Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters (though I do own the fantastic Ms. Powers and Maria Arioso) or Don't Rain on My Parade.
A/N: Hey everyone, here's another chapter of Just A Kiss for you. I've been reading comments from the last few chapters and wow, everyone is a huge fan of Maria. Maria's a real person (though the real Maria isn't pierced up, doesn't cuss to get her point across, and her name isn't… well, Maria—she's still just as dry, sarcastic, and therapeutic though), so I'm glad you're a fan of her.
I enabled anonymous comments reviews, so you don't need an account on to review (but if you do have an account, it'd be nice if you could review with it, because I love to read other people's stories). I know some of you might not have accounts, so I wanted to make sure EVERYONE could comment :)
Thanks to becauseyouscareme, wsupanonnymous, illunyx: Thank you so much! That's a huge compliment! SHAfD is a classic!, Music and reading Lover, RUlov3r, aquarius127, razberry1, AnaFaberry, StuffedLion: Thanks! And you're right, it's kind of a stylistic thing with me. My essay writing is much more concise than my story writing, G6-flying, thetamarine: Rachel attended a different school than the rest of the Glee Kids. Quinn is the only person she attended school with in this story :), ch3lsk0: I was MORE than happy to fulfill your request :) I think everyone needed a break from Rachel's angst., w1cked, pumpkin513: ¡Muchas gracias! Princesakarlita411, nightshade88, Cassi3, Novak Fan, redashford, Confused-Ninja-Elf, d80p: Rachel only has experience with boys and Hiram never imparted on her the wonders of having a gaydar. But everything will be alright in the end :), DAgron01, Directions: Thank you so much! If I'm amazing, then you must be more amazing because it's people like you that give me the power to write!, C1989, kiarcheo: Rachel only has boy experience and is distracted at the moment… and lacks a gaydar :P 100ways, ImGonnaFindMyPurpose, BleachedBlondeDork: Thank you, Cathy!, imaferrari: You've got it nailed head on. Their emotions are so powerful, they really don't know how to handle 'em. :) freaky-icefairy: Personally, I NEVER imagined writing a Lucy Quinn story because it was just impossible and yucky. But here's the story :P sugarspiceandnotsonice: Don't feel bad! Better late than never, right? And I totally appreciate your comment it makes me smile! hotmesh, AnAngelandHisHunter, gleefulness, .: Here's the chapter. And it seems that EVERYONE loves Maria :P smartblonde317, karlymorrig, there., DismantleMe, Athyna DaughterofPosiedon, LoveSKINS94, blueskyhawk, itsnickyyall, Lexi-Nicole21, irrationallyrational: Thank you!, and Fan for their lovely comments.
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Enjoy the story, and I would LOVE to hear what you all think of it.
Chapter 10: 'Don't Rain on My Parade'
"You can't be serious."
There was simply no way that Maria Arioso could actually be suggesting that performance. That routine.
But the smirk on the red head's lips told an entirely different story—Maria was serious.
Because the grin on the Irish-Italian's face? It wasn't the shit-eating "I told you so" grin that she wore on a daily basis because she felt Rachel was "such a damn nudge."
No. This grin was the dangerous "don't let those idiots fuck with you/of course I'm being perfectly serious, I'm not fucking with you/you're on your own" grin.
Rachel knew what that grin meant first hand. That grin induced fight or flight and panic attacks. Because the events that often followed those scary smirks tended to end in injury or embarrassment.
Freshman year, Maria thought it'd be fun to visit their middle school teachers. Rachel, of course, wholeheartedly agreed with the statement. They set a day to walk over after choir practice.
They hadn't counted on there being a plethora of security guards wandering the public turned charter school, demanding that the two girls go up to the entrance of the school and get 'visitors' badges.'
And despite Maria's insane want to 'emasculate the smug prick,' they walked to the front of the school, only to find that administration wasn't present.
Of course, that pissed Rachel's friend off quite a bit, ('they tell me to go goddamned security and they aren't there to serve me?' the Italian had muttered, ringing the bell on the counter continuously, searching about for some time of life. 'Someone needs to dock their fucking pay!') leading her to suggest that they sneak in.
Rachel, of course, told Maria to have patience, only to be screamed at, and told to "stop being such a goody two shoes and SCREW security!" before being dragged down the moderately empty halls of Calvin Coolidge Middle School by a cranky redhead.
