It was joyous and thrilling; she had been given the job that would finally cement her transfer from United Airlines straight into the waiting arms of British Airways. It was a dream, a high end dream that even her father had told her she probably wouldn't get. Only the best pilots were accepted into the BA fleet, he always said, and now, it was in her grasp.
Her father, a pilot himself, had been with American Airlines since he first received his pilot's license. He was hard working, dedicated; all the things that Quinn Fabray prided herself upon. She was just like her father, except for being a complete and utter twat.
Russell Fabray was head strong, and tended not to listen to other people's ideas. That's what got him killed. He had been test piloting a new aeroplane six years ago and died for not listening to colleagues warnings about how unstable the craft was.
Quinn had only just received her letter of congratulation from United Airlines, saying that she'd been accepted into their fleet as a First Officer. She went to her father's funeral two weeks later, then went back to work; mind set on not becoming the person her father became.
Three years later and fifteen thousand airtime hours later, she received that fourth strip. Captain. She was finally a Captain and one step closer to her goal.
Three years, still a Captain, the flight hours kept on piling up, but no real opportunity to shine when it came to proving her worth for British Airways. Until...
"Fabraaaaaaay," Quinn smirked from behind her newspaper, quickly glancing up at Noah Puckerman, her trusty First Officer as he walked toward her, "Did ya hear?" He asked, taking a seat on the opposite couch.
"Did I hear what, Puck?" She asked, folding the newspaper meticulously, then placing it down beside her.
"Will Schuester has ordered a meeting for tomorrow morning. Early. Real fuckin' early."
"And why should that be important to me?" She asked, eyebrow raised softly, "He schedules meetings all the time; it's just a way of throwing his weight around with all the pilots together."
"I'll never understand how he became the head of United Airlines..." Puck replied, shaking his head.
"Apparently daddy works at the FAA; managed to schmooze his son into getting the job." Quinn sighed disgustingly, "It's pathetic. You shouldn't get a job unless you have the talent for the job."
"You can talk, Fabray." Puck smirked, "Wasn't your dad a veteran pilot for American?"
Quinn rolled her eyes with a scoff, "Let's just not go there." She picked her newspaper back up and began reading where she left off,
"Did you hear?" Santana Lopez asked, plopping down beside Quinn as she took off her flight cap, "Schuester has some big meeting planned for tomorrow."
"Yeah, Puck just told me."
The Latina's eyes snapped to Puck's, "What do you think it means?"
Noah Puckerman and Santana Lopez had grown up together. They were best friends, and practically inseparable in High School. When they both decided to be pilots, which was mostly Santana's doing, their bond had only grown stronger. They wanted to be the ultimate flying duo, but Quinn, who had already been at United for just over a year, landed Puck as her first officer, Santana saw red.
Quinn and Santana had a volatile relationship. Sometimes they couldn't bare to look at each other, others...well...they could tolerate one another. They were friends, to put it at the loosest sense of the word, but Quinn would never have been surprised if Santana stabbed in the back if the right opportunity arose.
"Psh, don't ask me. Schuester's a nut. He could be just calling us all together to tell us that he's changing the first class meals to something equally disgusting."
Santana chortled, "Yeah, I thought that too. But haven't you heard? Some pretty up and up Boeing reps were here yesterday afternoon."
Quinn's head snapped up from her paper, "Here? At JFK?" The newspaper landed to her lap with a light thud, "Boeing representatives?" She hadn't been at the airport yesterday afternoon; she'd spent most the day on a normal routine route from New York to Chicago.
"Jesus, don't wet your panties, Fabray." Santana rolled her eyes and slid back on the couch to look at her, "Yeah. Boeing reps. Apparently they looked pretty important."
"Shit," Quinn whispered, mostly to herself. If the meeting had something to do with Boeing, it could be the break that she was looking for. She could finally pack up her things and permanently move her skinny ass straight to England and never look back. "Have you heard anything else about the meeting?"
Puck just shrugged and Santana shook her head, "Nope. I just got in from a flight. You and Puck were up in the air all day yesterday."
"Maybe I'll ask Hudson."
"Finnocence? You seriously think that moron would pay attention to a couple suits? If it isn't a Rolls Royce engine, he isn't interested."
Quinn sighed, "Then who do you think I should ask?"
The door opened to the pilot's resting area and in walked Rachel Berry. Wearing her uniform, pressed to perfection, flight cap settled on her head, tie tied smartly, boots shining under the glow of the luminescent lights, flight case clutched tightly in her right hand.
"Ask your girlfriend." Santana barked through a laugh.
Quinn blushed and watched as Rachel took a seat toward the back of the room, settling back in her chair and pulling out a flight plan from her briefcase, "She isn't my girlfriend."
"Oh, but how you wish her to be, right?"
Rolling up the newspaper in her hands, she swatted the annoying Latina over the head with it, "You know nothing."
"Come on, Fabray." Puck butted in, resting his hands behind his head, "Even I can see the drool dripping down your chin whenever she enters a room."
Instinctively Quinn wiped at her chin, and with two loud barks of laughter echoing throughout the room, she slid further into the couch, lowering her head with mortification, "Screw you both."
"Why don't you just ask her out?" Santana asked, genuinely interested, "I mean...come on. You told me to ask Britt out and I did."
"Brittany has had the biggest crush on you since she started attending your flights; it's a bit more difficult in my position."
Puck frowned, "Why?"
"Well I've never really..." Her eyes slid to Rachel, just in time to see the brunette pull her cap off and rest it gently on the table, almost as if it would shatter, "Talked to her..."
Santana chortled beside her, "Ay dios mio, you're pathetic."
