was better than Puck who was back to hanging on Mike Chang. When Puck was all over her earlier, before Lauren pulled him away and Quinn lit into him about her poor missing abs - he was heavy and big and smelled like sweaty boy. Rachel was light…soft.
Quinn breathed deeply for a moment - and she smelled like lavender - before she restrained herself. She wasn’t that drunk…yet.
Rachel peered at her through hooded eyes, and she was really, really close.
“What do you want Rupaul,” she spit out petulantly. It had been a while since she had called Rachel that to her face, but she was in a mood right now. Still, even as angry as she was, she was also fairly exhausted. The anger was burning, humming underneath her skin, but, at least after her ranting at Puck, it felt like the anger had gone into hibernation, leaving her feeling tired and sulky.
Still, even if she wasn’t actively exploding at the moment, she did not have the energy or patience to deal with Rachel Berry. Just because she was secretly dating the boy Rachel was in love with (hence the somewhat guilt inspired, half-hearted friendliness earlier) didn’t mean she had to coddle the girl.
“Hey girlfriend,” Rachel giggled, way to peppy for the amount of alcohol Quinn is sure she’s consumed. A chill ran through her body as Rachel’s breath tickled her neck.
Quinn scowled and gave another half-hearted shrug, hissing at the younger girl, “Don’t be weird.”
To her chagrin, the shove actually did push Rachel off her and she started to slip right of the couch. Whether it was basic human decency or instinct born of hours of intensive Cheerios training, Quinn’s first reaction to a falling person, even Rachel Berry, was to catch them. She overreached though, or something, because, instead of stopping Berry’s fall, she just ends up going down with her.
It’s a mass of limbs on the floor. Quinn is, of course, on top of the other girl, but the arm that had been leading her futile prevention attempt is somehow stuck underneath her. Their legs are tangled together. Quinn tries to get up, bracing her free arm against the coffee table, but Rachel is managing to pin her arm against the floor and pulling at it leads to uncomfortable twist against the couch.
“Shit,” Quinn mumbles to herself as she tries to free herself, hissing in pain when her hair gets caught with her arm. The other girl is useless as she giggles inanely from her place on the floor. “Stop giggling like a moron and use your mannish hands to help me up.”
Rachel smiles up at her, ignoring the insults, and starts squirming underneath her, trying to get some leverage to pull herself up. Unfortunately, all the squirming does is push harshly against Quinn’s trapped arm and the blond lets out an undignified shriek. Rachel stops at once, brow furrowing in thought.
She abruptly smiles and, one hand bracing against the couch, wraps the other arm against Quinn and, trusting Quinn to hold them both up, pulls herself off the ground, tightly against the other girl.
Quinn freezes and sputters, “What are you doing?” And, just for the record, she only froze because of the intensive Cheerio training. Otherwise, she would have jerked away, but Cheerios trains you not to jerk away when some is pushed against you or grabs you because then people fall and necks get broken…and stuff.
“You can move your arm now,” Rachel laughs, apparently amused at the whole situation, or, you know, drunk.
“Oh,” Quinn mutters softly, mostly to herself, as she quickly pulls her arm away. Regaining her footing, she uses her freed limb to push herself into an upright position. She grabs the other girl somewhat roughly and pulls her back into the couch. She tries not to take any malicious glee from the brief flinch as she grabs Rachel, but the girl did just make her look like a fool and her anger tended to get the best of her when she was drunk.
Pure drunken honesty for a moment, though. She did feel a little guilty as the girl rubbed her arm. It was just so hard. She spent most of her days walking around consumed in her anger. That sounded dramatic. It was just… before she got pregnant, she had Sylvester harping at her and Finn constantly pawing at her and acting like a moron. Puck was just always around acting sleazy and she had to keep one eye on Santana at all times. Her Dad was always harping on her to be perfect at all times and her mom just watched, drink in hand. And Rachel was just always around…hanging in the background, somehow catching her attention.
And she couldn’t let it loose, this anger. Some people let their emotions go naturally, but Quinn always had to keep calm, keep control, and maintain the mask. And she couldn’t release it through exercise like some people did because her exercise was the Cheerios and it was all calm, focused control. Mind over matter and no passion involved.
She still remembers that time in the hallway when Rachel told her to practice because she “clearly” had a lot to express. Before glee, she had no creative form of expression. Cheerios took up all her time, and that was Sue Sylvester expressing herself through the Cheerios.
That’s not completely true. The closest thing she had to expressing herself and releasing her emotions, barring those times she let loose and yelled at Finn (which weren’t many pre-pregnancy, she always maintained a strict calm persona, excellent for keeping him in line without scaring him off) was torturing Rachel. The variety of degrading nicknames (she made it a point to never use one twice in a week), the ingenious insults and tortures, and the fantastic drawings. She and Santana once skipped History because Quinn had figured out Rachel’s schedule to the minute and had this elaborate verbal back and forth set up. Unfortunately, this required waiting around in the bathroom stalls for a while, but Quinn used this time to add a new porn drawing to her collection in the stall. It was such a good way to express herself, but it just didn’t work once she got pregnant.
