Chapter 12: Good Customer Service
Quinn was face down on the table, having exhausted herself somewhere between raving and moaning. Brittany was quietly stroking her hair.
"And you really thought this was a good idea?" Puck asked loudly, staring at Santana with disdain from across the glass-strewn table. "As if she's not zig-zagged enough so you think alcohol cures all?"
"Well what was your plan asshole?" she snapped. "Let her hole up in her room for another week and pout?"
Santana was still fuming that he was even there at all. She hadn't invited him, but Brittany had innocently let it slip that she was meeting Santana and Quinn when she left the office. Puck tagged along with her and was livid to find an intoxicated mess of a Quinn in Santana's happy charge. She started out laughing and flirty, but by the fourth round was a morose, sulking lump much like she'd been at work. So much for mood enhancement through libations.
"It wasn't a week. It was barely two days, " he corrected, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "Besides, that's just how she deals with stuff."
He tipped up his beer angrily. As far as he was concerned Santana excelled at getting Quinn all stirred up and then bailing leaving him to deal with the fall-out. No doubt he would be suffering the consequences of this episode for days.
"Don't talk to me about how she deals with things," Santana fumed, narrowing her eyes menacingly at him. "Trust me, I know how that woman deals with shit. I've been through more drama with her than you'll ever know about."
"I've been through enough," he insisted, leaning across the table in a failed attempt to get up in her face. "You aren't the only one who's been there for her."
"Oh really, and how just many romances-gone-wrong have you nursed her through?" Santana asked with a sneer. "Let's see, oh yeah. None!"
"That's bullshit," Puck spat back. "There was that artist, you know, the foreign one."
He sat back smugly convinced he'd taken a point.
"You mean the one who forgot to mention a wife?" Santana said firmly.
"Yeah," he confirmed, still obviously feeling like he'd one-upped Santana.
"You mean the one that YOU introduced her to?" Santana sneered, spiking her brow in derision. "Oh ya, great example, shithead."
Puck blanched visibly.
Details, chicks always remember damn details.
"It's not like I knew that," he said defensively.
Santana scoffed.
"It's not a contest," Brittany said quietly.
"Look, you're not the one who has to live with her," he said trying to change the subject. "She doesn't need this shit."
He motioned to the mostly-empty drink glasses littered across the table.
"So you say," Santana said with a shrug.
He slammed his hand down hard on the table in frustration, jarring glasses and sloshing their contents.
"Yeah," he said loudly. "So I say."
"Yeah, I don't need this shit," Quinn muttered, jolted back to life by Puck's angry display. She was bleary-eyed and slurring her words badly. "He'zz ride, I don't need anything."
"We know, doll," Santana said, shaking her head. The evening had started out well, with Quinn relaxed and happy, but a few drinks in things had taken a turn for the scowling and whiny.
"Ish jus sall bullshit," Quinn declared, now slamming her hand on the table and spilling drinks in the process. Puck and Santana scrambled to upright glasses and mop up expensive puddles. During the chaos Quinn spotted Santana's unfinished tequila and grabbed for it, but Santana smoothly lifted it out her reach.
"No more for you, Q," she said patiently, mentally counting the beats and waiting for the angry tirade.
"I can if I wan' to," Quinn exploded predictably. "Ish my life. I'm a dult."
"Oh here we go," Puck muttered under his breath, smirking.
"Yes, yes, we know. You're a dult alright," Santana said, eyes rolling.
"Damnz ssstraight," Quinn replied. "I know what's breast."
"Yeah, Rachel's breast," Puck said with a snicker and Santana threw her fork at him.
"Shud da hell up, No...uh," she stammered. "You, too, San. Fuggin tell me..."
Quinn trailed off into angry muttering.
"Fine, you want to be a dult, be a fucking dult," Santana said, sliding the drink in Quinn's direction."Have at it, baby."
She did it mostly just to spite Puck, who scowled at her immediately.
Quinn went right for it and Puck was half-way up, but this time it was Brittany who interceded, grabbing her hand.
They all tensed and looked at her. Under the circumstances, Santana was at once concerned with what Quinn's reaction would be. Puck had the same concerns about both Quinn and Santana, because it could quickly become a chain reaction. Brittany was the only one who seemed nonplussed. She just sat clutching Quinn's hand.