Quinn sighed, eyes still settled on Rachel as she flicked through her flight plan, "Yeah...I know."
The next morning, Quinn woke up bright an early. At five am, she slammed her hand down on her alarm clock and went for a run. She prided herself on her morning routine; no matter where she was in the world she always got up for a run whenever she woke up.
Today was the day, to find out what the meeting was about. Inside, she was petrified; having Boeing around the airport was a pretty big deal, and usually it meant a business deal was about to go down. If it impacted the airport, it would definitely impact the pilots.
She just hoped it was something good.
Seven am, she arrived at the airport. She met up with a bleary eyed Sam Evans and Finn Hudson huddled around a coffee machine, "Morning."
Finn smiled, "Hey, Quinn."
"You know, I'd love to know how you're so chipper in the mornings..." Sam grumbled around his plastic coffee cup, "It's annoyin' as hell."
"Because I get up a few hours before I have to be at work. I give myself time to wake up."
Sam groaned, "That's even worse!"
Finn smirked, leaning down to pick up his flight case, "You were invited to the meeting, weren't you, Quinn?"
"Yeah..." Quinn replied, moving between Sam and Finn as they walked toward the conference room, "Why did they only pick a handful of pilots?"
"No idea," Sam mumbled, "Apparently it's something to do with the best pilots that fly for United or something."
"So American Airlines weren't invited or anything?"
Sam just shrugged, "Dunno."
Quinn made it her goal not to talk to Sam Evans in the mornings; it was like trying to get blood from a stone. He was a sweet guy, maybe a little overzealous with his flying technique, but Santana Lopez, his flight partner, had calmed him down some since he started at the airline.
Finn, on the other hand, was her best friend. They'd dated back in High School, and when it hadn't worked out, mostly because Quinn preferred to date people with breasts, they mercifully settled on just being friends. They never really saw each other at work, mostly because Finn and his flight partner, Mike Chang, were settled with the international routes. Quinn hated him for it; because it'd always been her dream to travel to Europe and fly, but there weren't enough flights to pass around.
Puck and Rachel were already in the conference room when she arrived with Finn and Sam in tow, and immediately all conversation ceased between the threesome; Quinn's mouth went dry when Rachel looked up at her from her glass of water and smiled.
She smiled back, albeit a bit goofy, and when Puck rolled his eyes, she bit her bottom lip and settled down beside him, directly opposite the brunette that occupied her every thought.
The day Rachel walked through the doors of JFK, she'd immediately asked if the brunette was lost. It was a stupid remark to make, and the look of distaste she'd gotten from Rachel made her regret it almost instantly.
She told Quinn that she was new to the airport, and had just received the job of First Officer with United. The blonde's jaw had dropped, and when Rachel had told her she was six years Quinn's junior at only the ripe old age of twenty five, Quinn had almost stopped breathing.
Using hand gestures because her mouth no longer worked, she pointed her in the direction of Director William Schuester's office and then scampered off without another word. They hadn't spoken since.
Quinn regretted it every minute of it. Rachel had blossomed, and although she'd never been in the same plane as the brunette, she'd watched her land a 747 with relative ease as she waited to taxi onto the runway.
The brunette's flying technique blew her away, and her looks just made her mouth go dry and between her thighs flood with moisture. She knew it was a deep, unadulterated attraction; her mother had been the one to tell her that she just wanted to jump into Rachel's pants. It had mortified her, but her mother was right. So right.
Santana walked in, followed closely by Mike Chang and finally, better late than never, Director William Schuester, looking fresh and peppy in his dark coal suit.
"Morning, ladies and gentleman."
A collective, and some grumbled, morning's met Schuester's ears as he moved to the head of the table to sit down. He adjusted himself in his seat, then crossed his legs and smiled at the pilots before him.
"I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here." Quinn itched to ask, "It's mostly because you're the best pilots United has to offer; and for the job I have in the pipeline, I need the best of the best."
Quinn quickly glanced at Santana, who just smirked; what a way to blow up someone's ego, "What do you mean, sir?" It killed her to call him 'sir'. Quinn had never liked the Director. He was a pompous ass, and a constant thorn in her side. She was almost positive that she'd kept her file for promotion to Captain on his desk for going on three months before even bothering to look at it.
Stupid, wax headed, moronic...urgh.
"I'm almost positive you've heard the rumours that have been swimming around, recently?"
He glanced around at the pilot's, and when all but two of them nodded, Will continued, "Boeing representatives were in fact here, two days ago, settling a deal that United had made with them." Quinn felt her heart palpitate, "As you know Boeing have recently put the 787 Dreamliner into production. They're now looking for an airline to send it on it's maiden voyage."
"Are you being serious?" Puck asked excitedly, sliding forward in his seat, forearms braced on the table, "That plane looks fuckin' beautiful!"
"Yeah, yeah yeah. Why are we here?" Santana asked, not looking up from her nails. Quinn just stared at her; how could she be so flippant about something so huge? This was a huge fucking deal. It could jump start anyone's career; put them in places they could only dream of.
England. British Airways.
"Boeing have sealed a deal with United Airlines to allow us to fly the 787 Dreamliner. The first has already been completed and tested; they only need to show the world that a new Boeing plane is now on the market."
"So..." Quinn mumbled, "Who flies the plane?"
The room fell silent, and Quinn bit down on her bottom lip, barely holding back from begging for the opportunity. It was everything she needed to send her to England; if Will picked her to fly it...
She'd streak and run through the airport naked.
"That is why I called you all here," Will reached down beside him, plucking up a black top hat from beside his chair and putting it down on the table before him, "You're all amazing pilots, professional, hard working, young. I have no doubt in your abilities, hence why I couldn't choose between you. So...I'll leave it to fate!"
