A/N: Here's another go with this one. They keep getting longer it seems. Thank you so much for all the kind words. I'm really pleased that so many of you are enjoying this as much as I am. It's a fun little tale (or perhaps, tail?) to tell.
Chapter 7
Off the Clock
Quinn was getting really tired of re-baiting empty cat traps. This one was getting bent and the door wouldn't go back into the slot. She smacked the side of the trap loudly.
"Fuck it," she hissed. "Come on."
"Hello Quinn," Rachel said, peering down at her from the patio.
"Hello Rachel," Quinn said, looking up at her. "I didn't think you'd be here."
"I'm here," Rachel said quietly.
"I can see that," Quinn quipped, frowning.
Rachel was clearly not herself tonight.
"You wanna tell me about it?" Quinn asked randomly.
Rachel exhaled and shrugged.
"I guess I just wasn't very amazing," she said softly.
"You didn't get the part?" Quinn asked.
"I didn't get the part," she confirmed. "Not the 'right type' they said. I get that a lot."
Quinn frowned.
"I'm sorry," she told her.
"Thanks," Rachel answered glumly.
"I guess it wasn't very lucky," Quinn said quietly.
Rachel smiled.
So maybe next time we need to try it without the mask, the little brunette thought to herself. I'll need to suggest that when the time is right.
She smiled to herself and Quinn narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously.
"Well, they're clearly insane," Quinn observed slowly with a shrug, wondering what Rachel's sudden mischievous smile was all about. "Anyone with an ounce of sanity can see that you're the perfect type."
Rachel grinned and ducked her head shyly.
"Thank you," she said. "For saying that."
"Truth," Quinn said, with a dismissive wave. "Can't fight it."
Quinn slid the door back on the trap and nudged it back under the hedgerow with her foot.
"Aren't you gonna crawl around like you usually do?" Rachel asked.
"Um, maybe not today," Quinn said evasively. "Why do you ask."
"I dunno," Rachel said, pursing her lips in a light pout.
"Cause maybe you like staring at my butt when I do that?" Quinn wondered to herself.
"So are you leaving now?" Rachel asked, frowning.
"Actually, yeah," Quinn answered. "I guess the gnat-pack is gathering as we speak. I've been summonsed."
"Oh," Rachel said, her voice small and distant.
Quinn was momentarily pensive, scuffing her foot in the soft dirt.
"You know," she said slowly, as if still uncertain with her decision. "If you aren't busy and all, I thought maybe you might like to come over?"
Rachel's head snapped up instantly and Quinn could feel the energy coming off of her.
"Really?" she asked, her eyes visibly brighter even from where Quinn stood.
"Yeah," Quinn said, nodding. "Santana is cooking though, at least last I heard. She's a bit fixated on that at the moment for some reason. She's good though. I mean, it's usually better than merely edible."
"Yes! I mean, okay, I'd like that," Rachel said, trying not to sound overly desperate. She really didn't want to be alone tonight and, quite honestly, Finn was the last company she wanted.
"Great," Quinn said, smiling nervously.
She originally had zero intention of inviting Rachel to come eat with them, but she was desperate for something to cheer her up. It was either take her home or stay here with her. Here seemed infinitely more...dangerous. At least her house was full of people. Crazy, annoying people, but still people. She could spend time with Rachel and not worry about spending time with Rachel.
"Are you ready?" Rachel asked.
"Whenever you are, " Quinn told her.
"I can be ready," she said, shifting into hyper-Rachel mode. "I... it won't be long. I'll hurry."
She disappeared from view quickly.
"You don't have to hurry," Quinn called after her.
Rachel reappeared suddenly, talking excitedly.
"What should I wear? " she asked, clearly over-thinking this whole thing already.
"Rachel, look at me," she said.
"Okay," she said, taking deep breaths, calming herself. "I know, calm down."
"No, I mean, look at me," Quinn said, chuckling. "At what I'm wearing. This is how I'm dressing for dinner. I might change into a clean shirt, but that's pretty much it. Very casual. Just a step above pajamas."
Quinn started to say "underwear" but then decided against it.
Rachel laughed.
"I can do that," she told her. "I can do... cool."
She dashed away again.
"Rachel!" Quinn called out after her.
"Yeah," she said, running back.
"Calm down," Quinn told her with a smirk.
Rachel just narrowed her eyes at her and disappeared again.
"That's okay," Quinn muttered to herself. "I'll just wait here in the yard like the gardener."
She fished her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed the house and Santana answered.
"Where the hell are you?" she snapped. "I need groceries. What have you been eating – cat food?"
"Noah food shops, " she offered. It was a weak excuse.
"Apparently," she answered. "There's like bare cupboards and kibble. It's kind of pitiful."
"I'm just leaving," Quinn told her. "It'll be about... I don't know... 30 minutes."
Santana huffed unhappily.
"What do you need?" Quinn asked unenthusiastically. "I suppose I can stop on the way."
"I'll text you a list," Santana answered, already type into her tablet.
"Okay," Quinn said. "Oh, you'll need to set another place, too."
"Um, because why?" Santana asked suspiciously.
"Because I'm bringing a friend," Quinn said, already gritting her teeth.
"My, my," Santana said and Quinn could actually hear the smirk on her face. "I wonder who on earth it might be. Hmmmm, let's all think about it a moment, shall we?"
Quinn growled.
"Alright, fine," Santana relented. "I'm not gonna yank your chain too hard seeing how you're all sensitive and shit about it. Bring your pretty little thespian."
"How gracious of you," Quinn said wryly. "Seeing how it's my house and everything."
Santana laughed.
"Oh yeah," she said. "I guess it is, isn't it."
"I guess I can see how you'd forget that," Quinn remarked smiling. "Seeing how you spend most of your free time hanging out there."
"It's just so warm and welcoming, " Santana teased. "And you have all the good smutty, cable channels."
Quinn snorted.
"It's the little things that matter," she said.
"I'm texting you that shopping list," Santana told her. "right...now."
Quinn's phone chirped.
"Got it," she said without even looking.
"The sooner we get that, the sooner y'all will get to be eating," Santana said. "Tick tock, dollface."
Quinn rolled her eyes.
"We'll hurry," Quinn told her.
"Uh huh, sure you will," she said and hung up.
Quinn dropped her phone into her pocket and brushed her hands, then walked around the path to the front porch. She tried the door and it was unlocked.
"Damn it, Rachel," she hissed under her breath. "Rachel?"
"Yes, Quinn?" she called from somewhere in the second story.
"Stop leaving your damned door unlocked!" Quinn insisted.
"But it's just you," she protested, missing the point entirely.
"Just let me knock,"Quinn said.
"I'll just give you a key, " Rachel countered.
OMG, what?
"I don't need a..." Quinn stopped, already seeing the it was pointless.
"What?" Rachel asked.
"Nevermind," Quinn said, fingering through magazines on the kitchen table.
"What?" Rachel asked again.
"Nothing," Quinn yelled at the stairs.
"No need to yell," Rachel said, walking up behind her, smiling. "Is this alright?"