She had tried and tried, but Berry always looked at her with those big eyes full of kindness and stuff, and Quinn got flustered. She even admitted to the drawings! And singing just didn’t do it for her... well, not really well. She tried, but she just wasn’t…she was no Rachel Berry. The one time she came close was when they did funk and Berry wasn’t even there to see her!
She had told Sam at the beginning of the year that she was going to go back to torturing Rachel, because it really was the best way to relieve herself. She had to be really careful with her interactions with everyone else since she was rebuilding her reputation, but everyone found Rachel to be an acceptable target. They felt the Slushees and insults were okay, as long as it was Rachel, so it would help rather than hurt her popularity. Plus, the torture, along with her fight with Santana, helped spread a little fear for those that had forgotten who the top dog was.
She knew it wasn’t really the girl’s fault. Yes, her outfits were horrible and she could not seem to keep her mouth shut, but it’s not like Rachel ever intentionally caused problems for other people. It was just that something about her rubbed Quinn the wrong way, inciting those brief rushes of emotions and she just wanted lash out at the girl. It was disgusting. Rachel had no right to inspire any emotions in her, especially considering how apathetic Rachel seemed to be.
Quinn guesses that she wouldn’t have come down so hard on the other girl if she could have just reacted like a normal person for once when it came to Quinn. The very first time they met, Quinn had picked apart Berry’s outfit (the sight of it had sent Brittany crying, so Rachel was lucky it was her and not Santana around) and instead of cowering or being happy that Quinn had deigned to speak to her, Rachel had walked off, head held high. The next day, there was a nine page paper, in proper MLA format, explaining why her outfit had been suitable and fashionable.
Right now, though, with Rachel Berry, biggest loser in the school, laughing at her, she felt that same twitch of emotion that usually led to Slushees and insults. Before she could act, though, Rachel acts as though she didn’t just climb all over her and fluster her and laugh at her. Rachel shifts around to make herself more comfortable on the couch and ends up basically in her lap.
The other girl is apparently pretending they’re all old friends - or something - and links their arms together and makes herself at home on top of Quinn.
Quinn scowls fiercely but resists the urge to shove her away. Instead, she just pulls the girl tighter against her to make sure neither of them end up back on the floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself Quinn,” Rachel says, face pressed against her neck making Quinn squirm away. Quinn thinks that straight from Rachel’s ‘hey girlfriend’ that the younger girl is recreating their earlier, sober “conversation.” Maybe that’s the reason she came over in the first place, wanting affirmation on her party’s coolness from the most popular girl here.
So Rachel probably Quinn to respond enthusiastically that she was having a blast. Which she wasn’t.
She wasn’t enjoying this.
“No, not really…or at all,” Quinn whispered harshly, hoping to rile the girl up.
Even though Quinn was looking right at Rachel, the younger girl pulled herself out of Quinn’s grasp so that she could face Quinn fully, bracing each of her hands on Quinn’s shoulders to maintain upright. Judging by the intense expression, Rachel was concentrating hard on her next move.
Rachel was looking right into her eyes and put on what Quinn could only assume was a practiced pout, very overdramatic and rehearsed. She resisted the urge to laugh and the urge passed her anger, quiet and sullen though it may be, flooded back and gave her strength.
“Why not,” Rachel exclaimed, still staring straight into her eyes but slightly unfocused - Quinn’s pretty sure that Rachel’s even more of a lightweight than her - “I let you guys have everything. There’s alcohol and you get to sit on things! I even organized a sexually stimulating game! People kissed!”
“Gee, with alcohol, kissing, and sitting, how could this party be anything but a fun time!” Quinn sneered, enjoying the rush that came from an argument. “Must be the company! Who did you get your party advice from - Puck?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied seriously, “and Finn.”
Rachel’s nonchalance took the wind from her sails a little and she replied with less steam, “Oh, well that probably wasn’t smart. Finn’s a moron and listening to Puck leaves you a whale for 9 months and then your body is never the same…like my abs.”
Rachel gasped…dramatically.
“You shut your mouth Quinn Fabray! Your stomach is…awesome!” Rachel gushed, reaching her hand to brush against Quinn’s stomach, her face a picture of exaggerated concern.
Quinn swallowed thickly. She never really thought of herself as shallow, at least not more than is expected of a teenager, even though she knows others do. She’s on the high honor roll - and that’s through Sylvester, Glee Club, and a pregnancy - and is probably the only one at the school who has gone through real experiences like creating life and being homeless.
