Just Down The Hall
Author: Jessica Darling
Pairing: Faberry
Rated M
A/N: First fic ever. So we'll see how this goes. Truthfully I got drunk one night and had remembered a dream I had where I met Dianna Agron in the hallway of my apartment building and went from there. I own none of these characters. They belong to Ryan Murphy.. lucky, evil bastard. I'm iffy about if my writing will be enough for you to enjoy so let me know how you feel about this first chapter and if you think I should continue. Por favor y gracias.
Ohio had always been cold, but what the hell, New York? It's almost May. Q didn't know how much more of this bipolar weather she could endure. Just last weekend she could be found at George Washington Park enjoying a picnic in between classes with Mike and their friends in one of her signature sundresses and a light cardigan. Today she had woken up with ice cube toes, so she found herself donning dark jeans with thick socks and warm boots, layering her top half with a long sleeve, her favorite green zip up hoodie, and a leather jacket. With her scarf and beanie keeping her neck and head warm, she probably looked like a homeless person trying to keep warm while wearing everything they owned. Screw it. She was warm, and she was comfortable. Who cares if the blonde was now sweating underneath it all after having trekked from the theatre district all the way back to Newbury Street. Her friend from her acting class, Blaine, asked her to come see him perform at an open mic night and she had been looking for an excuse to get out of the apartment.. no matter how cold it was outside.
When she had made it into her building, she noticed someone was using the elevator to move out.. or in.. she didn't know and she didn't really care at this point. She was hot, sweaty, and still a little (or a lot) buzzed. Fuck it, she thought as her bangs clung to her forehead, I'll just take the stairs. By the time she reached the fourth floor, she had peeled off almost all of her layers. No one ever used the stairs. She would just come back for the articles she'd thrown about somewhere in the stairwell come morning. In only a thin grey tank top clinging to her sweaty curves, she finally reached her floor breathing a little too heavy for someone her age. I'm going to need to start running again. Four flights should not be that hard, she told herself. Sue would probably push me down all four flights and make me climb them all over again if she saw the shape I was in right now.
Quinn was so busy shuddering at the thought of her old cheerleading coach that she didn't notice the small figure through the glass on the other side of the door. She threw the door open into the hallway and – THWACK. "Oh my fuck!" Quinn heard herself gasp. Of course this was the former cheerleader's drunk luck. The door flying open hadn't sent the person on the other side of the door to the ground, instead it simply ricocheted off their boot and came back to smack her right in the face. The blonde grabbed her throbbing face with her hand. "Good one, Fabray. No, really. Nice job," she muttered through her fingers.
"Do you normally speak to yourself, or should I be worried that you may have suffered some potentially serious brain damage?" she heard, followed by a light chuckle.
"Um.." she started confused from where exactly the melodic voice was coming from. "I don't know.." She removed her hand from her face and waited for her eyes to regain focus.
"Oh my God!" the mystery woman yelled. "You're bleeding! Are you okay? Oh Streisand, of course she's not okay, Rachel. She's got blood pouring from her nose."
"Now who's the one talking to themselves?" Quinn giggled to herself as her eyes finally came into focus. What happened next.. She would later blame it on the alcohol, or maybe try to convince herself that maybe she really did suffer some brain damage from the door.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" she heard herself blurt out. Who could really blame her though? People do really stupid shit when they meet a famous person. And you couldn't get much more famous than Rachel Berry in Quinn Fabray's eyes. The tiny songstress was halfway to an EGOT, having already won a Tony for her role as Wendla on Broadway in Spring Awakening and an Emmy for Outstanding Guest Actress in a Drama Series as herself on the new NBC show, Smash. Rumor has it she would be ¾ of the way to that EGOT soon. She had just signed on to a dark, edgy indie that would bring her an Oscar if she could pull it off.
All of this ran through Quinn's head as she stood in the middle of her hallway simply staring at the miniature celebrity. By now, ten seconds had passed, causing the hazel eyed girl to completely forget about the fact blood was running down her face. Later, she would hope that it was distracting from the fact she was drooling over the brunette's presence and practically ogling the woman. Because if you thought Rachel Berry was gorgeous on screen or in the papers, it was nothing compared to seeing the small diva up close and in person. Her long, chestnut hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail with her bangs pinned back and away from her face. She was sporting black leggings with a purple tank top just barely coming past the tops of obviously toned thighs. Quinn's sure that if she turned around and bent over a bit, she'd have a glorious view of what was sure to be a tight, juicy bottom. Thinking of those globes made the blonde's eyes venture even further up to another set that were pushed up by a black sports bra and just barely on display due to the low cut of the tank. She could swear she'd seen a little bead of sweat trailing from her neck moving to settle just in between..