Rachel was wearing jeans, a plaid camp shirt and tennis shoes. She had her hair down and it had clearly gone back to natural waves. Quinn decided Rachel did casual very well.
"Perfect," she told her.
"I guess I'm ready," she said. "But I want to bring something. I don't want to just show up empty-handed."
"Well, that's good because I've been informed we have to shop." she said, grimacing. "I've been given a list of essentials."
She wiggled her cellphone by way of proof.
"I like to shop," Rachel said quickly.
Not too much of surprise confession, Quinn thought.
"Yeah, okay," Quinn said. "Well, me, not so much. Especially not after working all day."
"Alright then," Rachel said. "May I?"
She held out her hand and looked pointedly at Quinn's phone. The list, she wanted to see the list. Quinn placed the phone in her upturned palm. Rachel quickly scanned the dozen or so items on the list, mapping out their strategy.
"Okay, this is the plan. If you navigate, I'll do all the running," she suggested reasonably. "We'll breeze right through in no time."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Quinn said obediently.
Rachel smiled and wrapped her fingers around Quinn's wrist and tugged her toward the door.
"Come, Smee," she told her.
"The ice is melting, the sun is out and the flowers are all in bloom," Quinn answered.
Rachel laughed loudly.
After fighting through rush-hour traffic, Rachel hit the ground running, making up for lost time, by marching Quinn through the crowded grocery store. She liked being in charge almost as much as she liked shopping.
For her part, Quinn leaned on the shopping cart and followed the adorable little taskmaster up and down the aisles like a rat in Hamelin, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times and making an occasional snarky comment. Quinn noticed Rachel taking her arm more and more often and gently touching her waist or the small of her back whenever people needed to move past them. Thanks largely to Rachel they were breezing through the checkout before the real post-work shopping crowd hit the doors.
Another twenty minutes of hard-core combat driving and Quinn turned up the familiar driveway, pulling in behind Santana's car. They unloaded their bags and Quinn led Rachel into the house through the garage entrance.
"Hey," Quinn said, nodding to Santana, who was already bustling around the kitchen. Rachel stood quietly behind her, smiling shyly.
"God, finally," Santana groused, moving immediately to take Quinn's bags. She started unpacking items onto whatever clear counter space she could find. Rachel carried hers over and waited patiently until Santana took them as well.
"Oh, thank you," Santana said, flashing her a big smile. "You're a doll."
"You're welcome," Rachel answered. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Not a problem, but sorry to say I can't take the credit," Santana told her. "That's all on Quinn."
Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel bit her lip. Quinn stared at Rachel and Santana stared at Quinn, both thinking this evening certainly had all the makings of a massive train wreck.
"Are you good here for a minute?" Quinn asked Rachel after finally snapping out of her fugue. "I'm going to go freshen up a little."
Rachel nodded.
"I'll be just fine," she assured her.
Quinn glared hard at Santana and then disappeared down the hallway.
"Can I help you with anything?" Rachel inquired, looking around and feeling helpless. She rubbed her hands together and rocked back and forth on her heels.
"No," she said quickly. "I'm covered, but thanks."
"Sure, "Rachel said quietly, feeling awkward and looking down the hall after Quinn.
"She'll be right back," Santana said with a quick wink and Rachel felt herself blush.
"Brittany?" Santana said loudly. "Can you come in here, please?"
"What baby?" Brittany asked, poking her head in from the patio door. "Oh, Rachel, yay. Hi!"
The lithe blonde bounded into the kitchen and scooped a pleasantly startled Rachel up into a Brittany hug. Everyone got them and it was useless to resist.
"I"m so glad you came," she gushed, lifting Rachel easily off her feet.
"Thank you," Rachel said, laughing. "I'm happy to see you as well."
"Come on," she said enthusiastically, taking Rachel by the hand. "Come see everyone." She pulled her through the living room and out onto the patio.
"Look who I found, Puck," she said brightly.
"Hello Noah," Rachel said, hugging him lightly.
"Hey yourself, " he replied, smirking.
"This is Sam," Brittany told her, introducing the tall, blonde, beachy-looking young man sitting next to Noah. "He's a musician. Sam, this is Rachel Berry. She's with Quinn."
Noah choked on his beer.
"Hello Rachel," Sam said politely, taking her hand in his firmly. "Nice to meet you. "
"Hi Sam," she said, returning his smile.
"Hey," Quinn said, stepping out onto the deck. "We don't allow your kind here,"
Sam smiled at her.
"Hi Quinn," he said quietly. "And what kind is that? Broke musicians? Blondes who do bad impersonations?"
"Oh hell no," she said. "We get all those. I mean the kind that call everybody 'dude' and say 'please' and 'thank you.' All that polite sort of stuff. We'll have none of that civility here, thank you very much."
"For reals," Santana said, handing Quinn a glass of iced tea. "Rachel, are you weird like Quinn or would you actually like a real drink?"
"I think I'll be weird, too," she said. "If that's okay?"
"Eh, suit yourself," Santana scoffed. She promptly yanked the glass out of Quinn's hand and handed it to Rachel. "Guests first."
"What about you, Dennis the Menace?" she said, looking pointedly at Sam. "You need anything?"
"No, thank you, ma'..." he said and Santana cut him off.
"First time you slip and call me 'ma'am,' there's gonna be bloodshed up in here." she told him. He chuckled nervously and watched Santana retreat. He made sure Quinn was out of earshot as well.
"Dude," he said, leaning in close where Puck could hear him. "Your women scare the hell out of me."
"Yeah, it takes a pretty firm hand to keep 'em in line," he said, nodding and waggling his brows. "I got it covered. Ya feel me?"
They both chuckled knowingly and bumped fists.
Overhearing the conversation, Rachel just smirked and sipped her tea.
From almost the moment she arrived, wherever Rachel was, Sam was there, too. If Rachel went inside, Sam went inside. If Rachel was in the kitchen, Sam was in the kitchen. He was like a shaggy, clumsy puppy following her everywhere. Whenever Quinn sat with her, Sam sat on the other side, listening earnestly to their conversation, staring adoringly at Rachel.
Quinn wanted to whack him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.
When he launched into some long-winded story about his latest recording session Quinn couldn't even pretend to be interested. She got up and stomped into the kitchen where she planted herself against the counter, arms folded across her chest, glaring into the living room.
Santana looked her up and down and smirked.
"You're looking a little Christmassy up in here tonight," she said.
Quinn sneered and glanced over at her.
"What in the fuck does that mean?" she asked testily.
"A little bit red and a little bit green," Santana explained.
"She means mad and jealous," Brittany explained helpfully.
Santana smiled at her and patted her on the arm.
"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "That's exactly what I mean."
"B, cover your ears a minute, darling," Quinn said and Brittany put her hands over both ears. She nodded and Quinn smiled.
"Shut the fuck up," Quinn snapped at Santana, then waved at Brit to take her hands off.
Santana chuckled.
"Did you invite him," she asked scowling in Sam's general direction.
"The human puffer fish? Uh, that would be, no," Santana said. "You can thank HR Fuck-n-Puck for that."
"I like Sam," Brittany said quietly. "He's nice."