Maria's shouting, unfortunately, drew the attention of a nearby bike cop.
The Italian swore as she heard his approach and alarmed shout down the hall before she patted the guitarist on the shoulder, gave that shitty smile, and disappeared in a gust of warm air.
Rachel had been escorted to the front of the school, questioned, threatened with arrest if she ever returned, and picked up by her disappointed Papa after a very furious guard chased a scared brunette down several halls on his handy dandy bike.
And Maria?
Maria got away clean! Fuck, she got to sit in their former chemistry teacher's room and eat sixth period's leftover 'chem dogs' and S'mores roasted over the janky old Bunsen burners.
"Sure, I'm serious," Maria drawled, reveling in the abject horror playing across her friend's features. "Come on, Rach. You and I both know you want to kick New Infections—."
"New Directions."
"—in the family jewels for not appreciating talent," the pierced redhead proclaimed. "If you can't get it across to them by your audition, then the only thing you can do is go for a killer performance. You and I both know this. We agreed on this."
"Yes, yes," Rachel waved her hand absently, standing up from the chair and dropping down on the bed in front of the iPhone. "I sing, jaws drop, the birdies nest in their jaws. But don't you think the Streisand number is a little-."
"Much?" Maria rolled her eyes. "Yes. But that's the whole point. You want them to know you're the real deal, Rach. And the only way to do that is by pulling out Barbra. It's time for you to stop playing the demure angel and start being the fucking performing God I know you are."
"But-."
"This isn't up for debate, smurf," the redhead waved up near the camera lens. "You're doing the Streisand piece, and that's final."
The singer shook her head, sighing. A little smile took residence on her lips. "Why are you always right?"
"Because," Maria smirked, "I'm Maria fuckin' Arioso, smurf."
The guitarist rolled her eyes. "You're not conceited at all."
"Shut up," the redhead snapped, before motioning to the closet behind Rachel. "Get up. We need to find something other than your sad Chuck Taylors and stupid leather jacket for you to perform in."
"Says the girl who bought me said items," Rachel muttered, groaning as she pushed up from the bed and pulled open the closet.
"You still have that drool-inducing dress we bought before you left home to come to Hicksville, Ohio?" Maria inquired as her friend rummaged through the clothes.
"Yeah, why?" Rachel threw a glance over her should.
"Because that's what your sexy ass is wearing for the performance," Maria grinned.
An eyebrow rose in surprise. "You want me to wear my Jazz Slave dress to performance Barbra?"
"Yes."
"That's so-."
"Rach, this is not the time for you and your damn admiration for Barbra Streisand!" the Italian snapped. "The dress looks hot as hell on you, it's sure to get you some attention, and I don't think anything else in your punk-emo-skater inspired ware is worthy enough of Barbra goddamn Streisand either! So stop complaining and get your butt downstairs."
"For what?" Rachel asked curiously.
"To make sure you haven't gone all flabby or lost that supposed 'pitch perfect' voice during your stay with Nude Erections," Maria answered.
Rachel scowled. "It's not-."
"Downstairs!"
"What's the garment bag for, Rachel?"
God, if Rachel could put a penny on each time someone asked her that question that morning, she'd be a fucking millionaire by now.
The guitarist spent the rest of the night running through choreography and singing with Maria barking down her back.
The routine had proven a bit more difficult than she originally intended. The choreography (before Maria's three hour training program) had been a bit on the sloppy side. Rachel's singing, however, had been as pitch perfect as Rachel bragged it would be.
Putting the two together? Not as easy as thought.
Especially when Maria put her in the stilettos to go with the dress. Now that hadn't been fun.
Maria was a fun-loving soul when it came to everyday matters. She enjoyed pulling pranks, smart-assed comments, and everything in between.
Performing, however, was Maria's lifeblood.
No one (with the exception of Ms. Powers) was a tougher customer to please than Maria Arioso.
Especially when Maria Arioso was the one to choreograph the whole fucking routine.
And Arioso routines were a pain in the ass to dance and sing perfectly in pitch to.
Rachel's muscles ached a good deal more than they ought before giving a performance. She could feel her biceps burn in protest as she shut her locker closed, shooting Tina a wincing smile as she turned to face her.
