Ain't That a Kick in the Head
Chapter 10
Rachel stumbled into the hallway after Quinn, just managing to stay on her feet. She'd been closing the shop only five minutes ago, and now she was dizzy and disheveled and blindly following where she was led. She glanced at the posters on the wall like she'd never seen them before.
"Do you have any food in the fridge?" She wondered dazedly, tugging on Quinn's hand.
Quinn spun around, smiling widely. She pressed Rachel against the wall and tickled her fingers under the hem of Rachel's shirt. "Waffles, I think." Quinn tipped her head. "And vodka."
Rachel swallowed thickly. "Real food."
"There's tequila too."
Rachel shook her head.
Quinn pressed closer and traced her nose down the shell of Rachel's ear. Rachel seemed frozen, fixated on a spot over Quinn's shoulder. Quinn smiled.
"Are you hungry, Rachel?" she whispered.
Rachel nodded.
Quinn decided that she'd be hiding all of her food in the stockroom from now on. Or she'd fire the next employee who stole her cheese sticks out of the fridge. She lodged a thigh between Rachel's and tilted her head curiously.
"What would you like to eat?"
Rachel blew out her cheeks, absolutely unable to answer properly at the moment.
"Pasta? Shots?" Quinn tipped forward, delighted with herself. "Something else?"
A strangled moan rumbled up out of Rachel. She surged forward and latched onto Quinn's mouth, fingers digging into the back of Quinn's neck. Quinn rolled with it, unsurprised. She hummed and parted her lips to let Rachel's tongue graze every surface.
Rachel dropped a hand to squeeze Quinn's thigh. She pushed off the wall in the vague direction of the lounge door, forcing Quinn to back up.
"Take these off." Rachel whined, tugging at the waist of Quinn's sweatpants.
Quinn fell into the wall in her rush. "Really? Are you sure?"
No. Not at all.
Rachel nodded, despite herself. Quinn kissed her again, gripping Rachel's chin, and leaned against the lounge door as she dragged her sweatpants down her thighs. Rachel was on her before she could even straighten back up.
"Lets-can-open the door." Quinn managed with Rachel's hand squeezing the back of her bare thigh.
She fumbled with the buttons on Rachel's blouse while Rachel swatted at the doorknob. Quinn had four buttons undone-just so that Rachel's bra was visible-by the time the door swung open.
"Couch." Rachel muttered, kicking Quinn's tangled sweatpants away.
"Floor." Quinn laughed against her mouth.
They staggered through the door- Rachel's hands fused to Quinn's thighs, Quinn struggling blindly with those last few buttons. Rachel caught movement out of the corner of her eye and froze, chest flaring with a rush of panic while Quinn laved at her neck.
"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, scrabbling up from the couch.
Quinn shot backwards in surprise. She whirled around, sending the last of Rachel's buttons to the floor, and stared at Sam- red faced, chest heaving, in a t-shirt and boyshorts and tangled hair courtesy of Rachel.
"Where are your pants?!" Sam shouted, half kneeling on the coffee table.
Quinn spun on her heel. She actually couldn't recall what had happened to her sweatpants. "Fuck, fuck. Get lost, Sham!"
"Dude, put on some pants!"
Rachel appeared in front of Quinn a moment later, blushing furiously, holding her blouse closed with one hand, and offering up a ball of Quinn's dark green sweatpants.
"Shit, thank you." Quinn muttered, hurrying to pull them on.
Rachel watched sadly as those legs were covered up again.
"Dude, man, that's not…" Sam shook his head, halfway between horror and laughter. "You gotta check the room first or something, Q."
Quinn ground her teeth and pressed her hands against her warm face. "Shut the hell up."
"I mean, you don't have the worst ass, but I don't need to see it every-"
"You don't seem surprised." Rachel interrupted before Quinn could cross the room and tackle Sam. She could feel Quinn seething and realized that it was probably mostly embarrassment.
"About you and Quinn?" Sam clarified. He politely averted his gaze from the gap in Rachel's blouse. "We're not total morons, despite what Quinn says."
"You are." Quinn mumbled.
Sam grinned. "You frustrated, Fabray?"
"But, you won't-you won't tell anybody, right?" Rachel asked, searching Sam's face. "And Santana and Mike won't tell anybody either?"
Sam looked at Rachel seriously, smile fading. "No. No way, Rach." He assured. He nodded at Quinn, eyes sparkling. "You turned our boss nice. We're not gonna mess that up."
