Red Elephant (1 of 11)
Title: Red Elephant
Author: verdeasterie
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Length: 2948
Rating: R, for language used
Spoilers: Season 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and/or any of its characters.
Summary: How Quinn Fabray falls in love with Rachel Berry and vice versa.
Notes: Plot might be a tad sluggish but be patient with me. Fanfic virgin here. Thought I'd give it a shot. I'll post the other half in a bit. Also, I've integrated some of Born Ruffians' Red Elephant lyrics. Have a good read!
Wall Climbing is a partnership between the climber and the belayer; the two of which have an unspoken arrangement-to reach the top efficiently and convincingly. The ascent to the top is the end all and be all of the game. And to complete such a feat, both climber and belayer must submit to two fundamental credo (in wall climbing paradigm): trust and communicate.
Rachel had always been fond of metaphors. After all, gold stars had been a metaphor for her being the star, that she was destined to become. It is in this same light that Rachel had come to view the complex and erratic nature of love.
---------------------------------
'Love is comparable to Wall Climbing Quinn!' The loquacious brown-eyed brunette once told her hazel-eyed blond paramour. She had been feeling particularly cheerier than usual that day. And Quinn had been surprisingly tolerant and indulgent of her that morning.
Just a weekend before, they were stretched out on Quinn’s synthetic ecru leather settee (which remarkably feels like the real thing!); while vaguely paying attention to whatever mundane movie was on cable that night. It was Vertical Limit. That Sunday morning however, they were sprawled on either end of the olive drab velvet couch in her living room. Rachel had forgone her majestic dream of a russet Victorian leather couch for comfort and for the sole purpose that it would have stood out like a giant maroon-esque elephant in her living room.
The tan-skinned brunette had been distractedly flipping through her libretto of the West Side Story while the pale-skinned blonde, on the other edge, had been intently solving the Times’ Sunday crossword puzzle. This had been a weekly ritual (had been, for a few months now) for them as Sundays guaranteed that both she and Quinn were free. This was customarily preceded by sleepovers at either girl’s apartment.
Rachel could still remember the incredulous look Quinn had given her that Sunday morning as the hazel-eyed blonde, tilted her head ever-so slightly to the right, adorning that flawlessly choreographed eyebrow arch-thing she does so well in response.
‘You see…’ She continued. ‘A climber puts unconditional and unwavering vote of confidence on the belayer’.
Quinn had just nodded off absently before returning to the crossword puzzle she’d been working on. She, on the other hand, had paused as she set the libretto on the sandpapered, makeshift driftwood coffee table in the middle of the living room, before promptly collapsing back on the cozy and invitingly warm sofa (that antique Victorian couch would’ve looked like a sore thumb for sure).
Both she and Quinn had been zealous supporters of things Green. (Okay, it was… more of Quinn rubbing that off on her; although, she had been known as an extremely vocal and vigorously resolute advocate of PETA’s.) That would account for Quinn’s electric and eco-friendly coal-black Honda hatchback hybrid and that makeshift coffee table of hers along with matching distressed and thinly lacquered dining table with two, two-seater park-like benches-affixed with aesthetically sculptured back rest and arm supports-on opposite sides of the table.
‘She commits unequivocal and unperturbed faith that her belayer will anchor her safely through the treacherous ascent.’
She saw Quinn glanced up revealing her you’re-being-insanely-theatrical-and-over dramatic-but-kind of-adorable look. Unruffled, she kept on with the same amount of energy and fervor when she had started.
‘Much like love Quinn…’ Her voice trailed off; making sure to pause a little bit longer to emphasize the dramatic effect. ‘It entails trust.’
She beamed blithely at Quinn, who had both ears attentively listening to her monologue but whose eyes had drifted back and had remained piercingly focused on the Sunday Times’.
Quinn said nothing.
‘It does not merely end with trust though...’ She sat up and started gesturing animatedly; miming a belayer, as both hands ball up into fists gripping thin air, with her left arm hoisted slightly above the right.
‘Granted, that it is the belayer’s task to ensure the climber has enough rope to navigate through the holds…’ She motioned accordingly, moving both her arms in a languid, alternating up and down strokes.