"The fuck, Beeeezzz?" Quinn hissed angrily.
Both Puck and Santana moved to get up but Brittany just pouted at them and shook her head, then she turned her attention to Quinn.
"Fuck beezz, fuck beeezz, fuck beezzz," she was chanting to herself for no reason and still straining her fingers for the elusive glass.
"You don't need that, Quinn," Brittany said. "It won't fix you. Just no."
Quinn wasn't used to coming at Brittany with anything but patience and affection so even in her present state she wasn't sure how to react. She frowned deeply.
"Bud I wan' it," she whined. "Why can't I have the things I wan?"
"I'm sorry you're sad, Quinn," Brittany said. "I wish I could make it better for you."
At that point Quinn just sighed deeply and all the fight went out of her. She dropped her head and Brittany reached out, hugging her against her chest while glaring daggers at Puck and Santana over the top of Quinn's head.
"I miss Rachel," Quinn whispered into the blonde girl's sweater.
"I know you do," Brittany said, tilting her head down against Quinn's. "I know."
"Is she crying?" Puck whispered loudly.
"I don't cry, goddamn it," Quinn yelled, her voice muffled.
"Okay, fine, right, whatever," Puck said, shaking his head. "That's bullshit, by the way."
He made the remark to no one in particular.
"Needless to say she'll be going home with us," Santana said, narrowing her eyes at Puck.
"Fine by me," he said, shrugging. He picked up his beer and drained it. "Less babysitting for me to deal with."
"Whatever," Santana said with a dismissive sniff, throwing up a hand. "Ass."
"Bitch," he snapped back.
"Stop it," Brittany hissed. "Just stop it. You both love her so act like it."
They both retreated into their seats looking unrepentant.
"She's so sad," Brittany said quietly, stroking Quinn's hair. "That's the only thing that matters now."
"Oh yeah, well let's see how you feel when she barfs in your lap," Puck muttered behind his hand.
Brittany looked down at Quinn suspiciously.
=^..^=
Kurt sat rolling his eyes and handing Rachel tissues at regular intervals. She had been crying more or less non-stop from the moment he walked in the door. So far all he'd managed to put together was that it had something to do with Quinn finding Mr. Arnstein, who was presently spending the day at the groomer because he smelled like baby diapers and was infested.
"So let me see if I understand this," he said over Rachel's whimpering. "Quinn found your lost cat and instead of being happy about it, you're now this unappealing quivering pile of goo."
"It's not funny," Rachel insisted tearfully. "You don't understand."
"No," he said truthfully. "I don't understand. Wasn't that the whole point of this – to get your cat back?"
"Well, yes," she said, wiping her hand across her eyes.
He grimaced.
"Pink eye is not your color," he said, pulling up a fresh dollop of tissues and shoving them at her.
"So you didn't want her to find him?" he asked again, baffled.
"No, oh my God. Of course I'm glad she found him. I thought he was dead," she said, sniffling into her tissues. "But now that she has she won't see me anymore."
That admission started new tears streaming.
"Okay, still confused," he said slowly. "I thought you two were friends, sort of."
"That's what I thought, too," she said, her eyes wandering everywhere.
Kurt eyed her suspiciously.
"If memory serves," he said, holding a finger to his cheek. "I thought you were maybe...more than friends."
He narrowed his eyes at her. Rachel's brow wrinkled and she sucked her lip under her teeth.
"Rachel Barbra, you naughty, naughty minx, what did you do?" he said, his tone a mixture of pride and scolding.
First she shook her head, frowning, a defiant look on her face.
"Nothing. That's not... don't be...," she sputtered indignantly.
"What? Don't be what?" he asked dramatically. "Oh, I know, don't be right."
He smirked, giving her a haughty eye roll.
"We were just friends," Rachel said ridiculously. "That's all."
"Of course," he said, nodding. " Because I get this same exact same way when the checkout clerk at Whole Foods won't return my calls after she's finished ringing up my order. It's so devastating. "
Rachel's face crumpled and she pitched forward onto the sofa racked in sobs. Her hand came up and Kurt placed a tissue in her open palm.
He sighed, exasperated.
"Too bad we can't just misplace that cat again," he said, scoffing. "That would certainly solve this problem."
Rachel sat up so quickly that Kurt flinched back. He instantly recognized the manic gleam in her eyes and realized his mistake.
