fic: Unsettling
TITLE: Unsettling
SPOILERS: Up to and including S02E16.
RATING: G.
SUMMARY: “Are you sure? If you do this again, I’m not going to want to stop…”
WORDS: 2400ish
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Quinn/Rachel
NOTES: Sequel to Settling (which I can't link to because LJ doesn't like me linking my own stuff). Iris (and a bunch of people) asked me for a sequel. Preferably a happy one. So here it is.
You avoid her as much as possible over the following days. If she passes you in the corridor, you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. In the classes you have together, you sit as far away as physically possible. At the final Glee rehearsal before Regionals, you sit with Mercedes and Tina and try to listen to their conversation but every so often, your gaze drifts to the blonde in the front row sitting between Santana and Finn. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t engage in any of Finn’s attempts at conversation.
In the evenings though, your routine is in shreds. You take twice as long to do simple homework assignments, your mind wandering as you try to figure out the kiss. But it’s not just the kiss. You’ve been replaying the whole thing in your mind, from the moment you walked back into the auditorium and found her crying to the moment you left her, stunned by the kiss.
You manage to banish her from your thoughts when you walk to the centre of the stage at the competition. You sing the song you wrote with as much conviction as you can muster and then the rest of your teammates are on stage with you. The audience go wild and there’s a drunk woman telling you that you’re going to New York. On the ride back to Lima, Puck proposes an after-party at his place. Mr Schuester reminds you all of the pledges you signed. You decline the party but accept a ride home from Mr Cohen-Chang.
You’ve been home for five minutes when you hear a car in the driveway, a door slamming and weary footsteps on the path. You greet your dad with a hug and he asks you about the competition. His eyes light up when you tell him that you’re going to New York.
“I wish I could have been there…” he apologises (again) and you shake your head and lie about it being fine. You offer him a snack and something to drink as he sinks down into his favourite chair, eyes already closing. “Thanks honey.”
The doorbell rings as you’re putting the finishing touches to a sandwich and you call that you’ll get it, but it’s too late. Your dad is already on his way to open the door. He calls your name as you’re pouring a mug of cocoa and you frown, wondering who would be calling this late at night.
You nearly drop the plate and mug when you see her standing on your doorstep. Your dad glances between the both of you.
“Hi,” you say.
“It’s a little late, Rachel…” your dad says, eyeing Quinn carefully.
“I won’t stay long, Mr Berry. I just need to talk to Rachel for a few minutes. If that’s okay.”
Your dad looks to you and you nod, passing him the plate and mug.
“We’ll be quiet,” you tell him and he leaves, bending to press a kiss to your temple.
“Night honey,” he says and heads towards the dining room. You turn back to the nervous-looking blonde on the doorstep. She looks as though she’s wrestling with what she wants to say.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Yes,” she say with a quick nod, relieved that you’ve asked. She follows you up the stairs and into your room. “Your parents weren’t at the competition.”
“My dad just finished work,” you say, sitting on the edge of your bed. She opts to sit on your desk chair, casting furtive glances around your room.
“What about your…” Quinn pauses, “Your other dad?”
“He’s out of town. His mother is sick. His father isn’t doing well either.”
“They don’t live in Lima?”
“Did you come to make small talk about my family, Quinn?” you ask, suddenly tired. You want her to leave, you want to crawl into bed and sleep, you want to wake up in the morning and have both of your dads sitting at the kitchen table, sharing out parts of the newspaper and praising your attempts at pancakes.
“No,” she says in a small voice. Silence descends over you both and you trace the patterns of the stitches on your comforter. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” you ask immediately, not lifting your eyes up to her.
“For kissing you,” she responds. You frown and chew on your bottom lip, mulling over her words.
“I’m not,” you say eventually, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m not sorry that you kissed me. I’m not sorry that I kissed you back. And I’m not sorry that I’ve spent the past four days thinking about kissing you again.”
“I can’t,” you hear her say and look up to see her getting to her feet. “I can’t do this.”
“But you want to,” you say, standing up and going to her. Your hands grab onto her wrists and you pull her back to look at you.
“You have no idea,” she whispers, the words tumbling out around a shaky breath. For a brief second you see real pain in her eyes and you feel a tug somewhere near your heart. Then, it’s as though a mask slips over her features. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I… should go. It was stupid of me to come over here.”
“Quinn, listen to yourself,” you say, refusing to let go of her arms. “You can’t keep lying to yourself about how you feel, about who you are. It isn’t fair on Finn and it isn’t fair on you.”
“See? All about Finn again…” she says, freeing one of her arms from your grasp. “You want me to admit that I’m gay so you can have him all to yourself.”