"We like Sam, too, honey, " Santana said. "But not when he's macking on she-who-isn't-Quinn's girlfriend."
Quinn grunted and Brittany nodded. Santana handed her a peeled carrot which she took with a happy smile.
"So do something about it," Santana prompted easily. "Mind you nothing that we'll have to visit you on Sundays for the next 7-15 for doing, but something."
"She means don't kill him," Brittany added. "I'm getting good at this."
Quinn actually managed to smile at her.
Puck wandered into the kitchen looking for more beer and hoping to swipe something off the counter. He grabbed a handful of sliced vegetables and Santana rounded on him, holding her paring knife like she meant serious business.
"Touch my vegetables again with your grubby hands and I'll totes cut a bitch," she told him. He just rolled his eyes and crunched on a stalk of celery.
"Like everybody else hasn't touched your vegetables," he said.
Rachel and Sam walked into the kitchen.
"Why's everybody hanging out in here?" Sam asked amiably.
"Because I'm in here," Santana said smugly. "Obviously. I'm the feature attraction in this evening's production."
"I thought it was Rachel," Sam said with a shy smile.
"Awe," Rachel cooed and patted him on the arm. "Aren't you the sweetest thing."
Santana gagged. Brit laughed. Puck groaned. Quinn fumed.
Santana and Brittany both looked over at Quinn, who's ears went dark red and her eyes bright, hot green. She was in full-on death glare mode locked onto Sam, who was oblivious to his peril.
"Dude," Puck said, chuckling and pointing at Quinn. "You look like you're wearing red earmuffs."
"Nice knowing you, dumbass," Santana muttered under her breath.
"Excuse us, please," Quinn said, smiling through clenched teeth. She grabbed Puck up under his arm and toe-marched him out of the room into her bedroom with him wincing and chanting "ow, ow, ow" under his breath the whole way.
"Goddamn it, Q, " he said when she turned him loose and shoved him out in front of her, shutting the door. "What the hell?"
She clenched her fists in frustration and Puck watch warily, shrinking away in self-preservation. She was really, really hot about something. He had a vague idea what the problem was, but wasn't about to admit it because it indirectly involved him.
"What did you bring him for?" she hissed finally.
"Who?" Puck asked innocently, shrugging.
"Really?" she hissed menacingly, her eyes cold steel. Quinn squared herself up and drew a fist back. She wasn't in the mood for stupid.
"What? Wait," Puck sputtered, back-pedaling into the bed. He fell down onto the mattress narrowly missing Mojo, who hissed and swatted at him angrily.
"Jesus Christ, Mofo, " he said, flinching away from the angry feline. He wasn't sure which was more like to inflict real pain on him, Quinn or the spitting fat cat.
Quinn scooted Mojo onto the floor and then pushed Puck back onto the mattress and sat on him, and not in the good sexy "rub yours up against mine" kind of way either, but with her knees pulled up on his stomach. When she leaned down into his face all the air went out of him and he grunted.
"Do you want to ask another stupid question?" she asked, her voice slow and low. She had one hand gripping him hard on the inner thigh. Five inches higher and he'd be talking and walking funny for days.
"Alright, alright," he whined. "Sam, you mean, Sam. I get it. He wanted to come to dinner. He's all into free food. What's the big deal?"
Quinn squeezed hard and Puck squealed.
"Rachel, okay, he's talking to Rachel," he whimpered and she stopped squeezing. "I didn't know she was gonna be here. Come on, I couldn't know that would happen. Honest to god, I had no idea."
"Fine," she said. "But why are you just watching him do it?"
"I, I, I, I...I don't know?" he stammered. "I guess I hadn't noticed. I didn't think he was doing anything."
At some point Quinn realized she was being irrational, but she didn't care. This was still a wrong situation of Puck's making, as usual.
Quinn had him by the ears now and was nose-to-nose with him, Her knees had slipped down so she was straddling his chest. If he wasn't in so much actual pain he might enjoy it. God help him if he got...excited though, then she would really hurt him.
"Are you seriously that stupid?" she hissed. "You didn't notice him stuck on Rachel's ass like a piece of gum? Sam's a really nice, sweet, stupid kind-of guy. Of course he's going to be all over her. I mean, look at her for fuck's sake. Damn it, Puck."
She smacked him on the head and chest a few times and then grabbed a handful of shirt making sure she caught chest hair and twisted.
"Augh, I so want to kick the snot out of you right now," she grunted. "This was supposed to be a nice casual evening to hang out with Rachel and your idiot friend is fucking that all up."
"Tell me what to do," he groaned, trying frantically to pull her hand off.
"Get him away from her," she yelled in his face.
She twisted her hand hard and there was a ripping sound and Puck bleated like a cow.
Quinn pushed off of him and walked out, slamming the door behind her. She stalked back into the kitchen.
"Puck's having himself a nice little cry at the moment," she announced. "He'll be back when's he's composed himself a bit."
She could hear Santana snorting with laughter.
"All that yelling and Puck moaning. It sounded like you two were having sex," Brittany observed to Santana's utter delight. She grabbed onto the blonde's wrist and shook her head. When Quinn growled she also positioned herself between the two of them in case Quinn got any notions about getting onto Brittany the way she had Puck.
Quinn finally just chuckled in a "unfucking believable" sort of way. She walked over and yanked the refrigerator open and pulled out a beer. Twisting off the cap, she tipped it up and drained it, then reached for another and did the same and was going back for a third.
At that point, Santana rolled her eyes and put down her knife and took matters in hand. She pushed the refrigerator closed, forcibly took the beer away from Quinn and handed it to Brittany. She closed a hand around Quinn's bicep and marched her back down the hall into Puck's bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
"Get a fucking grip, Q," she said, shaking her head. "You're acting like a raging bull."
Quinn glowered at her, then she just groaned and it seemed like all the air went out of her. She fell back on Puck's unmade bed.
"Oh god, San," she whined. "I don't want this. I don't want any of this."
"First of all, fucking eww, " Santana said, grimacing. "Like, really. That's Puck's bed. I would think motel linen would be safer than that."
She shuddered visibly at the thought.
"Second of all, I know you don't," she shrugged. "But too bad, so sad where Rachel is concerned cause it's too late. You just need to man up and deal with it. Stop fighting it and start making it happen."
Quinn shook her head.
"I'm not..." she told her. "I am not going there, not with that idiot ape of a boyfriend in the picture. It's not happening."
"Oh please, as if, " Santana scoffed. "Don't get all noble and shit on me. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you won't go there because of a little competition?"
"It's not even that," she said, groaning in frustration. "He can hurt her."
"You mean...?" Santana started, but Quinn interrupted.
"No, no, I don't mean, like that..." Quinn said, suddenly feeling lightheaded and inarticulate. " I mean, like, through his family. He can fuck with her career. You, of all people, know that is true. "
Santana nodded, getting it. That was a very real possibility and one she hadn't considered.
"You said they yo-yo back and forth, right?" Santana asked.
"I think, yeah," Quinn said, rubbing her forehead. "She said they do the break-up/make-up bullshit."
