Author's Note: Okay-there will never been a sequel to Beliefs. It's purposefully vague. I wanted it to be open and also it is really difficult to touch on sexual abuse without feeling like you should sleep for 12 hours after. These stories got in the way of reading. Finished 2 books vs 3 from the week prior-feeling like a slacker. This is part 2.5 because I lost some notes in 1 of my bags. I really shouldn't have 10 bags...you know what I enjoy? I'll tell you! Instead of a review that says Guest even a color or initials or favorite drink would be nice and if its beer I'll try not to judge though its the drink of peasants (Carmilla fanfic reference) or favorite book, favorite place. Surprise me! Please & thank you. Honestly thanks to anyone who reviews, I like being able to send a PM and say thanks most of the time which is why I'm noting the guest preference. Also due to my stubbornness I tried 2 computers & an hour of trying to connect to the site. I REALLY need to stop writing fanfics and work on my book which most days I want to burn which seems sacrilegious but as an ambivalent agnostic I settle on glaring at it. I mentally call it "the damn thing". So there's that.
Rachel had certain tells. When she had cravings and was stressed the singer would lean against the counter, spoon in mouth and jar of peanut butter held like it was gold. Or rather she clutched it like it was a Tony award. At least that's how Quinn found her one day after she got back from the market.
"Alright crazy vegan...what's going on?" The writer asked as she shrugged out of her pea coat.
"I need protein!" Rachel said with veiled enthusiasm that hid her underlying defensive tone. She was really stressed. The night before Quinn had glanced over and saw her bottom lip between her teeth; another tell that the singer was concentrating to the point of self-induced stress.
"Oh...vegan problems. You're on the struggle bus huh? One way ticket to crazy town?" Quinn smirked, trying to pull Rachel from her panic.
"Babe, don't say things the teenagers say." Rachel replied with a hand on her hip.
"Hashtag vegan issue, hashtag vegan lifestyle, hashtag eat from the jar" she yelled the last one and paused to raise her hands in the air "exclamation point!"
She didn't stand a chance in all the world...even a world where Barbara Streisand told her don't smile, don't you dare smile because she was smiling so much her cheeks kind of hurt. "You are such a nerd. And hashtag lol lol lol," she said exactly like Justin Timberlake's delivery. And she loved that Quinn was capable of making her laugh even when she had so much anxiety in her that she ate from the jar!
"You're lucky I don't have a peanut allergy," Quinn said as she leaned forward and kissed the Broadway singer. Rachel almost laughed that Quinn's antique top hat almost got in the way. The first time the writer wore it she almost mocked her, but Quinn could pull it off. It was another testament to her old fashioned personality. She would also never tell Quinn that when she smoked her pretentious American Spirits, which thankfully was incredibly rare and had rationalized "its a pack a year Rachel. And they don't have chemicals. And are organic!" Rachel had refrained from rolling her eyes but honestly she thought it was very attractive. She could imagine Quinn being used in a commercial for smoking if they were in the 1940's.
Quinn had also decreased her stress in other ways that involved removing her hat as well as other articles that day.
Finally when opening night happened she had bowed to a standing ovation and retired to her dressing room to take off her makeup and head home she had found flowers. And something random. Someone had pushed the vases back so there was enough open space on the counter for a nicely designed cylinder. Rachel frowned and flipped picked up the small tag that was nicely wrapped around the top. It read #EatLikeABoss.
Rachel tore the well decorated paper and laughed at the organic jar of peanut butter.
She didn't even say thank you when she got home. Quinn was standing in the kitchen, swiping on her Ipad for new recipes and Rachel took a leap into her. Thankfully cheerleading reflexes still remained and she caught her. Smoothly she set her on the counter and stood between her legs, hands placed on her thighs and smiled back at her.
"Take it...you may have come across my congratulations gift..." she smirked.
"Maybe," Rachel said back playfully.
"Well...flowers can be boring and ordinary. Can't have that for such an exceptional performer," Quinn said as she pulled Rachel a little closer to her.
"Take me to bed," Rachel said with darkened eyes as her voice dropped. The singer wasn't above flattery. Who was she kidding. She lived for applause. It just so happened Quinn had her own style which made Rachel swoon and demand in pure diva standards.