Quinn was only brought out of her ultimate creep fest by the slow raising of the brunette's left eyebrow. If people thought that look was sexy on Quinn… Oh, God, Quinn thought, causing her to pull her bottom lip in between her teeth. That is until she tasted metal on her tongue, almost like blood. Blood? "Oh my fuck, " Quinn said brining herself back to reality. She reached up to comb her fingers through her long blonde locks when she realized that was the same hand that had been covering her bloody nose. "Seriously, Quinn?" she chastised herself. She probably looked like some sort of crime scene now. "I'm just gonna.." she mumbled as she pointed to her door, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. "Yea.. just.. oh my God. This is just.. fuck." She continues to mumble as she turns around and stumbles over her own feet to get as far away as fast as she can from the miniature songstress. She scrambles to get the door unlocked and finally manages to open it. But she wouldn't be a drunk Quinn Fabray if she didn't proceed to trip and smash her face into yet another door before finally getting inside and slamming it shut. Her mother would be oh-so proud of her articulate wording and wonderful grace.. yeah..
With her back slumped against her apartment door, Quinn grabs her scarf to clean up the mess that is her face at this point. She takes a couple of deep breaths, thumps her head back against the door, and slowly begins to chuckle until it turns into full on laughter. Once she calms down and her drunken giddiness subsides, she somehow manages to pull herself to her feet to get ready for bed. Hopefully I'm drunk enough I don't remember any of this tomorrow. Of course she would fuck up her one chance at meeting her celebrity girl crush. It would be quite obvious to anyone else that Quinn was more drunk than she realized since it doesn't even once cross her mind why the Broadway star was in her building in the first place, instead she passes out hard as soon as her swollen face hits her oh so soft pillow.
Xx-xX
Quinn wakes up the next morning to an obnoxious pounding. She shoots up in her bed and quickly realizes that was a mistake. Her face is throbbing. Her throat is dry and cracked. She lets out a yawn only to start coughing, this in turn makes her face throb harder. She's never drinking again. Then again she still hasn't been able to go a full week without at least one beer. Today starts her over at Day One. After a couple of seconds, the pounding has subsided so she lowers her head slowly back down onto her pillow and closes her eyes. She's certain she was almost lost in slumber before the pounding begins again. It takes her a minute to realize it's not just her head/face that's pounding; it's coming from her front door. "What the actual fuck," she grunts into her pillow. The pounding continues and she slowly gets up this time, ready to kill whomever is on the other side of that door. "FABRAY!" she recognizes Mike's voice coming from the front of her apartment. Forgive me Father for I have sinned.. I killed my best friend this morning..
The hung over blonde wrenches open the front door and meets Mike with the HBIC glare that she had used to establish her reign at McKinley High. Normally Mike would have the right mind to cower a little when meeting a look like that from Quinn Fabray, but today he had other things on his mind, like, "Dude.. what the hell happened to your face?" He doesn't take his eyes off the multi-colored Quinn as he lets himself into her apartment. "I don't know if I want to go out in public with you looking like that. People are going to think I'm your abusive boyfriend or something."
"Like you could take me," she smirks at her best friend. Ouch. Right. Throbbing face. She leaves Mike in the kitchen rummaging through her fridge as she makes her way to the hallway washroom. When she meets her own hard gaze in the mirror, she almost yelps in surprise. Her nose doesn't look broken, but it definitely reminds her of the days spent in bed recovering from her own nose job. Her eyes are underlined by a dark, purplish red. Basically she looks like a blonde raccoon. Quinn flashes back to her face catching a door last night. No wait.. Maybe two doors. She walks back out to her kitchen island and finds Mike sitting on a bar stool eating an apple looking at a pink piece of paper, "Who's RBB?" he asks. "What?" she grumbles not really paying attention to anything other than her poor painful face as she goes for OJ and painkillers. "You had this note on your door this morning. It's signed by an RBB." -CRASH- "Holy crap, Q. Are you okay?" Quinn was now covered in orange juice as memories of last night began to flood her mind. "Give me that!" she snatched the letter from the Asian man's hand, completely ignoring the sticky juice that now covered most of her kitchen floor as well as herself. Quinn began to scan the note as her friend went for the paper towels.
Dear Quinn, Or at least I am to believe your name's Quinn. That is the name you used while you were addressing yourself last night. Anyways, Quinn, I do hope you are not in too much pain today. I apologize for your first incident with the hallway door. I should not have been blocking a fire exit like that causing it to collide against your (what I believe to be) lovely nose. I realize now that you only had to take the stairs due to the fact I was occupying the elevator with my moving boxes. I can't really take blame for your second run-in with a door, however.
Quinn's had a pretty good blush going on at this point.
I'm not used to one such reaction as the one you had last night, although I can say it gave me a lovely anecdote for the next time I'm on Letterman. If you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar (or want your clothes back that I found in the stairwell), I'm just down the hall.
RBB *
Quinn found herself smiling at the star the woman had drawn next to her signature. That was until.. Oh my fuck, the blonde realized, Rachel Berry has moved into this building, on this floor, in my hallway. She was pretty sure she was going to faint. She just hoped she didn't land on her face.