"Rachel, it was a joke," he said quickly, hoping to minimize the damage. "You can't be seriously..."
"Maybe you could just..." she started but he cut her off immediately.
"Rachel, please," he said, trying to move her away from any such outlandish notions.
"But if we said that he got away at the groomer," she suggested in a flurry.
She got up and started pacing quickly around the room. The more her mind worked the more her hands flailed in the air. Kurt watched her looking slightly terrified.
"Of course, he really would be safely stashed away somewhere. But, it could happen, right? I mean, yes, it would be a lie, but, but... "
"Goodness knows I love a good madcap, screwball farce as much as the next gay," he said. "But Rachel, honey, seriously, please listen to yourself."
"I don't think it's all that far-fetched," she insisted adamantly. "I mean, when you think about it."
" No, of course not," he said sarcastically. "Next thing you know you'll be chasing around with 7 plaid cat carriers and riding an ice cream cart into a Chinese dragon."
She sniffed and folded her arms across her chest.
"Kurt, while I certain appreciate the Streisand analogy, I hardly think it's appropriate here," she huffed. "It's not all that outlandish. Pets escape from the groomer all the time."
"Yes, it is a virtual pandemic," he snapped back. "Rachel..."
"I think this could work, " she pressed. "Of course, I would need to get some money together and we'd need a team."
"No, no, absolutely, emphatically no," he said firmly, trying to be the voice of reason since Rachel clearly didn't have one of her own. "A team, really? Listen to yourself, please."
"What if I said he was catnapped?" she said brightly, a finger going to her cheek. She smiled, clearly pleased with the sheer brilliance of herself. "That happens. I know it does. I read the papers."
"Rachel, for Barbra's sake," Kurt said sounding more than a little desperate. "You sound positively deluded. And frankly, even if you did somehow, miraculously, manage to pull this off, unless Quinn is a complete and utter idiot she's not going to believe you. She's going to know you're lying."
"But I'm an actress," she said, as though he could have possibly forgotten. "I can do this. Piece of cake."
"Even more to the point," he insisted. "She won't believe you. Rachel."
She waved a dismissive hand in his direction.
"Streep, Out of the Dark. No, no, too detached, too restrained," she said, coaching herself. "Something more vulnerable, more longing."
"Hatter, Alice in Wonderland, as in Mad as," Kurt interjected. "McGregor, Big Fish, as in big, fat, liar."
"Come on," she whined loudly, falling onto the couch. "Help me."
"Oh Rachel," he said with a patient sigh. "I'm trying."
"It doesn't feel like it," she fussed, falling forward and laying like a rag doll.
"Do you really want to lie to this girl?" he said softly, leaning toward her.
"No," she reluctantly admitted.
"I didn't think so," he said, much relieved.
"Why won't she just talk to me?" she whimpered, tears falling again.
"Maybe it's because she can't," he said, rubbing Rachel's back.
"Why not?" she asked pitifully. She sat up and looked at him. He blotted tears from her face gently.
"I just want to make sense of this."
"It sounds to me like it hurts her too much," he said quietly.
She blinked slowly, thinking about what he said.
=^..^=
Santana was trying to get money out of her purse to leave for a tip, but Quinn kept pulling out random items and tossing them on the table.
"Quinn, doll, stop. Don't...HERE," Santana finally said angrily, pushing Quinn toward Puck. "Just, just hold her up."
Puck looped his arm around Quinn's waist. She stared back up at him and then started poking her finger into his cheek.
"Look," he said, tipping his head away, trying to get out of her reach. "Just let me take her home.
"Just stand there and try to be helpful for two minutes," Santana snapped. "I'll do this and then we'll get out of here."
He opened his mouth to argue but Quinn poked him squarely in the eye.
"Oooh, eye got you," she snickered.
"Son of a..." Puck squealed, wincing and pushing her hand away. Quinn fell hard against him laughed wildly. "Quinn, just...ah hell."
He was more or less supporting her weight entirely. Chuckling, Quinn started singing and swinging on him.
"Are we ready yet?" he asked, clearly exasperated with them all.
"Yeah, yeah," Santana admitted, equally irritable."Can you manage her?"
"Hell yes," he said. He bent and easily tipped Quinn up over his shoulder.
