Ain't That a Kick in the Head
Chapter 7
Quinn perched on the edge of her bed and bounced lightly to wake Rachel up. They'd shared the bed-after much vodka and boiled peanuts and sweet potato fries-and only because Rachel wouldn't allow Quinn to sleep on the floor in her own home. And with her sketchy back.
Quinn was amused by how somebody with such a huge personality slept in such a tiny little ball. She shook Rachel's shoulder gently and bounced again.
"Oh my-what?" Rachel muttered, voice hoarse.
"Do you need a bucket? I have aspirin and Gatorade. Don't throw up on my sheets, please."
Rachel snorted into her pillow. She realized her face was pressed into a nice spot of drool. "I'm not hungover. It's the middle of the night."
"It's six a.m., actually." Quinn bent forward to tie the laces on her wedges. "I wanted to see if you'd like to come to church with me."
Rachel's eyes flicked over, surprised. Pleased.
"If you do, you need to hop up out of there now." Quinn kept her head down, waiting for her blush to fade. Her church was personal, and Rachel was aware of this. Quinn was opening doors left, right, and center, and she couldn't seem to stop herself.
"I would love to." Rachel agreed, voice rumbly. She sat up and ran a hand through her tangled, humidity-curled hair.
Quinn smiled slightly. "I like it like that."
"You told me."
Quinn nodded. She glanced around the room like she was seeing it for the first time-dark wood floor, white comforter, large sunny windows, two surfboards propped in the corner by the record player-and finally met Rachel's gaze again.
Rachel was smiling. "Are you going to leave so that I can get ready?"
Quinn stood quickly from the bed, nearly tripping over her feet. She took a step for the door, but felt Rachel's hand close around her wrist, tugging her back.
"I, um…Last night…It was fun." Rachel said vaguely-roughly- when Quinn plopped back onto the bed.
Quinn lifted an eyebrow.
Rachel's ears tinged red. "I mean, you don't seem like the type to want to discuss everything, but I…am. Sometimes." Rachel frowned suddenly, hands fisted in the comforter. "I didn't-I didn't dream it, right?"
"Dream what?" Quinn tipped her head, confused.
Rachel looked like she was having some kind of existential crisis, so Quinn had to laugh. She tilted forward and kissed Rachel, knotting her fingers in the dark tangles at the back of Rachel's head. And then she stood up and flushed and smiled at Rachel's expression, and left the room.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Rachel Berry. Memory problems, remember?" Quinn called as she walked down the hallway.
She shook her head at herself. Her circle was nowhere to be seen.
Rachel's heart was humming the whole time she was getting dressed. She couldn't seem to stop bouncing or fidgeting, and she put on a simple blue dress and flats and met Quinn in the driveway. Quinn wore a yellow dress and a denim jacket, and it was the first time Rachel had seen her not looking like she'd just rolled out of the ocean.
Quinn didn't even have to ask Rachel to drive. Rachel just smiled softly and took the keys from her hand and climbed into the car.
She decided to follow Quinn's lead, sans the Angelo's guacamole breakfast burrito Quinn forced her to stop and purchase.
The church was modern, moderately sized. The sanctuary was a fairly dark room, like an auditorium, with a low, wide stage where the pulpit stood. There were rows of chairs instead of pews and donuts on a table right outside the door. The worship band played inside and the bass rumbled through the speakers.
Quinn led Rachel through the small crowd, intent on reaching the donuts-aware that Rachel was getting some odd looks-when a woman with auburn hair and smile lines stepped out in front of her. There were two small children at her side and she rested her hands on their heads.
"Quinn, I've been looking for you!"
Quinn stopped short and smiled. "Hi Margaret. How are you?"
"Wonderful, honey. Absolutely wonderful. I've actually found a couple of new students for you!" Margaret moved her hands from the kids' heads to their shoulders. The girl bounced on her toes and the boy looked up shyly.
Rachel smiled at them.
"This is Robbie and Kayla from the youth group." Margaret informed.
"Robbie and Kayla." Quinn echoed. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, eyes narrowed like she was studying them. "And you guys want to learn how to surf?"
"Yes!" Kayla declared, smiling brightly.
Robbie nodded a little hesitantly.
"Are you totally sure?" Quinn lifted an eyebrow. "Because it's tons of fun. I need to make sure you can handle that. We have to be at the beach every day."