Through the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hazel-eyed girl opposite her peering amusedly. It was gratifying, in a way, that she had the fickle and usually-irritable girl humoring her speech. Especially when she was rambling… and yes, she was rambling. Although that doesn’t mean that she’ll own up to it and admit to the blonde that she was. After all, she had an image to protect. But truth be told, more than that, she was also quite aware that the blonde secretly adores her rambling. Well, as far as she can tell-for the blonde will never own up to that either.
‘You are such a dork.’ She heard the blonde chuckled low in her throat with such infectious delight.
Seeing the charming way Quinn’s lips had curled into an affectionate smile, Rachel couldn’t help but feel blood rush through her cheeks. How could she not grin back? Hence, on cue, she willingly does. It had been, sort of, involuntary when it came to the blonde. She then wondered what it is about this hazel-eyed girl that seemed to have stripped her out of inhibitions and that seemed to have taken over her subconscious.
Admittedly high-maintenance, Rachel hadn’t really found someone who could ultimately keep up with her: emotionally, intellectually and of course, physically. No one seemed to genuinely get who she really is. At times, she’d end up reassuring herself with the notion that perhaps, her exes hadn’t really tried persistently enough to get through her shell. (Years and years of consistently being bullied and ridiculed had paved way for this impeccably crafted armor of hers.) Not a single soul has ever gotten close-ever.
She dated-not a lot, but she did test the waters. Some lasted much longer than it should have. A few ended before it even began. She tried opening up and reaching out. She truly did. She even tried changing; becoming much less high-strung and high-maintenance than she normally was. It didn’t help. In the end, she was left feeling more alone than she’d ever been; which had been ironic considering she was supposed to be with someone. It’s an odd position to be in how you can be with someone you say you love and who loves you back in return, but still feel unbearably alone.
It’s like seeing your life being projected on a blank, white screen and functioning day-in and day-out on autopilot. You could see yourself holding someone’s hand; or someone holding you in their arms; or someone’s lips on yours but… your hands don’t sense a spark or electricity or any prickling sensation and whenever you do feel something, more often than not, it’s uninvited; or your body doesn’t generate the kind of friction you’ve only read and heard about, mostly from friends and colleagues and in books and movies; or your lips don’t tingle with irrepressible anticipation, hunger, yearning and excitement when it should have. She should’ve felt something-anything. Instead, she learned to survive. It had become just another acting exercise for her.
Not until Quinn, that is. And that happened unexpectedly.
No one from Glee Club would ever have guessed or predicted Quinn Fabray falling in love with Rachel Berry; probably except for Brittany. Although, she did just tell them (a few times) to have sex and get it over with-she just couldn’t stand the bickering plus, according to her, it was why she and Santana never fought. In that case, Brittany doesn’t count either. Sure, it was plausible that eventually, the brunette diva would’ve taken a fancy on the blonde cheerleader. After all, the self-proclaimed star of the said club did have quite a reputation back in high school. Nonetheless, that’s not in any way gearing to imply that Rachel’s feelings for Quinn had only been convenient. Nor was it a fleeting infatuation. As a matter of fact, it was pretty much the contrary. She had fallen deeply in love with the hazel-eyed girl.
It wasn’t the happily-ever-after-fairy-tale kind of love that you’d typically read from a children’s book or romance novel or something you’d see in movies. It was real love-real, in the fullest essence of the word. It was the inconvenient, chaotic, passionate and can-never-be-contained kind of love. That is what Rachel feels.
Santana once commented that Hell was about to freeze over and that Judgment Day was imminent. It didn’t surprise her. Especially since the remark had come from the acerbic and sneering Latina. Almost immediately Kurt and Mercedes agreed, stating that Quinn and her thing would plunge civilization into World War III.
It didn’t bother her. To be honest, she had been taken aback as well.
Quinn tapping the chrome mechanical pencil on the newspaper she had been holding stirred Rachel out of the trance. She felt a sudden urge to snap at the blonde, as it had been one of her peeves, when the other girl momentarily stopped.
‘Oh. S-sorry. Force of habit.’ Quinn apologized giving the brunette what could be described as (according to Rachel) the most enchanting smile of all.