"So, he never messed her over before?" Santana offered helpfully.
"I get the impression that it was always on him," Quin explained. "He...strayed."
"Of course," Santana muttered. "He's an all-around douche. Wonderful. All the more reason you shouldn't give a fuck about him."
"Doesn't change anything," she said, rolling over, snuggling into the pillow.
Santana frowned and yanked Puck's pillow up with two fingers and hurled it across the room.
Quinn chuckled wryly.
"Then I don't know what to tell you, Q, " Santana admitted. "If it was me, I'd be in there already, boyfriend or no boyfriend. Just crowd him right the fuck out of the picture."
"I don't even know if she's...if she would..." Quinn said, suddenly sleepy-eyed.
"Yeah," Santana chuckled. "She is and she would. Even if she never, she wants to. Trust me on that."
Quinn groaned.
"Look, Puck and Brit aren't wrong about this, Quinn," Santana insisted. "Boyfriend or no boyfriend, that girl is mad into you. I've watched her all night. If you push, she'll fall right over. She'll go for it."
"I don't want her to just 'go for it,' San," Quinn said miserably. "She doesn't deserve that and I'm not going there."
Santana scoffed loudly.
"Whatever you do, Q," Santana told her. "You gotta settle down. Don't scare the poor girl to death. We all know you're harmless, but she might not."
"I'm not harmless," Quinn fussed weakly.
"Puck would agree with that," Santana said amused. "Jesus Christ, Quinn. Get up off his bed before I have to get you a goddamned tetanus shot."
She hauled Quinn to her feet and wrangled her to the door.
"Stop acting like an asshole," she told her. "And Sam, seriously? If you can't deal with that puppy then you don't need to be playing this game at all. Now go sit somewhere and behave until you sober \up and come to your fucking senses."
Quinn grunted, frowning, and Santana shoved her out into the hall.
"Fuck it," she grumbled, pushing past her. "It's like work around here tonight. We're never gonna eat."
"I'm not an asshole," Quinn mumbled and walked down the hall, keeping one hand on the wall to steady herself. She fell into a chair in the living room and sat like Santana told her, mostly pouting. She tipped her head back, but immediately got dizzy and sat back up.
Rachel watched her for a long while and then walked over and sat down on the arm of her chair.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked.
Quinn scoffed quietly at the irony.
"Of course not, "she said immediately, brow knit. She was slurring her words slightly. "No, why would you even think that?"
"You've been kind-of weird," she said hesitantly. "It's like, well, I can't get you to spend five minutes with me. Then again, I can't seem to get Sam away from me either."
Quinn giggled.
"Yes, so I noticed," she told her.
"He's nice, but, I mean," Rachel said, shrugging lightly. "It was just...I was hoping to spend time with... you. And everyone else, of course."
"Of course," Quinn said, now smiling.
"I haven't even really seen the whole house yet," Rachel said, looking around.
"I can fix that," Quinn said, standing up too quickly and feeling all the blood rush to her head. She sat right back down again. Rachel watched amused. She held up a finger and stood again, slowly this time. "Come on."
Rachel got up and followed after her.
Quinn led Rachel through the house, going from room to room, talking to her about all the changes they'd made since she bought it and telling her what they still wanted to work on when time and finances permitted.
"Is this your room?" Rachel asked, ducking immediately into Quinn's bedroom before Quinn could even get a chance to protest.
"Uh, yeah," Quinn said, leaning on the door frame. She watched while Rachel walked around the room, trailing her fingers along, touching things here and there, looking at photos, glancing at book and movie titles.
Quinn would be lying if she said she hadn't envisioned this situation more than once or twice.
While she was watching Loki ran past her. He got to the middle of the room and then, upon spying Rachel, stopped cold and meowed loudly. Rachel's eyes went wide with delight.
"Oh," she chirped upon seeing the pretty little cat.
"He's not very... friendly, " Quinn said, moving over to her desk and sitting down. She decided against using the phrase, "mean little fucker."
Rachel sat down on the bed, calling to him softly and patting the space beside her.
Loki looked at Rachel then swiveled his head and looked at Quinn as if to say, "Is she for real?"
Quinn laughed at him and he flipped his tail at her. Loki watched Rachel for a few minutes and then, to Quinn's astonishment, he walked over and hopped up beside her. Quinn quickly drew a harsh breath.
"Oh, Rachel, please be careful," Quinn said quietly, already wincing, but afraid to move toward them. Loki was fast as lightening and he never let anyone trim his claws. One of his favorite games was called "Try to Blind Puck." A trip to the emergency room would be fitting given the way the evening had been going. "Please not in the face" was all Quinn kept hearing in her head.
Rachel, on the other hand, had no fear whatsoever. She kept talking to the tiny cat in sing-song tones and he warbled right back to her in his weird broken meow while nuzzled his face along her leg, purring non-stop as she petted him. After a few minutes he crawled up on her lap and curled into a happy ball.
"Fuck me with a red-hot poker," Puck said from the doorway and Quinn just looked over at him, equally as befuddled.
"He's so sweet," Rachel cooed softly.
"No," Puck said, frowning. "No, he's not. He's a red-eyed pig-demon from hell. With good taste in chicks though."
Rachel looked up at him with a smile on her face. He walked over to Quinn.
"What the hell did she do to him?" he asked in low tones.
"Dunno," she answered.
Quinn was afraid to take her eyes off the cat.
"She just called him over," Quinn added, still staring.
"Maybe he fell out of the bathroom window on his head?" Puck suggested.
Quinn snorted and slapped at him.
"Seriously," he continued. "That's a pod-cat. Some alien space mold or something. We both know that is not Loki. Fuck, have you ever petted him?"
"Once or twice, " Quinn said. "Never like that."
"Funny," he said, dropping his voice to whisper. "She has the same effect on you. Bet you'd like to trade places with him, so she could pet you like that."
Quinn didn't react to the comment, but Puck didn't have sense enough to move away.
"Santana says food's rea...auuuugh, owwww," he yelped as Quinn caught him by the nipple and twisted.
Loki stood up and hissed loudly at them both.
"Kitty, no," Rachel scolded him. He sassed her back and Rachel simply picked him up and set him on the floor. He promptly raced across the room and clamped himself onto the back of Puck's leg.
"God damn it," Puck roared, trying to kick him off.
"Take it back, " Quinn hissed, the adrenaline burning up the alcohol that was fuzzing her thoughts.
"Bite me, bitch," Puck grunted, flailing at both Quinn and Loki now. "Get off me you fucking psycho weasel."
"Quinn!" Rachel scolded loudly. "Stop it. Puck, you're going to hurt him."
"Hurt him!" Puck yelled incredulously. "I'm bleeding to death."
Quinn looked at Rachel, but didn't Puck loose. Puck, to his credit, was now trying to grab Quinn's nipple as well, but she stayed just out of his reach.
"Stop it, both of you," Rachel insisted. She reached down and peeled Loki off Puck's leg and placed him on the bed. He started frantically licking his paws and grooming, apparently trying to get the taste of Puck off himself.