"I'm doing a little performance for Glee this afternoon and needed a change of clothes," the singer explained, leaning against the lockers and groaning in relief as the weight was taken off her sore legs.
"You look a little worse for wear, Rach," Tina frowned, taking in the guitarist's pained posture. "What happened?"
"My 'coach' went a little trigger happy with the preparation," the back of Rachel's head slammed against the locker.
"Coach?" Tina questioned with a raise of her eyebrow. "I didn't know you were taking dancing lessons."
"I'm not," lids closed contentedly over reddish brown irises. "…Did I ever tell you about my friend, Maria?"
"Maria?" the Asian frowned briefly, digging through her memory before her eyes lit up in recognition. "The smart aleck?"
"That's the one!" Rachel nodded, sliding down the locker to sit on the floor, burying her face in her arms. "She ran me ragged last night preparing for this."
"That wasn't smart on her part, was it?" Tina crouched down, rubbing a sympathetic hand on the girl's shoulder.
"You've got no idea," the guitarist groaned.
"Are you going to be able to perform?"
"I think I will be," Rachel sighed. "I've performed much worse than this."
And she had. Many times. During the Carnegie Hall performance, she'd had a 103 degree temperature and managed to perform the Barbra Streisand routine so well the crowd awarded the choir with a standing ovation.
If she could sing and dance feverish and hallucinating, she could certainly pull off a small performance like this one. She had to if she wanted to gain any semblance of respect from those morons in Glee Club.
Because honestly? She was tired of hearing them claim that she'd stolen their solos when they'd done fair auditions. She was tired of hearing them say that her talent was nothing more than a fluke.
Fuck, she was just tired of having to put up with all the stupid idiots in Lima, Ohio. Today, she'd put it all to rest. She'd nail down the lid on their stupid prejudices and maybe start to gain some respect as someone other than "the new kid" or "the single faggot's" daughter.
Tightening her fist against the fabric of her jeans, Rachel forced herself to her feet, ignoring the crunch and pop of her protesting limbs.
She'd do this. She'd knock it out of the park!
"Can you make it to Spanish?"
Rachel smiled over at a concerned Tina, nodding, then motioning off down the hallway. "Yeah, definitely. Wanna head there now?"
The guitarist grew puzzled as the Goth's brow furrowed confusedly, narrow eyes searching up and down the hall.
"But… aren't you going to wait for Quinn?"
The question threw Rachel off. "I don't need to wait for Quinn every morning, Tina. It's alright, we can go."
The girl blinked. "But… you always walk to first period with The Unholy Trinity."
'Really?' Rachel thought to herself. Had she really been walking to first period with Quinn lately? She didn't exactly remember. The days in Lima bled together into one confusing mess.
Hell, Lima, Ohio was one confusing mess.
The brunette shook her head. Back to the topic at hand. Had she really spent that much time with the Unholy Trinity?
Rachel scowled as the realization came upon her. Fuck, Tina was right.
Quinn hounded her about the cut on her hand. Ever since the damned coffee da-… meeting, the two certainly had become much closer.
Though she sat with Tina during most classes, Quinn was close by. At lunch, the blonde took up Tina's space at the table, or sat across and chatted idly with the guitarist.
In the mornings, they had been walking together, Rachel realized. Because Quinn was her Finn shield when Tina didn't show up bright and early as Rachel did.
Tina had been Rachel's first real friend in Ohio. She introduced her to McKinley's warped caste system and the intricate workings of loser/jock relations. The Goth stood up for her when those idiots tried to slushy her that first day, and Tina paid the price.
She hadn't hung out or spoken with her friend very much the past few days. Rachel had been so caught up in her drama, she'd forgotten the people that really mattered.
A bandaged hand tightened over the leather strap of Rachel's messenger bag, twinges of guilt saturating her mind.
Goddamn, was she a terrible friend.
"Crap," the brunette whispered, scratching the back of her neck nervously. "I'm really sorry about that, Tina. I haven't been paying attention to you and Artie lately at lunch, it's just… everything's been so goddamn confusing lately."
The Goth chuckled. "It's alright, Rachel. We understand. You're still trying to get adjusted down here, Mr. Schue's piling all those solos on you, and Quinn's taking a real interest in you… How's that going by the way?"
"It's just as fucking confusing as everything else in my life," Rachel stated frankly, beginning to walk down the hall toward their Spanish class. "I know things work really differently here at McKinley than at my own school, but I'm used to the big fish swimming with the big fish and the guppies staying with the guppies."
