This is still un-beta'd and I'm still not sleeping (must be all that red dye #40 I had as a kid).
The weird lull of her body being just ahead of her mind in waking had Rachel disoriented and she thought she mumbled the last part of her dream aloud before her alertness kicked in. Though her first instinct was to be embarrassed, the lack of light pouring in from the basement windows led her to believe that maybe no one had noticed.
Her vision blurred by her waking state, Rachel reached up to rub her eyes when she felt the body behind her.
"What…" she said to herself, freezing in place.
At first, she hadn't registered the warmth behind her as anything more than a blanket. Now, she could definitely make out the shape of the form behind her and she was curious as to who it was.
Last she could recall, Kurt had been huddled on the couch beside her and he had mentioned NYADA, a school he was looking into, though he had been rather out of it. The conversation had slowed until the boy all but passed out on her shoulder and she imagined she must have fallen asleep shortly after that.
Having slowly cleared her eyes of the sleep residue so as to not bother the person behind her, Rachel tried to piece the night together. Mostly awake, it was easier for her thoughts to flow fluidly and she took in her surroundings.
Her head was resting on a pillow, which she had no idea how or when it had appeared, and she noted that she was lying on the couch. Her mind instantly connected that she and Kurt must have tipped over after passing out, but she was proven wrong just as quick as the idea formed. Not only was the person behind her definitely female, if the feel of a very femininechest against her back wasn't a tell, but, looking down, Rachel could see that curled ball on the ground in front of her sported the signature hair of the boy in question.
The urge to turn over and just look was overwhelming, but Rachel squelched the impulse—there was no need to rustle her couch-mate unnecessarily. Instead, Rachel pinched the edge of the blanket covering her and lifted it up just enough to recognize the hand around her waist.
As if the familiar rings and pale skin weren't enough, Rachel breathed in the telltale scent of Quinn's body wash, however faint. Releasing a breath, the brunette finally relaxed and let her shoulders fall back to their waking position. She even scooted closer to her best friend, blaming the impossible comfort and the danger of getting too close and falling off the edge.
Though, Rachel discovered with the slightest frown, Kurt might have preferred she fall on him if only for the human blanket if his posture was anything to go by. His form shook just enough for the brunette to notice he was shivering, and the reason was obvious seeing as the blanket he was using had mostly fallen off to where it only covered him from the waist down.
Still conscious of the sleeping form behind her, Rachel leaned forward just enough to struggle to reach Kurt's blanket and toss it over his shoulders. Something flipped wildly in the air at the action, having popped out of the twisted material before fluttering to the floor. Struck, Rachel risked peeking her head over the couch cushion to see whatever it was.
At the sight of the object, she could only stare and wonder if she was dreaming. There was no way…
#15 Her laugh just wraps around you and pulls you in
Kurt flipped over in his sleep, snapping Rachel out of her daze. She snatched the note quickly, bringing it closer to her face as if to disprove herself.
Not only was this note tied for the most precariously positioned—in comparison to the one left on the ruler—it absolutely had to have been planted by someone in the club. The thing was, as thoughtful as the words were, the game was no longer interesting. The first few notes had held her in a brief, flattered stage, but the last few notes had just left her with sighs.
Part of Rachel didn't even want to care anymore. She was content with her life as it was, regardless of how intense she had been about the notes to begin with. She had Noah, and Kurt, and, of course, Quinn, and in a little under two years she'd be off to college in New York.
What was a high school crush in comparison to her future, really? With that thought, Rachel tucked the note under her shirt and melted back into the blonde. When Quinn's arm sleep-pulled her closer in response, Rachel hummed in content before drifting off to sleep.
The last thing to echo in her fading conscious was the question: Just when had the physical aspect of their friendship become so simple?
Waking up the second time, Rachel was significantly less confused about her surroundings. Before she even opened her eyes, she could tell the room was lighter than the last time she had woken up. Still, it didn't feel bright enough to be much later than eight in the morning, which made sense with her internal alarm clock.
Something was off, though.
The air seemed warmer, oddly enough, and Rachel finally opened her eyes to realize she must have turned around in her sleep if her current position was anything to go by. Instead of seeing Kurt and the rest of the club, Rachel was greeted by the sight of a pale throat encircled by a golden chain that draped a similarly golden cross mere inches away from her face.