Quinn then buried herself even more on the couch as both legs unfurled to envelop Rachel by the waist, with the right leg drawn on top of the brunette’s lap, the other supporting snugly behind. Quinn also rested the pen between her lips, lightly biting into it. It was one of the blonde’s mannerisms that Rachel had found enormously endearing. Honestly, when she thought about it herself, Quinn had countless endearing qualities-good and bad-that she had come to adore.
‘You’re cute.’ She commented scooting closer to the pensive blonde.
Quinn wrapped her legs tighter around the petite girl in response, smiling contentedly.
‘Anyway… as I was saying, without an open communication line, they would get nowhere.’ The brunette pointed out. ‘If the climber doesn’t yell ‘tension,’ then how would the belayer know if she needs to pull the rope back?’ She questioned rhetorically. ‘Or… if the climber doesn’t yell ‘slack’, how would the belayer know she needs more rope?’
Quinn nodded listlessly, still completely engrossed in solving her Sunday Times’ puzzle.
‘Love, a whole lot like Wall Climbing, feeds off from the same principles. That’s how love should be. How relationships should be.’ She declared triumphantly-evidently pleased with her own theories.
‘And in the grand scheme that is-‘
She curtly stopped dead in her well thought out speech. She abruptly hesitated.
‘You’re not even listening are you?’ Rachel stared defiantly at the girl.
Quinn, feeling the anxious manner the brunette was looking her way, gazed up beseechingly at dark and glaring chocolate eyes. ‘Of course I was.’ Quinn gave her knowing smile.
‘You were talking about wall climbing and love and stuff.’ Quinn confidently stated as the blonde reverted her attention to the paper.
‘But did you even get the gist?’ The brunette lightheartedly snapped back. ‘I had been talking for more than ten minutes now.’ What is in that paper?!?! She mused.
Quinn only mumbled what could be deciphered as a garbled version of her ‘Uh huh’.
Unbeknownst to the cool-calm-and-collected looking blonde, Rachel was gradually losing her patience.
If Rachel had been a tad younger than she were now, she would’ve erupted like Mount Pelée in utmost anger that, a volcanic mushroom of ash would’ve covered the island of Martinique as it did in the early 1900s. Thankfully, she had years of experience and familiarity dealing with the blonde under her belt. And of course, a few breathing exercises always helped. She had to grow up eventually, right?
Taking a long, drawn out breath, she tried to compose herself as best she could.
Still, Quinn remained unresponsive.
A few more muted and insufferable minutes later (in reality, a few seconds had only passed), Rachel could only take as much.
‘Well…’ She voiced out; rolling out the word in her tongue and ensuring that she put emphasis on the syllable; her tone resolutely rising.
The room was unmistakably thick with unbridled tension, much to Quinn’s ignorance. Except for the music softly playing from Rachel’s docking station, no one stirred in the room. Not even Rachel’s plump and sluggish pale taupe Colorpoint shorthaired cat, Mr. Bradley (who Quinn named after Gregory Peck’s character in her and Rachel’s favorite movie, Roman Holiday). Mr. Bradley would almost always snuggle up in Rachel’s lap whenever she was home. That morning however, Mr. Bradley was slumbering peacefully in his reclaimed wooden basket, which had been lined up with soft synthetic foam throw pillows, in the corner of the living room.
Quinn finally set the mechanical pencil along with the Sunday Times’ on the floor, smirking. The hazel-eyed blonde then scooted closer to her brown-eyed brunette; much to the latter’s objection. Quinn Fabray however, would not take no for an answer.
‘You’re mad at me…’ Quinn declared. ‘Your eyebrows are all scrunched up, you look like the Incredible Hulk.’ The blonde roared in laughter.
Rachel consequently had gotten increasingly annoyed.
‘While I would’ve generally agreed on your observations Quinn, however… there are numerous logical flaws to your statement.’ She countered back. ‘First of which, the Incredible Hulk is seven feet tall whereas I am only five feet two. Five feet five when I have those four-inched crimson strappy Manolos.’ She stood up instantaneously, trying to prove her point.
Quinn only doubled over in hysteria.
‘Secondly, if you have been implying that I was anywhere close to how huge the Incredible Hulk is, you have another thing coming!’ She continued as she sat back down. ‘I am n-‘
Quinn held her left thumb against Rachel’s lips to silence her. Immensely satisfied with hushing the verbose smaller girl, Quinn cupped Rachel’s face with her left hand as the pad of the blonde’s thumb lazily grazed over her lips. Quinn had always told her how velvety-soft and enticing her lips were. The taller girl then smirked playfully at her. Hazel eyes pierced keenly at brown eyes.
