Title: Converge
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.
Summary: AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.
"Rachel and I—we were—are…girlfriends."
The words are stilted and awkward as they pour from Quinn's mouth and she sort of flinches after she's finished saying them. She looks down at the floor, not embarrassed but scared. She's never told anyone outside of Puck and Kenneth about her relationship, past and present, with Rachel and not have any type of physical repercussions to show for it.
Emma watches Quinn's unsure and uneasy posture. It's obvious that her sexuality is something she's been battling for a long time. Her job here is to help Quinn get past everything that's happened to her and to accept her sexuality. However, when Quinn suddenly lifts her head, chin jutting out with an air of defiance to her, Emma fights the proud smile that wants to overtake her features.
"Okay."
Quinn's jaw drops to the floor as her eyes widen, her air of aloofness gone. She looks toward Emma in shock. "Okay? That's it?"
"Of course, that's it," she says with a smile. "What am I supposed to say? I'm glad that you're finally able to tell me the nature of your relationship with Rachel. But really, what else am I supposed to say?"
"I…" Quinn is at a loss. "Aren't you going to tell me it's wrong? It's immoral. It's degrading. That I should marry a nice, young man."
"Those sound like things that were told to you. Do you really believe them?"
Quinn looks down at her hands, remembering how perfectly they fit with Rachel's own. How her body molded into Rachel's. How good it felt to kiss her, touch her, smell her. "I don't know what I believe anymore," she mumbles.
Emma nods at that. The majority of young women seemed to have a problem with their identity. She can't possibly imagine how hard it is for Quinn to know who she is when she's been told to be someone else her whole life.
"Tell me this, Quinn. How does Rachel feel about you?"
"She loves me," she responds with a smile.
"How do you feel about her?"
Quinn begins to fidget. "I haven't told her in years how I feel about her. I'm not sure I can."
"You're not telling her," Emma coaxes gently. "You're telling me. So it shouldn't be as hard."
"I –I'm not sure I can do this."
"Do you love her?"
She sighs. Why is Emma pushing so many fucking buttons? She's pushing in the wrong direction. Quinn thinks that Emma might be a fraud. If she were a real shrink, like the ones she had at her boarding school, she wouldn't be indulging in such questions.
"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to," is all Quinn says.
Emma writes into her notepad. "We can deal with that part a little later. But right now, I just want you to tell me how you feel. Do you love her?"
Quinn nods.
Puck eyes Quinn curiously as she noisily types at her computer. "You're angry."
"I am not," she defends without missing a beat. "I just don't understand why we have to do a fucking tour that's out of fucking season anyway."
"Any time you drop more than one f-bomb in a sentence spells anger." He smiles crookedly at her before sliding off the desk he had been sitting on and standing behind her. He places his hands on her shoulders, patting them gently before lightly massaging them. "This is a good thing for her, Q. Quit being grumpy."
"I know," she sighs. "This is good and she'll do great."
He nods before checking his vibrating phone. It's another booty call. "Then what's the problem?" he asks once he's put his phone away.
She looks over her shoulder at him. "Do you think I'll change?"
The weight of those words aren't lost on Puck. He squeezes her shoulders reassuringly. "No," he answers with conviction. "I think it'll be difficult and I think every now and then someone will have to put your ass in line. But you have me and you have your therapist. You'll be fine. Besides, I can always give you sexual healing again."
"Fuck you," she mutters quietly while she continues to type.
"We already played that game," Puck replies, amusement coloring his voice. "I won."
"Gross."
A moment later and Quinn's smiling lightly, a glint in her eye that informs Puck that only trouble is in store for him. "What?" he asks self-consciously.
"I told her," she says mysteriously.
Puck makes a face, stumped. "Told who? What?"
"Rachel. I told her we had sex."
His face completely drains of color as he releases her shoulders from his grip and slowly backs away. "Are you shitting me? Quinn, come on. You know how much she scares me."
Puck has told Quinn on more than one occasion how much Rachel scares him. Mostly because she's so sassy, and doesn't take any trash from anybody. And the fact that she has a large vocabulary that has rendered his mind useless after a conversation with her doesn't help, either.
Quinn laughs at the look of terror on his face. "Relax," she tells him between chuckles. "She wasn't upset. And she doesn't hate you."
"You sure?" he asks skeptically. "I don't want her to kill me in my sleep or something."
She reaches out to swat his arm. "My girlfriend isn't psycho."