But she loves compliments. She doesn’t like the idea that she puts stock in what other people say and think, but she always feels like she is what other people make her out to be. Before the pregnancy, her mood depended a lot on what her parents would say, but she rarely heard anything positive even outside her home. Her friendship with Santana and Brittany was never the kind where they sat around gushing about each other, rather they sat around and put other people down. And Finn had always been useless in knowing what to say.
It was the reason she had ended up naked underneath Puck. “Not Fat” wasn’t the greatest compliment, but it was more than what most were giving at the time. Her mom had brought up the idea of some non-Cheerios exercise plans that morning and Finn was sniffing at other, tinier girls and the alcohol he had fed her just made her feel so weak and angry. She was mad at her Daddy and Finn and Puck was there, the worst possible candidate according to those two, and he was so nice, telling her she wasn’t fat. He wanted her.
And Sam had been great with compliments. He was sweet and popular - acceptable - but also free with his words, telling her she had lovely eyes, in a somewhat dorky manner.
Flattery really was the best way to get on her good side it seemed.
She had to shut this down.
“Whatever,” she dismissed hoarsely, “Puck ruined my body, forever. He destroyed it and it doesn’t look… doesn’t feel the same”
It was true. She had done nothing but work out all summer and completely destroyed her pregnancy diet. She was apparently good enough for the horndogs at school, but they leapt at anything that moved. Sue Sylvester had to be convinced to take her back and had hounded her about her body until the day she quit. Santana still called her tubers. She was passable, but not great. She had worked so hard to get as close to perfect as possible, but now…now her proportions were messed up and her body just didn’t fit right.
“Oh Quinn,” Rachel murmured, cuddling against her in a way that made her feel somewhat uncomfortable. Itchy. “Your body is awesome. Other people, everyone, looks at your body and wants it. You’re beautiful. Amazing. Awesome.”
Rachel looked sincere, like she meant it, but she also looked like a dog waiting for a treat.
It made sense. As far as Quinn knew, and Quinn sort of prided herself on knowing, Rachel had little to no real friend interactions. Like, according to Mercedes, Rachel had apparently started to hang out with Kurt some, which meant that she hung out with Mercedes a couple times, but it hadn’t really shifted Mercedes opinion much.
Mercedes somehow managed to be perfectly nice and tolerant with her outside of glee, but kept their somewhat strained, competitive relationship during it.
Rachel, though, was apparently getting a little better at social interactions. Enough to feel like she was doing a good job in this drunken encounter. Rachel probably figured that the alcohol was eliminating her intrinsic weirdness and creating a sisterhood of comradery or something.
And right now, considering the light flutter in her stomach - she hoped she wasn’t gonna vomit - she was willing to give Rachel this. Well, not give…it wasn’t like she was being nice or anything. Rachel was still a freak, but Quinn gets this. It’s a give and take, an exchange of services. Standard operating procedure.
So she hugs the girl closely - hugging is a friend thing, right? - tightly, smiling as the other girl immediately hugs back. She was more than drunk enough to enjoy the compliments even if the source was somewhat shifty, and she was savvy enough to know what sort of thing the girl would want in return. Aside from solos, friendship - even the one night only pretense of friendship Quinn was offering - is what the girl desires, so she can pretend. She’ll just be nice to Rachel and cuddle on the couch or whatever like friends, and Rachel will tell her everything she wants to hear. It’s a better deal than she’s had in the past.
Figuring the hug was more than enough for now, Quinn pulled away, shrugging off the other girl when Rachel doesn’t immediately let go.
Rachel, doe-eyed and smiling softly, somehow manages to cling to her arm even as she pulled away. But, aside from a quick yawn - it’s probably past the midget’s bedtime (and she doesn’t find that cute) - Rachel keeps her mouth closed.
That was equal, right? One compliment equals one friendship hug and the continued allowance of cuddling. Is Rachel demanding more? What else can she do at this point in the party? Guys were easy, up the teasing a little, bring out the big guns (boobs (under the shirt, but over the bra)), and they were putty (for the most part). But Rachel just rests her head against Quinn’s shoulder, apparently satisfied with the current situation.
Quinn gently lays her head against Rachel’s, feeling somewhat settled, or at least not seething in anger. But she still wants more. Rachel might seem satisfied, but the girl is so quiet and calm and, as Quinn glances down mostly out of the corner of her eyes, looks like she could fall asleep on Quinn’s shoulder. This is completely different from how Rachel is most of the time, and Quinn knows it is not due to the alcohol because this Rachel is also completely different than the excited mess she had seen moments ago, dancing and singing on stage. A fresh flush of fury flows over her at the thought. Rachel had been so happy with what’s his face and found Quinn so boring she just wanted to sleep on her shoulder. She jerks away from the other girl, jumping of the couch and ignoring Rachel who, still somewhat clingy, had ended up sprawled the floor on the confusion.