"I think just about everyone in the school's as confused as you are about Quinn," Tina shook her head. "It's not that you aren't awesome to hang out with or anything, Rachel—because you are—but you really have to understand that Quinn's taken us all by surprise."
"At the beginning of the year she was a bitch," the Asian stated frankly. "She couldn't have given a care in the world whether or not the Glee Clubbers got picked on. She only gave a damn whether or not we had corn syrup thrown in our faces."
"Then you came… and…" the girl shrugged helplessly. "Well, she did a total 360. She's just as nice as she was during her pregnancy. I don't know what makes you so special to her, Rach… but for some reason, Quinn really seems to see something in you."
Rachel groaned as they rounded a corner. "Does everything in this fucking town have to be so dramatic and confusing? It's like a bad tv show."
"I suppose you could say that everything that doesn't happen in the real world," Tina began, sending her friend an out of character smirk, "happens in Lima."
"No way," Rachel murmured sarcastically.
"But let me just say," the Goth continued, ignoring Rachel's sardonic expression, "that despite the amount of drama that circulates around here, you seem to be some sort of bizarre magnet for drama."
Rachel smiled. "You know, that's what Maria says."
"Really?" Tina's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Then she must be pretty brilliant."
"…That's something she'd say too."
"Scratch that. Your friend's a genius."
"What's with the garment bag, Berry?"
Rachel lifted her head just enough off of her desk to see playful hazel orbs smiling down upon her. "Performance. Glee Club. L'eve me 'lone." She dropped her head back between her arms, closing her eyes.
God did she feel tired, and it was only first period. She couldn't deal with this right now.
She couldn't deal with Quinn Fabray, the biggest enigma in the fucking joint. Her poor brain didn't have the power to process anything at this moment.
Spanish class had been hell to go through today. Mr. Schue decided to spend yet another day on the Spanish subjunctive, using yet another slide show to get his damn points across. Rachel spent the show trying not to nod off to sleep, with Tina poking her copiously to make sure she enver fell asleep.
They'd finished early and were allowed to talk about the room. Tina had left her with a stern 'get a little rest' before walking over to talk a little bit with Mike Chang about… well, whatever it is that Asians talked about.
All she wanted right now was an Advil, an electric blanket, and a good hour's worth of sleep. But of course, she wasn't going to get that, not when said Cheerleader was in the vicinity.
Rachel heard the scrape of the chair beside her as Quinn occupied Tina's empty chair, the legs of the furniture scraping the floor as she turned it to face the guitarist.
For a few precious moments, Rachel really thought that Quinn was actually going to leave her alone to use what precious remaining time they had left to rest. The singer made herself more comfortable on the makeshift pillow of the desk, burrowing further into her own arms as she drifted off further into slumber land.
But of course, that was a far away dream. Because Quinn had to poke her.
"Mpffghh," Rachel turned away from the probing finger. "Leave me alone, Fabray. Go conjugate some irregular verbs in the subjunctive… 'r somethin'."
"Rachel," another harsh poke. "Get up. Class is going to end in six minutes. You can't fall asleep."
"I can," Rachel said stubbornly. "And I will."
"I'm not going to let you." *Poke* "Up, Berry."
"…"
*Worried Sigh* "Did you sleep last night at all, Berry?"
"…Yes."
"How many hours?"
"…Four."
*Frustrated sigh* "Berry, I thought you were going to start taking care of yourself."
"I am taking care of myself Quinn," the singer lifted a hand and pointed down at the desk. "I am taking advantage of the rest of class so I can sleep."
"You wouldn't have this problem if you just slept on time in the first place, Rachel," Quinn argued stubbornly.
"Well not everyone can go to sleep early like the magnificent Quinn Fabray," the guitarist lifted her head to glare at the cheerleader. "Some of us are busy. Some of us need practice before we can be perfect."
"Do I detect a hint of resentment in that statement?" Quinn chuckled, brushing chocolate strands out of Rachel's eyes.
"Yes," the brunette huffed. "Yes, you do."
"Well then," a smirk settled on ruby tinted lips, "your resentment is delicious."
"...Do me a favor, Quinn?" Rachel blinked innocently.
"Yeah?"
"Don't copy your scary ass cheerleading coach."