They also had their serious moments which balanced out the goofy, carefree days.
"Do you ever think...what if...we fall out of love?" Rachel asked tentatively, pausing in her script that had themes of self destruction.
Slowly Quinn took off her reading glasses, set down her Joan Didion book and pressed her palm into her eye to fight fatigue. Her glasses dangled between her thumb and index finger as she sighed. "I've briefly thought about it, very fleetingly." She stated. "And rather than go down that rabbit hole I concluded I would try not to hate you." She said as she reached to the corner of her desk and grabbed her ipod. "I probably would a little, until I realize I hate that I care about you and can't do anything about it...so I would hate the situation." The writer paused and focused on her ipod which made Rachel think does Quinn have ADD? Is this boring her?
"This sums it up," she said and pressed play.
"The Beach Boys?" Rachel asked after the chorus of God Only Knows finished and it seeped in how sentimental Quinn was. It continued to play as Quinn explained, "they were the first concert I ever went to, aside from the symphony a town over my parents took Franny and I to. A neighbor took me...he loves the beach boys," she paused and looked down. "He's dying of brain cancer," she said softly, hating to say it and sighed that her eyes were tearing up. She loathed crying.
"Quinn.." Rachel said softly. She didn't see the conversation going in this direction.
"I've thought about...going home to visit...he's a great guy," she drew in a breath. "In fact his son has said-dad you gotta stop being so good. If Jesus comes back he's gonna say woah dude, you're making me look bad." She gave a sad chuckle. "They're really religious. Legitimately good people." She sighed again, feeling words getting stuck. "Last time I was there I asked if I could get him anything and he was really sweet and said-you could keep sending those banana walnut breads."
"That's why you go to the farmers market every week now?" Rachel said after a long pause. "You used to go every other," she said more to herself.
"Mhmmm" Quinn replied as she drew imaginary circles on her desk with her index finger.
Rachel really looked at Quinn. The woman who joked her heart was three sizes too small and had said "some days I felt like a nihilist and just went through the motions" when they very briefly grazed the topic of high school. Rachel loved that Quinn was composed of opposites even if she was heady and sometimes difficult. Quinn seemed hard but was incredibly soft, sometimes overly sensitive, she would retreat quietly, she wouldn't raise her voice...in fact the only time she committed to yelling was if she was offended for a friend or if someone struck her "protective nerve". The brunette had posed the "what-if" question to get a gauge and see if they were on the same page.
"Will you...you have a busy schedule but..would you mind coming home with me soon? I'd like to see him again..." Quinn asked softly and only glanced at Rachel because she felt needy for asking.
"Babe, of course," she said as she got up from the couch, blanket falling to the floor and stood behind Quinn who remained in her seat. Gently she placed her hands on tense shoulders and pressed her thumbs into the muscles. "For a self-proclaimed cynic with atheist tendencies you listen and sing a good deal of songs with religious themes," Rachel added in observation and without judgement.
"I'm sorry..I know you'll have to get the understudy," she said, knowing when Rachel agreed to something it was a promise. It was a rare trait that Quinn loved-how Rachel stuck to her word and treated them like contracts. Rachel was solid. "and I don't think anyone would say I'm easy," she offered with a hint of self-deprication because she knew cancer was out of her control but asking her girlfriend to alter her life was a choice.
The brunette lightly laughed and continued to massage the blonde's shoulders. She loved that Quinn had cut her hair short and choppy again, allowing easy access to the back of her neck. "No Quinn, they certainly wouldn't," she leaned down and kissed the back of her neck-one of her favorite things to do. It was right up there with soloing.
"At least I'm consistent." She replied as she took Rachel's hand and gave a three small squeezes. A symbol of "I love you".
There were days Quinn was flat out frustrating and oblivious. She'd come home with extra coffee or even a plant as the most random thing and say "I got it for free."
"Really Quinn?" Rachel with say with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah. Why?" She had said as she gave the plant water.
"Because you come back with things all the time." The singer stated factually and was amused Quinn didn't see it.
"Not all the time." The blonde replied with her aloof tone as she looked around the apartment for an ideal place to put the orchid.
Just comes home with an orchid. Not like they're expensive. Not like the vendor just threw away twenty dollars. She thought as she raised her eyebrows, watching Quinn display some of her OCD.