You laugh in surprise and it causes her to glare, anger flashing in her eyes.
“It’s not about Finn. I just said it wasn’t fair on him. You’re going to hurt him one day. You can’t lie to yourself forever. You can’t push away these feelings you’re having, Quinn. You can’t deny that you didn’t feel anything when we…”
“Don’t…”
“When we kissed,” you finish. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t feel anything.” Her gaze falters. “You can’t do it because I felt it too. Whatever you felt, I felt it too, Quinn. And whatever this feeling is, it isn’t going to go away. You can’t push it away.”
You exhale and drop her arm, walking back to your bed. You wait for her to leave and glance up in surprise after a minute when you find that she hasn’t. She’s staring at you, mouth open, hands clenched at her sides.
“What…?”
The words die in your mouth as she moves to the bed. Her fingertips caress your cheek as she tilts your head up. Her eyes are locked on yours. The air between you both seems to crackle.
“Are you sure? If you do this again, I’m not going to want to stop…”
“Rachel…”
You sigh at the sound of her voice and she gives you a nervous smile. She takes your hand and presses it to her chest. Beneath your palm, you feel her heart pounding.
“You asked me why I’m settling,” she says. “I’m not scared. I’m terrified. I’m terrified of all these things I’m feeling. I’m terrified that my mom will throw me out again and that I’ll get slushie facials at school. I’ve gone through it once. I’m seventeen, I can’t lose my family again. And being with Finn would be safe.”
“But…”
“Please, Rachel. Let me speak,” she says quietly, a quick smile passes her lips. She moves away from your hand and moves to sit next to you. “Being with Finn would be safe but I don’t think that safe is enough for me.” She takes a breath. “I kissed you. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time and I never imagined for a second that there was any part of you that would kiss me back. I took a chance, I let my guard down and I felt things…” She closes her eyes and wipes away the lone tear rolling down her cheek. “I felt things that I never felt with Puck or Sam or Finn. It’s a little unsettling. Like now, I’m trying to get this speech out and there is a large part of my brain that won’t stop reminding me that less than two minutes ago, you said that if I kissed you again, you wouldn’t want to stop.” She glances over at you and you feel your mouth run dry. “Is that right?” You nod, all semblance of speech fleeing your mind. The look in her eyes is intense, her hazel eyes have darkened slightly. “So if I kissed you now…?” You just nod and her teeth chew thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
“Not many people have rendered me virtually speechless,” you say, unable to take your eyes off her mouth.
“How does it feel?” she asks, reaching for your hand and sliding her fingers between yours.
“A little unsettling,” you say and she smiles. “This is happening, right?”
“I think so,” she says, leaning a little closer, so close that you can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. You notice a couple of freckles that you didn’t notice the first time. But exactly like the first time, as soon as her lips touch yours, it feels like fireworks. It feels like things make sense.
You’re not sure how it happens, but suddenly you’re both lying down. Her teeth are tugging gently on your bottom lip. Your hands are sliding around her waist and her hands are resting behind your neck, fingertips drawing patterns that make you shiver.
Eventually you both fall asleep, emotionally drained from everything that you’re feeling and physically exhausted after the competition. She murmurs in her sleep, just loud enough to rouse you. You untangle yourself from her to dart around the room, switching off lights and grabbing a blanket. Her arms slide around you as soon as you lie down and she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder, legs entwining with yours.
Inevitably morning comes. You wake with a strange sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. It eases when you see that she’s still there, still fast asleep, one arm still around your waist but doesn’t disappear entirely.
“Quinn,” you whisper.
“Not yet,” she replies, raising a hand to smother a yawn. “Just stay like this.” You roll your eyes and press a chaste kiss against her cheek.
“It’s morning,” you say unnecessarily.
“It’s Sunday,” she says and opens her eyes at last. You have to take a deep breath to steady whatever it is that bubbles up inside you. Her eyes are bright and clear and there’s a smile playing on her lips. You can’t remember the last time you saw her look this happy. “What? Is something wrong?”
“Shhh. No. Nothing is wrong. Good morning,” you say with a smile. She wipes something off your cheek with the pad of her thumb. The action, the familiarity of it, causes a ripple of happiness to course over your body but it barely covers the still-present feeling of dread.
“You look worried,” she says, raising her hand to touch your forehead, smoothing away your frown lines. “What can I do to make you stop?”
“Kissing me generally causes my brain to stop all of my thought processes,” you reply and she grins. “Do you think this is going to work? You and me? That tomorrow, when we’re back at school, we’ll walk down the corridors and people won’t throw slushies at us? Or…”
“You’re over-thinking,” she interrupts.