He sounded so excited.
"Fuckin' kiddin' me..." Puck grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Quinn locked eyes with Rachel, who was glancing around the room, before finally settling her eyes on Will, "With all due respect, sir, we are all good pilots, but the best of the best should be picked to fly that plane. I propose I take one of those seats."
"Hell no," Santana butted in, leaning forward in her seat to look at Rachel, "If he won't pick who gets to have it, you have no right to demand a spot. Keep your nose out of this, Big Beak."
Quinn glared at her.
"Please, settle down." Will sighed, hand already poised on the hat, "I don't want bickering between my pilots. What happened to us being United, just like our name suggests?" No one answered, but Santana leaned back in her seat, an obvious sign of defeat, "First Officer Berry, I commend you for asking for a spot, but just like I said, it's only fair I pick from the hat."
"That hat needs to be burnt..." Sam grumbled, sipping at his second coffee.
They all waited with bated breath as Will's hand reached into the hat, and Quinn felt her lip start to hurt when the first name was pulled out. Then his hand was going back in, and the second name was pulled free from the confines of the hat.
"Jesus, I feel like I'm dyin'..." Puck whispered, leaning toward Quinn, eyes still trained on the two slips of paper.
"Me too." Quinn's nails dug into the armrests of her chair, and she all but ripped up free from her chair and squealed when she heard:
"Captain Quinn Fabray."
"YES! WOO! GOD DAMN IT! YES!"
Will smirked, "Settle down Fabray." Then his fingers flipped open the second piece of paper and with a pep to his tone, he said, "First Officer Rachel Berry."
Rachel slapped her hands down on the table with excitement, "Thank you, sir! You won't regret this."
"Fuckin' kiddin' me...?"
"Ay dios mio..."
"I need another coffee..."
"..."
"Oh well."
Quinn was still frozen, arms still up in the air, even when the rest of the pilots had left. Director Schuester smiled at Quinn and motioned her to lower her arms. With a blush, she did, and made sure not to make direct eye contact with Rachel unless she wanted to die of embarrassment.
"Now, you both have two weeks to prepare yourself for the 787's first flight. You'll both receive flight plans in a few days, as well as a schedule for press conferences."
"Press conferences, sir?" Rachel asked.
Will nodded, "Of course. This is a brand new Boeing; and the most fuel efficient of any plane in the air. It's a huge deal for the aviation industry and environmentalists."
"What are we expected to say?"
Will chuckled, "You answer their questions, Fabray." He picked up the stupid Hat of Fate, "Prepare yourself. You're the most important pilots in the business right now."
He left the room, and Quinn burst out laughing once he'd left, "Wow." She whispered when she'd finally settled down. It was so surreal.
"Crazy, huh?" Rachel smiled, leaning down to pick up her flight case, "We'll be flying together for the first time."
Quinn nodded and rose to her feet, also grabbing her case, "Yeah...it's crazy."
"Hopefully you won't assume I'm lost or something?" With a smirk, Rachel tucked her cap under her arm and left the room, leaving a well and truly flustered Quinn Fabray behind in her wake.
"It's fuckin' ridiculous. How did Big Beak get picked and not me?" Santana grumbled around a mouthful of salty peanuts. They were frequenting a bar that was popular with most of the pilot's at JFK.
Quinn rolled her eyes and took a long pull of her beer, "Don't call her that." She grumbled, slamming her almost empty bottle down on the beer sodden table, "It was 'fate' as Schuester said, so don't act like this is her fault."
"Jesus, Fabray. You might not be screwing her, but you act like you do."
Quinn groaned, "Yeah, I wish."
Santana shrugged her shoulders innocently, "Then do it."
The blonde flicked an eyebrow up in question, "Do what?"
"Well..." Santana downed the rest of her beer and leaned forward on her elbows, lowering her voice, "You're gonna be spending a lot of time with her; why don't you get close to her and do the deed?"
"I don't even know if she likes me...or girls for that matter."
"Gimme a break, Q. She likes the lips between the hips."
"Oh yeah?" Quinn asked, not getting her hopes up, "And what makes you say that?"
"I just know these things, Q. I'm fuckin' Yoda."
Maybe she was right; maybe Rachel was into girls, and if the light teasing earlier that day had been anything to go on, that would swing things in her favor. She wasn't sure though, and she wasn't willing to make an ass out of herself simply because she thought Rachel might be into her.
Puck returned with a fresh round of beers and slotted himself in beside Quinn. She just wanted an early night, but when Puck all but shoved a pitcher of beer in front of her, she could hardly complain.
She got home three hours later, drunk, and really fucking happy she didn't have any flights for the next day. Walking, okay, stumbling, into her apartment, she landed face first onto the living room couch with an absurdly loud groan of appreciation.
"So goooood..." She mumbled into her pillow, before turning her head to look at the TV. It was still off, like always; she never had the time to sit down and just watch TV anymore. She always had something going on, or she was at work.
A small red light beside the television caught her attention, and it took a few seconds more than usual to realize she had messages. "Who wants meeeeee...?" She giggled, rolling off the couch and crawling toward the answering machine.
She slapped her hand down on the answering machine, fumbling around until she found the right button.
You have one new message, Thursday at 10:52pm.
Hello, Quinn? I was given your number from Director Schuester. I managed to catch him on his way out of the airport and he told me that we have a conference in two days. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up tomorrow and run through what we're going to say? I'm currently in Miami, but I should be back tomorrow around one pm, barring any delays. Call me back...goodnight, Quinn."