"Don't cuss, Berry."
"I don't think you can really talk, Fabray," the brunette said with a grin on her lips. "You cursed like a sailor when I hurt my hand."
"That's different," hazel eyes softened, eyes falling to the bandaged hand. "You… you got hurt, Rachel."
"It was-."
"A little nick?" Gentle green orbs turned fierce amber as Quinn thrust a finger into Rachel's shoulder, glaring fiercely. "Sure, little nicks bleed all over the place. That 'little nick' wasn't wrapped up or disinfected well. You need to make sure that those 'little nicks' you get aren't getting infected, Rachel!"
The bell rang off somewhere in the distance. Students messily gathered up their things, shoved them in their bags, and continued on to their next classes.
Rachel studied the greenish-amber color of Quinn's eyes and the tense stance of the girl's shoulders with reddish brown orbs.
And as always, she could not read beyond the barriers Quinn erected about her countenance. Couldn't see anything beyond the concern and frustration displayed in those strange hazel eyes.
Rachel sighed, closing her eyes. She couldn't deal with this right now. There was still so much to sort out.
This thing with Quinn Fabray, whatever it was, had to wait. The guitarist came to Lima with the sole purpose of figuring out the separation. Nothing more, nothing less.
She plastered a smile, a false smile designed to hide her pain, her sadness, on her lips before looking up at Quinn.
"I'm sorry, Quinn," Rachel gathered her things up in her arms, slinging the garment bag over her shoulder. "You're right… I should be a lot more careful. It's just… been so difficult adjusting to Lima, you know?"
It was a little sad to make the same excuses again and again. And really tiring to listen to. But it was necessary. To preserve her sanity and her façade.
If Quinn Fabray hadn't been so damn good at wiggling past her goddamn barriers, she wouldn't have to lie so much. One misstep could mean spilling herself to the cheerleader.
And Rachel didn't quite trust Quinn Fabray enough to talk to her about her 'problems.' In fact, she didn't plan to tell the cheerleader anything. Hopefully, her time in Lima would be short and sweet—get the facts and get the Hell out.
It appeared Quinn bought the act. The haze of amber rage in the girl's eyes died down to deep, gentle green as the snarl on her pretty lips faded. "I'm… sorry, Rachel. It's just…"
"I'm not careful?" Rachel shook her head, chuckling slightly as they started to walk to the next class. "Yeah. It's... kind of my thing."
"That doesn't give me an excuse to act like a bitch," Quinn frowned. "It's just… I take my… my friends' safety very seriously. I don't like to see people hurting."
"Perfectly understandable," Rachel smiled. "I was in the wrong anyway. Don't worry about it. So why don't you scoot off to your evil Chemistry class and we'll catch up at lunch, hmm?"
A perfectly shaped brow shot up in surprise. "That's it, Berry? I thought you'd be a little bit more"
Rachel shrugged. "Just because I like to argue, that doesn't mean that I don't know when I'm in the wrong. I'll freely acknowledge when I'm wrong. You, however…"
"You really want to go down that road, Berry?"
"At this time, no," Rachel nodded her head toward her classroom. "I'd rather not be late for class, no matter how boring it is."
"Alright, Berry," Quinn smiled, turning off in the opposite direction. "Prepare to have a smack down at lunch."
"Fine with me, as long as you don't care about losing," the guitarist smirked.
Hazel eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously. "Why you-."
Rachel squeezed through the door of her classroom, laughing and waving. "Talk to you later, Fabray!"
Tanned fingers clasped onto the porcelain bowl of the sink, trembling as one hand went to sweep choppy bangs out of brown eyes.
'This is it,' Rachel thought, staring determinedly at herself in the mirror. 'This is my moment to prove that I'm supposed to be here. In New Directions. They won't be able to say anything against me after this.'
Her heart pounded in her chest as lids closed over dark orbs. She pulled a shuddering breath in, the hand on her forehead falling down to the golden Star of David her Papa had given her so many years ago.
'When you need me there,' he'd said, holding her close against his strong chest, 'just give it a squeeze and I am, kochav. I swear it to you. I am always right next to your heart.'
She could almost feel the pressed folds of his scrubs against her fingers and the anise-like spiciness of his cologne.