The cross rested right on the pillow Rachel was evidently sharing with the other girl, and she brought her right hand up to trace the smooth surface with her finger.
Quinn was the stereotypical daughter of the church in so many ways, but she also proved to be incredibly resilient despite a horrible upbringing. It was amazing, really, how a family so ugly managed to produce someone like Quinn. Looking up, Rachel warmed at the features she'd memorized long ago and her eyes scanned every line, every edge and curve, every tone and texture of her friend's face.
It was a face anyone would be envious of and, from what she could conjure of her memory, Rachel had been jealous of the blonde for some time at the start of their friendship.
She couldn't peg her first actual interaction with Quinn—it kept escaping the clutches of her mind, remaining hidden in the deep recesses of her memory—but she could remember the awe she felt whenever the blonde had talked to her during her freshman year.
Quinn was extraordinarily beautiful, and Rachel sometimes wondered if she was aware of the fact. Not only was Quinn easily the prettiest girl in school, she was also captain of the Cheerios and, though she hadn't mentioned it even once, would more than likely be the homecoming Queen.
Homecoming, Rachel realized with a start, was only a handful of hours away. She was still clueless as to why Noah had hosted a party the night before the dance, as it hadn't hit her until halfway through the party. Her mild, and thankfully temporary, decline in health the day before, tied into her general disinterest in the event, had distracted her enough that she had completely forgotten about it.
Now, however, it was fresh on her mind and she had to admit she was relatively excited. She'd be sure to begrudgingly thank the blonde in front of her later for coercing her into going at all.
It wasn't so much the idea of the dance itself, but the notion that she'd be spending most her time there in Quinn's company, that left a pleasant feeling in Rachel's chest. She could already picture the night, what with the dancing and the pretending that high school didn't completely suck. There was even a good possibility that Quinn would be the less reserved version of herself, the one that smiled freely and laughed just a little bit louder.
Looking up at Quinn, as her focus had strayed back to the necklace, Rachel almost jumped when she found two twinkling hazel eyes looking back at her. Heat flooded her cheeks at being caught…doing whatever it was she was doing.
The slow smile on Quinn's face lit up the very features she had just admired and Rachel watched as the edges of those eyes lifted just the right amount that something dropped in the pit of her stomach. Quinn would always be beautiful, in reality and in Rachel's mind, but she was never more breathtaking than when she smiled like that.
"Do you always smile fondly at my necklace when I'm asleep?" Of their own volition, Rachel's eyes jumped from the smile in her friend's eyes to the movement of her lips.
"I…" She tried to reply, but a stray thought flung her ability to communicate effectively far, far away and she swallowed whatever garble would have come out of her mouth. In the half second that followed, Rachel's eyebrows came together and she felt the cross fall away from her fingertips.
The smile that was so… rare shrunk in the most infinitesimal increments and Rachel witnessed the initial light in Quinn's eyes flicker before her walls came crashing down and smothered what was left. It was then that Rachel thought she might hate herself; anyone at cause for that smile slipping surely deserved her hatred.
Yet, it was a tug of war in her mind to put that smile back—there was a short circuit somewhere between her brain and her mouth, no words able to form.
Rachel had always noticed Quinn—her beauty, her intelligence, her talent, and especially her extremely guarded personality—but somehow she hadn't really noticed Quinn until she'd looked at her with that smile just seconds ago. Add in the close proximity, the unrivaled friendship, and the now-worried look Quinn was sending her way, Rachel felt like she was going to be sick.
"Are you okay?" Quinn asked.
Rachel didn't miss how the blonde's hand twitched behind her back, and she was forced to add in their positioning to her bank of confusion. Was it common for friends to sleep as they had? It wasn't as if Rachel had a plethora of old friendships to compare theirs to, but she certainly couldn't imagine Noah in Quinn's position, or even Kurt.
By all means, both of her other friends were male, and one openly gay, but she couldn't justify their sex as being the sole reason for her discomfort at the idea of sharing such personal space with them. Something with Quinn was just different, and how Rachel had only just gathered as much was beyond her.
"I could use a quality breakfast," she finally replied to the blonde's question. What felt like minutes of pondering had only been a few seconds, but Quinn didn't seem at all fooled by the deflection.