Quinn scoffed. "I'm gonna mess you up." She muttered.
Rachel rolled her eyes.
"She's just a beacon of sunshine since you've been here." Sam smiled. He winked at Rachel and walked towards the yellow door. "I'm heading home now, so you guys can…You just do what you gotta do."
He stopped in front of Quinn, who stared up at him with hard eyes.
Sam was unaffected by her expression, probably because her pants were twisted, her cheeks were pink, and she had red bite marks dotted up her neck and jaw. He nodded at her, amused.
"You got this, Quinn." He whispered, gesturing at Rachel.
Quinn's eyes flashed.
"Just put a blanket down or something if you do it on the couch. And I hid leftovers in the fridge if you guys get hungry."
Quinn bit her cheek and nodded.
"And-I don't know- have some clothes on by the time we come in tomorrow, alright?"
Quinn sank her teeth further into her cheek, ears aflame. Rachel watched, smiling softly.
"I'm happy for you, dude." Sam nudged Quinn's shoulder, grinned at Rachel, and left through the yellow door.
Quinn finally relaxed. Her shoulders fell and her jaw loosened, and Rachel stepped up next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist.
Quinn chuckled wryly. "Oh my God."
"That was unfortunate." Rachel smiled, rubbing absently at the freckles on Quinn's forearm.
"Are you still hungry? Maybe we could just have some food and watch a movie tonight." Quinn suggested quietly. She tugged at the ties on her sweatpants. "Just, knowing Sam knows what we're doing…"
Rachel smiled at Quinn's flushed face.
"I mean, we could continue if you want, but-"
"A movie is perfect, Quinn." Rachel assured. She leaned into Quinn's side to whisper in her ear. "And maybe your pants can come back off."
Quinn pressed her lips together. "Rachel Berry."
"I like your stripy underwear." Rachel said, enjoying herself. "It's cute."
Quinn's eyes dropped and fixed on the polka dot bra visible through the gap in Rachel's blouse. She tipped her head, content to just stare at the dark, supple flesh. She hadn't been able to appreciate it like this earlier, too aroused to think straight, focused only on the buttons and lithe little body pressed against her.
Rachel smiled at her fondly. "Excuse me."
"Mm."
"You should pick a movie."
Quinn sighed wistfully. She pried her eyes away and ran a hand through her hair, pleased that Rachel was making no move to button her shirt back up. Maybe that meant Rachel was comfortable with her. Totally comfortable.
Quinn smiled to herself. She picked Ocean's 11 from the movie shelf- the original, of course- heated up the leftovers from the fridge, and then stood by the coffee table in front of Rachel. She pulled off her sweatpants, watching Rachel's eyes widen and then listening to Rachel laugh, and flung them onto the armchair.
"You're cute." Rachel said when Quinn settled in beside her.
Quinn rolled her eyes at herself. Cute.
She grabbed a carton of fries and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Rachel's hand moved to rest lightly on her thigh and Quinn smiled.
….
Rachel shoved her cell phone into her back pocket as she emerged from the stockroom. Kurt was a persistent little terror, and Rachel found herself regretting answering every single one of his calls. She vowed to skip the next few just to drive him up the wall a bit.
"All good?" Quinn asked when Rachel wandered back onto the shop floor.
Everybody was working- Sam and Mike organizing the board room, Santana stocking shelves, Rachel and Quinn re-hanging and replacing sun-bleached, illegible posters- all in preparation for the Pro-Am. Quinn unfurled a Dakine surf team banner and held it up for Rachel's approval.
Rachel nodded shortly. "It's fine."
Quinn eyed her. "Kurt again?"
"He's just…not a patient person." Rachel shrugged and picked up the roll of double sided tape. She ran her nail along the edge and cut off four little squares to use for the poster.
Quinn watched her. "What does he want from you?"
Rachel tilted her head and pressed her lips together. She tediously peeled the backing from each piece of tape and stuck the squares into the corners of the banner.
"He wants me to leave earlier." She finally said, avoiding Quinn's gaze. "Just-if I don't take Anything Goes- he has an audition for me for something else in a week and a half."
Quinn stared at the side of Rachel's head.
"I'm not sure how interested I am in that." Rachel shrugged casually.
"Well, yeah, you're Reno Sweeney." Quinn smiled. She took the poster from Rachel and climbed the stepladder to put it on the wall. "You have to do Anything Goes."