"Quinn," Rachel said firmly as she put her hand on Quinn's arm. "Let go."
Quinn growled.
"Let...go," Rachel insisted, sliding her hand down and squeezing firmly on Quinn's wrist.
Quinn opened her fingers and Puck squirmed away.
"Fabray, if you lay another hand on me today," he said, his face red. He got right up in Quinn's face and she just stared at him, almost smirking.
"You'll what?" she said, twitching a brow.
Rachel carefully and deliberately edged her way in between them and they both gaped at her. They both thought about picking her up and physically moving her out of the way, but Quinn got to her first.
Rachel batted at her hands as she gently looped her arms around her waist and lifted her.
"No," she sputtered. "Put me down."
Quinn couldn't keep from smiling.
"Stay here," Quinn told her, settling her on her feet about three feet away. "I don't want you to get hurt in the crossfire."
When she turned to walk back to Puck Rachel grabbed onto her and held on. Quinn looked helplessly at Puck who just shrugged.
"Stop fighting," Rachel said firmly, latched fiercely onto Quinn.
"Rachel, turn me loose," Quinn said, frowning.
''No," she declared adamantly. "Not until you promise me you'll leave him alone."
Quinn scoffed.
"Yeah Q," Puck added. "Promise her you'll leave me alone."
Puck started making a whole host of obscene gestures, all of which Rachel couldn't see because she was fixed behind Quinn. Quinn grunted and reached for him, but Rachel pulled her back.
"I'm waiting, Quinn," Rachel scolded.
"Yeah Quinn," Puck said. "She's waiting."
"I would suggest you stay out of this, Noah," Rachel countered firmly. "Unless you'd like me to turn her loose with my blessing."
Quinn smirked at him. She wasn't in any hurry for this to be over – she liked Rachel's hands clamped over her stomach and her firm little body pressed up against her back. Rachel could scold her like this anytime.
"You both need to say sorry," Rachel urged firmly.
Puck was motioning for Quinn to pull Rachel's hands up onto her breasts. Quinn was glaring at him and looking for something long enough to hit him over the head with. She pick up a paperback and flung it hard at him. It barely missed him and Rachel grabbed her hand so she couldn't reload.
"Ha, missed," Puck taunted.
"We can stay here like this all night," Rachel said, as though that was a bad thing.
Puck was mouthing, "grab her ass," and miming for Quinn to reach around and grab Rachel's behind. At first Quinn rolled her eyes at him, but then she noticed he got a funny look on his face. It was a serious "uh oh" face. Puck's eyes shifted down and Quinn followed his gaze. His hand shot down to cover his crotch, but he wasn't fast enough and Quinn practically snarled at him. At that point he bolted out of the room and Quinn lunged at him, dragging Rachel along, as he scurried past her. Rachel managed to kick the door shut as he ran through it.
Quinn grunted and turned around, facing Rachel.
"Little one," she said, cutting her eyes hard at her. "That wasn't a smart thing to do."
Rachel frowned slightly and started backing up. Quinn followed her.
"You really don't want to get between Noah and I when we get like that," she told her, shaking her head for emphasis. "It's not a good idea."
Rachel kept walking backwards until she came up to the bed and she toppled back onto it.
"I know you're not going to hurt me," she said, looking intently at Quinn.
"Of course I'm not," Quinn scoffed. She offered her hand to Rachel to help her up. Instead, Rachel pulled hard and Quinn toppled down beside her. Rachel quickly scrambled around and got on top of her and totally in that sexy "rub yours against mine" kind of way."
This was bad. Good, but bad, really bad. Quinn's body and her still-slightly inebriated mind were have a huge debate and, at the moment, her body was winning. Everything was on full-scale red alert. She wanted her hands on Rachel in a big way.
"Rachel, you need to get off of me," Quinn said, her tone serious.
Rachel just laughed and bounced on her.
Holy fucking shit. She actually fucking bounced...on...her.
"Don't do that," Quinn said without a shred of conviction.
Quinn's mind began to shut down, switches were being thrown right and left and instinct was starting to take over. She brought her hands up and held onto Rachel's waist. It took every last ounce of self control not to run them up beneath her shirt. Quinn glimpsed a sliver of tawny bare skin peeking from beneath Rachel's shirt at the waist and groaned.
Rachel giggled.
"Rachel," Quinn said slowly shaking her head. "You really, really don't want to be doing this."
Rachel giggled again.
"Why not?" she asked innocently.
"Because," Quinn said, not trusting herself to say anything more.
"Because why not" Rachel pressed, squirming around playfully. The effects on Quinn were anything but silly.
Quinn's eyes glazed over and closed. All she could feel was the weight of Rachel pressing down on her, wiggling against her. She was squeezing her slightly with her thighs. Everything felt like it was in slow motion – moving up and down, side-to-side. It was electric.
"Last warning," Quinn said thickly. "If you don't get off me...somebody's going to get...well...and... truly..."
Rachel smiled and tucked a finger in her mouth and then batted her eyes at Quinn.
"What, Quinn?" she asked coyly, teasing.
"Tickled," Quinn said suddenly. She pushed up and rolled Rachel over onto her back and dug her fingers into her sides, tickling her fervently.
Rachel shrieked and squealed with laughter. Quinn lay on top of her, pinning her, tickling up and down as she tried to squirm away from her. So maybe her fingers grazed some places they shouldn't have, but it was still mostly all just in fun.
"Stop, stop," Rachel gasped out, pushing on Quinn's hands, then on her chest and shoulders. Quinn laughed and stopped for a minute, letting Rachel catch her breath. Then she started right back up again and Rachel howled with loud laughter. Quinn couldn't stop herself from grinning.
"You're...so...mean," Rachel gasped out between peals of laughter.
"Yes...I...am," Quinn admitted. "And you like it, too."
"No, I don't, " Rachel said without an ounce of conviction. "You're awful."
"Take it back," Quinn said, her tone airy. "You saw what I did to Puck."
"Ah," Rachel said.
Her eyes widened dramatically and she squealed then put her hands protectively over her chest. Quinn just laughed. She stopped and leaned her head into Rachel's chest.
"Are you finished," Rachel asked, desperately trying to sound indignant, but the corners of her mouth and her eyes betrayed her.
Quinn sat up and bit her lip.
"Um," she said, letting her eyes roll up in thought. "Hell no. "
She ran her fingers slightly under Rachel's shirt and skimmed them across her bare stomach. Rachel tossed and flailed and kicked but she couldn't get away from Quinn's fingers and she couldn't stop laughing either.
Quinn, on the other hand, thought her heart might explode. The sensation of having Rachel pinned beneath and her hands on her bare skin just mere inches below her breasts was starting to play havoc on her. She was breathing heavy and it wasn't all from effort. All she could think about was her fingers wrapping around Rachel's firm breasts.
This was a really, really stupid idea.