"Mmhmm," she murmured, and Rachel caught how her friend's eyes were now looking over her. "Might as well wake everyone up, then. We still have to go to the mall."
After everyone got over grumbling about how being awake at nine in the morning on a weekend was sacrilegious, Rachel found herself staring at a cup of coconut milk yogurt instead of using the spoon to actually eat it. Contrary to her distracted words to Quinn, she didn't have much of an appetite. Still, she could feel the blonde's gaze from across the kitchen's island, so she peeled back the aluminum top and managed a spoonful.
Sexuality was, surprisingly, not a subject Rachel had ever personally spent much time worrying about. Between her fathers, Kurt, and her obvious attraction to men, she'd always brushed off her parents' jests about "When was she going to bring a boy—" "Or girl!" "home?"
Now, Rachel had regrets about her own lack of self-awareness. If she really felt for Quinn what she thought she had felt not longer than twenty minutes ago, she was unintentionally heading down a potentially dangerous road.
With everything going on, the last thing Rachel needed was for a strange new attraction for her best friend to develop. Yet, there it was.
Worse, Rachel knew how her heart worked, and she had an inkling that whatever she was feeling wouldn't just go away on its own.
Hearing Santana yell something at Noah stole Rachel from her inner diatribe and she was almost surprised by how everyone seemed fine, even though her own world was anything but. She looked around just in time to see Brittany flinging her spoon in Mike's direction, and something that looked like pancake flew to the dead center of his chest. Apparently, that started a duel between the two, and Rachel observed Santana look at Brittany almost wistfully before turning back to her argument with Noah.
Before Rachel got a chance to survey the rest of the group's antics, a glass of water was pushed in her direction. Focus trailing up the retreating pale arm and to the face of its owner, the brunette cursed Quinn for making it impossible to not think about her for even one moment.
"I'm not really thirsty," she apologized, hoping the other girl heard the truth in her words. On one hand, she didn't want Quinn to think she was upset with her. On the other, she just wanted to not have to worry about Quinn for the time being.
"I never said you were."
The blonde shrugged and avoided eye contact, looking uncomfortable. Rachel didn't have the time to respond—not only did her throat tighten almost painfully, Quinn stood up and walked away. Staring down at the glass of water, Rachel felt a bit nauseous as she accepted the fact that her friend would always know her better than she knew herself.
She knew so little about herself, she realized, that she wasn't even sure what she was currently feeling in regard to Quinn. Was it just an attraction? If so, was it just Quinn, or was it girls in general? How would her newfound revelations affect their friendship, and what about the note-writer?
Rachel felt her heart skip as doubts about the ordeal formed faster than she could micromanage. Maybe it was only because of her current predicament, but the possibility that he could be a she was a new option that Rachel entertained.
It actually made more sense in some ways.
It would certainly explain the locker room note, Rachel acknowledged as she took a sip of the water. Even the handwriting, flourished and uniquely cursive, seemed more suited to a woman, though Rachel had seen a surprisingly wide variety of handwriting throughout her years. When it came down to it, even the execution of the notes seemed too…emotional. The placement of each note was tied into the meaning of the note itself, and a reluctant part of Rachel accepted that she had ignored most of the signs.
Another part of her wondered if it was unusual that she wasn't all that concerned with the gender of her suitor.
Picking up the glass and raising it to her lips, Rachel tried to work out how she was going to handle everything she had debated for the last hour. For starters, she decided to officially put the notes to the side—there were only a few left and she could wait it out. Whatever was happening with Quinn took priority, and Rachel still had her morning workout ritual to help her through that. In fact, a morning run was looking better with each passing second.
Determined to do just that, Rachel finished her drink.
The air outside was much cooler than in Noah's heated basement, but the lack of wind made it so it didn't feel harsh to Rachel's lungs. Without music, the rhythmic sound of sneakers hitting the pavement became her only beat, though there was an extra pair beside her.
Upon announcing her plan to go for a run, Quinn had offered to tag along, but the smaller girl had explained that she needed time alone to think. Two blocks into her solo run, Brittany had appeared out of nowhere, saddled up beside her, and fallen into step. It wasn't the most convenient, but the blonde had respected Rachel's silence so she couldn't complain.