‘I know you’re not as tall as the Incredible Hulk.’ Quinn whispered. ‘And no, you’re not anywhere close to how huge he is, although I think your ego is.’
She lightly swatted the blonde’s lap and opened her mouth in protest but Quinn raised her eyebrow in return. She reluctantly sealed her mouth shut, unconsciously biting her lower lip in the process.
‘You’re nowhere near how the Incredible Hulk looks like.’ The blonde continued. ‘You’re charmingly beautiful Rachel…’
Rachel felt her cheeks flushed as Quinn’s pupils widened in sheer amusement as did the blonde’s radiant smile.
‘You’re only saying that because you feel guilty.’ She remarked.
‘No…’ Quinn’s voice trailed off. ‘I’m telling you because you are.’ The blonde gently assured her.
Though Rachel felt blood surging to her face, she was not about to let Quinn Fabray off the hook just yet.
‘Well I think you’re clearly predisposed to the idea since it is what’s expected of you.’
‘It’s plausible…’ Quinn grinned deviously at her.
‘See! You’re being biased.’
‘And you’re being modest.’
‘Now you’re being a smart-ass.’
‘Well yeah? You’re a drama queen.’
‘You weren’t listening!’
‘Neither are you.’
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘Preposterous.’
Quinn gave Rachel an exasperated look.
She scowled and huffed in response.
‘Rach… I’m trying to tell you I love you and you haven’t been listening.’
‘I-uh… Y-y-uh… W-w-what?’ She gave the blonde a pained and bewildered expression, cocking her head to the left.
‘Words Berry… I assume you know how to use them?’ Quinn responded amusedly.
‘That’s unfair! You were being unfair! You caught me off-‘
‘You’re cute.’ Quinn cut her short, looking intently at the flustered brunette. ‘And I love you.’ The blonde muttered under her breath.
If Rachel had been an ice berg that had chipped off from the Arctic, she would’ve melted away under the hazel-eyed girl’s enchanting gaze. She would’ve fused into Quinn-forever, that their bodies would’ve molded into a cohesive entity.
Quinn’s gaze had been abso-fucking-lutely intoxicating.
It was remarkable how the taller girl would simply know what to say at the precise time. And it was certainly even more astounding how the fair-skinned girl’s words swiftly diffused her anger. She was a spellbound hostage. And Quinn, her enthralling captor.
A familiar rhythm to Born Ruffians' Red Elephant melodiously filled the room.
Dark hazel eyes peered closely into brown ones.
Rachel felt soft, moist and warm lips descend upon hers.
How am I supposed to wash you off?
Lips slowly parted as Quinn teasingly bit into her lower lip. The blonde’s tongue playfully swirled across the captive lip as Rachel felt a fiery jolt of desire washed her over.
Mr. Bradley stirred from slumber.
She’s pushed back further into the couch as Quinn’s right palm cupped her rose-tinted cheeks, while the other firmly clutched her smooth and slender waist.
Our hearts will take a stroll for two.
Quinn’s lips on her neck-wet and scorching. Nipping. Biting. Licking. Nipping. Biting. Licking.
Mr. Bradley purred calling out.
Shirts tugged off forcefully. Pants. Lingerie. Stripped away clean. Rachel moaned audibly into the contact.
And my fingers through your hair they weave.
Lips. Tongue. Fingers. Tracing hers and Quinn’s curves and contours. Arching into every foreign yet warranted touch.
Mr. Bradley sauntered into the kitchen.
Thighs pressed inch by inch closer against one another’s. Sweat-beaded bodies moving in a fluid array of motion.
We are stirred as spoons in lover’s tea.
Fingers buried… deep. Breathing restrained. In. Out. Faster. Slower. Harder. Hard-er. Yes, there! Close. Just… there.
We are stirred as spoons in lover’s tea.
---------------------------------
‘Which one are you?’ Quinn asked before the winded blonde succumbed to sleep on top of her.
Which one was she? Rachel pondered as she allowed Hypnos to whisk her off to meet Morpheus.