In a world where someone might not walk through her door and the likes of Finn Hudson didn't exist this situation would likely have a very different ending. But her door was unlocked and she fully expected Santana to kick it open at any moment and, like it or not, Finn Hudson very much existed. Also, like it or not, Rachel was his girlfriend. Until either of those circumstances changed, Quinn would color within the lines and play by the rules where Rachel Berry was concerned. She could tickle and wrestle and flirt and maybe even sneak a chaste kiss or hug now and then, but that was as far as it could go regardless of how much her own body pleaded with her to do otherwise. Rachel could sit up and beg her for more and Quinn would probably still decline.
Finally, winded and deflated by the reality of the situation, Quinn rolled away, but not too far away. They both lay panting heavily and snickering. Rachel felt around and found Quinn's hand, then she closed her fingers around it.
"I take it back," Rachel said, squeezing her fingers. "You're not awful."
"Thank you for saying so," Quinn answered, squeezing back.
The door burst open and Santana stepped in, frowning.
"If you two are though having tickle-fights and combing each other's hair," she said, clearly not amused. "The rest of us would like to eat sometime tonight."
With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out.
Rachel and Quinn both just giggled. Quinn rolled over and pushed at Rachel to get up. Rachel got to her feet then reached her hands out and pulled Quinn up. They playfully jostled each other all down the hall but pulled up short when they realized everyone was already seated for dinner and were all now watching them.
Suddenly feeling guilty, they sat down at the table and looked around. Everyone was still staring at them, except for Puck. He was just glaring at Quinn. She picked up a piece of broccoli and chucked it at him, hitting him in the chest. He drew back with a dinner roll but Santana slammed both hands down on the table before he could follow through.
"You let fly with one more piece of my food I swear to God I'll send both of you to your rooms," she warned. "No dinner, no alcohol."
She looked pointedly at Quinn.
"No Rachel," she threatened and Quinn felt her face go pink. Rachel cut her eyes in her direction and snickered.
"I'm dead fucking serious," Santana continued. "Stop behaving like children and eat for god's sake."
She sat down and picked up her fork.
"Amen," Brittany added with a nod.
She leaned over to Rachel.
"San's so hot when she's bossy," she told her. "She totally tops."
Rachel choked on her tea. Quinn snorted and Puck snickered into his hand. Santana glowered hotly at all of them. They all quickly picked up their forks and started eating, sneaking glances around at each other.
=^..^=
"That was so good," Rachel said, groaning. "I'm so stuffed."
"Yeah," Quinn agreed, settling back into the patio chair. She let her eyes roam across the yard and then settled them on Rachel. Her quiet inspection was interrupted by a loud, rowdy roar from inside the house.
"Goodness,," Rachel said with a laugh, looking up.
"They're playing drinking games," Quinn told her. "They make them up as they go."
"Sound interesting," Rachel remarked.
"The first 100 or so times, maybe," Quinn said, leaning back and drawing her knees up to her chest. "Mark my word, it will end badly."
Rachel sat cross-legged on the deck rolling the tennis ball to Pie. He would chew on it then spit it out and wait for her to roll it back again.
"Does he ever get tired of this," she asked.
Quinn nodded.
"Yes, eventually, " she told her. "Actually, that's the most I've seen him play in ages. He must feel good today."
"Is this yours?" Rachel cooed at him, holding up the tattered, faded yellow ball. "Is this yours?"
Pie yelped and whined, squirming and swimming across the deck in her direction.
She chuckled and rolled it to him and the whole process started all over again.
"It so nice out here," Rachel said, leaning back on her palms, looking around.
"Yeah, I love it out here," Quinn admitted. "I really bought the backyard. The house just sort-of came with it. I fall asleep sometimes just looking up at the stars."
Rachel shivered visibly and Quinn frowned. She stood up and peeled off her loose sweater.
"Here," she told Rachel. "Arms up."
Rachel put her arms in the air and Quinn slipped the sweater over her head and pulled it down. Considering how tiny she was it was not surprising she was fairly well swimming in it.
"Better?" Quinn asked.
"Yes," Rachel said and nodded. "Thank you."
Quinn smiled at her and walked back to her seat.
Rachel hugged the sweater around her and immediately noticed that it smelled like Quinn.
"It's okay to stop if you get tired," Quinn said, sitting back down again. "He'll be fine. I'm surprised he hasn't asked to go inside by now."
"How bad is..." Rachel started to ask, obviously trying to her words with care. Quinn spared her the effort.
"He has good days and bad days," Quinn admitted. "Starting to be more bad than good. I have to help him a lot more now. I don't know how much...longer."
Quinn stopped short and just shrugged.
"I don't know anymore," she said morosely.
Rachel rolled the ball again and this time it didn't come back. Zip nosed it lightly, then put his head down on his paws and closed his yes. Quinn watch and finally had to just look away. Rachel could see the uncertainty behind her expression, and she crossed over and pulled up a chair beside her.
"It's hard," Rachel said, her voice gentle. "I understand."
Quinn sighed deeply and nodded.
'I know you do," she told her, glancing over at her.
Rachel wanted to reach out and hold Quinn's hand, but sensing that it would make her uncomfortable, she didn't.
The roar from inside the house got louder followed by a loud crash and angry voices.
"Oh shit," Quinn muttered, pulling herself out of her chair. Rachel stood up beside her, tugging her shirt down, now self-conscious about it riding up. "I suppose I should be concerned about that."
"Probably so," Rachel said.
"Please don't let me kill Puck tonight, okay?" Quinn said with a laugh.
"Okay," Rachel said, smiling. "I'll keep you in check."
"Thank you," she told her.
"QUINN!"
Santana, Brittany and Puck all yelled her name at the same time and Quinn growled. Rachel chuckled and grabbed her around the wrist.
"Come on," she said, pulling on her toward the door. "Your public is calling you."
Quinn reluctantly followed after Rachel into the house.
=^..^=
Quinn sat at the kitchen table, holding up Santana's knuckles, inspecting them. They were visibly bloody and swollen.
"Good news," Quinn told her, squinting at her hand. "I don't think it's broken. Bad news, it's gonna hurt like fuck for awhile."
She prodded it with her finger and Santana hissed loudly, pulling her hand away.
"Thanks, Florence Fucking Nothing-gale," she said sourly, still wincing.
"I can't believe you actually punched him," Quinn said, still shaking her head.
"Oh right," Santana spat back at her. "You're one to talk. He's your personal hacky sack."
That made Quinn laugh.
"What exactly did he do again?" she asked.
"He made some lewd comment and then slapped at Brittany when she tried to cover his mouth, " she said heatedly. "He's lucky he still has teeth left."
Yup, he is, Quinn thought to herself, considering.
Quinn got up and dug ice cubes out of the freezer and wrapped them in a kitchen towel. She handed it to Santana.
"Here," she suggested. "Hold this on it."
Santana put the towel against her swollen knuckles, gasped in pain and then swore a bright blue streak. Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Just sit there and hold that," she instructed. "I'll take care of the dishes."
Santana smiled, then puffed her lip out dramatically when she noticed Quinn looking at her.
"Ow," she said, holding up her hand. She proffered a fake sniffle.
"Uh huh," Quinn retorted, rolling up her sleeves.
=^..^=
When Quinn finished cleaning up the kitchen, she walked into the family room and found them all happily playing again.
