Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
My first shot at Faberry *crosses fingers*
She can feel her face falling—only slightly—before she pulls her lips back up into what she hopes resembles a smile. It's strained. She can feel it. Hopes it's not so obvious. Sort of hopes that it's obvious enough. Wants Rachel to call her out on it. To care enough to notice.
She doesn't. Quinn isn't sure whether it's because she doesn't notice or whether she doesn't care. She mostly just hopes she's far too good of an actress for Rachel to see though her guise.
But for a second she can't hope or think anything at all. Her brain shut down, because suddenly she feels Rachel wrapped around her. She feels like safety, comfort, and love. Her body is warm and soft, fragrant in Quinn's nose. Rachel feels a whole lot like home. Quinn wants to stay like this forever, drawn in the feel of her skin, the weight of her arms, and the smell of her hair and the way it tickles her nose. But Rachel pulls away and she's cold again, suddenly freezing with the lack of contact. Her skin aches, pining for just one more touch.
Rachel says something about the wedding, something about her bridesmaid dress. Quinn doesn't quite catch it, she's distracted by the way Rachel's lips move to form the words. It would be so easy to just lean forwards and cover them with her own. She wonders if they'll taste like cherries from Rachel's Chap Stick or vanilla from the lip-gloss Quinn had seen her use earlier.
Quinn has never tasted another girl's lips before. Not even with the plague of offers from Santana and Brittany over their years of friendship. But she wants to. Rachel's more specifically. She wants to know what they will feel like crushed beneath hers. Will they be soft, pump, and sweet against her mouth? Will they swell and redden with the attention if Quinn pulls one between her teeth? Will she like the change in texture, taste, and rhythm? Will Rachel? Would it scare her away or bring her closer? And what would that make Quinn?—a lesbian? bisexual? a sexually frustrated teenage girl? She doesn't know, but it doesn't feel like any of those things. Because it's not girls she's into, and she's not thirsting for sex. It's just Rachel. Only Rachel. And sex, she's thought about it, of course she has. But she would be satisfied with just this for the rest of her life. Just this closeness.
Quinn wonders if Rachel feels it too—the electricity charging the air between them. Because she can practically hear it popping and cracking, almost burning with intensity. It's been there forever, building and building with every passing day. She's always hated Rachel for it. Hated her for being completely unaffected when it took hold of Quinn's whole she hates her now for how badly she wants to explore it. To see if their lips would meet in popping, sizzling, electrically charged heat.
She doesn't.
Someone steps back, she's not sure who, but the moment is gone. The feel of Rachel's lips are still a mystery.
She's ten minutes from the chapel. The pink dress is constricting against her form, like a prison, like chains. But she plans to wear it with a smile. She has to, because this Rachel's day. This is what Rachel wants, what she has always wanted. It hurts, a burning, searing ache in her chest, but it's worth it if Rachel is happy.
She doesn't see the car. Her world goes black.
So. How'd you feel about that? Hate it? Let me know.