Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.—- AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1

Rated: T


Just Like the Movies

3.

You're really trying to avoid snooping, really, but you can't help but notice Santana and Brittany arriving almost every day the following week and leaving only to have Rachel show up a half hour later. You have been reading more, but the view from your desk is far more interesting.

To maintain some self-control, you have taken to closing your blinds, but leaving your windows open. You also recently admitted to yourself that you really love Rachel's voice, and she's almost always singing when she's over Quinn's. So you let yourself listen to the wordless melodies you can make out during her visits. Just like when you first met Quinn, you know there must be more words to describe how Rachel sings.


Quinn comes over when you're babysitting again. You attempt to be casual when you apologize for maybe getting involved in things you don't understand.

"Did he tell you?" Her voice is soft, but you still feel a chill run down your spine - it's the type of quiet on a frozen lake, when you can hear the cracking of the ice and the water beneath.

You don't fake the need for clarification, so you just nod.

"It's okay. The whole town knows anyway." And all of a sudden her voice is the summer wind again.

You're both drinking iced tea this time, and you watch her swirl the ice around her glass.

"Did I fuck up when I kissed Rachel?" You hope it's vague enough, that it doesn't sound like Did I fuck up whatever this is between us?

Quinn sighs, ruffled feathers for a moment, then calm. You wonder if she's tired from all this self-control, all the training she's probably had throughout her years.

"No. You made a good choice having Puck crash at your place. He'll be a good mediator for you and Finn."

You shrug, "I would've done the same for Finn."

"I know. He just needs a bit of a translator. Finn gets mad and does things to let it out. Sometimes people get caught in the crossfire."

You ask about him and Rachel. Quinn's tone becomes almost professional when she states that she doesn't believe in "taking breaks" like Finn and Rachel.

"She knows what my opinion is, so I don't know why she bothers to ramble at me about him."

"What do you say?"

"To break up with him. He's a moron." She says it like it's obvious.

"Do you think she will?"

"I like to think she's smart enough to, but she's pretty stupid when it comes to love and attraction."


After Quinn leaves, Stacey asks if you're going to kiss her.

You tell her to mind her own business and ruffle her hair.

"I think you'd make a good Prince Charming," she says before running off, singing something about true love's kiss.


You do kiss Quinn. The movie credits roll and you're sitting close on her aunt's floral print couch. So you don't think too thoroughly about what it could mean or project onto it, so you lean in and she doesn't move away.

Your lips press to hers and there's hardly any movement, just a shaky breath from her parted lips before she leans back in to press her lips more firmly against yours.

The kiss transforms from tender to desperate, but not the longing desperation you feel tugging at your heart strings. It's more like she's trying to break through the surface of the ocean, searching for something like sunlight and oxygen from dark depths.

You pull away, and her eyes apologize, seemingly greener than usual, offering the bits of the ocean she's holding inside her.

"I'm sorry," you say.

"No. Don't be. I'm just not sure… I like you a lot Sam…"

"It's okay. You can't make yourself feel something."

She nods, and her eyes swell like tides. She blinks rapidly to make it disappear, so you don't acknowledge this. You just listen to her storm torn breathing as you pull her into a hug, feeling the tremors ripple from her core through your arms.


You see Quinn praying one night. You shut the blinds when you see her shoulders quake; you don't want to see how Quinn heals from those hurricanes, slowly and alone.


Stacy asks you if you've kissed Quinn yet.

"Yeah. I did," you say slowly, not bothering to look away from your laptop.

"Did her toe pop? Like in the movies? Did your tummy feel like you had a bunch of butterflies inside?"

You look at your little sister and contemplate lying, but you don't want to be the liar when she gets her heart broken for the first time.

"No. She doesn't like me that way," you admit.

She frowns before kissing your cheek. "You're a cute frog. You're bound to find another princess to kiss."


You're a bit confused when you wake up around midnight to Peter Gabriel. You get out of bed and look out your window to see a semi-intoxicated Puck standing in front of Quinn's house with a boombox.

It doesn't take long before you hear Quinn shout from her front window.

"The hell, Puck?!"

"I still love you!" The slurred words prove he might be more than semi-intoxicated, but you give him some credit for this ridiculous expression of his affection.

"Jesus, I cannot deal with this right now," Quinn says before you hear her window slide shut. You're not sure if it was actually addressed to Jesus or just an exclamation.

You watch Quinn, all wind blown, storm out onto her lawn. She grabs the boombox from him and turns off the music. It's so quiet, you confuse the sound of the leaves for their breath.

You can't make out what they're saying, but you watch Quinn start to cry. Puck hugs her, but unlike the time she was with you, she lets herself go - his lightness keeping her afloat.


You're almost finished with The Perks of Being a Wallflower, so you're sitting at your desk reading. It's been a week since you kissed Quinn, and you've been meaning to talk to her, but she hasn't been home much.

So when you hear her car pull into the driveway, you consider walking over, bringing snacks and offering your friendship again. Your heart is still intact, and in the week that you've waited to talk to her, you decided that Quinn Fabray deserves a different kind of love than what you could offer.

But you watch Rachel get out of the passengers side of her car, and they're both in shorts and tank tops, carrying beach towels and bags. Even in the dusk, you see how sunkissed their skin is, and you catch yourself staring at Rachel's legs as she reaches in the trunk of the car for a beach chair.

They're talking, and you hear the laughter in their voices. They disappear into the garage, but their voices return and the small light on the back porch turns on. They each have a wine cooler in hand as they sit by the pool, dipping their feet in the water.

Quinn lets out a laugh and kicks up some water at Rachel. This goes on for maybe two seconds before Quinn's pushed into the pool. You expect her to be upset, but she comes up laughing, squealing like the child you never knew, and you suspect that Quinn hardly had the time to be that child in her lifetime.