Author: verdeasterie
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Length: 2948
Rating: R, for language used
Spoilers: Season 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and/or any of its characters.
Summary: How Quinn Fabray falls in love with Rachel Berry and vice versa.
Notes: Plot might be a tad sluggish but be patient with me. Fanfic virgin here. Thought I'd give it a shot. I'll post the other half in a bit. Also, I've integrated some of Born Ruffians' Red Elephant lyrics. Have a good read!
Wall Climbing is a partnership between the climber and the belayer; the two of which have an unspoken arrangement-to reach the top efficiently and convincingly. The ascent to the top is the end all and be all of the game. And to complete such a feat, both climber and belayer must submit to two fundamental credo (in wall climbing paradigm): trust and communicate.
Rachel had always been fond of metaphors. After all, gold stars had been a metaphor for her being the star, that she was destined to become. It is in this same light that Rachel had come to view the complex and erratic nature of love.
---------------------------------
'Love is comparable to Wall Climbing Quinn!' The loquacious brown-eyed brunette once told her hazel-eyed blond paramour. She had been feeling particularly cheerier than usual that day. And Quinn had been surprisingly tolerant and indulgent of her that morning.
Just a weekend before, they were stretched out on Quinn’s synthetic ecru leather settee (which remarkably feels like the real thing!); while vaguely paying attention to whatever mundane movie was on cable that night. It was Vertical Limit. That Sunday morning however, they were sprawled on either end of the olive drab velvet couch in her living room. Rachel had forgone her majestic dream of a russet Victorian leather couch for comfort and for the sole purpose that it would have stood out like a giant maroon-esque elephant in her living room.
The tan-skinned brunette had been distractedly flipping through her libretto of the West Side Story while the pale-skinned blonde, on the other edge, had been intently solving the Times’ Sunday crossword puzzle. This had been a weekly ritual (had been, for a few months now) for them as Sundays guaranteed that both she and Quinn were free. This was customarily preceded by sleepovers at either girl’s apartment.
Rachel could still remember the incredulous look Quinn had given her that Sunday morning as the hazel-eyed blonde, tilted her head ever-so slightly to the right, adorning that flawlessly choreographed eyebrow arch-thing she does so well in response.
‘You see…’ She continued. ‘A climber puts unconditional and unwavering vote of confidence on the belayer’.
Quinn had just nodded off absently before returning to the crossword puzzle she’d been working on. She, on the other hand, had paused as she set the libretto on the sandpapered, makeshift driftwood coffee table in the middle of the living room, before promptly collapsing back on the cozy and invitingly warm sofa (that antique Victorian couch would’ve looked like a sore thumb for sure).
Both she and Quinn had been zealous supporters of things Green. (Okay, it was… more of Quinn rubbing that off on her; although, she had been known as an extremely vocal and vigorously resolute advocate of PETA’s.) That would account for Quinn’s electric and eco-friendly coal-black Honda hatchback hybrid and that makeshift coffee table of hers along with matching distressed and thinly lacquered dining table with two, two-seater park-like benches-affixed with aesthetically sculptured back rest and arm supports-on opposite sides of the table.
‘She commits unequivocal and unperturbed faith that her belayer will anchor her safely through the treacherous ascent.’
She saw Quinn glanced up revealing her you’re-being-insanely-theatrical-and-over dramatic-but-kind of-adorable look. Unruffled, she kept on with the same amount of energy and fervor when she had started.
‘Much like love Quinn…’ Her voice trailed off; making sure to pause a little bit longer to emphasize the dramatic effect. ‘It entails trust.’
She beamed blithely at Quinn, who had both ears attentively listening to her monologue but whose eyes had drifted back and had remained piercingly focused on the Sunday Times’.
Quinn said nothing.
‘It does not merely end with trust though...’ She sat up and started gesturing animatedly; miming a belayer, as both hands ball up into fists gripping thin air, with her left arm hoisted slightly above the right.
‘Granted, that it is the belayer’s task to ensure the climber has enough rope to navigate through the holds…’ She motioned accordingly, moving both her arms in a languid, alternating up and down strokes.