"Oooh, ride," she said excitedly. She started slapping him on the ass. "Go faster, faster."
Santana just closed her eyes and swore under her breath.
"Come on, Brit," she said, taking Brittany's hand and pulling her along through the crowd. Heads turned and watch as Puck march along behind them with Quinn tossed over his shoulder. His scowl guaranteed no one made any smart remarks.
Once in the parking lot, Santana had her keys hand, already pointing him in the direction of her car.
"Look, I'm just gonna go," he said. "Just let me handle this."
Santana narrowed her eyes and pointed a key at him like she meant business.
"Listen Suckerman," she hissed. I'm not having this conversation with you again. Put her in our car and go the hell away. I'll deal with this."
He shook his head adamantly.
"You don't really want to fuck with me, Elephant Boy, " she warned. "Step off."
"I'll follow you," Puck suggested.
Santana scoffed loudly.
"Not happening," she said, stepping toward him. "Put her down or I'll make you put her down."
"Then follow me," he countered. "I know where you live."
"Why are you in this?" she asked.
"Look, I just want to make sure you all get home without any problems," he said. "She's a handful like this."
Santana stared hard at him.
"I'm warning you," she told him, stabbing him in the chest with the key. "If you drive off..."
"Just pull out and wait for me," he told her over his shoulder, already walking to his truck.
He unlocked the cab and dumped Quinn in the passenger seat. She lolled like a rag doll. He pulled the seat belt across her lap and closed the door carefully. He was still debating whether to take off or not as he climbed behind the wheel. He turned the key and looked up, startled to find to find Brittany standing by his window. He rolled it down.
"San says I should ride with you," she told him.
"Ah, come on, B," he growled. "There's no room. Tell Santana this is dumb as shit and I'll drive slow."
She shrugged and walked back to their car and leaned in the driver's window, obviously talking with Santana. Finally she walked around and got in their car. Santana leaned on the horn, apparently to hurry him along. He backed out and pulled past them and Santana fell in behind him, following closely.
His plan was to try and talk some sense into Quinn, but he could tell by the way she was slumped over against the door that she was clearly not in any condition to talk to anyone about anything.
Although he would never admit it to anyone he felt largely responsible for this whole mess. If he'd been available to take Rachel's call that morning instead of catting around the coffee shop it's possible that none of this would even be happening. He felt like he owned it to Quinn to at least help try and put things right for her again.
He'd already tried to have a conversation with Rachel, but apparently that didn't do much good. If anything, it might have pushed them closer together.
=^..^=
"Excuse me," Kurt said, asking Rachel to repeat what she just told him.
"She asked me to choose her," she said quietly, staring down at her hands resting motionless in her lap.
" I mean, she actually said, 'Be with me.'"
"Oh my," Kurt said, surprised.
"I wanted to...well, you know," she said and quickly glanced up at him.
He shook his head tightly.
She raised her eye brows and jerk one shoulder up.
"You know..." she said again. When he continued to look baffled she leaned in slightly and dropped her voice. "Have sex."
Kurt gaped slightly.
"But she wouldn't," she continued. "I even...tried and she stopped me."
"Oh, just...um, wow." he said weakly.
He slumped back against the couch, the effort of wrangling Rachel's tilt-a-whirl emotions and processing this new admission finally taking its toll on him. Rachel had crushes. It wasn't anything new. She got them easily, exhausted them quickly, suffered their demise dramatically then moved on to the next. He was used to that, but this, however, this was clearly something different.
"Are you ready to talk about this?" he asked seriously. "I mean really tell me what's going on?"
She nodded.
"So you haven't slept with this girl?" he asked directly.
She shook her head.
"But if I understand correctly, " he continued, reluctantly. "It's not for your lack of...trying?"
She sighed deeply and finally nodded her head.
"Rachel, as much as it pains me to ask this, and believe me, it does, " he said, eyes rolling. "Have you ever even been with another woman?"
"I, I mean, there were a few times..." she stammered and then finally she just shook her head. "Not really."
"And yet that didn't stop you from...oh how I hate this," he said dramatically, hand to heart. "That didn't stop you from...really, Rachel? I mean, seriously. Love you dearly, but you are given to flights of well, exaggeration."
Rachel rolled her eyes.
"You really tried to have sex with this girl?" he said, still not quite believing it.