They both freeze after that. Puck's hand flies to cover his mouth, his eyebrows to the ceiling while Quinn looks toward the floor, eyes moving wildly in her head. Did she really say the word girlfriend? She looks up at Puck, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Well…she isn't."
He decides to let it slide and not poke fun at her. "She's still scary."
Quinn laughs at him, nodding her head. "Maybe."
As if talking about her conjured her up, Rachel knocks on Quinn's door before peeking her head inside. "May I come in?"
"Yeah," Quinn says with a special smile on her face that Puck suspects is reserved for Rachel only. "No one ever bothers to knock," she says, glaring pointedly at Puck. "So you don't have to."
Rachel steps inside, greeting Quinn before turning to Puck. "Hello, Noah."
"'Sup, Berry," he says, trying not to be intimidated.
"May I have a word with you outside?"
Puck's eyes dart from Rachel's to Quinn's helplessly. Quinn laughs at the terrified look on his face and takes pity on him. "He's afraid of you, Rachel."
Rachel blinks at Quinn, confused. She then turns to Puck with a bemused expression on her face. "You are afraid of me, Noah?" she asks in a seemingly innocent voice.
Quinn rolls her eyes, having fallen for that sugar-coated voice plenty of times in her lifetime. Puck rapidly shakes his head back and forth. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it here…with a witness present."
She heaves a heavy sigh, as if this is all a burden. "Very well." She steps further into the room towards him. Once they're face to face she looks him directly in the eye. "Quinn has informed me of your coupling."
He coughs nervously into his hand. "Well, I wouldn't really call it a coupling…"
Her lips pull into a disarming smile that Puck just finds even scarier. "The two of you have engaged in intercourse that I do not necessarily approve of. But in light of everything that Quinn has been through I suppose that I should extend to you my gratitude—"
"Wait, what?" At the word 'gratitude' Puck tunes back in to a conversation that he had otherwise checked out of. "You're thanking me? Why?"
She nods and clears her throat. "Yes, I am thanking you. I cannot imagine how vulnerable Quinn must have been that night and I am thanking you for being there for her. She could have just as easily been with anyone else—"
"I'm not a slut," Quinn grumbles from her desk.
"—and I am happy that you were the person that was there for her."
Puck crosses his arms, squares his shoulders, and stares at her hard. Just what is her angle? "So, let me get this straight," he starts. "You're thanking me…for sleeping with your girlfriend?"
Quinn leans forward and places her face in her hands. Leave it to Puck.
"E-essentially, yes," Rachel tells him, a little caught off guard by how blunt the statement was.
He eyes her a little longer, then flashes a crooked grin before calling over his shoulder. "Quinn, your girlfriend is hot."
When she looks up, both Rachel and Puck are smiling in her direction. Rachel's smile is all amusement and Puck's smile is…gross. "Get out, Puck."
He laughs at the peeved look on her face before walking out of the room. "I'll lock the door," he tells her.
Rachel walks toward her. "Quinn, you shouldn't be so mean to Noah," she says reproachfully.
She scowls at her as Rachel gives her a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Are you ready to go?"
"Ready as ever."
They walk out of Quinn's office and towards the elevator. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Quinn turns around to see Kurt standing beside Mercedes, staring in their direction with a curious expression on his face. She nervously whispers to Rachel to hurry up. Kurt's the gossip queen of the label and she really doesn't need him spreading rumors.
Quinn tosses her keys onto the table beside the door as she and Rachel walk into her house. They had gone out for sushi, Rachel's choice. And although Quinn had informed her of the possibility of being photographed, Rachel wouldn't be denied.
During dinner Rachel had told Quinn about her upcoming tour and although Quinn had said she was beyond happy, Rachel noticed that she had gone quiet on her during the ride home. Distant.
They enter the house and Quinn walks straight to the kitchen to deposit leftovers in the fridge.
Rachel cautiously follows her into the kitchen, watching Quinn's harsh and jerky movements as she practically wrenches the door to the refrigerator open. "Quinn," she says softly. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," is the gruff reply that reaches her ears. Rachel walks further into the room because it's obvious to her that something is wrong and needs to be discussed.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The refrigerator door slams shut and Quinn walks over to the counter beside it and rests her back against it. "There's nothing to talk about, Rachel. There's nothing wrong."
"Okay, stop," Rachel tells her. "I thought we would have gotten past this defensive thing you do—"
"I'm not being defensive," Quinn responds with an edge to her voice. "I'm merely stating that I'm fine."