Through the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hazel-eyed girl opposite her peering amusedly. It was gratifying, in a way, that she had the fickle and usually-irritable girl humoring her speech. Especially when she was rambling… and yes, she was rambling. Although that doesn’t mean that she’ll own up to it and admit to the blonde that she was. After all, she had an image to protect. But truth be told, more than that, she was also quite aware that the blonde secretly adores her rambling. Well, as far as she can tell-for the blonde will never own up to that either.
‘You are such a dork.’ She heard the blonde chuckled low in her throat with such infectious delight.
Seeing the charming way Quinn’s lips had curled into an affectionate smile, Rachel couldn’t help but feel blood rush through her cheeks. How could she not grin back? Hence, on cue, she willingly does. It had been, sort of, involuntary when it came to the blonde. She then wondered what it is about this hazel-eyed girl that seemed to have stripped her out of inhibitions and that seemed to have taken over her subconscious.
Admittedly high-maintenance, Rachel hadn’t really found someone who could ultimately keep up with her: emotionally, intellectually and of course, physically. No one seemed to genuinely get who she really is. At times, she’d end up reassuring herself with the notion that perhaps, her exes hadn’t really tried persistently enough to get through her shell. (Years and years of consistently being bullied and ridiculed had paved way for this impeccably crafted armor of hers.) Not a single soul has ever gotten close-ever.
She dated-not a lot, but she did test the waters. Some lasted much longer than it should have. A few ended before it even began. She tried opening up and reaching out. She truly did. She even tried changing; becoming much less high-strung and high-maintenance than she normally was. It didn’t help. In the end, she was left feeling more alone than she’d ever been; which had been ironic considering she was supposed to be with someone. It’s an odd position to be in how you can be with someone you say you love and who loves you back in return, but still feel unbearably alone.
It’s like seeing your life being projected on a blank, white screen and functioning day-in and day-out on autopilot. You could see yourself holding someone’s hand; or someone holding you in their arms; or someone’s lips on yours but… your hands don’t sense a spark or electricity or any prickling sensation and whenever you do feel something, more often than not, it’s uninvited; or your body doesn’t generate the kind of friction you’ve only read and heard about, mostly from friends and colleagues and in books and movies; or your lips don’t tingle with irrepressible anticipation, hunger, yearning and excitement when it should have. She should’ve felt something-anything. Instead, she learned to survive. It had become just another acting exercise for her.
Not until Quinn, that is. And that happened unexpectedly.
No one from Glee Club would ever have guessed or predicted Quinn Fabray falling in love with Rachel Berry; probably except for Brittany. Although, she did just tell them (a few times) to have sex and get it over with-she just couldn’t stand the bickering plus, according to her, it was why she and Santana never fought. In that case, Brittany doesn’t count either. Sure, it was plausible that eventually, the brunette diva would’ve taken a fancy on the blonde cheerleader. After all, the self-proclaimed star of the said club did have quite a reputation back in high school. Nonetheless, that’s not in any way gearing to imply that Rachel’s feelings for Quinn had only been convenient. Nor was it a fleeting infatuation. As a matter of fact, it was pretty much the contrary. She had fallen deeply in love with the hazel-eyed girl.
It wasn’t the happily-ever-after-fairy-tale kind of love that you’d typically read from a children’s book or romance novel or something you’d see in movies. It was real love-real, in the fullest essence of the word. It was the inconvenient, chaotic, passionate and can-never-be-contained kind of love. That is what Rachel feels.
Santana once commented that Hell was about to freeze over and that Judgment Day was imminent. It didn’t surprise her. Especially since the remark had come from the acerbic and sneering Latina. Almost immediately Kurt and Mercedes agreed, stating that Quinn and her thing would plunge civilization into World War III.
It didn’t bother her. To be honest, she had been taken aback as well.
Quinn tapping the chrome mechanical pencil on the newspaper she had been holding stirred Rachel out of the trance. She felt a sudden urge to snap at the blonde, as it had been one of her peeves, when the other girl momentarily stopped.
‘Oh. S-sorry. Force of habit.’ Quinn apologized giving the brunette what could be described as (according to Rachel) the most enchanting smile of all.