"Yes, Kurt," she huffed. "I really tried. I practically threw myself at her. Wait, strike that, there was no practically about it. I stopped somewhere just short of tearing all my clothes of and jumping on her face..."
"Oh my god," he muttered, groaning loudly as if in agony.
Friendship had it's limits and Rachel was pushing the envelope. No doubt that visual would haunt his dreaming and waking hours for days.
"I just..," he said, fanning himself.
"But it was quite clear what my intent was," she said emphatically. "She knew very well that I want to..."
"STOP!" he said shrilly causing Rachel's mouth to snap shut. "Stop. I've got the picture, unfortunately."
She exhaled sharply and quirked her mouth.
"Okay," he said, still trying to push the images far, far away. "And given your, shall we say, persistence, she still declined?"
"At least you have the decency to make it sound implausible," she said with a sad smile. "But yes, she declined, she insisted she wanted something more that just...sex."
"My goodness," he whispered.
"I know, right," she said.
He frowned at her. He wasn't sure if she really comprehended the gravity of that gesture. It was possible Rachel had never encountered it before in her rather limited romantic experiences. He was quite sure anyone she'd been with was a willing participant regardless of their true intentions.
"And you?" he asked. "What did you want?"
"Well, at that moment, I will readily admit I wasn't thinking very clearly. I just wanted..." she confessed. "She was so close and so beautiful. Just the thought of touching..."
"Yes, yes, yes, I see, very close, beautiful, thoughts, lots and lots of thoughts," he said, again fanning away the thoughts. "Enough with what happened then, now, what about now? What do you want from her now, Rachel?"
"Now I just want to see her, to talk to her," she admitted. "I just... miss being with her. I mean, the if sex was a part of it, that would be...well, that would so amazing, too. Oh my god."
She and Kurt both whimpered, but for different reasons.
"Oh Kurt," she said, shoulders slumping.
Rachel looked so devastated that Kurt signed resignedly. He moved over next to her and pulled her into a hug.
"Maybe she was just being kind," she said, sniffling against his chest. "And now's she's avoiding me so she doesn't have to tell me the truth."
"I can tell you don't believe that at all even while you're saying it, " he told her, shaking his head. "You know this girl has real feelings for you. Just like you have real feelings for her, don't you?"
She nodded.
"Then I think that it's about time you suck it up and deal with the proverbial elephant sucking up all the air in the room," he said flatly.
Rachel didn't respond. He pushed her away from him and stared her straight in the eye.
"Rachel, darling, if you want to be with this girl then the answer is very clear. You need to lose something," he said wryly. "But it isn't a cat."
He wasn't surprised when there was no response.
=^..^=
"Just put her down there," Santana said, pointing at the couch. "We'll deal with it from here."
Truth was she wasn't sure how she and Brit would manhandle Quinn into the guest room, but she just wanted Puck out of the house. She's had her fill of his smug looks and snide comments for one day.
"I can take her up..." he said, but one look at Santana's face cut him off and he placed Quinn down on the sofa. She immediately curled over on her side. He put a hand gently on her head, then stepped back.
"All good," Santana declared. "Thanks for the assist."
She promptly squeezed a vice grip on his earlobe and began dragging him, arms pinwheeling, toward the door.
"Sorry you can't stay longer," she said, propelling him him through the still-open doorway. She followed him out the door with a well-placed kick in the ass.
"And that's for calling me slow-driving, dumb-shit, " she hissed and slammed the door behind him.
"Thanks a lot, Brittany," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He gingerly starting limping back to his truck.
=^..^=
Between the two of them, they managed to half-carry, half-drag Quinn into their guest room. They draped her more-or-less over the side of the bed and then left her to fend for herself while they changed out of their work clothes. By the time Santana came back to check on her, Quinn was awake and scrambling madly past her heading for the guest bathroom in the hall. The door slammed and Santana winced at the noises that followed.
"Where's Quinn?" Brittany asked, holding a glass of water and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. "I fixed this for her."
"Oh honey, " Santana said, taking the soup. "Let''s just leave this for her, okay? She's not right up to eating at the moment."
Santana put the sou p on the dress in near Quinn's bed.
"Maybe she needs some help?" Brittany suggested.
Santana held up her hands and backed a couple of steps.