Every so often, Rachel would purposely step on a few leaves just to hear them crunch beneath her feet. At one point, she looked over to Brittany to see if she could somehow figure out why the blonde had caught up to her. Of course, there was no clue.
By the time the pair rounded the corner to Noah's house, Rachel's lung and legs were burning in a glorious manner and she kicked off her shoes before heading to the upstairs shower.
Spending their spare hours before the dance together at the mall had been Noah's idea, and Rachel couldn't say it was a bad one. Everyone had already bought everything they'd needed weeks in advance, so it was really just an excuse to publically goof off.
That said, she certainly hadn't expected the boy to throw her over his shoulder in the parking lot and carry her into the building like a ragdoll.
"You put me down this instant, Noah!" she demanded, her fists batting against his back playfully. "I have no inclination to be dropped."
"Oh, please," Noah ignored her, continuing his march past a few stores. "With all that canary food you eat you're like, five pounds, Rach. Besides, the Puckster never drops a lady."
Sighing, Rachel sent a beseeching look to their group that was trailing behind her Neanderthal of a friend. Half of her supposed friends weren't even paying attention, and the ones that were just shook their heads with small smiles adorning their faces. Rachel's eyes flicked momentarily to a particular blonde head and a miniscule bit of guilt nipped at her stomach when she saw that it was coincidently aimed in every direction except her own. The sudden need to clear her throat was overpowering.
"Okay, I see how it is. Just let the star singer of our group be carried away as she fruitlessly battles a man easily twice her—"
"Dear god, Puckerman, put her down before she rants my ear off," Santana cut her off with a heavy eye roll.
Rachel huffed at the Cheerio's attitude, choosing to ignore it when Noah actually placed her down, all the while grumbling about people sucking the fun out of everything. Once she brushed herself off, she glared at the boy—whose hands were held up innocently in the air—before giving in to a smile. One thing she loved about Noah was that he always knew how to distract her when she needed it.
After carrying on, the stores all passed by in a flurry as individual members of the group tended to pick the most random ones to pass through. Artie and Sam found their calling in the comic book store, though it was obvious Mike was tempted as he looked back and forth between that and some video game shop Noah had already found a home in. Rachel laughed at the sounds Mercedes and Kurt made when they found out lotion was half off somewhere, shaking her head as they shuffled off at a startling speed.
Unlike her teammates, Rachel found herself indifferent to many of the stores. Each one had a deliberate sale focus, none of which applied much to her interests. It wasn't until Brittany paused and turned into a shop that the singer felt genuinely intrigued and followed the other girl inside.
There were sparkling trinkets lining the walls, all things silver and gold organized in an intricate manner. Some items were trivial, though still tasteful, and Rachel smiled softly as her fingertips brushed flasks and pens just waiting to be inscribed upon. Other things were throwbacks to her childhood, such as the snow globes, wind chimes, and fancy fireplace clocks.
After the first two aisles, Rachel discovered that every item the store offered had a spot especially designed to be engraved. Her first thought was to drag Quinn into the store, rave about how cute it all was, and convince her to buy something with her. Instead, Rachel just dropped her hand from the necklace she'd been admiring and stepped out of the store to catch up with her friends.
She hadn't quite sorted through what had happened earlier in the morning yet.
By the time everyone finally met up, it was getting late and Rachel was more than ready to just grab a small meal and head home. There were only a few hours left for her to get ready for the dance and she wanted to make the most of them. Having said as much to the group, they'd all agreed to eat before splitting up. Except Santana, of course.
"Listen," she said, her hands waving over her body. "All this has to be able to fit into a size two later. You coming, B?"
Rachel trailed her eyes over to the girl in question, witnessing the slight lift of Brittany's chin and her straightened back. She could almost feel the nonverbal signals the two girls were sending each other and she wondered what was going on between them. After Brittany confirmed that she would not be going with Santana, the latter stood awkwardly for a second before turning on her heel and leaving.
It wasn't a moment later that Rachel felt someone watching her, and she turned to meet Quinn's questioning gaze from a few seats down and across the table. It didn't take words for Rachel to know Quinn was asking if they were okay, unlike Santana and Brittany appeared to be. Nevertheless, things had never felt so awkward between them before, and Rachel wondered how she managed to be so selfish when it came to the blonde.
