AN: This is for two prompts for Faberry Week on Tumblr. First Time and Gardenias.
Quinn stepped inside the temple. The alcohol whirling through her bloodstream was providing her with false courage. But the vodka did little to quell the sudden thump, thump, thump of her heart as her eyes connected to the chuppah on display at the center of the bimah.
Her heart leapt forward again and bile roared dangerously in her stomach. The chuppah – under which Rachel Berry would shortly marry – was decorated with a seemingly uncountable number of gardenias. It was almost outlandish. It was certainly obscene.
Quinn backed out of the sanctuary and perched precariously against the wall. Bad idea, her brain screamed. Her body didn't listen. She slumped nearly to the floor. And she closed her eyes and remembered.
The first time Rachel fucked Quinn – and that was all it amounted to in the end: fucking – was up against one of the choir room walls after Glee practice. It was the spring of their senior year. They were kind of friends. But they were kind of circling around becoming more. The only thing holding Quinn back from pursuing Rachel was how withdrawn the brunette had become as graduation loomed. Quinn was fairly certain Rachel had already checked out of Lima. It was clear to Quinn, if to no one else, that Rachel would have no trouble saying goodbye to this town, this culture, her friends, Quinn.
Still, they flirted. They danced together at prom and Rachel let her hands linger on Quinn's ass. Rachel would unfasten just one more button on her shirt if she caught Quinn staring at her in class. They were building up to something. Quinn had a feeling it wouldn't be innocent and chaste. Or even romantic. There'd be no lingering, shy glances at a first date dinner. No holding hands in the dark of a movie theater. No bashfulness.
That day in the choir room proved her right. Rachel shoved her up against that wall, thrust her hand between Quinn's legs, and entered her with such intensity that Quinn nearly fell over. It was forcibly pleasurable. And she came so quickly it was if Rachel had willed it to happen at her beckoning.
And it stayed that way between them for the next couple of months.
Quinn ached for the romance. She wished for Rachel to stay in her bed and cuddle after sex. She longed to hear Rachel tell her secrets, future plans, soothing words. She wanted at least one gesture that this was more than, well, what Rachel said it was: fucking. Just fucking.
Quinn wanted Rachel to fall in love with her. So she wouldn't be alone with these dangerous feelings that bloomed inside her because of Rachel's very nearness.
But all Quinn got was the fucking…until she breathed out a desperate "I love you" one summer night as Rachel brought her to another mind-numbing climax.
Rachel stilled her fingers inside of Quinn and bent to whisper in her ear.
"Don't ever, ever say that to me again," Rachel hissed. And she scissored her fingers so harshly inside Quinn that her second orgasm in so many minutes felt more like a punishment than a release.
When Quinn's body relaxed back on the bed, Rachel jerked her fingers out of Quinn and moved away from her as if Quinn's body was on fire and Rachel was bound to catch a fever as a result.
Quinn reached for Rachel and pleaded for her to stay, to talk, to fucking feel something for her!
Rachel whirled around and snarled, "We really don't know anything about each other, despite having spent the past several years in school together."
And then Rachel laughed. It sounded more to Quinn like a strangled cry of frustration.
Rachel continued, "You say you love me. I mean, really, Quinn? Do you even know my favorite color? My favorite movie? Favorite flower? Anything?"
Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and circled her fingers around and around Rachel's wrist. She could feel Rachel's pulse dancing just beneath her skin. She fought the urge to kiss Rachel to calmness.
"I have time to learn those things."
"No, Quinn, you don't. And I don't want you to know them. I'm leaving for New York soon. I don't want you to know these things about me and, frankly, I don't want to know them about you."
Quinn was suddenly angry. She was mad at Rachel for her nonchalance. And furious at herself for wanting anything from Rachel at all. She stood and hovered over Rachel, effectively blocking any move the other girl could make to leverage around the blonde.
"Well, you don't get to make all the rules here, Rachel! You are going to learn some things about me. So get comfortable. My favorite color is green. My favorite movie is, well, I don't actually have one. And my favorite fucking flower is the gardenia. I imagine a church full of them when I get married."
Quinn stopped talking and bent over to catch her breath. Her emotions were causing her an uncomfortable sort of mental whiplash. She knew she'd just given Rachel the upper hand again by shutting up. But her mind was foggy and the end was near anyway. The fight was seeping out of Quinn.
Rachel simply stood up and calmly pushed past Quinn. She dressed quickly and turned to look at Quinn before leaving.
"That's lovely information, Quinn. And I'm sure it will come in handy one day. For someone else to know."
Quinn watched as Rachel walked out of Quinn's room, silently closing the bedroom door behind her. It really was the best metaphor for an ending that Rachel Berry could have conjured for them. If they weren't fucking, they were locked together in silence. Until Rachel closed the door on even that option.
That was not the last time she'd seen Rachel, of course. But they kept their distance from the other. It was the last unspoken agreement between them. Rachel moved to New York shortly after graduation. And Quinn escaped across the country. Away from Rachel. Away from that moment she'd said I love you to a person who only wanted to fuck her without even getting to know her.
Now, she found herself walking towards a tent. Outside a temple. On the day of Rachel Berry's wedding. And there were gardenias in vases already on the tables. With green ribbons tied ostentatiously around the vases.
Quinn felt weak and disoriented. And her words – her past – flooded sickly through her mind yet again.
"My favorite color is green."
"My favorite fucking flower is the gardenia."
"I imagine a church full of them when I get married."
Replace temple with church and it was almost too much. No. Wait. It was too much.
There was no way Quinn could sit through this wedding now. She was on the verge of running out of the tent to her rental car and straight to the airport when a voice rooted her helplessly to the spot.
"I wasn't certain you'd show. Maybe you did mean it, after all, when you said you loved me."
Quinn felt a familiar surge of anger flare up inside her. Just like that last night with Rachel. It seemed only Rachel could bring out that ugly, reckless side of her. She glared at Rachel. Rachel smirked back.
In two steps Quinn wasn't entirely sure she should have taken, she pinned Rachel against the side of the tent with no thoughts interrupting her actions, no explanations tipping from her tongue, and no thinking of any consequences to trouble her conscience.
She thrust her fingers inside Rachel as if she'd last done so just yesterday. Rachel leaned into Quinn and both girls canted their hips forward in a rhythm that Quinn still sometimes mimicked in her dreams.
Rachel came with the words "I love you…I love you…I love you" pouring out of her mouth on a near silent loop next to Quinn's ear.
Quinn smiled against Rachel's neck. She gradually pushed herself off Rachel's trembling body. Rachel tried to hold on for a moment longer but Quinn stepped further back. With hands that, thankfully, barely shook, Quinn pried the gardenia from Rachel's upswept hair and pressed a kiss against the side of Rachel's mouth.
"This is my favorite flower, Rachel, not yours."
Rachel was silent. And so was Quinn. Instead of forcing Rachel into conversation, Quinn walked out of the tent to her rental car and straight to the airport.
She stuffed the gardenia in her suitcase before hastily making her way to the terminal.