Quinn then buried herself even more on the couch as both legs unfurled to envelop Rachel by the waist, with the right leg drawn on top of the brunette’s lap, the other supporting snugly behind. Quinn also rested the pen between her lips, lightly biting into it. It was one of the blonde’s mannerisms that Rachel had found enormously endearing. Honestly, when she thought about it herself, Quinn had countless endearing qualities-good and bad-that she had come to adore.
‘You’re cute.’ She commented scooting closer to the pensive blonde.
Quinn wrapped her legs tighter around the petite girl in response, smiling contentedly.
‘Anyway… as I was saying, without an open communication line, they would get nowhere.’ The brunette pointed out. ‘If the climber doesn’t yell ‘tension,’ then how would the belayer know if she needs to pull the rope back?’ She questioned rhetorically. ‘Or… if the climber doesn’t yell ‘slack’, how would the belayer know she needs more rope?’
Quinn nodded listlessly, still completely engrossed in solving her Sunday Times’ puzzle.
‘Love, a whole lot like Wall Climbing, feeds off from the same principles. That’s how love should be. How relationships should be.’ She declared triumphantly-evidently pleased with her own theories.
‘And in the grand scheme that is-‘
She curtly stopped dead in her well thought out speech. She abruptly hesitated.
‘You’re not even listening are you?’ Rachel stared defiantly at the girl.
Quinn, feeling the anxious manner the brunette was looking her way, gazed up beseechingly at dark and glaring chocolate eyes. ‘Of course I was.’ Quinn gave her knowing smile.
‘You were talking about wall climbing and love and stuff.’ Quinn confidently stated as the blonde reverted her attention to the paper.
‘But did you even get the gist?’ The brunette lightheartedly snapped back. ‘I had been talking for more than ten minutes now.’ What is in that paper?!?! She mused.
Quinn only mumbled what could be deciphered as a garbled version of her ‘Uh huh’.
Unbeknownst to the cool-calm-and-collected looking blonde, Rachel was gradually losing her patience.
If Rachel had been a tad younger than she were now, she would’ve erupted like Mount Pelée in utmost anger that, a volcanic mushroom of ash would’ve covered the island of Martinique as it did in the early 1900s. Thankfully, she had years of experience and familiarity dealing with the blonde under her belt. And of course, a few breathing exercises always helped. She had to grow up eventually, right?
Taking a long, drawn out breath, she tried to compose herself as best she could.
Still, Quinn remained unresponsive.
A few more muted and insufferable minutes later (in reality, a few seconds had only passed), Rachel could only take as much.
‘Well…’ She voiced out; rolling out the word in her tongue and ensuring that she put emphasis on the syllable; her tone resolutely rising.
The room was unmistakably thick with unbridled tension, much to Quinn’s ignorance. Except for the music softly playing from Rachel’s docking station, no one stirred in the room. Not even Rachel’s plump and sluggish pale taupe Colorpoint shorthaired cat, Mr. Bradley (who Quinn named after Gregory Peck’s character in her and Rachel’s favorite movie, Roman Holiday). Mr. Bradley would almost always snuggle up in Rachel’s lap whenever she was home. That morning however, Mr. Bradley was slumbering peacefully in his reclaimed wooden basket, which had been lined up with soft synthetic foam throw pillows, in the corner of the living room.
Quinn finally set the mechanical pencil along with the Sunday Times’ on the floor, smirking. The hazel-eyed blonde then scooted closer to her brown-eyed brunette; much to the latter’s objection. Quinn Fabray however, would not take no for an answer.
‘You’re mad at me…’ Quinn declared. ‘Your eyebrows are all scrunched up, you look like the Incredible Hulk.’ The blonde roared in laughter.
Rachel consequently had gotten increasingly annoyed.
‘While I would’ve generally agreed on your observations Quinn, however… there are numerous logical flaws to your statement.’ She countered back. ‘First of which, the Incredible Hulk is seven feet tall whereas I am only five feet two. Five feet five when I have those four-inched crimson strappy Manolos.’ She stood up instantaneously, trying to prove her point.
Quinn only doubled over in hysteria.
‘Secondly, if you have been implying that I was anywhere close to how huge the Incredible Hulk is, you have another thing coming!’ She continued as she sat back down. ‘I am n-‘
Quinn held her left thumb against Rachel’s lips to silence her. Immensely satisfied with hushing the verbose smaller girl, Quinn cupped Rachel’s face with her left hand as the pad of the blonde’s thumb lazily grazed over her lips. Quinn had always told her how velvety-soft and enticing her lips were. The taller girl then smirked playfully at her. Hazel eyes pierced keenly at brown eyes.