For all Quinn knew, Rachel was upset with her and avoiding her for no apparent reason, no offered explanation.
Only, Rachel had been more upset with herself than anything. With all the thoughts flying around her head, she'd just wanted a few hours to sort through her own feelings. Of course, that wasn't her usual method of dealing with things, so she wasn't surprised that ignoring it all proved ineffective. She only hoped Quinn, master of all things bottled up, would understand.
It wasn't until people started leaving that Quinn made her way over, hands nervously fiddling with the rings on her fingers, and broke the silence between the two that Rachel actually started to feel better.
"Do you still want me to pick you up or would you rather us go separately?" she asked, and Rachel grimaced at the hesitant tone in her friend's voice and the way she wouldn't look directly at her.
"Of course I still want to go together, Quinn." There was no way Rachel was going to pass up the opportunity to spend the night with her friend, especially with the knowledge that Quinn had been looking forward to it for a while. Her recent troubles would just have to deal for one night.
"At least, as long as you still wish to," she added, meeting hazel eyes after realizing that might not be the case.
The relief was evident on Quinn's face, however, and Rachel wanted to apologize for ever making the blonde think she would choose otherwise.
"I'll be over at eight, then. Want me to drop you off?" For the first time that day, Rachel genuinely smiled.
Rachel was just about to head downstairs when she heard the knock at the door. Seeing as the clock on her nightstand read eight on the nose, it was almost undoubtedly Quinn, and she rushed to the door to answer it. Glad to have waited to put on her heels, she just barely beat her father to the door, slipping under his extended arm at the last second.
Her father chuckled at her antics and stepped back to allow her enough room to swing the door open.
"Quinn!" she greeted, her hands flying forward to the blonde's bare shoulders before trailing down to her hands and pulling her inside. The mixture of feelings from that morning reignited, but Rachel chose to ignore them as she took in her friend's appearance. "Or should I call you Cinderella?"
As always, Quinn was radiant, her blonde hair and pale blue dress reminiscent of a princess. Her makeup was light—mostly accenting the changing shades of gold and brown in her eyes—and made all the more appealing because of the fact. She was perfect, and Rachel wasn't sure what to make of how that made her feel.
"Hello to you, too," Quinn returned, her eyes soft. "And Quinn is just fine. I seem to have misplaced my glass slippers anyhow." Rachel felt her face heat at her own excitement and she suddenly found herself very curious as to the thread count of the carpet beneath her feet.
"You both look lovely," her dad said as he entered the room, and Rachel was grateful for the interruption. She turned to smile at him as he stopped at her father's side, but his gaze was aimed at the blonde in front of her. Looking back to her friend, Rachel felt her eyebrows pinch at the pink tingeing Quinn's cheeks.
She tilted her head in question but only received a shake of a head in answer. Choosing not to deliberate over the action, Rachel quickly excused herself to find her shoes, releasing Quinn's hands from their loose hold.
It wasn't obvious to Rachel if her hands were shaking from excitement or nervousness, but they were making the process of putting on her shoes incredibly difficult. Quinn was downstairs, nothing had changed, and she had no doubt her fathers would want pictures before they left. It took a few measured breaths but Rachel's nerves finally settled enough for her to step into her heels and secure them with the tiny buckles.
"Finally," she grumbled, standing and taking a final onceover in the mirror.
Her dress was strapless, but it fit well enough that she wasn't concerned about it slipping down throughout the night. The color was Quinn's choosing, mostly because Rachel trusted her friend's taste more than her own, and she hadn't been able to disagree with the light shade of pink. The length had been the easiest part of it all, both of them choosing dresses that ended about knee-length, which was fortunate with the cooperating weather.
Beside the dress, Rachel could only further inspect her hair and makeup, both of which she'd told herself were just fine before Quinn's arrival. Satisfied, she headed back to the group waiting for her, this time much slower with the fear of breaking an ankle present.
Whatever conversation Quinn had been having with her fathers quieted down as Rachel reached the last step. She looked over to Quinn, who smiled back at her, and took her offered hand.