"Quinn. You bat your eyes and its over."
"Or its because I've established a rapport with people," she replied, "and I ask sincerely how they are," Quinn tilted her head and looked at the tiger orchid, liking the way the sunlight hit it.
The singer laughed and said, "yeah..ok" and shook her head. She couldn't really blame people.
At night when silence finally settled in and they lay in bed there were times Rachel could feel Quinn staring at her. Honestly the writer couldn't help it. Rachel was baffling, a force to reckon with and rare. Its why she had altered her grandmother's diamond ring to suit the woman who was currently half-asleep holding her hand. Rachel was unwavering and yet dynamic, resilient and truly a reason to believe love held the most power of any emotion. Quinn would look at Rachel's pulse point and watch the ripple and slight wave that proved she was alive and healthy.
After her accident she was still sometimes struck by how fragile and short life was. It was too short to tolerate bullshit and too brief to not learn from your mistakes and commit to something natural. With college she finally stopped denying her connection to Rachel and welcomed it...as best she could with her courting ways that were considered too damn slow and ambiguous as Santana and Kurt had stated. Santana had snapped her fingers and added-don't have all day Fabray.
To Quinn that pulse point was reassuring that Rachel was present and full of life-full of potential and future, ambitions and strength. She knew people underestimated Rachel. It was another reason she admired her girlfriend. Rachel was the girl next door but held a wild card in her back pocket and she was beyond description. Quinn had never tried to write Rachel into a character. She never belittled her and referred to her as a muse. Rachel was beyond that-further than a role. The fact that Quinn kept getting lost in thoughts of the future, kids with Rachel, a family...made her worry. Briefly she had hinted having chronic fear for her children but stopped herself from elaborating. That conversation seemed inevitable if enough alcohol was consumed but Rachel had frowned and said "we'll do our best and they'll know they're loved."
Rachel had the ability to simplify things when Quinn's thoughts built on themselves and complicated her perspective. Rachel was patient, stubborn, funny without realizing it, passionate, and far more than Quinn could imagine because Rachel kept surprising her.
It took Rachel months to find an apartment with a big enough balcony or a safe rooftop to put a full size bed out. Of course a bed wouldn't go on their private rooftop. A lot of sleeping bags on a nice fall, spring or summer evening was their routine. When the stars seemed faint and elusive from their city view they shared the belief the world would keep turning.
Quinn pulled Rachel half on top of her and gazed up like it all provided proof. It was the look of wonderment that no matter how many times they did this that made Rachel curl into the taller woman more as they shared earbuds and listened to a playlist Quinn had created. When winter descended Rachel would almost go into withdrawal, that their ritual would be on hold. It made her love Quinn more. They had been doing this for months and the singer smiled into a pale neck as The Weepies sang "and the world spins madly on" while the sounds of New York city were a constant in the background like a comforting noise. Playlist after playlist. Rachel loved that Quinn had playlists for the seasons.
She was surprised when Quinn sang along to "lost stars" in a whisper. The singer had to tilt the ipod and read that it was from the soundtrack Begin Again.
"Why don't you ever sing anymore?" She whispered back.
"I do. You know I do. In the shower," she shrugged and said with pride and a firmness that was unmovable, "you're the singer," because really...to sing in front of Rachel meant feeling a little pressured.
"But you have a beautiful voice," Rachel countered sincerely.
"Rachel...even your laugh is musical and pleasing. I like singing. You live for it. I would feel...unsettled if I wasn't about to write anymore. We play to our strengths," she kissed her cheek.
"You can't just take a compliment!" Rachel groaned and then stopped when Bright by Echosmith played. Because if you had asked high school Rachel Berry if she would be on a rooftop, laying on Quinn Fabray and having a romantic moment she would have sought out a professional to be certain she hadn't been slipped any drugs or if the person inquiring was on drugs.
But here they were-against many odds, after pushing through many barriers, assuring they would learn more of each other tomorrow and finally they came out on top. Metaphorically. Also literally. A rooftop.
The End.
Author's note: If you get a chance listen to Lost Stars. Today my housemate says-were you singing in the shower? Me: ah..yeah. Him: you should sing more often, its good. Me: oh, I do in the car.
And that is how I handle compliments.
Thank you for reading.