Quinn pulls Rachel in and their splashing continues. You decide to postpone your visit and instead grab a DVD to watch with your siblings.


It's one of the hottest days of August, and you're grateful that Puck invited you (and Mercedes and Brittany and Santana) to Quinn's pool. Quinn had asked him to help clean it since it was starting to collect leaves and june bugs, but Puck brought along a cooler of beers and Twisted Teas to make a small party out of it. When everyone arrived, Quinn just shrugged, apathetic from the heat.

It's too hot to be really raucous, so everyone's just floating on various ridiculous floats that you all bought for a few bucks at the local Walgreens. It's hard to take Puck seriously as he's skimming the pool while atop an alligator floaty.

He tosses you a beer from the cooler. "So, what I'm saying is, join football, then join Glee, and me, you, and Finn will be like… the Triple Entente."

"Dear god, I think Puck just made an accurate historical reference," Mercedes notes, drinking from her lemonade.

Puck's smug look gets wiped off by a beach ball to the face from Santana.

"You look constipated when you make that face," Santana notes, drinking from her wine cooler.

"So where's Rachel?" you ask, hoping to prevent an unnecessary chicken fight in the pool.

"Does it look like I have a Smurf tracker on me?" Santana asks, looking at you over her sunglasses.

You look to Quinn, thinking she might have an answer, but she's preoccupied, opening the cooler and deciding what she'd like to drink. You turn to Santana who's still eying you like you have three heads, "Oh, I just thought-"

"You obviously didn't think anything."

"I think she's a sad panda," Brittany chimes in, "She broke up with Finn… which I guess makes Finn the sad panda, but he's really tall, so maybe he's a sad giraffe."

"She did?" Quinn asks curiously. She makes eye contact with you, but quickly directs her focus to the cap of the Twisted Tea bottle.

"Yeah, I'm surprised the newspaper didn't make a headline that Jack and the Beanstalk broke up," Santana notes, pulling her phone from her bag.

You see Puck scoop a couple junebugs from the water, and you nod in Santana's direction with a grin. He laughs and within a few seconds, Santana's out of the water, screaming about monster insects and Puck being an asshole.

You use this moment of chaos to pull yourself along the wall of the pool toward where Quinn is sitting. You notice her cheeks are slightly sunburned from the beach, and you like the floppy sun hat she's wearing, reminding you of those goofy hats Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly would wear.

"Here," you say, taking the bottle from her hands. You easily twist it off and hand it back to her.

She looks at you, eyes golden, all shifting sunset tides, and murmurs an almost silentThanks.


Rachel's over. You notice this because you just finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and something inside you is sad - you guess you're looking for something more hopeful whenever you peer out your window into a life that's not yours.

She's sitting beside Quinn on her bed, watching something on her laptop. Rachel leans her head on Quinn's shoulder as they both laugh at something. A moment of rigidity, then all softness. You wait for Quinn to roll her eyes or shrug her off, but she doesn't - she just melts and molds herself a bit more so it looks like they were always meant to be that close.

You wonder how long Quinn's been keeping Rachel at a distance, how long it took for her to grow tired of pushing her away before she realized she needed her there just like that. Just the two of them.


You're both watching Sabrina because Quinn likes old movies that mislead everyone to thinking love was simple and unnecessarily complex back then.

But she pauses the movie seemingly out of nowhere and turns to face you.

You look at her, and you have a mouth full of popcorn that you don't know what to do with because the crunching seems too loud for whatever she's about to tell you.

"I think I like someone."

You proceed to chew as quietly as possible, using the time to think of an appropriate response, the friend response you were supposed to have ready for a moment like this.

"I'm telling you this because you have no idea who I am."

You swallow down the mostly-chewed popcorn. "I think I have a general idea."

She won't let her eyes meet yours. "You're so nice to me, Sam. I'm not. I'm not a nice person."

"Sure you are."

"No. I'm a bitch."

"I think you're a softy with a bitchy exterior," you say with a shrug, happy that she smiles, "So why is liking someone a big deal?"

There's a shaky breath, then sad windchimes in her voice when she says, "I think I'm gay."

"Oh."

Pause.

Rewind.

Play all.

(And now it all makes much more sense. Like you read words, it's all in pieces, and you've just put it all together. Like Quinn - in so so many pieces - put all together, she's so tragically beautiful.)

"Fuck, sorry." She stands up so quickly, you're surprised you manage to gently wrap your fingers around her wrist before she flew away.

"It's cool. Really."

"I'm freaking out." She's shaking, leaves on limbs of trees that don't make a sound until the end of fall.

"You're allowed to freak out. It's a lot," you think for a second before adding, "Thanks for telling me?" You're awkward. You know this, but it seems to soothe her a little. You tug at her wrist to get her to sit again.

"You're not freaked out?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because we kissed."

"It's okay. You can't help how you feel."

She nods, and her rip-tide eyes don't make your heart ache for yourself, just for her.

"So," you give her a light smile, "Can I ask who?"

"No." She smiles despite herself, and you worry that this might become another piece of her you won't know how to read.


It's not an accident. You were peeping on purpose. Because you wanted to see how Rachel gets swept up in Quinn's storms, see if they survive.

You see Rachel briefly recoil as Quinn exclaims something, something harsh overflowing from inside her. Then, a change in the tides, and Rachel just pulls Quinn toward her, stands on her tiptoes and kisses her.

You think of the way storms leave cities, standing sadly after all the wreckage has been accounted for. Quinn is always overflowing, heavy, but you like the way Rachel keeps shining, reminding Quinn to count her blessings.

You move away from the window as they part, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you see Rachel has closed the blinds.