“I’m being realistic, Quinn. You’re the one who told me to stop living in some schoolgirl fantasy, remember? We both know that this isn’t going to be easy.”
“We’re in high school. Life isn’t easy.”
“You’re with Finn,” you say and she shakes her head.
“I’ve cheated on Finn before and it’s not something I wanted to put him through again.”
“You’re not with Finn?!” you ask in surprise.
“I’m not with Finn,” she repeats.
“Oh,” you state, for lack of anything better to say.
“Simple question, Rachel,” she says and you can’t help but shiver at the way she says your name. “Do you want this?” She gestures between the two of you.
“Yes,” you say, nodding once to punctuate your answer.
“Then stop worrying about school and Finn and those idiot jocks and what other people think. Stop worrying about all the bad things and focus on the good things you’ll get. Like this,” she presses her lips against yours.
“But…”
“Rachel,” she says warningly. “I want you. I can safely say that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. I need you to trust me. This isn’t a snap decision that I’ve come to… I’ve wanted you for a long time and it’s only in the last few days that I’ve made myself realise that this can happen. I want this to happen. And I don’t care what other people think.”
“How long?” you ask and she groans, closing her eyes.
“Since the day you wore the blue pantsuit,” she says.
“Liar,” you giggle. “That pantsuit was hideous.”
“It was,” she agrees, opening her eyes again. “A long time. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Okay,” you say, knowing that you’ll eventually wheedle the answer out of her. You have your methods.
“How about some breakfast?” she asks as your stomach starts to growl.
“I’d like some breakfast, “ you say, squirming as her hands move down your sides. Her eyes flash as she bites down on her bottom lip.
“Ticklish,” she murmurs to herself before experimentally brushing her fingers against the exposed skin between your t-shirt and jeans. You wriggle and free yourself from her hold, rolling off the bed and darting out of the room. She’s right on your heels, catching you as you run into the kitchen.
It takes a whole carton of eggs, a mini-food fight, some distracting kisses and a small but manageable fire before you both sit down at the dining room table with a plate of pancakes. Every time you glance over at her, she’s staring at you, a smile on her face.
“What?” you ask her, reaching over to brush more flour off her chin.
“Nothing,” she shrugs, grinning infuriatingly.
You roll your eyes and she laughs, leaning over to kiss away your pout.
“Nothing.”
SPOILERS: Up to and including S02E16.
RATING: G.
SUMMARY: “Are you sure? If you do this again, I’m not going to want to stop…”
WORDS: 2400ish
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Quinn/Rachel
NOTES: Sequel to Settling (which I can't link to because LJ doesn't like me linking my own stuff). Iris (and a bunch of people) asked me for a sequel. Preferably a happy one. So here it is.
You avoid her as much as possible over the following days. If she passes you in the corridor, you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. In the classes you have together, you sit as far away as physically possible. At the final Glee rehearsal before Regionals, you sit with Mercedes and Tina and try to listen to their conversation but every so often, your gaze drifts to the blonde in the front row sitting between Santana and Finn. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t engage in any of Finn’s attempts at conversation.
In the evenings though, your routine is in shreds. You take twice as long to do simple homework assignments, your mind wandering as you try to figure out the kiss. But it’s not just the kiss. You’ve been replaying the whole thing in your mind, from the moment you walked back into the auditorium and found her crying to the moment you left her, stunned by the kiss.
You manage to banish her from your thoughts when you walk to the centre of the stage at the competition. You sing the song you wrote with as much conviction as you can muster and then the rest of your teammates are on stage with you. The audience go wild and there’s a drunk woman telling you that you’re going to New York. On the ride back to Lima, Puck proposes an after-party at his place. Mr Schuester reminds you all of the pledges you signed. You decline the party but accept a ride home from Mr Cohen-Chang.
You’ve been home for five minutes when you hear a car in the driveway, a door slamming and weary footsteps on the path. You greet your dad with a hug and he asks you about the competition. His eyes light up when you tell him that you’re going to New York.
“I wish I could have been there…” he apologises (again) and you shake your head and lie about it being fine. You offer him a snack and something to drink as he sinks down into his favourite chair, eyes already closing. “Thanks honey.”
The doorbell rings as you’re putting the finishing touches to a sandwich and you call that you’ll get it, but it’s too late. Your dad is already on his way to open the door. He calls your name as you’re pouring a mug of cocoa and you frown, wondering who would be calling this late at night.
You nearly drop the plate and mug when you see her standing on your doorstep. Your dad glances between the both of you.
“Hi,” you say.
“It’s a little late, Rachel…” your dad says, eyeing Quinn carefully.