‘I know you’re not as tall as the Incredible Hulk.’ Quinn whispered. ‘And no, you’re not anywhere close to how huge he is, although I think your ego is.’
She lightly swatted the blonde’s lap and opened her mouth in protest but Quinn raised her eyebrow in return. She reluctantly sealed her mouth shut, unconsciously biting her lower lip in the process.
‘You’re nowhere near how the Incredible Hulk looks like.’ The blonde continued. ‘You’re charmingly beautiful Rachel…’
Rachel felt her cheeks flushed as Quinn’s pupils widened in sheer amusement as did the blonde’s radiant smile.
‘You’re only saying that because you feel guilty.’ She remarked.
‘No…’ Quinn’s voice trailed off. ‘I’m telling you because you are.’ The blonde gently assured her.
Though Rachel felt blood surging to her face, she was not about to let Quinn Fabray off the hook just yet.
‘Well I think you’re clearly predisposed to the idea since it is what’s expected of you.’
‘It’s plausible…’ Quinn grinned deviously at her.
‘See! You’re being biased.’
‘And you’re being modest.’
‘Now you’re being a smart-ass.’
‘Well yeah? You’re a drama queen.’
‘You weren’t listening!’
‘Neither are you.’
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘Preposterous.’
Quinn gave Rachel an exasperated look.
She scowled and huffed in response.
‘Rach… I’m trying to tell you I love you and you haven’t been listening.’
‘I-uh… Y-y-uh… W-w-what?’ She gave the blonde a pained and bewildered expression, cocking her head to the left.
‘Words Berry… I assume you know how to use them?’ Quinn responded amusedly.
‘That’s unfair! You were being unfair! You caught me off-‘
‘You’re cute.’ Quinn cut her short, looking intently at the flustered brunette. ‘And I love you.’ The blonde muttered under her breath.
If Rachel had been an ice berg that had chipped off from the Arctic, she would’ve melted away under the hazel-eyed girl’s enchanting gaze. She would’ve fused into Quinn-forever, that their bodies would’ve molded into a cohesive entity.
Quinn’s gaze had been abso-fucking-lutely intoxicating.
It was remarkable how the taller girl would simply know what to say at the precise time. And it was certainly even more astounding how the fair-skinned girl’s words swiftly diffused her anger. She was a spellbound hostage. And Quinn, her enthralling captor.
A familiar rhythm to Born Ruffians' Red Elephant melodiously filled the room.
Dark hazel eyes peered closely into brown ones.
Rachel felt soft, moist and warm lips descend upon hers.
How am I supposed to wash you off?
Lips slowly parted as Quinn teasingly bit into her lower lip. The blonde’s tongue playfully swirled across the captive lip as Rachel felt a fiery jolt of desire washed her over.
Mr. Bradley stirred from slumber.
She’s pushed back further into the couch as Quinn’s right palm cupped her rose-tinted cheeks, while the other firmly clutched her smooth and slender waist.
Our hearts will take a stroll for two.
Quinn’s lips on her neck-wet and scorching. Nipping. Biting. Licking. Nipping. Biting. Licking.
Mr. Bradley purred calling out.
Shirts tugged off forcefully. Pants. Lingerie. Stripped away clean. Rachel moaned audibly into the contact.
And my fingers through your hair they weave.
Lips. Tongue. Fingers. Tracing hers and Quinn’s curves and contours. Arching into every foreign yet warranted touch.
Mr. Bradley sauntered into the kitchen.
Thighs pressed inch by inch closer against one another’s. Sweat-beaded bodies moving in a fluid array of motion.
We are stirred as spoons in lover’s tea.
Fingers buried… deep. Breathing restrained. In. Out. Faster. Slower. Harder. Hard-er. Yes, there! Close. Just… there.
We are stirred as spoons in lover’s tea.
---------------------------------
‘Which one are you?’ Quinn asked before the winded blonde succumbed to sleep on top of her.
Which one was she? Rachel pondered as she allowed Hypnos to whisk her off to meet Morpheus.