"My little girl is all grown up," her dad practically cooed as he held his camera to his heart. Rachel groaned, pouting when she heard Quinn chuckle next to her.
"Why don't we just take the pictures so the girls can get going, honey," her father suggested, much to Rachel's delight.
The process was relatively painless, though a spin from her dad nearly ended with Rachel becoming close acquaintances with the floor. Naturally, Quinn found the whole ordeal hilarious.
Standing on the gym floor, Rachel was at a loss as to what to do. She had never actually been to a school dance before and she felt out of place. The majority of the students there were dancing, as well as some of the faculty, but Rachel failed to spot anyone familiar.
With Quinn having taken a quick detour to the bathroom and Rachel having no intention of dancing alone, she was left with a limited number of available decisions—one of which was the appetizer table that eventually made its way into her vision. It wasn't long after spotting it that Rachel was drinking punch from a cup, a little more tart than she expected but pleasant nonetheless, and she finished her second cup just as Quinn found her.
"I poured you a glass," she offered, raising a different cup—this one full—to her friend.
Quinn smiled but waved the drink away.
"As much as I appreciate it, I'm really not thirsty."
"Suit yourself." Rachel shrugged, finishing the drink for her friend.
"Come on, you lush," Quinn said as she placed the now-empty cup down and grabbed her wrist.
It was obvious the blonde was dragging her to the dance floor and Rachel felt her stomach burn at the idea of just…dancing.
"Um, Quinn, I'm not really sure…" she trailed off at the eyebrow raise, silently admitting defeat. When the blonde found a spot and turned around, Rachel somehow mustered up the courage to just relax and enjoy herself. The songs were easy enough to get into, especially after Mike and Tina joined them.
It was sometime during the third song, or maybe the fourth, that Rachel's sense of balance left her and she laughed into Quinn's shoulder when the blonde caught her.
"You okay there, Rach?" Quinn asked, her warm breath tickling the brunette's ear.
Placing a hand on her friend's collarbone to stabilize herself, Rachel only managed a giggle in response. She wasn't completely sure how she had fallen into Quinn, nor why she found it so funny, but her eyes were doing something funny and her body felt incredibly light.
"You are infuriatingly gorgeous. Did you know that?" Rachel ignored the way Quinn pulled back slightly, all confused-looking and whatnot. "Even when you just wake up."
"I…Huh?" Now Quinn was looking at her as if she had said something ridiculous, and Rachel didn't understand why the blonde wasn't listening. No matter, she had no problem continuing until Quinn paid attention.
"I'm telling you how amazing you are, now hush." Rachel beamed when the girl in front of her merely blinked in response, though she thought she saw the corners of her mouth curve down as well, and that was no good. She had more to add, words that she hadn't yet thought out, but the dryness in her throat stopped her.
"I'll be right back," she told her friend, halfway to the table before she knew it.
"Rachel!" Quinn called out from behind her, but she tuned her out. It wouldn't take more than a minute to grab a drink, and then she'd return to their conversation.
"Hey, Rach," a voice said, someone approaching her side. Rachel turned to find Brittany smiling down at her and she almost spilled her drink in her attempt to hug the blonde in greeting. She wasn't normally so touchy with anyone not Quinn, but something about being at the dance had her not caring so much about such small details.
"Hi, Brittany! When did you get here?" she asked. It failed to register that Rachel didn't know how long she herself had been there.
"The same time as you, I think. I saw Quinn in the bathroom earlier." There was a short pause where Rachel frowned at her cup, unaware that she'd already emptied it, and Brittany's eyes lit up. "Do you wanna dance?"
It wasn't much of a question, Rachel discovered, as she was in the middle of the dance floor before she knew it. She also discovered that dancing with Brittany was not even remotely similar to dancing with Quinn; with Quinn it had been easy and light, whereas Brittany had no qualms about putting her hands anywhere and everywhere. It was the oddest sensation, but Rachel couldn't bring herself to be opposed to it.
When the song changed from the upbeat mood to a slow dance, the brunette was more than okay separating, but Brittany had other ideas. She pulled Rachel in by the waist, her arms looping around her hips.