"True that!" Santana shouted from the far side of the room.
Rachel shook her head.
Quinn glanced around the walls for the next poster to replace. "What's stopping you? Is it Jesse St. James?"
Rachel bit her lip, unsure. It wasn't the man himself- more the idea of what she'd done with him and how it could possibly have affected her career. Quinn seemed to know this.
"You know you belong there, Rachel. I'll be able to tell people I'm friends with the best Reno Sweeney of all time."
Rachel smiled. "You'd brag about me?"
Quinn hesitated, then scoffed. She laid a poster of a breaking Mavericks wave on the table and shook her head.
"You just said you'd brag about me."
"What? What are you talking about, Rachel?" Quinn drawled, rubbing at the crinkles in the poster.
Rachel shook her head. They worked quietly for several minutes, listening to the banging coming from Mike and Sam in the boardroom. The guys' organizational method seemed to involve precariously stacking boards into ceiling-high towers while the racks were moved around.
"Maybe I'll just take the audition Kurt got for me." Rachel mused quietly, picking at the roll of tape. Quinn cut her eyes over. "Just for something different."
"Different doesn't mean good."
"I don't plan on taking the role." Rachel clarified. "But an audition has direction."
"You have direction here." Quinn argued, smiling. She pointed towards the back of the shop. "Go organize the wetsuits in the stockroom. When you've done that, rinse the sand from the shower and get me some boiled peanuts."
Rachel sighed helplessly. "If I leave in a week I'll have time to prepare for the audition."
Quinn's smile faltered.
"Then if I do well on that, I can either take that role or Anything Goes. It'll give me options."
"Just take Anything Goes." Quinn said sharply, like it was obvious. She abandoned the poster and leaned against the table, gaze on Rachel. "You don't need options. You can't-"
Quinn swallowed. Her eyes dropped to Rachel's flip-flops. "You said you'd have two months here."
"I thought I would." Rachel said quietly.
Quinn exhaled shortly from her nose, puffing like a bull. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. She was being roped back into her tiny little circle after running free for weeks. Rachel watched her fingers turn white, clutching the edge of the table.
"So…that's it? You're just-you're leaving in a week?" Quinn said stiltedly.
It was heartbreaking- made worse by the fact that they'd both seen it coming from day one. Quinn could surf like a pro and fix a nasty jellyfish sting, but the expression on her normally stoic face right now made Rachel want to cry.
"I think…maybe, yeah." Rachel struggled to string a sentence together.
The weight was finally hitting her. Leaving Jupiter had been just an intangible idea before, a ridiculous notion that Kurt had been harping on about.
Quinn nodded slowly. She pushed off the table and ran a hand through her hair, eyes unfocused.
"I'll-I mean, we'll keep in touch." Rachel offered lamely, scrabbling for ground. Quinn looked at her oddly. "I'll call and visit. This place-this shop- it's like another home now."
"Okay, Rachel." Quinn said quietly. "Whatever you want."
Rachel glanced across the room to find Santana watching them with narrowed eyes.
She stepped closer to Quinn and lowered her voice, trying to get rid of the tremble. "I mean it. We're friends now."
"Okay." Quinn repeated.
"I'm not just going to disappear in a week without-"
"Really?" Quinn interrupted, eyes alight. She tapped her fingers over her thigh. "You got here by disappearing, Rachel. Do you make a habit of dropping off the map with no warning?"
Rachel sighed. "Quinn."
"Just-ignoring our friendship," Quinn mockingly held up air quotes. "You committed to two months of work. Are you really that flaky? Unprofessional? You won't even stick around for the contest?"
There was a lump growing in Rachel's throat. All she could do was shake her head.
"Who's gonna run my goddamn booth, Rachel?" Quinn raised her voice, digging her nails into her palms. Her eyes were a bright, shining hazel, boring into Rachel's, and her volume caught Santana's attention. Sam and Mike peered through the boardroom doorway as Santana stalked across the shop.
"I thought you'd understand." Rachel said weakly.
Quinn stared at her, jaw clenched. Rachel wrapped her arms around herself just so they weren't dangling uselessly at her sides.
"I understand that you're better than whatever shit audition Kurt has you running home early for." Quinn said lowly, ducking to catch Rachel's gaze.
"Plans change." Rachel muttered.