Part 2
It Happened One Night
Quinn flopped herself onto a nearby couch, scowling as she took a sip of the mixed drink in her hand. The sharp taste just made her scowl further. Some might find it funny that she, a member of the popular crowd and thus someone who actually spent time in parties, had no tolerance for either the taste or the effects of alcohol, but there was a reason she mostly stuck to wine coolers. Though, stupid as it sounds, she’d been avoiding those since…that night.
She was actually having a mostly decent time, at least once Rachel opened up the liquor cabinet. It was annoying because she knew, even in her drunken state, why she was enjoying herself. She had been keeping such a tight lid on her frustrations this year, avoiding some of her harsher impulses and trying to be the better person. She had, of course, still had a couple of moments she couldn’t control, but even those were unfortunate necessities to regaining her place. She had even been playing nice (mostly) with Rachel “Manhands” Berry.
But the flow of alcohol was numbing the need to hold on so tightly to her emotions and it was all bubbling out. And it felt fantastic. Refreshing. Alcohol always made her feel so much worse, but so much freer at the same time. Sure, she felt a little more insecure about things, and who wouldn’t with Sam attached at the lips with Santana and Berry clinging to Finn like he was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. Or maybe she was clinging to the sinking ship. Heh. But mostly, she just felt royally pissed off about everything. And anger was such an easy, safe emotion, and so cathartic to release. Maybe she couldn’t let loose during the school day, she was trying to regain and maintain her popularity not make it worse after all, and she couldn’t release it at home with her mom, but this party and the alcohol was really loosening her up and making everything so simple.
She was staying away from Sam-tana, though, knowing that Santana would probably just end up bawling and she’d just look like a bitch and she really wasn’t ready to talk to Sam yet. And, while she could think of a million and one ways to release that anger with Stubble McUgly-Dress, it didn’t seem like the smartest idea to yell at the host of the party. Luckily, she had a whole lot of bottled up aggression festering in her mind at Puck, whose personality did a complete 180 when wasted.
Then Rachel, for some reason, called for a game of Spin the Bottle, probably hoping for a chance to make-out with Finn, and her anger chew toy was taken away. She participated, reluctantly, sharing a quick peck with Mike, but mostly just sat there and glared, occasionally throwing a punch or empty bottle of alcohol at Puck, whose was hanging all over Mike for some reason. She really didn’t want the bottle to hit her again. Mike was bad enough, at least he was a gentlemen, but she already had to make out with Finn if she wanted prom queen (and she did want prom queen, like a lot) and she didn’t like the idea of swapping spit with a random guy for fun. She flinched a little, averting her eyes, as she watched Brittany and Sam make out, definitely more tongue than necessary, until Santana pulled him away.
She didn’t even know why she was playing this stupid game. Stupid Rachel for asking everyone to join in, looking hopeful for what was pathetically probably her first real party game. Not to mention Santana saying no, crying about something as Rachel tried to hug it out, and too busy stomping around the room sobbing to sit still for the bottle to land on her. And if Santana said no then Quinn had to say yes, show everyone she was better.
Spin the bottle did not lead to the fun that Rachel had promised, however. All it led to was a painful to watch kiss between the only other blondes in glee club and …wow. Apparently Rachel really was enthusiastic about this game.
At the spin of the bottle, and against protest from Kurt, Rachel began sucking face with Kurt’s pseudo-boyfriend, whose name was apparently Blaine Warbler. Quinn didn’t care. According to Mercedes, he was just another boy who Kurt was crushing on that didn’t feel the same way, but was at least gay. Although he didn’t look very gay right now, drowning in Rupaul’s lips.
Then again, that was probably the appeal. Quinn looked closer at the kiss despite herself, noticing that they were definitely using tongue. Blake - or whatever his name was - was probably getting confused by how masculine Stubbles was. And apparently Rachel, who Quinn was sure was still completely into Finn, just took to whatever dark-haired male lead of a glee club happened to be closest. Finn, Jesse, and this Warbler fit, and even Puck only went out with her after he sang a Sweet Caroline.
Quinn wrinkled her nose in disgust at the pair, but at least Manhands is finally getting some gain from her complete lack of femininity. Quinn is sure she hears an audible pop as the two separate.
“You taste awesome,” Rachel croons, starry-eyed at her kissing partner (for a game, seriously). “I think I found my new duet partner!” she yells to the crowd, pulling Brent up with her.
Quinn wants to laugh for a moment, and she sees Mercedes and Tina giving into the impulse, because, of course, Rachel’s sexuality is just so freakishly tied into music that one kiss equals a duet to further test compatibility. Quinn imagined it in her head…
Rachel Berry’s Guide to Choosing a Future Leading Man
1. Physically, he must be somewhat taller than one Rachel Berry - who is of course completely normal height - and be good-looking with dark hair.