"Is this about the tour? Because you were fine during dinner before I brought it up."
Quinn really hates that Rachel knows her so well. That after all these years she's still an open book. "No."
"It is," she confirms without effort. "What is it about this tour that has you so upset?"
Quinn turns around and quickly busies herself with unwashed dishes that she could otherwise put in her dishwasher. "I'm not upset. I'm happy for you."
"I don't doubt that you're happy for me, Quinn. But something is bothering you. Are you worried about me? Do you not think that I'll do well?"
She spins around to face Rachel, back against the counter once more. Grabbing a nearby towel, she wipes at her sud-soaked hands. "I think you'll do extremely well." Quinn manages to make her tone both reassuring and annoyed in a way only she can do. "This is a good thing for you."
"Then I don't understand," Rachel continues, not letting up. "What's wrong with you?'
"You want to know what's wrong?" Quinn questions darkly. "What's wrong is that I'm scared for you to leave."
Silence hangs thickly between them at the admittance. Quinn's jaw clenches in an attempt to limit her word vomit. She watches Rachel watch her. Rachel looks a little bewildered, as if she's not following.
She walks more fully into the room and toward Quinn. "Why would you be afraid?"
"I don't know."
Rachel makes a disgruntled face. "Quinn, we've played this game for months. Please don't do this now. Just talk to me."
Quinn's arms fold tightly across her chest. Her eyes fall from Rachel's face to the ground. "I'm scared that I won't be the same when you come back."
"How would you be different?"
She rubs her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm afraid that you'll leave and I'll go back to the person I was. And that when you come back, it'll be the past few months all over again."
"I see," Rachel says quietly, already thinking of ways to solve the situation. Finally, it hits her. "I just won't go on the tour."
The words feel akin to a slap in the face for Quinn. It jolts her out of her own thoughts. "Are you crazy?" she questions brusquely. "You're going on that tour."
"I resent being called crazy, Quinn," Rachel responds just as harshly. "And this is my career. I'm not going on the tour if you have reservations about it."
"Who cares what reservations I have? This isn't about me. It's about you!"
Rachel's hands find her hips. "Stop screaming at me! We're in the same room. I do not wish to tour around the country if it's going to be distressful for you. Deal with it and stop being so quarrelsome."
"Rachel," Quinn calls to her, placing added stress on her name. "We are not going to argue about this. You're going on the damn tour."
Rachel's face turns red at being told what to do. Her shoulders pull tight and she stares a hole right through Quinn. "You will not treat me as if I'm your child, Quinn. I have two fathers of my own and they have raised me just fine. I decide what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it."
Quinn digs the palms of her hands into her eyes in frustration. She tries to calm herself down, knowing that if she doesn't she and Rachel will just spend the rest of the night arguing. That's one of the things she secretly loves about her. Rachel is every bit her equal. "You're being argumentative right now and you know it. This is your dream. So…go. Go on the tour."
"But if you need me—"
"What I need," Quinn tells her in a calmer voice, "is for you to do this tour. All you talked about when we were younger is being a famous singer and now you finally have that. Don't throw away your dream for me."
Rachel's lips turn down. "But I won't be throwing away my dream. I'll still be able to sing. I'll just be here with you. I want to be with you."
Quinn reaches out and grabs the hem of her shirt to pull her closer, the worst of the argument over. "Don't start pouting," she murmurs into her hair once she's wrapped her arms around her. "You're going on the tour and that's the end of it. Once you come back you'll be a whole lot happier that you did it."
"But I'll miss you." Rachel speaks the words into Quinn's flesh as she kisses her cheek. "You'll miss me."
She nods at that as she pulls back to stare into Rachel's eyes. "I will."
Quinn looks deep in Rachel's hopeful eyes. Her therapy session earlier in the week comes to mind and she tries to convey her feelings. "Rachel, I…" She sighs, shaking her head at her own inability to speak. There's so much she wants to say. Her hands reach up to cup both of Rachel's cheeks, thumbs stroking just under her eye. "I…" A frustrated breath pushes past her flared nostrils. Why is this so hard? She feels like a baby that hasn't learned to talk yet.
Rachel's own eyes narrow slightly as she searches Quinn's distressed features, trying to figure out what's wrong. Her body is tense, her face is contorted, and her mouth keeps opening and closing, trying to say something. Finally, understanding dawns on her. Her heart swells. "Oh," she breathes around a smile. She steps closer to Quinn, her arms encircling her waist. "I love you, too," she tells her quietly before placing another kiss on her cheek.