"If you're a coward." Quinn stepped forward. "Where's your head, Rachel?" she challenged.
"I warned you." Rachel said quietly, apologetically, holding Quinn's gaze. Quinn's eyes flickered with something- confusion, hurt, sadness. She glanced at Santana, who was watching her carefully.
"I told you I was a mess. I told you what you were getting into. And I'm not the only one who's running away from things."
Quinn swallowed. Her chest was too tight and she wheezed a little on her inhale.
"Kissing in the dark doesn't make us anything special, Quinn." Rachel stated quietly.
This time there was no mistaking the hurt. It was like Quinn had been expecting it, her sunny hair and smiling eyes just waiting to be left behind again. Her lips turned down and she blinked a bit too rapidly, and it was a punch to Rachel's gut.
But then the hurt was gone and Quinn was inches from Rachel, staring down at her. Aloof and intimidating, like the Quinn from day one, minus the curious eyes and amused smile.
Her aura of attractive casualness and nonchalant good manners remained.
Quinn smiled slightly. "We both know that's not true." She whispered so that only Rachel could hear. Rachel's eyes flickered to the floor because Quinn was always absolutely right.
Quinn shrugged. Only Rachel could see the slight tremble in her jaw. "Maybe now I can forget your name, Rachel Berry."
Tears sprung to Rachel's eyes at the thought. Quinn turned and strode through the boardroom, focused on the floor despite Sam and Mike's concerned glances. Santana hovered near Rachel- fuming mad but conflicted about confronting somebody so obviously near a breakdown.
Rachel left the posters and tape on the table and walked across the room, right out the front door. She held it together on the short walk to her hotel, all the way up the elevator. And then she got inside her room after fumbling with the key card and crumbled right into her armchair.
She pressed a hand over her mouth to contain her keening sobs, hugged a pillow to her chest, and let herself go.
…
Quinn paced around the lounge, looking for her board wax and wheezing with every breath.
Santana and Mike watched from the doorway, concerned and helpless. Quinn rubbed at her forehead and rounded on them.
"What did you do with it?" she bit out. "I can't-I can't remember where I put it."
"Q, honey, you need to sit down." Santana murmured.
Quinn's eyes flashed. "Sam threw it away, didn't he? God, he's-"
"I'll grab you a new one, Quinn, okay?" Mike placated.
Quinn nodded and coughed, chest heaving.
"Quinn, breathe." Santana said when Mike disappeared back into the shop. "Deeply, come on. In and out."
Quinn tried to comply. Her eyes watered and her chest only seemed to get tighter. Santana pushed off the doorjamb and crossed the room. Quinn was looking for something to throw when Santana appeared before. She rested a supportive hand on Quinn's back, and Quinn choked on a sob at the contact.
"Oh God, honey." Santana murmured, wrapping her arms protectively around Quinn.
Quinn silenced herself almost immediately. She trembled violently with every cry that was contained, and Santana shook her head.
"You can cry, Quinn." Santana said softly. "You're okay."
"She wants-she wanted me to teach her a trick." Quinn managed, voice strained and thick. Santana frowned. "She was so excited about it-so-and I told her no. I haven't-I still haven't taught her one yet. She can't just-she can't just leave."
"Maybe she won't." Santana mused softly.
"She's-she's such an idiot sometimes." Quinn said angrily, nose pressed against Santana's shoulder.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Both of you."
"I can't-I can't find my wax."
"You still have time, you know." Santana said quietly, pulling back to see Quinn's face. She pushed salty blonde hair out of Quinn's eyes. "She didn't say she was definitely leaving in a week. I know you can at least get her to stay for the contest."
Quinn's gaze was sharp, chin held high like she hadn't cried at all. Santana absently tucked more hair behind her ear.
"She's not an idiot. I shouldn't-I shouldn't have...called..." Quinn muttered thickly, wiping at her eyes.
Santana snorted. Honestly, she felt like drowning Rachel at the moment, but that probably wasn't what Quinn needed.
"She's a dumbass." She said instead.
Quinn shook her head. "She warned me."
"Everybody warns you. You never listen, you moron."
Quinn swallowed. She looked at Santana determinedly. "But I know I'm-I'm right, San. The things she says and does, I know it's not-I know it's not one-sided. It's not just me this time."
Santana smiled softly. "That's good, Q."
"I want to teach her a trick. I want to see her face when she-when she gets it."