Kayla nodded vigorously. "I'm sure!"
"And you'll use tons of sunscreen, and maybe see some fish. Free t-shirts, hot dogs for lunch. My friend will even teach you how to make a surfboard."
"I said I'm sure!" Kayla laughed loudly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must not have heard!" Quinn smiled. "That's one!"
She looked at the little boy. "You know Robbie, I have a little blue foam board that would be perfect for you. If you decide you can handle all this fun, that is."
Rachel suppressed a laugh.
Robbie smiled slightly. "I would get a blue one?"
"You would! And, you know," Quinn straightened up and put a hand on the small of Rachel's back. Margaret's mouth dropped open in recognition. "This is my friend Rachel. I'm teaching her to surf right now, and she can tell you how much fun it is."
"Quinn is a wonderful teacher." Rachel indulged.
"You'll probably be better surfers than Rachel." Quinn said sagely. "She falls off all the time."
Rachel smacked her in the shoulder and the kids laughed.
"I didn't know you knew Miss Rachel Berry, Quinn." Margaret said, a bit flustered now, smiling at Rachel.
Quinn frowned and tipped her head. "Who's Rachel Berry?"
Rachel snorted. She'd come to expect that. She jabbed Quinn in the ribs and reached out to shake Margaret's hand. When Margaret spotted somebody else she needed to talk to, Quinn said goodbye to the kids and took Rachel's hand to lead her into the sanctuary and towards the stage.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps and tapped her thighs, unsure about this next part.
Rachel watched her steadily. "Do we sit down? Or are we going up there?"
"We can-I'm in the choir. So I'm-do you-would you like to sing with me?" Quinn rolled her eyes at herself. "With us, I mean?"
"Do you need to ask me that question?" Rachel teased gently.
Quinn pursed her lips. She led Rachel up the steps and towards the risers on one side of the stage. She smiled at the rest of the choir and whispered introductions, and Rachel blushed and nodded modestly as she was recognized. Quinn settled at the end of the bottom row, shoulder pressed snugly up against Rachel's.
Quinn pulled out a leather hymnbook, flipped it to the right page, and handed it to Rachel.
Rachel started off humming, just until she was comfortable with the tune. Quinn obviously knew the words by heart, and Rachel focused almost entirely on her voice-gentle and lilting and melodic. She didn't know what the protocol was after last night, but she knew this place was special to Quinn. Singing with these people was special.
It had to be, because Quinn's shoes were tied securely and her hair was free of salt and seawater.
Rachel sang easily, quietly, because she could probably overpower the majority of the others at her normal volume.
After three songs, the choir finished and the members took their seats. Quinn put a protective arm around Rachel's waist as they went back down the steps. It should be the last place for anybody to call paparazzi or report a sighting, but more and more people were recognizing Rachel.
Rachel nodded kindly at all of them and let Quinn lead the way.
"I knew you could sing." Rachel murmured when they were seated.
Quinn smiled slightly, side-eyeing her.
"I knew it. Your voice is beautiful. I'm a very good judge about those things."
Quinn's gaze dropped to her lap. Her cheeks burned and she shushed Rachel and tapped her fingers over the hem of dress. Rachel smiled and took Quinn's hand-ignoring her squirming-and pressed it against her lap to hold it still.
….
"What was the last number? A five?"
"Put the phone down, Sam." Quinn bit out, standing on the opposite side of the coffee table.
Sam held the phone off to his side. "Call her, Quinn. You need to call her before she jets off somewhere else for the summer. You know she won't make the first move."
His eyes were earnest, voice low. Quinn exhaled sharply and spun herself in a little circle. She'd come to the shop after a pleasant morning of church and donuts and fallen into his trap.
"I'll dial the number." Sam insisted. "I'll be right here, or I'll get lost. Whatever you want."
"I want you to stop pushing this." Quinn ran a hand through her hair. "I'll just-I'll wait until Christmas. I have so many other…things to think about."
Sam shook his head resolutely. "Quinn, she wants to see you."
"Then she needs to pick up the damn phone."
"She's scared."
Quinn ground her teeth together, ready to lunge over the table. "It's been years."
"Yeah. Time passed. Things have changed. That crash and the fallout and all that shit was years ago." Sam watched Quinn simmer. He plowed on, used to her reactions. "Things were awful. I know."