"Oh Jesus..." Quinn groaned as she leaned up and all but swiped for the phone, immediately calling the First Officer back.
Headache. Monster headache. It hurt; it hurt to open her eyes, hurt to walk, hurt to breathe, hurt to live. Why did she drink so much? Why was jumping out of the window so damn tempting right now?
Her aviators stayed well in place, even when she entered the airport. It was just past one pm, and although Rachel's flight was delayed, it wasn't a delay that made her want to scratch her eyeballs out. It was only half an hour; so she went to the Starbucks, ordered herself a damn strong, extra hot coffee and sat down in the boarding area.
She looked like any other person today; her beloved uniform was washed and hung out to dry, so today she just wore trainers, tight dark blue jeans and a faded tee. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and although she was seeing the girl she'd had a crush on for almost a year, her aching brain couldn't really bring herself to care.
The familiar 737 Boeing drifted into her eye line, and sure enough, there was a United logo right there on the tail. She watched as it slowly descended, lined itself up and finally came to a screeching halt along the runway. Another perfect landing. She wondered if Rachel or her Captain had performed it this time.
Half an hour later, Rachel appeared beside her flight partner, a seasoned veteran at the golden age of fifty, and one of the most charming men Quinn had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He was dedicated to his work, dedicated to his wife, children and grandchildren, and an all around good guy.
For some reason Quinn was glad Rachel was settled with Alan McCorrick as her Captain. It meant she'd learn from the best of the best.
"I'll see you later, Al." Rachel beamed, turning to walk toward Quinn.
"See you later, Rachel." He glanced over to Quinn and beamed, "Quinn! How're you?"
"Great thanks, Alan." The blonde replied as she stood from her seat and walked toward the two, "How's Antonia?"
"Perfect," Alan smiled, "Just like always. Anyway, I'll leave you two to it. Congratulations on landing the Boeing job by the way; I always knew it'd go to a couple of young chippers like yourself."
Quinn blushed and Rachel chuckled, "See you later, Al."
They both watched as he walked away, and hesitantly, Quinn offered, "Hey. How was the flight?"
"Exhausting." Rachel sighed, "I could drop and sleep for a few days, but we need to sort out this conference. I don't really want to go in there all gungho."
"Gungho? We're not going to war, Rachel."
"Oh, so it's not Rach anymore?"
Quinn's brow furrowed, "Huh?"
"Nothing..." She nudged past Quinn with a smile, but stopped when she realized the blonde wasn't following her, "You coming? I thought we could have coffee?"
Quinn cleared her throat, "There's a Starbucks right there," She offered, pointing to said place.
"I thought you wanted coffee at my place? Come on." And she set off again.
Quinn scratched the back of her head, eyes narrowed in confusion, "Huh...?"
Rachel had a modest condo; apparently both her fathers had put money together to help their daughter buy her house. It'd come as a shock, when Rachel placed a steaming mug of coffee in her hands as she browsed the many pictures that littered the brunette's living room.
"Leroy and Hiram, my fathers." Rachel added helpfully before taking a small sip of her coffee, "They helped me buy the house. They still live in Ohio, where I was born."
Quinn smiled, "Why did you want to come to New York?"
The brunette smiled, "I had this big dream of one day being on Broadway," At Quinn's wide eyes, she giggled, "Yup. I can sing. And dance. And act, for your information."
"Triple threat, huh?"
"You know the term?"
Quinn smirked, "Brittany Pierce, you know, the flight attendant? She used to be a singer and a dancer before packing it in."
"I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting her."
Then it hit her. She could...slyly gauge Rachel's opinion, right? It didn't have to be direct, did it? "Yeah, she's usually around Santana. They're both dating."
Rachel's mouth shaped a terrific 'o', "Oh, how nice of them. I never expected..." Quinn leaned forward instinctively, "Santana to be the one to settle down with someone."
Quinn bit back a groan, "Yeah..." She took a long sip of her coffee, allowing the bitter taste the linger on her tongue before swallowing. "So..." She glanced at Rachel and did a double take when she caught the brunette almost smirking at her, "Uhm...yeah?"
"Oh nothing." She grinned and pointed down to her flight case, "Should we work on what to say at the conference?"
Quinn nodded, still slightly freaked out. What the hell was going on?
"That was...weird." Quinn remarked as she left the conference hall. They had only just finished their conference with major media outlets, including a whole bunch on environmentalists that scribbled fact and fact on the plane down in their little notebooks. It was an easy conference, but when all the camera turned on, Quinn couldn't help but get freaked out.
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting so many questions to be honest," Rachel replied, unbuttoning her uniform jacket, "It seems like everyone is interested in the plane. I'm glad we had that little rendezvous three days ago to sort out all the logistics."
"Rendezvous...?" Quinn asked, heart melting as Rachel giggled.
"Isn't that what you call it nowadays?" She turned and threw a wave over her shoulder, "See you in two days for the flight, Fabray."
"So what, you think she's hittin' on you?" Puck asked, a day later, feet propped up on the glass table in front of him. She, Santana, Puck and Sam were sat in the pilot's lounge together, relaxing before their flights.
She'd kept them all up to date on her situation with Rachel; except for Finn. Puck had warned her that the six foot pilot had a thing for the petite brunette, and that if anything was mentioned about her being a maybe lesbian, Finn would mostly likely throw a hissy fit.
True to form, and with a bit of intelligence, Quinn decided to keep it a secret from Finn. It hurt. They were best friends, but at the end of the day, she couldn't ruin her chances just because her best friend had a thing for the same girl. What are the fucking odds?
"I dunno. She's just acting all...flirty all of a sudden. I have no idea why though."