“I won’t stay long, Mr Berry. I just need to talk to Rachel for a few minutes. If that’s okay.”
Your dad looks to you and you nod, passing him the plate and mug.
“We’ll be quiet,” you tell him and he leaves, bending to press a kiss to your temple.
“Night honey,” he says and heads towards the dining room. You turn back to the nervous-looking blonde on the doorstep. She looks as though she’s wrestling with what she wants to say.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Yes,” she say with a quick nod, relieved that you’ve asked. She follows you up the stairs and into your room. “Your parents weren’t at the competition.”
“My dad just finished work,” you say, sitting on the edge of your bed. She opts to sit on your desk chair, casting furtive glances around your room.
“What about your…” Quinn pauses, “Your other dad?”
“He’s out of town. His mother is sick. His father isn’t doing well either.”
“They don’t live in Lima?”
“Did you come to make small talk about my family, Quinn?” you ask, suddenly tired. You want her to leave, you want to crawl into bed and sleep, you want to wake up in the morning and have both of your dads sitting at the kitchen table, sharing out parts of the newspaper and praising your attempts at pancakes.
“No,” she says in a small voice. Silence descends over you both and you trace the patterns of the stitches on your comforter. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” you ask immediately, not lifting your eyes up to her.
“For kissing you,” she responds. You frown and chew on your bottom lip, mulling over her words.
“I’m not,” you say eventually, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m not sorry that you kissed me. I’m not sorry that I kissed you back. And I’m not sorry that I’ve spent the past four days thinking about kissing you again.”
“I can’t,” you hear her say and look up to see her getting to her feet. “I can’t do this.”
“But you want to,” you say, standing up and going to her. Your hands grab onto her wrists and you pull her back to look at you.
“You have no idea,” she whispers, the words tumbling out around a shaky breath. For a brief second you see real pain in her eyes and you feel a tug somewhere near your heart. Then, it’s as though a mask slips over her features. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I… should go. It was stupid of me to come over here.”
“Quinn, listen to yourself,” you say, refusing to let go of her arms. “You can’t keep lying to yourself about how you feel, about who you are. It isn’t fair on Finn and it isn’t fair on you.”
“See? All about Finn again…” she says, freeing one of her arms from your grasp. “You want me to admit that I’m gay so you can have him all to yourself.”
You laugh in surprise and it causes her to glare, anger flashing in her eyes.
“It’s not about Finn. I just said it wasn’t fair on him. You’re going to hurt him one day. You can’t lie to yourself forever. You can’t push away these feelings you’re having, Quinn. You can’t deny that you didn’t feel anything when we…”
“Don’t…”
“When we kissed,” you finish. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t feel anything.” Her gaze falters. “You can’t do it because I felt it too. Whatever you felt, I felt it too, Quinn. And whatever this feeling is, it isn’t going to go away. You can’t push it away.”
You exhale and drop her arm, walking back to your bed. You wait for her to leave and glance up in surprise after a minute when you find that she hasn’t. She’s staring at you, mouth open, hands clenched at her sides.
“What…?”
The words die in your mouth as she moves to the bed. Her fingertips caress your cheek as she tilts your head up. Her eyes are locked on yours. The air between you both seems to crackle.
“Are you sure? If you do this again, I’m not going to want to stop…”
“Rachel…”
You sigh at the sound of her voice and she gives you a nervous smile. She takes your hand and presses it to her chest. Beneath your palm, you feel her heart pounding.
“You asked me why I’m settling,” she says. “I’m not scared. I’m terrified. I’m terrified of all these things I’m feeling. I’m terrified that my mom will throw me out again and that I’ll get slushie facials at school. I’ve gone through it once. I’m seventeen, I can’t lose my family again. And being with Finn would be safe.”
“But…”
“Please, Rachel. Let me speak,” she says quietly, a quick smile passes her lips. She moves away from your hand and moves to sit next to you. “Being with Finn would be safe but I don’t think that safe is enough for me.” She takes a breath. “I kissed you. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time and I never imagined for a second that there was any part of you that would kiss me back. I took a chance, I let my guard down and I felt things…” She closes her eyes and wipes away the lone tear rolling down her cheek. “I felt things that I never felt with Puck or Sam or Finn. It’s a little unsettling. Like now, I’m trying to get this speech out and there is a large part of my brain that won’t stop reminding me that less than two minutes ago, you said that if I kissed you again, you wouldn’t want to stop.” She glances over at you and you feel your mouth run dry. “Is that right?” You nod, all semblance of speech fleeing your mind. The look in her eyes is intense, her hazel eyes have darkened slightly. “So if I kissed you now…?” You just nod and her teeth chew thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
“Not many people have rendered me virtually speechless,” you say, unable to take your eyes off her mouth.