"You can't-"
"Listen to me." Sam said sharply.
Quinn's eyes flashed. She pressed her lips together.
"If your mom is out there, truly sorry and regretful and ready to offer unconditional love and support, I know you don't want to just ignore it." Sam held the phone limply in his hand, screen dark.
"I don't think you can. It'll just turn you dark. Darker."
"I'm not dark." Quinn scoffed, fists clenched.
"I will shape a custom thruster for you if you make this call. I'll clean the house, I'll make you sweet potato fries and boiled peanuts, I will do anything for you to call your mother because I know you will turn into an angsty, miserable lump if you don't."
Sam shrugged. "Hate your dad. But she loves you, bro."
Quinn's cheeks burned. Her eyes watered and she swiped at them with her hand. She shuffled in another tiny circle and Sam pretended that he couldn't see her crying.
"You think she'll want to come down here?" Quinn finally asked, voice wavering.
Sam nodded.
"If she does, and she's still the same, I won't-I can't-I won't be able to take it."
"I know." Sam said quietly.
Quinn pressed her fists into her eyes until they stopped watering. She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. "You can't just ambush me like that." She muttered.
"You know it's the only way. But I'd never actually call her for you."
Quinn's mind had been on Rachel. Specifically, Rachel's face when Quinn mentioned that alligators roam the beach all the time-which they didn't, obviously-and Quinn was learning how to illicit the funniest facial expressions.
Quinn didn't say anything. She sighed heavily-until her throat was clear and she felt like she could breathe again-and held out her hand for the phone.
Sam nearly tripped over himself trying to pass it to her. Quinn rolled her eyes.
"So I'll be-I'll go-" Sam stuttered and pointed towards the door.
"You stay, Samson." Quinn instructed.
He nodded slightly and dropped back onto the couch. Quinn paced in her tiny little circles and dialed the number.
….
Rachel gasped at the feeling of the doorknob jammed into her back. Quinn hummed sympathetically-but not really-and shifted her over slightly and then covered Rachel's mouth with her own. It was morning, dawn and dark, so everything was minty fresh. Quinn's hands roamed along the hem of Rachel's rashguard and Rachel's knotted in blonde hair.
Rachel arched lightly when Quinn's teeth pulled on her bottom lip. She hadn't planned this-a heated make out session before her surf lesson-and out of context it would seem like a horrible idea.
A what in the world are you thinking, Rachel Berry?
But Quinn's hands were warm and confident on her sides, and she tilted her head just so and ran her tongue along Rachel's teeth, and Rachel was just mush held up by a yellow door.
Quinn shifted so that her thigh was between Rachel's legs and Rachel gasped against Quinn's neck. "Okay, that's-I think we need-let's go-go have our lesson." Rachel stuttered.
Quinn drew her thigh away, dark eyes smiling.
Rachel searched for composure. "You're-you're in a very good mood this morning."
Quinn nodded.
"Sleep well?" Rachel's voice was rough. She cleared her throat.
Quinn shrugged. "Maybe." Her lips tipped up. "Maybe it's other things. Maybe I like kissing you. You know, I can give you a lesson right here."
"Quinn."
Quinn chuckled because Rachel looked so scandalized. Rachel pulled away and rubbed at her face, willing for her cheeks to cool down.
"Just-can we go to the beach now?" she asked, nearly begging.
She decided that she needed to get out of there before she did something stupid. Again.
Quinn nodded easily. She fixed her own hair and straightened her shorts, and then opened the door Rachel had been leaning against. She held it open and smiled as Rachel slipped through, head tucked down.
Rachel's lesson involved learning how to bail-to jump off the board at the right time without having it run right into her head or jerk her under the water. She'd hold her nose every time she jumped off, which amused Quinn. Rachel's head rarely even went under the water.
"It burns when it goes in your nose." Rachel defended, huffing at Quinn's laughter.
"Your hair isn't even wet. It'll clear your sinuses right out."
Rachel grimaced.
Quinn leaned in conspiratorially, water lapping at their knees. "You're not a surfer until you've been pummeled, you know. Put through the ringer, like a washing machine."
Rachel jutted out her chin. "Take me out to the big waves."
Quinn hummed. "And though she be but little, she is fierce."
Rachel blinked at her.
"Shakespeare. It's-"
"Oh my God." Rachel interrupted, looking over Quinn's shoulder to the shore.