Santana smirked, still looking down at the magazine she was flicking through casually, "She can smell it on you. You're like a cat in heat, Fabray."
"Screw you, Lopez."
"Sorry babe, I have a girl that already does that for me."
Defeated, Quinn slumped back against the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. She resembled a child that couldn't get a cookie, but she could hardly care less. Santana Lopez, at times, was an absolute twat.
"Why don't you just bite the bullet, Quinn?" Sam asked, leaning forward, forearms braced on his thighs, "Just ask her out. If she says she isn't gay or at least curious, then at least you know instead of pulling your hair out trying to find out."
"Speaks the guy who's gay himself," Santana asked, glancing across to Sam, "How's little homo boy doing anyway?"
"Are you referring to my boyfriend, Lopez?"
"Yes. Yes I am."
"I'm fine, thank you." Puck replied, looking at Santana with steeled eyes, "I also resent the nickname 'little homo boy'."
Santana's eye twitched, "Wait...what?" Her eyes snapped between Sam and Puck, then to Quinn, "Is everyone in this damn room, gay?" She exclaimed, slapping her magazine down.
Puck chuckled, "Hey, I was all for experimenting. I can't help it if he's good in bed."
Sam blushed.
Quinn smirked.
Santana fake gagged, "Totally gross." Then she rolled her eyes, "Screw this, I'm due for a flight." She shot up off the couch and grabbed her case and hat, "Fabray, sort your shit out. Puck...Trouty Mouth..." She paused and titled her head just so, "Oddly hot."
Puck smirked as he watched her leave, "He can fit more than a tennis ball in his mouth, that's for sure."
Quinn just laughed as Sam hit him round the back of the head with embarrassment, "Shut up, Puck." The blonde sighed and turned to Quinn, "So...what ya gonna do?"
The blonde shrugged her shoulder helplessly, her jovial mood well and truly over, "I have no idea. I want to go for it, but the thought of getting shot down just terrifies me."
"Better to be shot down and move on then wait until she tells you one day she's got a girlfriend."
Sometimes, Puck could be incredibly intelligent.
A day later, Quinn nervously boarded the 787 Dreamliner and took a deep breath. It was stunning, just like everyone had said. It was sleek in it's design, expertly put together, the cabin area was well thought out and uniquely arranged, and the cockpit; damn...the cockpit.
Okay, it was small. Like all cockpits, but this was a bit smaller. Instead of the usual two or three windscreen windows, the 787 had four. Every inch of the cockpit was adorned with computer after computer, and two seats sat proudly, ready to be sat in.
The plane had arrived only just that morning, but had landed before Quinn had managed to see it in the air; so her fingers itched to grab hold of the yoke and just take herself into the skies. But she couldn't. They ran to a schedule; the news cameras outside had yet to fully set up and Rachel had yet to show up.
Rachel. She hadn't seen the First Officer since their conference meeting together; the two of them had been so busy with different flights and hanging around in different social circles they had yet to converse again. Of course, Quinn had Rachel's number from the night Rachel left a message, but the thought of calling up the brunette made her want to throw up.
Never had she been so nervous to speak to another girl. All the other girls she had been with in the past, and although there weren't many, there were enough; she never had the problem of talking to them or getting into their pants. She could throw a few saucy winks their way and they would be putty in her hands.
But with Rachel. With Rachel whenever she tried to wink it looked like she had something in her eye and the most intelligent thing that would come out of her mouth when they were alone together was something close to, "Guh."
It was deeply annoying, and incredibly embarrassing.
"Captain Fabray," Quinn jumped, slammed her head up against the roof of the cockpit and groaned, "Oh my God, are you okay?"
She turned and looked at Rachel through teary eyes, "Oh...just fine..." She stood up straight and forced a smile, "Didn't even hurt." She puffed out her chest and immediately regretted it when Rachel started giggling at her. She wasn't a bloody caveman.
Jesus, Fabray...
"Well, if you say so." Rachel commented when her giggles finally died down. "Noah is in the cabin, waiting as backup like we requested...so..." She smirked, "You ready to settle down and fly?"
Quinn beamed at the thought of finally flying, "Thought you'd never ask!"
Puck was there for one reason. If something went wrong with the flight, he'd be there to bounce ideas off of. He was a quick thinker and a damn good pilot, if anyone could get out of a jam, it was Noah Puckerman. Although the man was only a First Officer, Quinn knew he was going to receive his Captain strip sometime soon.
Just like Rachel Berry.
She'd allowed Rachel to take off, and she had done it superbly. It had actually blown the blonde away as Rachel lifted the one hundred and fifteen tonne plane off the ground as if it was nothing. Of course, the thrust in both of the Boeing's engines did all the work, but the way Rachel just owned it...
Quinn felt herself gush a little. Girls and planes, Christ. Her ultimate wet dream. Rachel, owning a damn plane like she was born to do it. Those arms, small but lean with muscle and-,
She adjusted herself in her seat, not missing the way Rachel glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "We're almost at cruising altitude, do you want to turn the auto pilot on, now?"
Quinn cleared her throat, "Sure..." As she leaned forward, she felt the flood of moisture between her legs, and her cheeks flushed. "Of course." She turned on the auto pilot and leaned back quickly in her seat, wishing she could cross her legs.
"Are you okay?" She heard from beside her, so dangerously close, "You look a little flush?"
The blonde would have laughed if it wasn't from the fact she was flooding her panties at just thinking about Rachel, so she just settled on, "Of course, it's just really warm in here."
Rachel smiled, almost knowingly, "Must be all the computers..."
Quinn nodded, "Yeah..."