"Nice to see you all playing like good little boys and girls," she said sarcastically.
"Ha ha," Puck muttered, his eye starting to puff up and bruise darkly.
Santana popped him a good one, Quinn noted, snickering to herself.
"Come on," Rachel said loudly, banging her hand on the table. "Let's go."
She leaned back into Quinn and smiled up at her.
"I'm winning, " she told her happily.
"What are you playing?" Quinn asked.
"Monopoly," she said excitedly. "I'm winning."
"So you've said, twice," Quinn remarked.
Quinn couldn't believe they were actually playing Monopoly.
"Really?" she said, surprised. "Monopoly?"
"Only you have to drink lemonade instead of money." Rachel told her, nodding emphatically.
"Lemonade?" Quinn asked.
Where in the hell did they get lemonade?
She picked up one of the little shot glasses sitting on the game board and sniffed, then sipped.
"Fuck," she said furiously. "Rachel, how many of these have you had?"
"I don't know," she said, leaning back against her again. "Four or five."
"Okay, who's brilliant idea was this?" Quinn hissed, glaring hard at Puck. "As if I fucking didn't know. Why are you letting her drink that shit?"
"She wanted to play," he protested. "She's not a toddler, Quinn."
"It's just lemonade," Rachel said again, smiling and bouncing her head on Quinn's thighs. Quinn put her hand on her head. "I'm winning."
"It's not lemonade, honey," she told her. "It's a goddamn lemon drop."
"Right, lemonade," Rachel corrected.
Quinn sighed. She was tired.
She was tired of fighting with Puck. She was tired of playing host. She was tired of being around Rachel and having to behave. She was tired of worrying about Mr. Arnstein. And Pie. And Flip.
She was just tired.
"Come one, sweetie," she told her, smiling down at her. "Let's get you home so you can sleep off your lemonade."
"But I'm winning," she protested. "And I'm not tired, either. No, I'm staying."
"But you won," she told her. "Grand prize."
"Really?"" Rachel asked, looking around, confused.
Everyone nodded, even Brittany after Santana nudged her.
"What's my prize?" she asked excitedly.
"We'll figure that out on the way home," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.
Rachel stood up and immediately her knees gave way. Quinn caught her around the waist and glared at Puck, who suddenly decided to study the game board for hidden patterns.
"Oh," Rachel muttered, surprised. "I'm really...hi!"
"Hello," Quinn answered.
Santana got up and came over Quinn.
"Maybe she should just stay here," she suggested.
"That's not happening." Quinn told her.
"Put her on the couch, " she urged, but Quinn shook her head. Santana sighed.
"I'll help you," she told her. "Come on, Rachel,"
Santana looped her arm around Rachel, holding her up while Quinn gathered her things. She and Quinn walked Rachel down the driveway and poured her into the front seat, closing the door.
"You don't have to do this," she told Quinn. "You're just being stubborn."
"Probably," Quinn agreed. "So you know it's pointless to argue with me."
"I do," Santana agreed. "Well, be careful. You weren't too good earlier."
"That was several hours and a heavy meal ago," Quinn pointed out. "I'm fine. Pissed, but fine."
"Puck's right," Santana insisted. "She wanted to play."
Quinn just held up her hand and Santana stopped arguing with her.
"Night Rachel," she said, tapping on the glass to get Rachel's attention. Rachel waved and blew kisses.
"Oh yeah," Santana said, smiling. "You better hope she passes out or you're going to be in trouble."
Quinn grunted then walked to the driver's side and climbed in.
"Hi," Rachel said.
Quinn chuckled.
Five minutes into the drive, Rachel scooted over and leaned her head against Quinn. Five minute after that she was snoring quietly, her hands wrapped around Quinn's. When Quinn turned up her driveway she stirred slightly and snuggled.
"Time to get out," Quinn told her.
"No," Rachel pouted, clinging and pulling on Quinn, who detached herself gently and climbed out. She walked around and opened the passenger door.
"Come on, Rachel," she said.
Rachel looked at her, shook her head and then fell over in the seat, laughing.
"Damn it," Quinn muttered. She leaned in and grabbed Rachel's legs, pulling her across the seat. Rachel laughed and grabbed at the steering wheel but missed. Quinn got a hold of one arm and hauled her upright, then she pulled her to her feet, shutting the door behind her so she couldn't scramble back inside.
Rachel now had other ideas. She opened her arms and wrapped them around Quinn, hanging on her neck.
"I'm tipsy," she told her as though it was a secret.
"Yes," Quinn confirmed. "I believe you are."
Rachel held a finger to her lip and shush her.
"Don't tell," she said.
"Our secret," Quinn assured her, holding her upright.
"I just love your friends," she added. "I had the best time."
Quinn couldn't help but smile. Then Rachel began running her fingers up and down Quinn's neck, causing Quinn's eyes to roll back in her head.
"You smell nice," Rachel announced, nuzzling her nose into the crook of Quinn's neck, inhaling deeply.
"Just like your sweater."
"Thank you," Quinn said.
Rachel giggled at nothing then sighed deeply. It was clear she was perfectly content to stay right there in Quinn's arms as long as she could.
"Fucking Flizz," she muttered.
"Yup, fucking Flizz," Quinn repeated, mainly because she liked the sound of Rachel saying it.
"Actually, there's no fucking Flix, " Rachel whispered loudly, shushing again.
Quinn liked Rachel saying that even better.
"Not for weeks and weeks and weeks," Rachel continued. "A lot of weeks."
"Rachel," Quinn shushed her. "You might not want to share too much tonight."
"Why not?" she asked. "He'll tell you. Just ask. 'Please, Rach, please.' That's all he says anymore."
"That's... a happy thought," Quinn admitted.
"I'm really sleepy," Rachel said, snuggling against Quinn contentedly.
"Is Flizz here?" Quinn asked.
Rachel shook her head.
"Mmm mm, no," she said. "I don't know where he is. He doesn't have a key."
As if to prove it, she dangled her keys from one finger where Quinn could see them.
That made Quinn happy for some reason.
"Okay then, turn me loose, sweetie," Quinn requested.
"Mmm, 'kay," Rachel said, making no move to turn Quinn loose. She was now petting lightly on Quinn's chest.
"You're killing me here, Rachel, " Quinn said and Rachel chuckled softly and let her go.
"I'm not trying to, honest," she said earnestly, her eyes wide and impossibly soft.
"I know you aren't," Quinn reassured her.
She reached down and took Rachel's keys out of her hand. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"
Quinn helped her into the house and up the stairs. She left her laying across the bed with what she guessed were her pajamas draped over her and then went back downstairs. She checked all the door locks, then she found a bottle of water and some crackers and carried everything back upstairs.
Rachel had managed to take off one shoe and her jeans. Quinn put the water and crackers on the nightstand and pulled off her other shoe. She started to unbutton her shirt until she realized that she wasn't wearing a bra and then she stopped.
There was a limit to how much she could torture herself and that was the rope's end. She pulled Rachel up and turned back the covers on her bed.
"Come on, little one," she told her. Rachel frowned and climbed into her bed.