2. Willing and able to sing in front of an audience and have a physical stage presence and voice that is compatible with one Rachel Berry.
3. Being somewhat attracted to one Rachel Berry is a positive, but not necessary.
4. Also, willingness to stand up and be a leader or stick up for one Rachel Berry is also appreciated, but once again not required.
It was pathetic.
It didn’t seem to matter if the boy was gay, an idiot, a spy, or someone who used to throw Slushees in her face. As long as he looked and sounded nice with her, they could treat her like trash and she would still throw herself at them and praise them and not call them sharp.
The only thing worse than Rachel’s taste in men was how easily they were drawn into her Siren’s Song. Apparently even gay men (probably due to her manly appearance) found the troll irresistible.
Although, considering how much Blade looks like a hobbit and the stupid faces he’s making as he sings, maybe the two really are meant to be. If Rachel’s going to be a big Broadway star, she’ll probably have many gay boyfriends in her career. As Rachel finally joins in on the song, her cloudy alcohol infused mind lets go of the anger a little bit and just enjoys the song.
It was probably the single most annoying thing about Rachel. She might dress like her closet threw up on her and acts like she needs an instruction manual on being a teenager, but put her on a stage and Quinn is lost. Even when she was singing with Finn the first time around, Quinn barely ever felt the anger or jealousy while the girl was singing. Afterwards, when she thought of what they were doing and who Finn was touching, sure, she wanted to murder the both of them. But as long as Rachel was singing…everything was fine in the world.
The performance was fun. It was, even with the two hobbits being quite drunk, noticeably so, very good. Quinn thinks, barring laryngitis, it was impossible for Rachel to sound bad. Even as the two hopped around the stage and swayed and stumbled around, they looked like they were having a blast and Rachel looked relaxed. Quinn found herself wondering how often Rachel just sang for the hell of it. She knew the girl loved performing, but most of the time those performances were tied to displaying her talent or winning a competition. She wonders what it would be like to be on the stage with Rachel, singing just for fun and not really worrying about being pitchy or breathy or sharp. Rachel would still be better than her, but they’d sound great together. Probably better than Berry’s wannabe boyfriend, Blank. Wait, that’s not even a name…Blair? Bart? Benjamin? Darren?
Whatever!
She didn’t even want to be here. She liked Glee Club. She liked performing with them and they were incredible during her fall from grace. Sometimes it was emotionally draining, but it was still so much better than Cheerios, even if she was less likely to gain anything long term from it. And, as much as the boys complained about it, girls don’t really get flak for being a part of Glee. But she was on the outs with half the people in the room and it was at Rachel Berry’s - her arch-nemesis/victim/romantic rival - house. But she had to go. She couldn’t be the only one not going, and she especially couldn’t leave Finn alone with Quasimodo, especially with alcohol involved.
Stupid Puck and his need to create a freakin’ party at all times. He just wanted a place for alcohol and sex so why did she have to get drawn into this. Stupid drunk Puck, who was incessantly needy and clingy (currently draped over Sam) and didn’t know the meaning of personal space. At least he stayed away from her when she yelled at him…she hated it when he grabbed at her.
Her glass was empty…that sucked. She left the safety of the couch to scour for more alcohol, chuckling as she watched the sober Kurt pull the Warbler away from where he and Rachel were falling all over each other.
Good. The last thing Quinn wanted to see was another walking microphone drooling all over Rachel for the rest of the night. It always made her stomach turn when she saw Rachel throwing herself at guys. It was disgusting. The two would probably be making out again if not for Kurt and his claims that the other boy wasn’t in his right mind and had to be taken home.
If Kurt was a typical boy, Quinn would worry about the Warbler being the one taken advantage of, but Quinn guesses Kurt would have no idea what to do with a willing boy.
She watched Rachel put on an annoying pout - like a kicked mutt or a brat whose favorite toy was taken away - as Kurt prissily pulled Warbler away from the girl, giving what appeared to be a half-hearted goodbye. It was his own fault for bringing his wannabe boyfriend to a party to get drunk and decide to stay sober. He wouldn’t be calling foul if he was the one drunkenly making out with the other boy, but instead he was left wishing he was Rachel again.
Unfortunately, Quinn must have stared a little too long, because Rachel’s eyes find hers and her mopey face lights up like a Christmas tree, or a Hanukah candle thing (just because Puck was Jewish didn’t mean she knew anything about it, okay). Rachel struts and stumbles her way over - the combination hilarious to watch, but Quinn is too pissed off with herself for the maintained eye contact to laugh - and flops down on the couch.
Of course, whether by accident or on purpose, Rachel ended up half-draped over Quinn. Quinn does try to shove her off gently a little, but for every push away just led to Rachel falling right back into her and Quinn gives up, deciding it’s an exercise in futility.