"We can pretend," she whispered. There was a distinct melancholy to her voice, and Rachel almost missed it. The tone highly contrasted the warmth the girl was emitting, which had her sidetracked. Rachel couldn't help thinking she was supposed to be doing something else at the moment, but she wrapped her own arms around the other girl's neck anyway.
"Pretend what?" she asked, her eyes meeting blue ones. Brittany had really pretty eyes, she realized, light and welcoming just like the girl. Only, they seemed to lose their gleam a little bit as the blonde sighed.
"I'm tall and blonde, you're short and dark. It's perfect, almost."
Rachel blinked, not really understanding the girl. What was so perfect about being tall and blonde? Although, Quinn was tall and blonde, and Rachel thought she was perfect, so maybe Brittany had a point. But, Rachel was a short brunette, and she was certainly not perfect.
"You have really pretty eyes," Rachel said, distracted again. Brittany smiled as she increased the sway in their steps.
"Thanks, Rach. Sorry they're not gold and stuff." The girl was on a roll with her confusing statements and Rachel just gave up trying to figure them out. In fact, the swaying was making her dizzy and her ears and face felt hot.
"Why would they be gold?" she asked. "They've always been blue, haven't they?"
Brittany stopped their dance and took a step back from Rachel. It was obvious she was about to say something, but she was cut short.
"I have to pee," Rachel blurted, the urge spontaneously overwhelming. Her bladder felt like it was about to explode, and she ran off to the ladies room before Brittany even had a chance to respond.
Fresh from the bathroom, Rachel was unexpectedly—albeit as gently as possible—shoved against a locker by both shoulders.
"Umm, oww," she complained, more out of habit than actual pain, blinking a few times to regain her bearings.
"Oh, god," her attacker mumbled. "I'm sorry, Rach. I didn't mean to hurt you." A pair of cold hands fell from her shoulders and Rachel finally blinked Quinn into vision. Her friend was as radiant as ever, though there was something dark clouding her features, and Rachel wanted to make that go away.
"It's okay," she tried to say, although it might have sounded more like s'ok. The sound of her own words made her giggle again and she leaned forward to rest her head on Quinn's shoulder, pulling the blonde closer as she did so.
Rachel forced out a small pout when Quinn only grabbed her shoulders again and kept her at an arms length. Hazel eyes were analyzing her and Rachel felt like they were piercing her brain. In response, she only squinted her own eyes back at Quinn and brought her hand up to poke the girl's nose.
"So serious," she joked.
Apparently, Quinn found some answer in her face because she puffed air out of her nose like a bull and Rachel watched as she stomped away with an angry, "I'm going to kill him."
Rachel stood there for a second, giddy as she imagined a cartoon bull-version-of-Quinn with a ring through her nose, hoof scraping the ground in preparation. The idea had her cracking up, and she only sobered for a second when Quinn came back around the corner at a pace that seemed much too fast for someone in heels. Bull-Quinn didn't even slow until she reached her.
"You're coming with me," she demanded, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her along. Rachel had no idea where they were going, but Quinn seemed intent on murder, which was not something she needed to be caught up in so early in life. Or ever, she corrected herself.
"Noah Puckerman," Quinn growled out, and the hairs on the back of Rachel's neck rose. Bull-Quinn turned into Scary Quinn the moment the mohawk came into view, but Rachel dismissed that observation when the boy in question turned to look at them.
"Noah!" she squealed as she rushed to greet him, almost getting whiplash when the grip on her wrist tightened and kept her away. Her body turned back to Quinn and she pouted again only to be ignored as her friend stepped closer to the boy while keeping Rachel slightly off to the side.
"You have about five seconds to explain why Rachel is drunk, starting now." Rachel scoffed at the blonde for being so ridiculous, though angry was a good look on her. Her nostrils were still all flare-y and her arms were tense, the muscles looking particularly toned for the moment.
"Are these from cheering?" she asked, her fingertips sliding over them. Quinn met her gaze, another weird look on her face, and Rachel felt goosebumps form on the blonde's skin. "Because they are very nice." The drunk accusation went forgotten for the moment.
"Berry's drunk?" she heard Noah ask, rolling her eyes. Of course she wasn't, she didn't drink alcohol.
"Five."
"Quinn, you're joking right? She's not actually drunk."
"Four," Quinn said, and Rachel knew there was a reason she was counting down. Oh, yes, they thought she was inib…that word that meant drunk. Which she most certainly was not!
