Title: Gummy Berry 4/4
Author: Hippo_Crat
Rating: R, strong language
Length:1,470 words
Spoilers: All of Season One
Summary: First of several possible endings to Gummy Berry. End of Sophomore year Rachel takes matters in her own hands.
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rachel bounded down the mostly empty halls. Each bouncy step was buoyed by the knowledge that despite their entirely humiliating loss to Aural Intensity and their somewhat more deserving loss to Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals New Directions would be able to continue for another year. In fact, the brunette was so excited about next year's competitions that she was already overflowing with ideas and plans for future performances.
This was precisely why Rachel was taking advantage of the fact that most teachers were too worn out to care what their students got up to on the last day of school to seek out Mr. Schuester for an early strategy session for next year. She had already eliminated the staff room, the auditorium and the Spanish classroom as possible places her errant choir director was hiding and was fast closing in on her last option.
The glee practice room.
It was the last logical refuge for Mr. Schuester to hide in order to avoid his obligations; she was only two hallways away from securing her first solo of the next scholastic year. Nothing was going to put a kink in her plans to fully enjoy herself today.
Nothing except…was that David Azimio lurking by the girls' restroom with a slushy in hand?
After a quick detour into the empty astronomy classroom to avoid the unnecessary complications of a slushy-wielding Azimio Rachel was closing in on her destination.
The diva was only a couple of feet from her target location when a raised voice stopped her cold in her tracks. Rachel came to an immediate halt as she tried to determine the identity of the female in her practice room. Was it Ms. Pillsbury having another inappropriate-during-school-hours 'meeting' with Mr. Schue? Perhaps Coach Sylvester was finally making good on her numerous promises to murder the curly-haired Spanish teacher?
An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she realized what was going on behind the closed door. No doubt one of the glee girls was using this time as an opportunity to petition Schuester to 'be more fair with solo distribution'—a poorly-disguised and dastardly plan to take her solos!
Furious; Rachel took tight hold of the door's cold, metal handle. Just as she was about to throw the door open to face the cadre of betrayers inside the familiar, female voice sounded again. This close to the door the voice was much clearer and much to the diva's confusion the speaker sounded…aroused?
"…yeah, just like that."
A muffled moan.
"—you taste so good—"
Scandalized, Rachel glared at the door with a look of utmost outrage. She was the only person Quinn Fabray was allowed to have food-related hallucinations about. The very thought of Quinn pinning someone else against the wall—or oh, God against their piano—infuriated the soprano.
The determined diva threw open the heavy door, her face screwed up in an intimidating scowl.
Quinn jumped as the door to the choir room flew open suddenly. Her precious cheeseburger slipped through suddenly slack fingers and hit the polished floor. Hazel eyes locked onto the depressing spectacle before her; a perfectly good Wendy's Junior Bacon Cheeseburger—the only thing that had made her smile since—well, since Regionals—strewn haphazardly across the floor. Buns, patty and bacon all desecrated.
With a fearsome glare, the likes of which hadn't been seen in months, the Head Bitch in Charge prepared to level the full force of her formidable wrath on the fool-hardy interloper.
Rachel's dramatic entrance—which is similar to, but not to be confused with a Diva Standard Storm-Out™—was brought up short by the unexpected scene she encountered. The tense lines and furrows of anger smoothed out into an expression of confusion. There was no lewd tryst against the baby grand between Quinn and some skank who was probably a hallucinated (and no doubt promiscuous) Push Pop.
There was just Quinn. Alone. Seated on a riser in one of her post-cheerleading, trademark baby doll dresses.
Still somewhat suspicious narrowed, dark eyes carefully scanned the room looking for any sign of another person lurking about. It was due to her careful perusal of all major objects in viewing range within the confines of the room that the blonde girl's malevolent glower went completely unnoticed. This was fortuitous for one Rachel Berry as, had she witnessed such an intimidating scowl, she would not have unwittingly set certain necessary events into motion.
Quinn ground her teeth as she seethed silently. Of course Rachel had to be the one to ruin any semblance of happiness she could afford herself. Of course Rachel would then proceed to ignore all signs of Quinn's displeasure. She was like the Girl-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Another-Day or maybe she was more like the Cat That Came Back every single goddamned day and just wouldn't ever fucking go away.
Whatever. The girl definitely was one of those things. But it didn't matter; nothing was going to save Rachel today. She may be some sort of kinder, gentler Quinn Fabray who didn't take delight in torturing other people but there were just some things that wouldn't stand.
Mindful of the treacherous (and tragic) mess on the floor Quinn carefully got to her feet, intent on giving the short brunette a piece of her mind. Crossing the room in a few strides the former cheerleader made good use of every inch of height she had on the brunette to tower over her in an intimidating fashion.
"Is that how your parents taught you to enter a room, Man Hands?" She jabbed a pointy finger into the soft flesh of Rachel's shoulder. "Were you raised in some sort of argyle-covered, unfashionable, gay barn?"
Quinn's digs were ignored by the girl whose personal space she was frolicking within. The blonde could feel her blood pressure rise as she realized that Rachel still wasn't paying her the proper attention she was owed.
A vicious jab coupled with a shouted "Man Hands!" shifted Rachel's attention from making sure the room was absolutely empty to the girl in front of her. "Was there someone else in here?"She asked suddenly
Quinn was visibly vexed by the question. "What are you talking about?" She growled in exasperation.
"Was there another person in this room with you before I made my entrance?" Rachel asked again, her tone hardened by impatience. Why did Quinn insist on making things more difficult than they needed to be? It was quite insufferable, really.
"You mean before you came storming in here like some ill-tempered yeti with a head cold? No. No one else was in here."
"Good. I don't like sharing." Rachel said before she pulled Quinn's incredibly confused face to meet her own in a searing kiss.
Quinn wasn't sure how her day had ended up like this; lip-to-lip with the single most annoying, persistent, socially inept, egocentric, talented girl in the entire school. Intellectually, she knew she should be shoving Rachel away and making devious plans to destroy the girl but she wasn't doing any of those things. Instead Quinn was losing herself in the single most intense kiss she had ever experienced.
The parts of her brain that were a holdover from a time gone by—the ancient, reptilian parts, the same part that had demanded fatty, salty pork—were practically purring in pleasure. The craving center of her brain that had plagued Quinn incessantly throughout the pregnancy was finally silent.
A skillful tongue teasingly parted her kiss-swollen lips and all higher functions of Quinn's brain seemed to shut down.
Finally.
Finally.
Fina-fucking-lly!
Rachel's body hummed with satisfaction as she finally got to turn the tables on Quinn Fabray. After almost two years of ambushes and frustration inducing moments Rachel was finally in charge.
And wow did it feel good to be in charge.
The petite brunette felt her former adversary first stiffen before melting into the kiss and then enthusiastically return the embrace. A minute ticked by and then two.
By the third minute Quinn had pulled out the kiss, dizzy with both her need for oxygen and at the simple experience of kissing Rachel.
Rachel, having years of lessons on breath control behind her, wasn't quite ready to relinquish her prize and even as Quinn panted for air the tiny brunette let her mouth travel south, working the sensitive skin of the former cheerleader's neck. Quinn felt like each hot kiss was becoming permanently imprinted upon her flesh; the blonde girl arched into the intoxicating sensations, desperate for more.
It was the sounding of the final school bell of the year that broke the spell.
Reluctantly, Rachel broke lip-to-skin contact. Hooded brown eyes bore into hazel. "Quinn, how would you like to be the subject of my future essay, tentatively titled 'what I did last summer'?"