It felt so wrong. So wrong to do something so grand without him. He'd been there whenever she'd performed this song. From the first moment she did the simple routine with Ms. Powers, to the moment she'd performed in Carnegie Hall with the new and improved Arioso version.
This was the song he'd sing to her when she came home crying from the stinging insults of her peers. He'd sing it low in that rich tenor, holding her against his chest, swearing that she would get the best of those bullies someday. When the world had been against them in San Diego, he'd cradle her in his arms and sing it to her.
But Hiram Berry wasn't in Lima. He wasn't even in Ohio. He was in California, most likely sitting at the lonely little coffee table he and Rachel drank coffee from ritually. He was in that small little apartment…
…Alone.
But he'd said he was there. He said he'd always be there, right in the cool rungs of the necklace hanging about her neck.
She believed him.
Rachel pushed herself up, opening her eyes, a tint of determined red flaring up about the center of her irises.
She pushed open the door of the bathroom, slinging her garment bag over her shoulder along with her messenger bag, the flowing skirt of the black mid-thigh dress billowing up in the confidence of her stride.
'Everyone's gonna drool over you when you start singing for the band geeks!' The guitarist could see Maria smirking over the dress, holding it up to Rachel's slight frame the day they'd found it in Nordstrom's Rack. 'You'll be eye candy and ear porn for those old Jazz codgers.'
They were there. Everyone that mattered was right there. Around her neck, in every crease of the dress… in her heart.
She could do this.
Twelve sets of eyes rose to meet her as she strode into the room. Tina smiled, giving her a thumbs-up whilst Kurt and Mercedes' jaws dropped. The mohawked punk—Noah, she'd thought his name was—eyed her like a piece of meat.
Finn was shifting nervously in his seat, eyes wide as he tried to look anywhere but Rachel, muttering 'mailman, mailman, mailman,' under his breath.
Santana gave her an amused smirk, leaning further into Brittany's shoulder while her blonde companion clapped excitedly.
And Quinn?
Quinn's eyes seemed darker. Darker than they had ever been, even when the blonde had been upset. They fluttered up and down Rachel's form shamelessly before settling on the singer's stern features.
"What's the getup for, Tiny?" The Latina spoke up as Rachel dropped her things on the chair beside Tina.
"It's for-."
"Damn, you are a hot jew," Noah's eyes ran down her body again, making Rachel shiver at the unpleasantness of it. "…Wanna make out."
"No, I-."
"Ohmigod," Brittany wiggled excitedly, blue eyes glinting brightly. "Are you going to dance to the Gummy Bear song? 'Cause an awesome dancing, hot dwarf like you could totally pull it off."
Rachel sighed, closing her eyes. Goddamit, couldn't she just sing her song and get it all over with? She'd already summoned up her courage. It had to get done before she lost it all.
Then again, if they couldn't even take her seriously, was there any chance they could even respect her after she sang?
"Guys, guys," Mr. Schue clapped his hands. The room quieted instantaneously as Schue clapped a hand over Rachel's shoulder. "Did you want to share something today, Rachel?"
"Yes, I would, Mr. Schue, thank you," the guitarist smiled, before turning to the Glee Clubbers sternly.
"I know that some of you… aren't very fond of me," Kurt and Mercedes huffed at this, rolling their eyes as Rachel pinned them with a frown. "I know some of you think I can't sing well. So I prepared a number today to show you what I can really do."
"Is it-."
"No, Hummel," Rachel glared, making the well-coiffed boy shrink in his seat. "It's not choral music. I figure since this is show choir… why not do something a little older…?"
The girl shook her head, looking about the choir room. "But I can't do it in here. Is it possible to go to the auditorium? I'd really love to have some room to work."
"Sure, Rachel," Mr. Schue smiled. He addressed the rest of the group. "Come on, guys. Let's head to the auditorium."
Rachel watched as one by one, the Glee Clubbers filed out behind their teacher. The nerves built in her stomach, even as she tried once more to tame them with the press of the silver necklace against her chest.
She jumped as a gentle hand fell on her bare shoulder, looking up to find deep greens looking into chocolate brown, a serious look painted on their wearer's face.
Quinn worried a full lower lip, eyes dropping to the floor briefly before straightening, determined.
Rachel stiffened as the cheerleader stepped into her personal space and drew so close, she could count every dark lash framing those disconcerting eyes. Her heart pounded, fingers digging further into the silky, black texture of her dress.