"Are you gonna go see her?" Santana spotted Quinn's wax on the coffee table, in plain view. "Because I'm not your therapist and my boss is an ass, so I need to get back to work."
Quinn nodded slightly. "Don't call me an ass." She wiped at her face again, and Santana rolled her eyes and hugged her tightly before stepping towards the door.
"You can breathe, right?" Santana checked, only half joking.
Quinn nodded.
"Alright, wheezy." Santana spun on her heel. "Wax is on the coffee table."
Quinn glanced at the wax, and then at her shortboard. Her gaze lingered on the small black "B" on the nose, and she made a decision. She'd already blasted her circle to bits, so she was going all in.
…
Rachel was still curled in the armchair, sniffling quietly into her t-shirt, when there was a knock at the door. She made no move to respond to it- one of her legs was numb and her face probably looked awful-but the knocking didn't stop.
Rachel sighed. She slid out of the chair and stretched out her legs, and then limped over to the mirror. Her face was red and tear-stained, imprinted from where her cheek had been resting on the chair. She rubbed at her bloodshot eyes and tied her hair back, and then cleared her throat and made sure that she could speak without her voice cracking.
She could, though it was hoarse. She walked through the door and peered through the peephole.
Quinn stood on the other side, in her white t-shirt and red shorts, surfboard tucked on her arm. Rachel couldn't see her feet, but she could bet there were no shoes.
Quinn knocked again. She didn't seem impatient- just calm and collected, a little sad, with her lips turned down, eyes soft and red. Rachel smiled slightly at the sight and opened the door.
Quinn looked at her for a moment.
Rachel rubbed at her face self-consciously and realized she was still wearing the t-shirt she'd been crying into. She glanced discreetly down to see if it was obvious.
"You look fine." Quinn murmured.
Rachel scoffed lightly.
Quinn stood her board on its tail and pointed at the "B" on its nose. She took a shaky breath and ducked to catch Rachel's gaze.
"You asked what this stands for." Quinn reminded her.
Rachel's eyes flicked between the board and Quinn's face. "You said bacon."
Quinn's lips quirked. Her shoulders relaxed and she gestured behind Rachel. "Can I-can I come in?"
Rachel stepped back to let her through. Quinn was walking past the bed by the time Rachel realized her room was a wreck, and she tossed several articles of clothing into a haphazard laundry pile.
Quinn caught the action and smiled slightly. "And you call me a slob."
Rachel huffed and dropped onto the bed. "You are a slob."
Quinn set the board on its tail again. She sat next to Rachel and gathered herself for a moment. Rachel absently tapped Quinn's thigh with her fingers.
"What does it stand for?" Rachel finally ventured.
"Bacon."
"Look, if you're not-"
"No, seriously." Quinn held onto Rachel's knee to keep her seated. Rachel watched her warily. "It's…This is a long story, okay. When I was in the wreck, I had a girlfriend, and she was in the passenger seat."
Rachel instinctively reached for Quinn's hand.
"Her name was Blake. We went to Yale together."
Rachel scooted closer, until she could hold onto Quinn's whole arm. "Was she alright?" she asked gently.
Quinn nodded.
Rachel watched her closely. "What happened?"
"I was in the hospital. I didn't really…know what was going on, but they wouldn't let Blake see me and I didn't know why." Quinn smiled wryly. "So I told my parents she was my girlfriend. My girlfriend should be allowed to see me, right? I came out to them while I was drugged and paralyzed from the waist down."
Rachel blinked at her. "Oh, Quinn." she breathed.
Quinn's eyes swam so Rachel hugged her arm closer.
"My dad had me confirm it when I was…lucid." Quinn continued. She rolled her eyes at herself. It was the only thing that ever made her feel small and pathetic.
It had been odd to wake up in that strange bed, confused and nauseous and in pain, to find her father standing there, staring angrily down at her. He asked what game she was playing, if she was gay, if she was brain-damaged. Quinn had nodded because there was no way they would do anything to her when she couldn't feel her legs.
"My dad told me that the accident was my fault." Quinn's breath hitched. She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes, and Rachel rubbed a soothing hand up her forearm. "It was because I'd been riding around with my girlfriend."
Anger flared up inside Rachel.
"He said I might've deserved it."
"No, oh honey, no." Rachel mumbled, tipping into Quinn's side.
Quinn let her cling. "I know I didn't actually deserve it." She said roughly. "My dad's an asshole. It doesn't bother me anymore."