Besides, at least it was better than Puck who was back to hanging on Mike Chang. When Puck was all over her earlier, before Lauren pulled him away and Quinn lit into him about her poor missing abs - he was heavy and big and smelled like sweaty boy. Rachel was light…soft.
Quinn breathed deeply for a moment - and she smelled like lavender - before she restrained herself. She wasn’t that drunk…yet.
Rachel peered at her through hooded eyes, and she was really, really close.
“What do you want Rupaul,” she spit out petulantly. It had been a while since she had called Rachel that to her face, but she was in a mood right now. Still, even as angry as she was, she was also fairly exhausted. The anger was burning, humming underneath her skin, but, at least after her ranting at Puck, it felt like the anger had gone into hibernation, leaving her feeling tired and sulky.
Still, even if she wasn’t actively exploding at the moment, she did not have the energy or patience to deal with Rachel Berry. Just because she was secretly dating the boy Rachel was in love with (hence the somewhat guilt inspired, half-hearted friendliness earlier) didn’t mean she had to coddle the girl.
“Hey girlfriend,” Rachel giggled, way to peppy for the amount of alcohol Quinn is sure she’s consumed. A chill ran through her body as Rachel’s breath tickled her neck.
Quinn scowled and gave another half-hearted shrug, hissing at the younger girl, “Don’t be weird.”
To her chagrin, the shove actually did push Rachel off her and she started to slip right of the couch. Whether it was basic human decency or instinct born of hours of intensive Cheerios training, Quinn’s first reaction to a falling person, even Rachel Berry, was to catch them. She overreached though, or something, because, instead of stopping Berry’s fall, she just ends up going down with her.
It’s a mass of limbs on the floor. Quinn is, of course, on top of the other girl, but the arm that had been leading her futile prevention attempt is somehow stuck underneath her. Their legs are tangled together. Quinn tries to get up, bracing her free arm against the coffee table, but Rachel is managing to pin her arm against the floor and pulling at it leads to uncomfortable twist against the couch.
“Shit,” Quinn mumbles to herself as she tries to free herself, hissing in pain when her hair gets caught with her arm. The other girl is useless as she giggles inanely from her place on the floor. “Stop giggling like a moron and use your mannish hands to help me up.”
Rachel smiles up at her, ignoring the insults, and starts squirming underneath her, trying to get some leverage to pull herself up. Unfortunately, all the squirming does is push harshly against Quinn’s trapped arm and the blond lets out an undignified shriek. Rachel stops at once, brow furrowing in thought.
She abruptly smiles and, one hand bracing against the couch, wraps the other arm against Quinn and, trusting Quinn to hold them both up, pulls herself off the ground, tightly against the other girl.
Quinn freezes and sputters, “What are you doing?” And, just for the record, she only froze because of the intensive Cheerio training. Otherwise, she would have jerked away, but Cheerios trains you not to jerk away when some is pushed against you or grabs you because then people fall and necks get broken…and stuff.
“You can move your arm now,” Rachel laughs, apparently amused at the whole situation, or, you know, drunk.
“Oh,” Quinn mutters softly, mostly to herself, as she quickly pulls her arm away. Regaining her footing, she uses her freed limb to push herself into an upright position. She grabs the other girl somewhat roughly and pulls her back into the couch. She tries not to take any malicious glee from the brief flinch as she grabs Rachel, but the girl did just make her look like a fool and her anger tended to get the best of her when she was drunk.
Pure drunken honesty for a moment, though. She did feel a little guilty as the girl rubbed her arm. It was just so hard. She spent most of her days walking around consumed in her anger. That sounded dramatic. It was just… before she got pregnant, she had Sylvester harping at her and Finn constantly pawing at her and acting like a moron. Puck was just always around acting sleazy and she had to keep one eye on Santana at all times. Her Dad was always harping on her to be perfect at all times and her mom just watched, drink in hand. And Rachel was just always around…hanging in the background, somehow catching her attention.
And she couldn’t let it loose, this anger. Some people let their emotions go naturally, but Quinn always had to keep calm, keep control, and maintain the mask. And she couldn’t release it through exercise like some people did because her exercise was the Cheerios and it was all calm, focused control. Mind over matter and no passion involved.
She still remembers that time in the hallway when Rachel told her to practice because she “clearly” had a lot to express. Before glee, she had no creative form of expression. Cheerios took up all her time, and that was Sue Sylvester expressing herself through the Cheerios.
That’s not completely true. The closest thing she had to expressing herself and releasing her emotions, barring those times she let loose and yelled at Finn (which weren’t many pre-pregnancy, she always maintained a strict calm persona, excellent for keeping him in line without scaring him off) was torturing Rachel. The variety of degrading nicknames (she made it a point to never use one twice in a week), the ingenious insults and tortures, and the fantastic drawings. She and Santana once skipped History because Quinn had figured out Rachel’s schedule to the minute and had this elaborate verbal back and forth set up. Unfortunately, this required waiting around in the bathroom stalls for a while, but Quinn used this time to add a new porn drawing to her collection in the stall. It was such a good way to express herself, but it just didn’t work once she got pregnant.