"It wasn't me, I swear!" Noah's voice was higher-pitched than normal and Rachel looked over to the boy, annoyed that her night with Quinn wasn't going as planned. She hardly remembered spending any time with the blonde.
"Three."
"Quinn, I'm not kidding, I didn't give her anything."
"T-two." Rachel snickered at the stutter. All it had taken was one step forward and the placement of her chin on Quinn's shoulder. She even wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist for good measure.
"Listen, unless she overdid it on the punch," Noah started to explain. His hands were in the air and he was walking backwards, as if afraid of the blonde in Rachel's arms. Actually, that made sense.
"You spiked the punch?" Quinn screeched. Rachel drew back at the noise, her ears not a fan of the sound.
Noah whipped his gaze around before he stepped forward and covered Quinn's mouth.
"Shh," he said quietly. "If Sylvester catches me, I'm a dead man."
Quinn smacked his hand away and everything that happened next blurred in front of Rachel's eyes. They whispered harshly to each other for a few minutes before Noah said something that gave Quinn pause. The blonde quickly shot a glance at Rachel, who was feeling more tired by the second, before mumbling a fuck you and rushing away.
Rachel debated on following her friend—her best friend—but Noah's hand on her arm kept her in place.
"Let's get you some water."
Twenty minutes after Quinn stormed away, Rachel was exhausted. Her body was satisfied with the water Noah had convinced her to consume, but the affects of the alcohol—that she had not drank of her own volition—were still affecting her.
She split from Noah, instead choosing to search for Quinn. She had no idea if the girl was even at the dance still, but she desperately hoped she was.
There were a few places Rachel thought to check, the auditorium for one, but she hadn't even approached the big wooden doors when she remembered that Quinn was different than her in more than a few ways. Rachel liked the auditorium because it was her place of comfort, always warm enough and quiet. It was a silent she could accept and then fill with sound, making it hers. Quinn didn't like silence—it pressed on her and made her thoughts louder than she wanted. Background noise always helped calm her.
Sure enough, Rachel found Quinn sitting outside on the steps of McKinley the instant she stepped through the doors.
"Hey," she said softly, walking down to the step in front of the blonde. She stood before the other girl, forcing her to make eye contact.
"Hey back," Quinn responded, though her tone didn't match the distant look in her eyes.
Rachel sighed, wishing she could turn back time to when they had just arrived at the dance. She had let Noah off the hook for the night, knowing that Quinn's happiness was more important than properly scolding the boy.
"The dance is going to be over soon, you know." She reached forward, brushing stray blonde hair back behind Quinn's ear.
"And?" Quinn replied, breaking eye contact at the touch.
"And," Rachel said, dragging out the word. "It would be a shame if I missed out on the opportunity to dance with my best friend. I would be extremely disappointed."
Quinn looked up at that and a wave of pleasure passed through Rachel when it was obvious the blonde was fighting a smile.
"But only extremely, right?" The smile came full bloom, reaching hazel eyes and everything.
"Precisely." Rachel nodded once, her hands raised palms up in front of the blonde. "Now, Quinn Fabray, may I have this dance? And all the rest of the dances, in all fairness, because I'm tired of sharing you."
The sound of Quinn's responding chuckle sent Rachel's stomach fluttering and she hardly sensed her offered hands being taken.
"You're so…" the blonde began, shaking her head.
"Amazing? Talented?" Rachel offered.
Quinn rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like and clearly a humble buzz but Rachel ignored that bit and guided her friend back to the gym. The slow song wasn't exactly expected, but Rachel adapted to it, too tired to really care anymore.
Unlike with Brittany, she wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist and left the blonde to loose her own around her shoulders.
"Your heart is beating fast," Rachel murmured, her ear resting just below Quinn's shoulder.
"That's what happens when you spend most of your night chasing after a crazy drunk girl." Quinn's voice was feathery in her ear and she resisted the urge to smack the girl's shoulder.
"I am not a crazy drunk girl," she protested, mentally stomping a foot.
"Your heart is beating fast, too," Quinn pointed out. "What's your excuse?"
Rachel smiled against the blonde's chest.
"Maybe it's racing yours."