"I love Q like mad, but sh'e totes on her own in there," Santana admitted. "I had enough of her in college. Come on, B, she'll moo if she needs help."
Not satisfied, Brittany walked up and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Quinn?" she called, leaning her head against the door.
"Not now, B 'kay?" Quinn called, her voice strained.
"I made you some soup," she told her. "I put goldfish crackers in it. They always make me feel better."
Santana winced. Quinn groaned loudly and Santana tugged Brittany away from the door.
"We're gonna give you some space, Q," Santana told her loudly, propelling Brittany towards their bedroom. "Come get me if you need me, sweetie."
All she heard was pained grunt that may or may not have been an acknowledgment, followed immediately by groaning and retching.
"Oh boy," Santana muttered sympathetically.
"You're right. I think she might not want her soup right now," Brittany agreed.
"It was sweet of you," Santana told her, squeezing her hand. "The goldfish were a nice touch."
She pulled Brittany into her and kissed her forehead.
"Maybe we should call Rachel," Brittany suggested.
Santana did a double-take at the suggestion.
"Honey, I'm pretty sure that at this moment seeing Rachel is the last thing on Quinn's mind," Santana told her gently.
Brittany wasn't so convinced.
"I always want you to take care of me when I'm sick," Brittany pointed out reasonably.
"I know, I know," Santana agreed. "But Quinn, well, she's funny about these things. Let's just hold off on the Rachel thing okay, B?"
Brittany hesitated for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Can we get a kitten?" Brittany asked randomly. "I made a list of things we could name it. Want to hear."
"Always," Santana said, smiling.
She teered her into the bedroom as she reeled of a list of names for their future pet.
=^..^=
"I can't," Rachel said, shaking her head rapidly. "I just can't."
Kurt scoffed loudly.
"Rachel, you were just hatching a plot to kidnap your own cat," he said incredulously. "That makes more sense to you than breaking up with..."
"Stop!" she said loudly, grabbing his arm. "Don't, just don't... I'm not ready to hear it out loud yet."
"I can't believe I'm actually just saying this to you in this conversation," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But NOW you're just being ridiculous."
She huffed and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to make herself physically as small as she felt.
"He's a terrible boyfriend," he continued. "He's selfish, slow and frankly, I don't know why you're with him at in the first place."
"You've never liked him," she snapped.
"No, Rachel, I've never liked him," he agreed. "But that's beside the point. Whether I like him or not doesn't matter. "
"He hasn't done anything wrong," she argued.
"This isn't about right or wrong either," he pointed out quickly. "You don't have to stay with him just because he hasn't screwed things up this time. Give him time, I'm sure he'll get around to it again eventually."
She didn't say anything and stared at her palm as though trying to find the answers there.
"I don't know what to do," she said helplessly.
"Rachel," he said, exasperated. He got up and paced.
It finally dawned on him that Rachel's had most likely never ended a relationship in her life either. Sure she'd had relationships end, but it was never her idea first. He sat back down beside her and took her hand.
"Listen to me. You can't be afraid to let yourself find out if this can make you happier than you are right now," Kurt told her gently. "She's as much as said you can't have both and that's what you're trying to do."
"I'm afraid of what Finn might do, " she said.
"Surely he wouldn't dare put his hands on you," Kurt said, clearly surprised.
"No, of course not," Rachel said. "I don't mean that. I mean, well his family. I mean, he could ruin me if he wanted to. One word from his father and I'll never...everything I've worked for would be..."
She just shook her head.
"Would he really do something like that?" he asked.
"I don't know," she confessed. "I really, I just..."
Again, she just shook her head and gave him a weak shrug.
"I thought his father didn't, well, didn't like the idea of you two being together," he remarked.
Rachel sighed.
"I think he'd like it a lot less if word gets around I left his son for...well, for Quinn, " she told him.
Left his son for Quinn.
They both realized that she'd finally actually said it out loud.
"Is that what you want?" Kurt coaxed gently.
The panic-stricken look on her face was answer enough.
"Oh my God, this is all so fast, " she whimpered. "I don't know where to go with all this... stuff. I feel like I'm just drowning in all these feelings."
"Maybe you could talk to her about it? " Kurt suggested. "Just explain what your concerns are."
"She won't listen," Rachel said.
"You don't know that," he told her. "I mean have you really even tried. Rachel?"