She had tried and tried, but Berry always looked at her with those big eyes full of kindness and stuff, and Quinn got flustered. She even admitted to the drawings! And singing just didn’t do it for her... well, not really well. She tried, but she just wasn’t…she was no Rachel Berry. The one time she came close was when they did funk and Berry wasn’t even there to see her!
She had told Sam at the beginning of the year that she was going to go back to torturing Rachel, because it really was the best way to relieve herself. She had to be really careful with her interactions with everyone else since she was rebuilding her reputation, but everyone found Rachel to be an acceptable target. They felt the Slushees and insults were okay, as long as it was Rachel, so it would help rather than hurt her popularity. Plus, the torture, along with her fight with Santana, helped spread a little fear for those that had forgotten who the top dog was.
She knew it wasn’t really the girl’s fault. Yes, her outfits were horrible and she could not seem to keep her mouth shut, but it’s not like Rachel ever intentionally caused problems for other people. It was just that something about her rubbed Quinn the wrong way, inciting those brief rushes of emotions and she just wanted lash out at the girl. It was disgusting. Rachel had no right to inspire any emotions in her, especially considering how apathetic Rachel seemed to be.
Quinn guesses that she wouldn’t have come down so hard on the other girl if she could have just reacted like a normal person for once when it came to Quinn. The very first time they met, Quinn had picked apart Berry’s outfit (the sight of it had sent Brittany crying, so Rachel was lucky it was her and not Santana around) and instead of cowering or being happy that Quinn had deigned to speak to her, Rachel had walked off, head held high. The next day, there was a nine page paper, in proper MLA format, explaining why her outfit had been suitable and fashionable.
Right now, though, with Rachel Berry, biggest loser in the school, laughing at her, she felt that same twitch of emotion that usually led to Slushees and insults. Before she could act, though, Rachel acts as though she didn’t just climb all over her and fluster her and laugh at her. Rachel shifts around to make herself more comfortable on the couch and ends up basically in her lap.
The other girl is apparently pretending they’re all old friends - or something - and links their arms together and makes herself at home on top of Quinn.
Quinn scowls fiercely but resists the urge to shove her away. Instead, she just pulls the girl tighter against her to make sure neither of them end up back on the floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself Quinn,” Rachel says, face pressed against her neck making Quinn squirm away. Quinn thinks that straight from Rachel’s ‘hey girlfriend’ that the younger girl is recreating their earlier, sober “conversation.” Maybe that’s the reason she came over in the first place, wanting affirmation on her party’s coolness from the most popular girl here.
So Rachel probably Quinn to respond enthusiastically that she was having a blast. Which she wasn’t.
She wasn’t enjoying this.
“No, not really…or at all,” Quinn whispered harshly, hoping to rile the girl up.
Even though Quinn was looking right at Rachel, the younger girl pulled herself out of Quinn’s grasp so that she could face Quinn fully, bracing each of her hands on Quinn’s shoulders to maintain upright. Judging by the intense expression, Rachel was concentrating hard on her next move.
Rachel was looking right into her eyes and put on what Quinn could only assume was a practiced pout, very overdramatic and rehearsed. She resisted the urge to laugh and the urge passed her anger, quiet and sullen though it may be, flooded back and gave her strength.
“Why not,” Rachel exclaimed, still staring straight into her eyes but slightly unfocused - Quinn’s pretty sure that Rachel’s even more of a lightweight than her - “I let you guys have everything. There’s alcohol and you get to sit on things! I even organized a sexually stimulating game! People kissed!”
“Gee, with alcohol, kissing, and sitting, how could this party be anything but a fun time!” Quinn sneered, enjoying the rush that came from an argument. “Must be the company! Who did you get your party advice from - Puck?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied seriously, “and Finn.”
Rachel’s nonchalance took the wind from her sails a little and she replied with less steam, “Oh, well that probably wasn’t smart. Finn’s a moron and listening to Puck leaves you a whale for 9 months and then your body is never the same…like my abs.”
Rachel gasped…dramatically.
“You shut your mouth Quinn Fabray! Your stomach is…awesome!” Rachel gushed, reaching her hand to brush against Quinn’s stomach, her face a picture of exaggerated concern.
Quinn swallowed thickly. She never really thought of herself as shallow, at least not more than is expected of a teenager, even though she knows others do. She’s on the high honor roll - and that’s through Sylvester, Glee Club, and a pregnancy - and is probably the only one at the school who has gone through real experiences like creating life and being homeless.