Rachel knew better than to believe that. "What about your mom?"
Quinn shrugged. "We'll see."
Rachel pressed her nose against Quinn's shoulder. "That's why you don't drive." She said quietly, realization dawning.
Quinn tipped her head.
"Because he said it was your fault."
"He wouldn't let me move back home, so I lived with Sam." Quinn continued. She laughed shortly and Rachel kissed her shoulder. "I was really, really difficult- just absolutely awful- and Blake broke up with me."
Rachel blinked back tears. "That's not fair. You had a right to be."
"I don't blame her."
"So then you…What changed?" Rachel asked hesitantly, fearing the answer. "You jumped in the pool, right? Were you…Was that…"
Quinn turned her head and caught Rachel's eyes. She shook her head silently and Rachel nodded, relieved.
"I wasn't trying to do anything." Quinn said softly. "Sam took me to church the next week. And he took me to the beach and got me a surfboard. I told Santana I wanted to leave, and she and Mike transferred their credits to finish college here."
Rachel nodded, feeling horrendously guilty that she'd accused Quinn of running away.
"I think they thought I was…sort of crazy." Quinn said wryly, rubbing at her eyes again. "That I'd do something stupid."
"You're not crazy." Rachel nuzzled into Quinn's shoulder, argument forgotten.
Quinn looked at her, amused. Touchy-feely Rachel was the warmest, most comforting thing she could imagine.
"So the 'B' is for Blake?" Rachel wondered obliviously. "Did you love her?"
"It was for Blake, just to remind me of everything that happened. I don't really- I wasn't in love with her."
A slow smile spread over Rachel's face. She finally caught on. "But it stands for bacon now?"
"That's right." Quinn smiled. "I've never lied to you, Rachel Berry. It stands for many things."
"Bacon. Burger." Rachel chuckled against Quinn's shoulder. Quinn nodded with each word Rachel came up with. "Boiled peanuts, Bible, beach."
Quinn kissed Rachel's head when she ran out. "Berry." She said quietly.
Rachel smiled widely, not really able to control it.
"Do you have questions?" Quinn eyed her knowingly.
Rachel thought for a moment. She actually didn't. Quinn finally seemed to have let everything out and Rachel could not come up with a single question. It was disconcerting for both of them. Rachel sighed and shook her head.
"Just-I want to say sorry. For earlier." She stated, sitting up straight. "For the-for my kissing in the dark comment. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to make you cry."
Quinn scoffed. "You didn't make me cry."
Rachel smiled gently. She reached a hand up and wordlessly wiped at the tear tracks under Quinn's eyes. Quinn's cheeks flushed red.
"I think I'll stay here until after the contest." Rachel said slowly.
"You're not unprofessional, Rachel, or flaky." Quinn apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. If that's why-"
"No." Rachel shook her head. "It has nothing to do with…You know I haven't seen Tina in three days?"
Quinn's brow furrowed, confused. A little concerned.
Rachel chuckled. "She has been absolutely swept away by Florida life. She was in the Keys a few days ago. I think she's at Disney now. Her hotel room is totally abandoned and her priorities are in perfect order."
Quinn's lips quirked. "They are."
"She's not worrying about jetting back to California for an audition way below her talent level."
"So far below." Quinn nodded sagely.
Rachel looked at her for a minute, just soaking in her expression- tired and amused and relieved. Quinn tapped her feet against her surfboard. She could feel Rachel staring at the side of her head and it was oddly comforting.
"I want to teach you a trick." She announced. She smiled when Rachel's jaw dropped.
"We'll start today, right now, if you can handle it."
Rachel clasped her hands together. She forgot that her face was a smudgy wreck and her hair needed washing and she was still wearing that snot-stained t-shirt.
"I can handle it!" she declared, bouncing up off the bed.
Quinn followed. She held onto Rachel's arm to hold her still and kissed her softly, sweetly. She flushed when she pulled back, eyes warm and focused on Rachel's.
"Are you sure you can handle it?"
Rachel smiled, lips pressed together. "I'm sure."
"Absolutely positive?"
"Mhm." Rachel nodded. She rocked lightly on her feet, watching Quinn's eyes.
"I don't want you to drown."
"I won't. I can handle it."
Quinn smiled slowly. She kissed Rachel again and picked up her board, wondering where she'd put her wax. "I know you can, Rachel."