"I don't like this shirt," she muttered. "It's itchy."
"You'll be okay," Quinn said.
Rachel kept trying to pull it off and Quinn kept pulling her hands away.
"Help me," she whined and held up her arms. "Off."
"Just close your eyes, Rachel," Quinn urged, hoping to distract her from the shirt.
"You could stay," Rachel said, holding on to her hand. "Until I fall asleep."
"You're asleep right now," Quinn told her. "This is all a dream."
"Nope," Rachel said, shaking her head. "Not."
"How do you know" Quinn asked, smiling.
"Cause," Rachel said quietly, her eyes closing. "I know."
Thank goodness.
"Hmmm," Quinn said, brushing her hair back out of her face. "Okay, how?"
"Cause you're not kissing me," Rachel said softly, rolling over, dragging Quinn's hand with her.
Quinn was stunned into silence. Dazed, she lay down behind Rachel, leaving her arm draped over her waist.
"Quinn?" Rachel said.
"What?" Quinn asked nervously.
"Why aren't you with someone?" she asked randomly.
"I'm too fussy," Quinn replied truthfully. Well, that's what Santana said anyway.
"I don't think you're fussy, " she replied. "I think you're nice."
"Yes," Quinn agreed. "Nice and fussy."
"I have an audition tomorrow," Rachel blurted out.
"God, Rachel, "Quinn scolded softly. "Why didn't you say something. It's so late and you're..."
"Yeah, I know, " Rachel admitted. "I just didn't want to be by myself tonight."
"You could have just said that," Quinn told her. "We could have just...I would have been fine staying here."
"I think you're more comfortable with your friends around," she said quickly. "I think you get nervous."
"I'm alone with you right now," she told her. "Do I look nervous?"
"I can't see you," Rachel said.
There were quiet giggles.
"Okay then," Quinn said, laughing. "Do I sound nervous."
Rachel smiled and shook her head.
"I must admit that you're putting on a brave front," she told her.
"It's a struggle, but I'm trying," Quinn teased.
"You're doing an admir...admun...adir," Rachel stammered, unable to pronounce the word she wanted. "You're doing a good job."
"I guess," Quinn said.
"Why are you quiet?" Rachel asked. "I like you talking to me."
"Rachel, I can't not say it any longer," Quinn said, slowly shaking her head. "It probably will come across as totally self-serving, all things considered and maybe it is, but why are you with him? I mean, it's just so..."
Quinn struggled to find the words.
"I'm not very good with relationships," Rachel admitted. "I tend to cling and be... needy and demanding and all the things you aren't supposed to be."
"Sorry, still not getting it," Quinn remarked.
"I didn't have much experience...in high school...with boys, " she said quietly. "Or, well, any really. College was only slightly better, but considering most of the boys in my program were gay...it's a wonder I ever managed to...well, anyway."
Quinn listened, trying to make sense of her rambling, looking for anything that would help her to understand what seemed beyond comprehension.
"When I first came out here, it was a struggle, " she admitted. "I wasn't getting any work. I didn't have many, well, any friends. Then I met Finn and it was different. Nobody like him had ever been interested in me before."
What, a selfish twit? Quinn was struggling to keep her thoughts to herself.
"I know you haven't experienced him at him best," Rachel said. "But he does have moments, honestly, he does."
"I'm going to have to take you at your word," Quinn said unconvinced.
"I wish you could like him," Rachel said, sadly. "Just a little."
"No, Rachel," Quinn answered, more than a little bit angry. "You don't. Don't wish that because it's not going to happen. It just isn't. I tolerate him and only just barely. And only for..."
Quinn sighed, pulled away and rolled over on her back.
"For me," Rachel said.
"Yeah," Quinn said. "Yes."
"Thank you," Rachel said.
"He's not worthy," Quinn finally offered. "You have to know that, don't you?"
Rachel didn't answer her.
"Okay," Quinn announced, sitting up. "You're safe and in your bed. I'm going home."
She scooted off the bed and Rachel rolled over watching her.
"Sleep tight, chickadee," Quinn told her with a wave. She turned to go.
Rachel scramble from beneath the covers and scooted across the bed.
"Smee!" she said and Quinn stopped, sighing.
"Yes?" she asked, turning back again.
"Thank you for tonight," she said. "It was really...I had so much fun."
"Too much, " Quinn scolded, teasing.
"Maybe a little," Rachel admitted.
"From now on, don't drink things my friends give you," Quinn suggested.
"Mmm," Rachel nodded, her eyes drooping again. "Good tip."
"Night, sweetie," Quinn said. "I'll lock the door after myself."
"There's a key on the hall table," Rachel told her. "You can take it with you."
"I don't...it's...I..." Quinn sputtered. "Fine. Goodnight, Rachel."
She turned again and managed a step or two.
"Quinn," Rachel called after her. "Wait."
"What?" Quinn asked. This could go on for hours if she didn't fall asleep soon.
"Can I have a kiss?" Rachel asked, looking up at her through her lashes.
"Excuse me?" Quinn asked.
"You know, for tomorrow, for luck?" Rachel explained.
Quinn chuckled.
"So you can be amazing?" Quinn asked.
"Yes," Rachel said, nodding. "Not to mention I'm an actress, so I'm rather superstitious."
She slurred the last word into nothing but "superssssssss."
"Oh really," Quinn said, arching her brow suspiciously. "Funny I haven't really noticed that about you."
"Oh yes," Rachel assured her. "Lots of rituals and supersssss, more than you'd ever guess."
"Uh huh," Quinn said.
Quinn just looked at her, then leaned in and pressed her lips firmly against her warm, smooth cheek, and pulled back.
"Um," Rachel said.
"Yes?" Quinn asked, smirking.
"Not to be stickler, but..." Rachel said and hesitated. "I mean, for the sake of..."
"Superstition?"
"Yes, superssss, sup... right, exactly," Rachel said. "I mean, last time it wasn't on the cheek."
"And last time you didn't get the part either," Quinn reminded her.
"Maybe it was because I was wearing that mask thingee," she said, winding her finger up and down in front of her lips. "You know and it's possible that it prevented the full effect of the..."
Quinn leaned forward and pressed her lips against Rachel's, stopping her in mid-thought. She held them there for a more than a few quick beats of her hammering heart. When she felt Rachel press harder and move toward her she quickly pulled back.
"Better?" she asked, swallowing hard.
"Um, yes, much, absolutely," Rachel said. "I'm sure that's...very...lucky.
"Goodnight, Rachel," Quinn said. She leaned in and kissed her again softly, just barely brushing this time.
"For insurance," she told her.
Before Rachel could say or do anything more, Quinn walked out of the room and quickly down the stairs. She paused and briefly considered sleeping on the sofa. Then she also considered the possibility that right that very instant Rachel might be pulling that itchy camp shirt off and immediately rejected the idea. She couldn't be in the same house with her. Not right now. Not tonight.
She crossed to the hall table and picked up the key, then she went through the front door, locking the deadbolt after herself. She slipped the key on her key ring, got into her car and drove home, trying not to think of Rachel the entire way, but failing miserably.
=^..^=