Quinn spun around immediately. She frowned at the sight-two men with cameras standing right on the sand, out in the open. They were obviously pointed at Rachel, and Quinn turned around and shifted to block their view.
The guys just walked a few feet down the beach to fix their angle.
"What do you want to do?" Quinn murmured.
She searched Rachel's face. She looked calm, maybe a little angry because she was clenching her jaw a bit. Rachel held up her hand and smiled tightly at the paparazzi.
"Let's go back to the shop." Rachel said through her teeth. "Just calmly pick up our stuff and don't say anything."
Quinn nodded.
"I'm sorry. I don't know how they found me."
Quinn shrugged. "It's okay. Your face is prized, Rachel Berry."
Quinn reached under the water to unstrap Rachel's leash. She squeezed Rachel's calf before standing up and doing the stingray shuffle to the shore. The paparazzi kept about five feet away as Quinn grabbed her backpack and Rachel put on her flip-flops. Quinn kept herself glued to Rachel's side, poised and ready to throw the expensive cameras into the ocean.
"Good morning, Rachel! So you surf now? Is this for a movie? Or a therapy program?"
Quinn managed to keep her face impassive as she tied the leash around the surfboard's tail.
"Who's your friend, Rachel?"
"Was this trip to Florida planned? What are you doing about Anything Goes? Did something happen to make you skip town?"
They kept firing off questions as Rachel and Quinn reached the dunes at the top of the beach. Rachel walked quickly, purposefully-lips quirked slightly up but eyes blazing. Quinn followed along at an easy stride. She found it easy to ignore idiots, until she caught where they were walking out of the corner of her eye.
"Hey, watch the sea turtle nests." She said sharply, stopping abruptly.
The two guys halted and looked around, delighted that she was talking. "What was that?"
"Back off the orange tape, dumbass." Quinn bit out. "They're sea turtle nests. Are you illiterate?"
Perhaps she'd be less venomous if these pudgy, orange men in floral shirts showed any sliver of respect.
She gestured at the bright yellow sign and the guy laughed loudly. Quinn was about to put the longboard down when she felt Rachel's soft hand on her arm.
"Quinn, come on. It's okay."
"Yeah, keep your friend in check, Rachel!" One of the guys laughed.
Rachel cut her eyes over to them. "My friend will throw your goddamn cameras in the ocean if you don't back away from the nests. I can call the police if you'd like. Sea turtles are protected by state law."
Quinn's brow lifted in surprise.
"What happened to your leg, Rachel?" One of the guys asked, even as they moved away from the nest-probably because Rachel looked ready to attack them. "Bad trip?"
Rachel didn't move, so Quinn put an arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward gently. They walked up the beach access path, heads down.
"They're such…assholes." Rachel muttered once they hit the pavement and left the paparazzi behind.
Quinn hummed in agreement. She ducked her head to make sure Rachel wasn't crying or anything.
"You know, sea turtles are my favorite animal."
Rachel smiled slightly. "Are they?"
They hit the gravel parking lot of Jupiter Surf and Quinn stepped lightly in her bare feet. "I've watched the hatchlings go all the way to the water before, scuttling along. You'd love it. I'll show you sometime."
Rachel smiled gratefully up at Quinn. She kissed her cheek right inside the yellow door and then disappeared through the back for a shower.
Quinn dropped the longboard and set off to find her employees. Nobody asking for Rachel Berry would be allowed inside the shop.
…
Rachel could feel Santana's eyes boring into the side of her head. She cleared her throat awkwardly and focused on the box of shoes she was sorting through.
Santana haphazardly tossed several flip flops into a pile. "So...Berry." She said casually.
Rachel had six neat stacks in front of her, all for different brands and types of shoes. She piled them up meticulously and then subdivided them based on size.
"Yes, Santana?"
"I'm surprised." Santana mused. "You don't totally suck at this job."
"Well…Thank you." Rachel watched Santana throw a single slip-on canvas shoe onto her pile. She decided not to point out the inconsistencies in whatever method Santana was using.
"How long are you staying?"
"I told Quinn two months."
Santana side-eyed her. "Two months."
Rachel nodded.
"And then you'll go back to LA or New York or wherever." Santana clarified.
Again, Rachel nodded. "Yes, that's my plan."