When she feels Quinn's body relax and melt into her own, she knows that she's said the right words. She pulls back, only to find Quinn's eyes are already on her. Hazel eyes stare at her intently and Rachel would pay anything to know just what Quinn is thinking.
She leans in slowly, connecting her lips with Rachel's. And although her descent onto Rachel's lips is slow, Rachel still gasps in surprise when it happens. Her hands fist into the back of Quinn's shirt as she steps even closer, her thigh slipping between Quinn's legs.
Quinn's lips are insistent, pressing, pushing as she tries to convey all the words she can't bring herself to say yet. Just because she can't say them doesn't mean she doesn't feel them. And with Rachel leaving to tour for months, Quinn really wants to let her know how she feels.
Her hands wound around Rachel's neck, one cupping the back of her head to keep her in place. And Rachel complies, content to let Quinn explore. She's not sure what this is all about but Quinn's movements seem urgent and everything is being done with importance.
"I can't say it," she whispers against her lips when she pulls back. She gently pulls Rachel's hands from her body so she can move. Her hands slip under Rachel's shirt because Quinn just needs to feel. She traces her abs once before moving upwards.
Rachel whimpers when the flat of Quinn's palm pushes under her bra and runs across her nipple. "I know."
She's becoming impatient. In one swift movement Rachel's shirt if off her head and her bra is being unsnapped. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel it."
Nodding her head, Rachel just tries to hold on as Quinn spins them around, pinning her to the counter. "I know how you feel, Quinn."
Quinn's shoulders sag in relief at those words. She stops her ministrations, placing her hands on Rachel's hips. She inhales and exhales, telling herself to just calm down. Rachel cups her face in her hands and pulls her closer. She kisses her softly. "Do you honestly think that I would have tried as hard as I've been trying if I believed that you didn't love me?" She smiles at the peaceful look that washes over Quinn's face. "You're not that hard to read, Quinn."
"You're just saying that because you've known me for forever," she instantly retorts with a small smile.
"That helps," Rachel says before kissing her again. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she marvels at how far Quinn has come since the first day of their little reunion. The sixteen year old Quinn she used to know has completely resurfaced and Rachel feels as if she's falling in love all over again. Every gentle kiss and warm touch from her has Rachel head over heels.
She manages to wrench her mouth away from Quinn's to kiss along her jaw. Her thoughts briefly travel to how right Santana was. Instead of moping, she should be giving Quinn little nudges to help her along. They seem to be working.
Her lips quirk up when they skim a rapidly beating pulse point. In Rachel's opinion, it's pretty amazing. The act of re-familiarizing herself with a body that she already considers to be more familiar than her own is amazing, beautiful, sexy and so much more.
"Can I sleep over?" she murmurs into a blushing red ear. Quinn's flesh is so warm and Rachel can barely keep her hands to herself. Eager hands slip under Quinn's shirt. Her nails rake across the plane of her lower back and she moans into that same ear when she feels Quinn's hips jerk into her own. "Rachel."
"I want to sleep in your bed," she continues, pushing Quinn's buttons in a way only she knows how. "With you."
At those words, Quinn's body stiffens, Rachel's words finally penetrating the cloud of lust around her. "I don't know, Rachel," she mumbles with little conviction.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," she quickly rushes out, her breath puffing out against Quinn's cheek. "Maybe this is a bad idea. I should probably just…"
She trails off, trying to get past Quinn and possibly leave after making a fool of herself. But she quickly realizes that she's stuck, still pinned between Quinn and the counter in her kitchen. And Quinn seems to have no intentions in moving.
Quinn holds her there, detecting the apprehension suddenly taking over Rachel's body. The familiar tension in her own body alerts her to the fact that she actually likes the idea of Rachel staying over. A lot.
Her mind races, trying to find any reason as to why Rachel shouldn't spend the night. She doesn't come up with any. Her mind and body both telling her that Rachel should most definitely spend the night. "You can stay."
"Really?" she asks hopefully.
Quinn takes a shuddering breath, willing her nerves away. "I don't know how this is going to work or how it'll turn out," she says softly. "But you can stay."
Elated, she moves in to give Quinn a hug, only to notice that Quinn's not staring at her. She's staring…downward. And a small blush is spreading across her face. Confused, Rachel looks down as well, only now noticing that she's topless. She doesn't make an attempt to cover herself, content to let her stare. Quinn's obvious ogling is as important to her further accepting her sexuality as it is to getting Rachel really hot.