God, what did she do? Was Quinn still annoyed about earlier, even though she joked around with Rachel all during lunch? Was she mad about Finn's reaction? About Puck's?
What had she done?
Air left her lungs in a single torrent as soft lips pressed against her cheek.
...Oh.
Quinn pulled back, red stained across pale cheeks as she smiled bashfully at the petrified singer, squeezing her shoulder.
"Good luck."
The Head Cheerleader disappeared in a twirl of red pleats, walking out the door after her teammates, leaving Rachel stunned and rosy face in the middle of the empty choir room.
A trembling hand lifted to the spot where Quinn's lips placed themselves.
Fuck.
'So much for not dealing with Quinn problems right now.'
Slim digits grasped at silk red curtains. Muscles tensed as a stilettoed heel braced itself against the descending sets of stairs.
'Breath. Concentrate. Feel the music. Be it.'
The echo of the first phrase hit her ears. Rachel's slight figure snapped to, throwing the curtains open as she opened her mouth, drawing air and preparing to sing the first lines.
"Don't tell me not to live just sit and putter, life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"
She strutted down the aisle, belting the words with fire in her heart, looking into New Directions' eyes.
"Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to! If someone takes a spill it's me and not you. Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?"
She pointed at Kurt and Mercedes, their eyes widening as she continued to sing.
Here was the hard part… concentrate, focus.
"I'll march my band out, I''ll beat my drum! And if I'm fanned out…"
The guitarist spun into Mike Chang's lap, smiling coyly at him as she continued on. "Your turn at bat, sir. At least I didn't fake it, hat, sir. I guess I didn't make it…"
Rachel slid from Mike, sliding her fingers down his arms before climbing the steps onto the stage.
The music swelled and with it, Rachel's voice grew, booming through the auditorium, never wavering in its strength. The choreography grew more complex as the singing grew more intense.
The Glee Club sat in stunned awe, each entirely transfixed with every movement of Rachel's lithe body across the stage, drugged by the certainty and loveliness of her voice.
Kurt and Mercedes grasped at each other, unable to comprehend how such a large voice could fit in so small a person. Puck sat, smirking broadly as Rachel executed a complicated step with relative ease. Tina merely smiled with the rest of the club, enjoying the show.
Quinn Fabray was utterly engrossed with every move, leaning forward in her chair, catching the brunette's eyes whenever she fell from a spin. Her mouth creased in a soft smile as her leg caught time with the music.
The brunette moved fluidly, muscles flexing powerfully, flowing to every step committed to memory. They did not fail and collapse, despite their soreness. Simply moved in compliance with the singer's wishes.
"Nobody, no, nobody…" the notes from the last bar faded out of existence as Rachel extended her arms, sending a fierce glare toward the naysayers in the club. "Is gonna… rain on my… parade!"
She threw her arms up, voice soaring high above the music as fists clenched powerfully. A roar of applause from the Glee Club met her ears, sending her smiling as she broke off, the lights in the auditorium dying with the last notes.
Each of the members approached her, embracing her, accepting her. Kurt nodded towards her through the crowd, a smile on his lips. Mercedes simply nodded and admitted solemnly 'you've definitely got one hell of a voice, Mama.'
Artie pulled her into his lap as he and Tina pressed their arms about her, whispering 'brilliant' into her ear.
A warm hand grabbed at the singer's arm, pulling her off of Artie and into strong arms. The scent of strawberries and the scratch of polyester fabric strong on Rachel's senses.
"Good job, Streisand," a soft, husky voice whispered softly against her ear.
Chills erupted down Rachel's spine as the congratulator pressed a kiss to her cheek, soft, glossed lips making her heart pound desperately.
Several other club members pulled the singer away from warm arms, hazel and brown meeting and forming a searing connection for a fraction of a moment as the Glee kids began to badger Rachel with questions.
Thoughts of hazel eyes began to leave Rachel's mind as people pull her into more hugs and start to converse with her freely.
Later on in the day, when everyone clears from the auditorium and Rachel is back in her normal apparel, sitting on the steps of McKinley High and waiting for Leroy to pick up, she smiles quietly to herself.
Lima, Ohio… even though it was confusing as fuck and left Rachel with a constant migraine?
…It started to feel a bit more like home each day.
A/N: Did you like it? Hate it? Sort of like it? Let me know what you think!