But she loves compliments. She doesn’t like the idea that she puts stock in what other people say and think, but she always feels like she is what other people make her out to be. Before the pregnancy, her mood depended a lot on what her parents would say, but she rarely heard anything positive even outside her home. Her friendship with Santana and Brittany was never the kind where they sat around gushing about each other, rather they sat around and put other people down. And Finn had always been useless in knowing what to say.
It was the reason she had ended up naked underneath Puck. “Not Fat” wasn’t the greatest compliment, but it was more than what most were giving at the time. Her mom had brought up the idea of some non-Cheerios exercise plans that morning and Finn was sniffing at other, tinier girls and the alcohol he had fed her just made her feel so weak and angry. She was mad at her Daddy and Finn and Puck was there, the worst possible candidate according to those two, and he was so nice, telling her she wasn’t fat. He wanted her.
And Sam had been great with compliments. He was sweet and popular - acceptable - but also free with his words, telling her she had lovely eyes, in a somewhat dorky manner.
Flattery really was the best way to get on her good side it seemed.
She had to shut this down.
“Whatever,” she dismissed hoarsely, “Puck ruined my body, forever. He destroyed it and it doesn’t look… doesn’t feel the same”
It was true. She had done nothing but work out all summer and completely destroyed her pregnancy diet. She was apparently good enough for the horndogs at school, but they leapt at anything that moved. Sue Sylvester had to be convinced to take her back and had hounded her about her body until the day she quit. Santana still called her tubers. She was passable, but not great. She had worked so hard to get as close to perfect as possible, but now…now her proportions were messed up and her body just didn’t fit right.
“Oh Quinn,” Rachel murmured, cuddling against her in a way that made her feel somewhat uncomfortable. Itchy. “Your body is awesome. Other people, everyone, looks at your body and wants it. You’re beautiful. Amazing. Awesome.”
Rachel looked sincere, like she meant it, but she also looked like a dog waiting for a treat.
It made sense. As far as Quinn knew, and Quinn sort of prided herself on knowing, Rachel had little to no real friend interactions. Like, according to Mercedes, Rachel had apparently started to hang out with Kurt some, which meant that she hung out with Mercedes a couple times, but it hadn’t really shifted Mercedes opinion much.
Mercedes somehow managed to be perfectly nice and tolerant with her outside of glee, but kept their somewhat strained, competitive relationship during it.
Rachel, though, was apparently getting a little better at social interactions. Enough to feel like she was doing a good job in this drunken encounter. Rachel probably figured that the alcohol was eliminating her intrinsic weirdness and creating a sisterhood of comradery or something.
And right now, considering the light flutter in her stomach - she hoped she wasn’t gonna vomit - she was willing to give Rachel this. Well, not give…it wasn’t like she was being nice or anything. Rachel was still a freak, but Quinn gets this. It’s a give and take, an exchange of services. Standard operating procedure.
So she hugs the girl closely - hugging is a friend thing, right? - tightly, smiling as the other girl immediately hugs back. She was more than drunk enough to enjoy the compliments even if the source was somewhat shifty, and she was savvy enough to know what sort of thing the girl would want in return. Aside from solos, friendship - even the one night only pretense of friendship Quinn was offering - is what the girl desires, so she can pretend. She’ll just be nice to Rachel and cuddle on the couch or whatever like friends, and Rachel will tell her everything she wants to hear. It’s a better deal than she’s had in the past.
Figuring the hug was more than enough for now, Quinn pulled away, shrugging off the other girl when Rachel doesn’t immediately let go.
Rachel, doe-eyed and smiling softly, somehow manages to cling to her arm even as she pulled away. But, aside from a quick yawn - it’s probably past the midget’s bedtime (and she doesn’t find that cute) - Rachel keeps her mouth closed.
That was equal, right? One compliment equals one friendship hug and the continued allowance of cuddling. Is Rachel demanding more? What else can she do at this point in the party? Guys were easy, up the teasing a little, bring out the big guns (boobs (under the shirt, but over the bra)), and they were putty (for the most part). But Rachel just rests her head against Quinn’s shoulder, apparently satisfied with the current situation.
Quinn gently lays her head against Rachel’s, feeling somewhat settled, or at least not seething in anger. But she still wants more. Rachel might seem satisfied, but the girl is so quiet and calm and, as Quinn glances down mostly out of the corner of her eyes, looks like she could fall asleep on Quinn’s shoulder. This is completely different from how Rachel is most of the time, and Quinn knows it is not due to the alcohol because this Rachel is also completely different than the excited mess she had seen moments ago, dancing and singing on stage. A fresh flush of fury flows over her at the thought. Rachel had been so happy with what’s his face and found Quinn so boring she just wanted to sleep on her shoulder. She jerks away from the other girl, jumping of the couch and ignoring Rachel who, still somewhat clingy, had ended up sprawled the floor on the confusion.
Part 2