"You should go to the bathroom." Rachel pulled her hands away from the yoke and settled them on the flight plan on her lap, "You know, freshen up?"
That wasn't a bad idea. She could deal with her little 'problem' in the bathroom and come back a'okay, right? She nodded and calmly got out of her seat, although all she wanted to do was storm out of the cockpit and dive head first into the toilet, but no, she had grace.
"Do you want anything while I'm gone?" Quinn asked, last minute over her shoulder as she reached the door.
"I've got everything I need," Rachel smiled over her shoulder before returning to her papers.
Quinn's eyes shot to the left and then back to Rachel, "Uh...okay. Back in a few."
Puck was just pulling his PSP out of his carry on bag when Quinn left the cockpit, "Everything okay?" He asked, concerned.
"Oh yeah, just a bathroom break. We're on auto pilot so..." She drifted off and sighed, "I totally can't deal with being so close to her."
"Why?" Puck asked, "She smell or somethin'?"
Quinn flicked an eyebrow up, "Yeah, Puck, she totally smells." Then she rolled her eyes, "I just...you know what I'm like with girls and planes it's a-,"
"-total turn on."
"-yeah, and it's Rachel too so I'm exploding in my seat in there. I'm the Captain, I should be able to control myself."
"Hence the bathroom break, right?" Puck asked with a leer.
It took all she had not to smack him upside the head, "Shut up, Puckerman. I'm going to pee."
"Too much infooooo," He sing songed as he turned back to his PSP.
When there was a knock on the door, she half expected it to be Puckerman; the man might be gay, but it didn't change the fact that he was a total perv when it came to girls. So when she ripped open the door, sarcastic retort on the end of her tongue, it all went to shit when she came face to face with Rachel Berry.
"Uh..." She immediately stepped back, "Did you need the bathroom?" She glanced down the cabin, "There's one right down there." She pointed, index finger poised in the direction of the other toilet.
"I don't need the bathroom, Quinn." Rachel lowered her hand with a finger and smirked, "Can I come in?"
Quinn's head reared back, "But...it's...what...Puck?" She ended with, thankful she could at least get one word out without messing up.
"Cockpit." Rachel smirked and pushed Quinn back into the bathroom with a steady hand to her shoulder. When they both encased in the small bathroom, Rachel moved her hand behind her back, closed the door and locked it.
It was like a death sentence. And if what Quinn knew was about to happen was true, it would be a truly glorious death.
"So..." Quinn started, then rather sadly ending with, "Nice meeting you here..." Then she sighed and lowered her head, "I should be shot."
"You know, you're a lot more of a conversationalist when you're drunk."
Quinn's head snapped up, "Wait, what?"
With a smirk, Rachel pressed her body against Quinn's, effectively pushing the blonde up against the bathroom wall, "What was it you said...?" Rachel asked through a whisper, pouty lips brushing against Quinn's strong jaw.
"I..." Quinn swallowed in reflex when she felt Rachel's hands settle on her hips, "I don't know. I was drunk."
"Oh, you were more than drunk." Her lips were so close to her ear. Rachel's breath felt like perfection against her, and when Rachel chuckled huskily, Quinn felt her knees shake. Fuck, this woman would be the death of her, "I think you said something along the lines of, 'fuck, you're so hot. I wish I could tell you what I would do to you.'"
She barely remembered, but she remembered picking up that phone and dialling Rachel's number, but then...nothing. What had she said? Had she just been a total sleezebag throughout the whole conversation or something?
"I'm so sorry, Rachel."
"Oh don't apologize." Rachel pulled back and looked up at Quinn, pupils blown, "You certainly made my night; calling me, telling me how much you secretly wanted me, how you wished I'd take you, how you only dreamt of fucking me, how hard you wanted it, how fast you wanted it..." Rachel's lips inched closer to Quinn, and as Quinn sucked in a breath, "You made me so wet, Quinn. You always have." She moaned as she released it.
Then their lips crashed together, and all that undeniable lust that Quinn had tamed for so long came pouring out. Their kisses weren't soft, or caring, it was rough and tantalizing, and when Quinn bit down hard on Rachel's bottom lip, Rachel fought back with gusto, pushing her tongue into Quinn's mouth and brushing it against her own.
Rachel's mouth tasted so sweet, a mixture of coffee and chewing gum; it felt so deliciously right. So when the brunette began clawing at Quinn's shirt, she did nothing to stop her. Buttons were popped one by one, although the temptation of ripping the cloth apart was far too tempting.
It was left to drape at Quinn's sides, and Rachel pulled back with a moan, pecking Quinn's swollen lips before looking down, taking in that body she only dreamt of having. "Fuck, Quinn." Nails scored Quinn's abs, and Rachel watched with avid eyes as Quinn groaned and slammed her head back against the bathroom wall. "You like that don't you?"
So she did it again, and again, the same nails, the same skin, a different route every time. And Quinn's chest was heaving, and the pressure between her legs was too much to fucking bare. Rachel was just teasing and teasing, forcing her to breaking point just from a simple touch, and she doing a pretty good job of it.
There, on the edge, feeling one more deep scratch across her stomach, she quaked and whined out with a quiet desperation as she finally unhinged and came. It was forceful, and brutal and she thought she might collapse if the pleasure her body experienced kept going any longer.
Mercifully, it stopped, and so did Rachel, who was stood opposite her, leaning against the sink, "Who would have thought you could come just from a few scratches?"
Quinn gasped for breath, and glanced down at her stomach. Sure enough, it was cut red, harsh and bright, the different trails Rachel's nails had taken almost etched into her skin. She felt something inside her snap. She'd make Rachel come. Even if it was the last thing she'd ever do.