Santana looked away and pursed her lips. She violently ripped open a new box and dumped all of the flip-flops onto the stockroom floor. Rachel kept to her sorting and stacking, not really sure what to do. She didn't know Santana very well, so maybe this was normal behavior.
"You know, Q smelled like mangoes this morning." Santana stated, cutting her eyes to Rachel.
Rachel blinked.
"Kind of like that fucking fruity, sweet stuff you wear."
"…Oh." Rachel wondered if Santana knew more than she was letting on. "Okay?"
Santana stared at her. "You know I'm not blind, right? You may be a goddamn movie star, but you can't just mess with-"
"I'm not messing with anybody." Rachel cut in quickly.
She wasn't really sure what she was doing, actually. For once in her life she was just rolling.
Santana narrowed her eyes and studied Rachel. She held two different kinds of shoes in her hand, neither of which seemed to have a match.
"She doesn't do casual." Santana finally said, less malice in her voice. Rachel assumed she was talking about Quinn.
"But everybody else does. So Quinn's the one who ends up stupid and lonely and angry, and I'm the one making sure she doesn't drink herself into a stupor and die trying to surf in the middle of the night."
Santana's gaze was hard. Rachel held it seriously.
"And-I mean-we don't even know why you're here." Santana turned back to her messy piles of shoes. "You could have killed somebody or some shit like that."
"I have never committed a crime in my life." Rachel said quietly.
Santana shrugged. "You look like the type."
Rachel smiled wryly. "I don't know what you think you know, but I'm really not trying to mess with anybody. You-everybody here has been great to me."
Santana nodded vaguely. Rachel opened the last box of shoes and started adding pairs to her meticulous piles. They worked in silence for several minutes until a thought occurred to Rachel.
She tipped her head and glanced at Santana. "What was Quinn like in high school? And college?"
Santana laughed abruptly. She surveyed Rachel with a raised brow. "Seriously?"
Rachel nodded eagerly.
"She was stupid, angry, and lonely in high school." Santana said bluntly. "She was head cheerleader, valedictorian, insanely fucking successful but absolutely miserable."
Rachel frowned sadly.
Santana squinted at her curiously. "What has she told you about her family?"
"Not…anything, really."
Santana hummed. "Course not." She muttered.
"What was that?" Rachel leaned forward.
Santana shook her head. "She sang, she danced, she was little miss perfect over-achiever for three years of college."
Rachel chuckled.
"What has she told you about after college?" Santana wondered.
Rachel decided there must be much more to Quinn's story if Santana had to keep checking what she knew-making sure she didn't reveal anything that Quinn didn't want her to.
"She told me…about the accident. And how she was paralyzed and she moved here with you guys." Rachel described. "And Sam taught her to surf."
Santana hummed.
"Is there more?" Rachel asked cautiously.
Santana laughed. "Berry, Quinn is a dictionary of issues. I love that idiot like a sister, but there's always more. She never caught a break."
"Oh, dude," Sam leaned against the doorway and waved when Rachel and Santana turned to look at him. "You talkin' about her parents? Man, if I've ever seen-"
"Sam, what the hell?" Santana threw a shoe at his face. He deflected it with his arms. "Get lost."
Sam pouted and rubbed at his arm. "Quinn's looking for you, Rachel."
Rachel popped up, leaving her shoes in their neat stacks. She patted Sam's shoulder as she left the room and found Quinn standing in the grass just outside the yellow door of the lounge. Quinn smiled at her and quickly kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Have lunch with me?" she asked quietly.
Rachel's heart fluttered. She nodded. "Santana said you smell like mangoes."
Quinn frowned-and then groaned-as they crossed the gravel parking lot. She smelled the front of her shirt and grimaced. "It's that Starburst smell, Rachel. It contaminates me."
"It's mango body lotion." Rachel laughed.
Quinn sighed.
"You wouldn't smell like that if you weren't trying to kiss me all the time." Rachel reminded.
"Maybe I should stop." Quinn was only half joking.
Rachel looked up at her curiously, a little smug. "I don't think you can."
Quinn chose not to answer. Whether she could stop or not was irrelevant, because she'd be forced to soon enough. Right now, she liked kissing Rachel and she was hungry for one of Brittany's cheeseburgers.
She ran a hand through her salty hair and smiled at Rachel. "I don't think you want me to."