“How does it feel?” she asks, reaching for your hand and sliding her fingers between yours.
“A little unsettling,” you say and she smiles. “This is happening, right?”
“I think so,” she says, leaning a little closer, so close that you can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. You notice a couple of freckles that you didn’t notice the first time. But exactly like the first time, as soon as her lips touch yours, it feels like fireworks. It feels like things make sense.
You’re not sure how it happens, but suddenly you’re both lying down. Her teeth are tugging gently on your bottom lip. Your hands are sliding around her waist and her hands are resting behind your neck, fingertips drawing patterns that make you shiver.
Eventually you both fall asleep, emotionally drained from everything that you’re feeling and physically exhausted after the competition. She murmurs in her sleep, just loud enough to rouse you. You untangle yourself from her to dart around the room, switching off lights and grabbing a blanket. Her arms slide around you as soon as you lie down and she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder, legs entwining with yours.
Inevitably morning comes. You wake with a strange sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. It eases when you see that she’s still there, still fast asleep, one arm still around your waist but doesn’t disappear entirely.
“Quinn,” you whisper.
“Not yet,” she replies, raising a hand to smother a yawn. “Just stay like this.” You roll your eyes and press a chaste kiss against her cheek.
“It’s morning,” you say unnecessarily.
“It’s Sunday,” she says and opens her eyes at last. You have to take a deep breath to steady whatever it is that bubbles up inside you. Her eyes are bright and clear and there’s a smile playing on her lips. You can’t remember the last time you saw her look this happy. “What? Is something wrong?”
“Shhh. No. Nothing is wrong. Good morning,” you say with a smile. She wipes something off your cheek with the pad of her thumb. The action, the familiarity of it, causes a ripple of happiness to course over your body but it barely covers the still-present feeling of dread.
“You look worried,” she says, raising her hand to touch your forehead, smoothing away your frown lines. “What can I do to make you stop?”
“Kissing me generally causes my brain to stop all of my thought processes,” you reply and she grins. “Do you think this is going to work? You and me? That tomorrow, when we’re back at school, we’ll walk down the corridors and people won’t throw slushies at us? Or…”
“You’re over-thinking,” she interrupts.
“I’m being realistic, Quinn. You’re the one who told me to stop living in some schoolgirl fantasy, remember? We both know that this isn’t going to be easy.”
“We’re in high school. Life isn’t easy.”
“You’re with Finn,” you say and she shakes her head.
“I’ve cheated on Finn before and it’s not something I wanted to put him through again.”
“You’re not with Finn?!” you ask in surprise.
“I’m not with Finn,” she repeats.
“Oh,” you state, for lack of anything better to say.
“Simple question, Rachel,” she says and you can’t help but shiver at the way she says your name. “Do you want this?” She gestures between the two of you.
“Yes,” you say, nodding once to punctuate your answer.
“Then stop worrying about school and Finn and those idiot jocks and what other people think. Stop worrying about all the bad things and focus on the good things you’ll get. Like this,” she presses her lips against yours.
“But…”
“Rachel,” she says warningly. “I want you. I can safely say that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. I need you to trust me. This isn’t a snap decision that I’ve come to… I’ve wanted you for a long time and it’s only in the last few days that I’ve made myself realise that this can happen. I want this to happen. And I don’t care what other people think.”
“How long?” you ask and she groans, closing her eyes.
“Since the day you wore the blue pantsuit,” she says.
“Liar,” you giggle. “That pantsuit was hideous.”
“It was,” she agrees, opening her eyes again. “A long time. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Okay,” you say, knowing that you’ll eventually wheedle the answer out of her. You have your methods.
“How about some breakfast?” she asks as your stomach starts to growl.
“I’d like some breakfast, “ you say, squirming as her hands move down your sides. Her eyes flash as she bites down on her bottom lip.
“Ticklish,” she murmurs to herself before experimentally brushing her fingers against the exposed skin between your t-shirt and jeans. You wriggle and free yourself from her hold, rolling off the bed and darting out of the room. She’s right on your heels, catching you as you run into the kitchen.
It takes a whole carton of eggs, a mini-food fight, some distracting kisses and a small but manageable fire before you both sit down at the dining room table with a plate of pancakes. Every time you glance over at her, she’s staring at you, a smile on her face.
“What?” you ask her, reaching over to brush more flour off her chin.
“Nothing,” she shrugs, grinning infuriatingly.
You roll your eyes and she laughs, leaning over to kiss away your pout.
“Nothing.”