"Do you have any idea how long you've been working me up?" Quinn asked, voice low and heavy, "How long I've wanted to just pin you to the fucking wall and have my way with you?"
Rachel smirked and propped her hands against the edge of the sink, effectively leaving herself open to attack, "Show me, Captain."
Oh no she fucking didn't. Planes + Girls + Authority = A really worked up Quinn.
Quinn spared no time popping the buttons on Rachel's dress shirt, instead, she took the more effective route of ripping the damn thing open. Buttons flew through the air and clattered noisily against the bathroom walls, clattering in the sink behind Rachel and falling to their feet.
Rachel whined as Quinn sloppily kissed down her chest, tongue burning a trail between her breasts, "I hope you have another shirt for me to wear."
"Shut up. If you're not moaning, or screaming, or saying my name, I'm not interested."
The brunette smirked and ripped Quinn's hair free of it's ponytail, threading her fingers through silky blonde locks, "You need to wear your hair down more often."
"It gets in the way," Quinn grumbled, hands already groping at Rachel's breasts through her lacy white bra.
"It gets me hot."
Quinn's hands stopped, but only for a second before they shot to Rachel's back, almost clawing at the girls back to get her bra off, "I'll wear it down."
The First Officer smirked with victory, and then that smirk was gone, because her bra was being ripped down and the hot and wet mouth of her Captain was on her nipple, sucking and biting and,
"Fuck, that feels so good!"
Rachel's back arched into that hungry mouth, all but trying to get her whole breasts into Quinn's perfect mouth. She shrieked when she felt Quinn bite down hard, and her fingers dug harder into Quinn's scalp as she all but begged, "Harder."
She swore she heard a chuckle, but her demand was met, and those bites got harder and harder, until eventually, nipples sore, puckered and red, Quinn pulled back.
"Turn around, hands on the sink."
Rachel turned, hands obediently planted on the sink. She watched as Quinn all but examined her body, running a hand down her still clothed black, down to the hem of her pants, then down between her legs. Her breath hitched, and her hips instinctively ground down into the fingers that barely touched.
"Are you going to fuck me or was it just all talk?"
And there was a spank to her ass. Rachel flinched, and locked eyes with Quinn through the mirror. The blonde, hair wild, eyes blown with lust, smirk on her face, just stared right back, hand poised to deliver another slap.
"I thought I said don't talk unless you're either moaning, screaming or saying my name? Did I stutter?"
Rachel bit back a smirk, "No, Captain."
Quinn pulled off her shirt, throwing it carelessly to the ground. Hands starting on her bra, "You should always be respectful to your superior's, Berry." Then she leaned forward, bare breasts pressing against Rachel's back. "It shows good form."
Good form indeed. Quinn's body was almost achingly hot against hers, the way those perfect breasts pushed up against her back made her gush between her legs; never had she been to turned on from a simple touch.
"I'll show you how respectful I can be, Captain."
Quinn chuckled into her ear before biting down gently on the lobe, "Oh...how?"
"Fuck me, and listen to me scream all about your superiority."
When Quinn groaned against her ear, she smirked in response, "Sound good to you?" She pushed back, ass pushing directly against the crotch of Quinn's pants, that now stood infuriatingly in the way.
"Perfect." Quinn's hand wound around her hips, coming to rest on the buckle of Rachel's belt, "You won't be able to walk when I'm done with you, Rachel."
She shivered when she heard the clatter of her belt against the sink, and then the pop of the button, then the almost criminally slow rip of her zipper as it was pulled down. Her fingers clutched desperately at the sink, until finally, mercifully, her pants were loose and Quinn's dexterous hand was sliding into her soaked panties.
Embarrassment flew out of the window; Quinn knew she got her hot, and the equal groan of appreciation that ripped from Quinn's throat was testament to that. Fingers slid past wet curls, finally to settle between hot folds, silky with sweet moisture.
Rachel's hips ground down onto Quinn's prying fingers as they skimmed across her flesh, skimming her clit, down across her folds, finally settling at her entrance. The tips of two fingers teased, pushed in only ever so slightly.
Quinn watched as Rachel bit down on her bottom lip, trying to push Quinn's fingers in further with the work of her hips; she had this effect on Rachel. Her and only her. A lone finger pushed slowly inside of Rachel, working its way deep inside, pushing past the barrier of tensed walls with ease.
Firmly settled inside, a flood of moisture spread across the palm of Quinn's hand, "Like that?" Quinn asked, pressing down on Rachel's aching clit with her palm, grinding it, circling it.
"Yes..." Rachel whined, hips rocking against the still finger, "Fuck me, Captain."
Quinn groaned, burying her face into Rachel's thick mane of hair, praying that she'd calm down enough not to finger the girl into complete submission. It didn't work, and when Rachel's hand moved back and gripped the back of her head, tugging at her hair, pulling her closer, she lost all sense of control.
With a furious speed, her finger thrust its way in and out of her First Officer, making the smaller girl keening, arching her beg, begging for more, panting for breath that she desperately tried to regain.
A second finger quickly joined Quinn's, and soon enough, two fingers were scissoring, exploring, pleasuring Rachel's pussy.
With a shriek, both of Rachel's hands planted back down on the sink, clutching desperately as Quinn's fingers tore her apart from the inside. Those long, dexterous fingers spread her so intimately, worked her like a fine tuned instrument, made her scream and beg for more as she work toward that allusive orgasm.
"Let me fuck my clit," She whispered raggedly over her shoulder, eyes pleading silently with her superior, "Please...oh God, please."