After giving what she feels is an adequate peep show, she bends down to pick up her shirt and bra before grabbing a pale hand that had been on her hip. "This is going to be great," she tells her before they walk out of the kitchen and towards the back of Quinn's house.
After both women shower and Quinn gives Rachel some night clothes to wear, Rachel slips under black, silk sheets, her head propped up on her hand. Quinn pulls back the covers before getting into bed as well. Rachel's on her side of the bed again but she doesn't complain. For whatever reason Rachel seems to gravitate towards it.
Rachel watches as Quinn settles into bed beside her. Not wanting to startle her, she doesn't reach out or scoot closer. That doesn't stop her eyes from roaming, however. The expanse of Quinn's throat, the rise and fall of her chest, her flat, toned stomach, pale thighs. She licks her lips.
Quinn turns to face Rachel. Their eyes lock. Her hand tentatively reaches out and loosely grips Rachel's own, interlacing their fingers. She's rewarded with a smile.
"Remember when we used to stay awake until one in the morning at my house, just holding hands?" Rachel asks with a giggle.
She hears Quinn groan at that and it only serves to make her laugh harder. "I would always wake up exhausted," she laments. "But you would always wake up as annoyingly cheerful as ever. How you managed to do it without a single cup of coffee I'll never know."
Rachel swats her arm, offended. "My cheerfulness is not at all annoying, Quinn."
Quinn makes a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat, not at all paying attention. She looks down at their joined hands, squeezing Rachel's own. "I'm proud of you," she says from seemingly out of nowhere. But she's been wanting to tell Rachel that for a while. It was always Rachel's dream to be a writer and singer and now she's living it.
"Thank you," Rachel whispers right back at her. "I'm proud of you. And a little surprised. I didn't know you wanted to work A&R."
"I don't. I didn't. It's just that…you liked music, and, well—we got separated. So I just thought that since we couldn't be together that I—we could be close by…" she shakes her head. "I don't know what I thought."
A while ago Quinn's therapist asked her was her father the reason why she worked in the music business world and she had said no. When she followed Puck into the world of music her father was the farthest thing from her mind. She had thought of Rachel and of how the only way she could feel connected to her former girlfriend again is if she worked with something that Rachel had considered her passion.
Now Rachel can't help herself. She swarms Quinn quickly, enveloping her in a hug. "I had no idea," she breathes. What do you say to a thing that? Her throat is tight with emotion and she can barely speak.
Quinn's body briefly tenses before she relaxes in Rachel's embrace. She doesn't resist when Rachel lightly pushes against her body. She just goes with it, lying flat on her back. And when Rachel's body molds tightly against her side, when her head rests against her collarbone, Quinn does nothing but wrap one arm around Rachel's waist, the other rising up to curl into her hair.
Rachel's eyes shut, the most content she's been in years. Her body melts into Quinn's and she sighs in relief. "If you didn't want to be an A&R then what did you want to be?"
Her hand strokes dark hair as she runs the thumb of her other hand over the smooth skin of Rachel's hip absentmindedly. Her shirt had ridden up and her skin is warm. "You'll think it's silly."
"I will not. Now tell me."
Quinn lightly pinches Rachel's hip, feeling her squirm before replying wryly, "Okay, boss."
"I wanted to be a teacher," she continues a moment later. "I always wanted to educate children, mold them, guide them. Correctly," she adds. "Not the way I was. I wanted to teach them that they could be comfortable with themselves."
Rachel nods against Quinn's neck, understanding how important this is to her. "Even with their sexuality?"
Quinn's quiet for a moment. Her thumb continues to stroke Rachel's tan skin as her other hand plays with dark brown hair. She's in love all over again. With a woman. And her love for Rachel is stronger than it's ever been. "Especially their sexuality," she speaks softly.
"If you still want to be a teacher then I think you should become one. I think that many young men and women can benefit from an educator like you. Besides, you already enjoy being in charge and giving orders," she teases.
She pinches Rachel a little harder and this time she squeals. "I have a new order for you. Go to sleep. It's late."
"It's only twelve," she huffs. "But fine."
She sits up to loom over Quinn, placing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Goodnight, Quinn," she whispers affectionately.
Tossing an arm over Quinn's torso, Rachel settles down against her body, waiting for sleep to overtake her. Before she slips into her dreams, however, she hears Quinn whisper into her hair. Her heart soars and her eyes prickle at the words.
"I love you, Rachel."