Quinn's other hand, which pinched and twisted Rachel's nipple into submission, finally slid down and grabbed Rachel's hand, leaving it just on the waistband of the girl's panties before it returned to Rachel's chest.
"Do it, Rachel. Fuck yourself for me."
Rachel all but collapsed forward when Quinn tugged sharply at her nipple, fingers still pounding away inside of her. She was going to die; this woman was going to fucking kill her and she couldn't wait for it to happen.
Her hand slid down underneath Quinn's, both girls moaning when Rachel finally felt how wet she'd made Quinn's hand, "You see what you do to me?" The First Officer asked, tip of her index finger teasing her clit with slow brushes, "You've got me begging you in an aeroplane toilet for you to fuck me. You've got me fucking myself because I need to come that badly."
"It's nothing compared to fucking yourself every night just to get rid of the ache that you made at work."
Rachel whined and rubbed furiously at her clit, hips riding Quinn's fingers like her life depended on it, "Keep...talking, so close..."
"Do you know how many times I've wanted to just tell you how much I wanted you? Every time you walked in the damn room I wanted to pin you down and have my fucking way with you. I wanted to make you scream and beg and now look...I've got you right here, fucking yourself just to get off. Does it feel good to have your Captain's fingers in your pussy, Rachel? Does it?"
"Oh, God yes!" She screamed, back arching painfully as the coiling in her stomach became too much to bare.
"Fucking come for me Rachel, show me how hard I make you come."
And she did, her eyes clenched shut, fingertips still rubbing furiously at her clit as her orgasm washed through her. Come flooded Quinn's hand, and the blonde all but shuddered against her and came again, feeling those walls tighten so deliciously around her probing fingers, not allowing them to pull away.
Rachel's voice, so husky and breathless as she screamed Quinn's name set alight Quinn's body, and the thought of having that mouth down between her legs became to delicious a thought to overlook.
Allowing her First Officer to only settle for a few seconds, she slid her fingers free, wet middle finger brushing the soft skin of Rachel's hand in passing as it left her panties.
The brunette watched as Quinn brought the hand to her face, almost inspecting it before taking the two fingers into her mouth.
"Fuck..." Rachel whispered, watching through the mirror as Quinn all but deep throated her own fingers, groaning around them, sucking them of Rachel's essence.
"You taste so fucking good." She pulled her fingers free, licking her lips as if Rachel was her final meal, "Now taste me." And her hands went straight to her belt buckle, all but ripping it open and working on the button and zipper of her uniform pants.
Rachel stood once again, knees still wobbly as she watched Quinn with hungry eyes, "Sit on the sink."
Quinn smirked, jumping onto the sink and spreading her legs, "Take my pants off."
And Rachel did, grabbing the waistband of the blonde's trousers and panties, ripping them clean off and throwing them to the already growing pile of Quinn's clothes.
"Go to town, baby."
With a loud groan, Rachel dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around Quinn's thighs, spread them as far as they would go and went straight to town, tongue lapping at Quinn's come soaped pussy, sucking on each delicate fold.
"Oh, fuck yes! Like that!" Quinn braced herself with her right hand, left burying itself in Rachel's hair, "Eat my pussy, Rachel. Show me what you can do."
Rachel pulled back, but only for a second, lips and chin already soaked with Quinn, "Anything you say, Captain." And dove straight back in with gusto, mouth latched onto Quinn's clit, battering the small nub into submission with fast flicks of her tongue.
"Yes!" Quinn screamed, latching onto Rachel for dear life as she fucked her, "Suck my clit, suck it hard."
It was embarrassing how much work it didn't take to make her come, but when Rachel's tongue slid down Quinn's slit and pushed inside, fingers already pinching at her clit. She was a goner.
She all but ripped at Rachel's hair, pushing the girl's lips and nose against her as she rode that pretty face, coming hard and fast into her mouth. "Fuck! Rachel! !"
Rachel smirked against Quinn's pussy, lavishing her superior's pussy with her lips and tongue, pressing a gentle kiss to a still twitching clit as she pulled back. Slowly and with care she pressed soft kisses up Quinn's body, up her still scratch stained stomach, up along a heart pounding stomach, across a strong jaw before finally settling on parted lips.
They kissed, languishly, scenerely, coming down from their highs together as they wrapped themselves around one another. Quinn's legs wrapped around Rachel's waist, arms draping over strong shoulders.
Gently, with a flick of her tongue against Quinn's, Rachel pulled back and smiled, slightly chuckling at a still bleary eyed blonde, "Are you okay?"
The Captain chortled and dropped her forehead against Rachel's breastbone, "Oh I'm just...swell."
"Swell, huh?" Rachel laughed, brushing her fingertips up and down Quinn's back, "I don't mean to break the mood but..."
Quinn pulled back and followed the brunette's line of sight, the door; the cockpit, the flight. Puck. Shit.
"Shit." Quinn sighed, "Yeah, we need to get back. We need to land in," She glanced at her watch, "Wow, twenty minutes."
They dressed together, Rachel, still with her ripped apart shirt, had managed to somehow close her shirt with the few remaining buttons she had left. Puck knew what had gone down, so it would do until Rachel got back to the cockpit and managed to put on her jacket again.
"What did I say when I drunk called you, by the way?" Quinn asked, genuinely curious as Rachel slid open the bathroom door.
"Oh," The brunette glanced over her shoulder and smirked, "Nothing. You fell asleep after we made plans to meet."
"But." She stopped, jaw dropping, "You sneaky son of a-,"
Rachel pressed a kiss to her lips and smiled, "It worked out though, right?"
Quinn chuckled, head shaking slightly, "Is everyone gay at JFK or something...?"
"Gay for you, maybe."