"Sort of," she confessed. "I mean, it's hard. Whenever we're together it's like I can't... think. I just think about..."
Kurt facepalmed and groaned and Rachel looked defeated.
"Listen to me," he said sternly. "You have to get your hormones under control. If all she sees of you is this sex fiend no wonder she's...confused. Now she probably thinks you're picking him over her. She feels rejected."
"But I... am," she admitted.
"For the moment, perhaps," he insisted. "But you wouldn't be carrying on like this if you were happy with that decision. Anyone with eyes and half a brain can see that you're not. Speaking of half a brain, where is he? Why isn't he lumbering around in the background and whining like a toddler?"
Rachel sighed.
"He's in Florida," she told him. "He got a part in one of his father's films."
"But I thought his dad didn't approve of that sort-of thing?" he asked, confused.
"He thought he'd be smart and auditioned for the director directly," she explained. "His father's only producing. I guess the director insisted he's perfect for the part and Finn's father didn't...care enough to object."
Kurt huffed suspiciously.
Personally he had a very hard time believing any director would be so insistent about the likes of Finn being in his film that he'd risk standing up to his old man. Unless, of course, it was really just out-and-out pandering, a ploy to curry favor. Or a set-up.
Or perhaps something else was up.
Kurt pursed his lips as he wondered if Finn might not be lying for some reason. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd stretching the truth for his own benefits. He quietly vowed to see if he could find out more about Finn's latest activities. In the meantime, it was clearly time for some tough love.
"Rachel Berry," he said, taking her by the slumped shoulders and looking her in the sad, watery eyes. "Where's the girl who never takes 'no' for an answer? I know she's still in there somewhere?"
She gave him a weak smile.
"Better yet, look at it this way," he said confidently. "What would Barbra do?"
Behind the tears, he distinctly noted that manic twinkle rekindling.
"Unleash your inner Streisand," he insisted. "Quinn Fabray won't even know what hit her. Don't you dare let anything or anyone rain on your parade."
Rachel dissolved into grateful giggles and hugged him.
=^..^=
Quinn grunted. The buzzing sound. Just make it stop. Opening her eyes, she forced herself up off the floor and wrenched her cell phone out of her pocket. She stared at the phone and squinted hard. The numbers were a smeary blur and she finally gave up and just answered it because she couldn't get it turned off.
"What?" she snapped.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said immediately and cursed herself.
This was a bad idea. It was so early, too early to be calling anyone.
"Oh, it's you," Quinn scoffed. "Still apologizing no less. I don't have anything to say to you, Missy."
Both of them were taken by surprise at how angry she sounded.
"Please don't hang up on me," Rachel said quickly, fully expecting to hear the faint click, but it never came.
Quinn just grunted instead.
"Where are you?" Rachel asked. It was a neutral question and she hoped it would keep the conversation going.
"I'm not sure," Quinn said cautiously. She rolled her head loosely around, trying to find something familiar. She thought she was probably at Santana's but she wasn't quite sure. Besides, she wasn't about to tell Rachel and risk her turning up.
"What does that mean?" Rachel asked anxiously. "Why don't you know?"
"Rachel, what do you want?" Quinn asked. She didn't exactly mean to be rude, she just didn't want to talk more than necessary and well, it was Rachel after all. She would chatterbox unless forced to focus.
Quinn sound...funny. It was more than just drowsy, it was as if she was... now Rachel realized why she'd answered and was so surly. She'd seen this side of Quinn before.
"I just need to talk to you," Rachel explained. "I haven't stopped thinking about you."
Quinn smiled in spite of her situation.
"So I'm unregretable, huh? " she said, chuckling smugly.
Rachel laughed wryly.
"Yes, you are," she told her. "Very."
"Hmm," Quinn murmured, smirking.
"I need to see you," Rachel continued boldly, risking Quinn ending the call. "Just to talk."
"See there's the problem, kitten," Quinn said, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand. "We never can manage the whole 'just talk' thing."
"I promise I'll keep my hands to myself," Rachel said.
"Your lips, too?" Quinn asked, her tone softer, lighter, almost amused.
"Yes," Rachel laughed. "Those as well."
"And could you maybe not look so..." Quinn faded.
"So?" Rachel prodded, curiosity peaked.
Quinn exhaled heavily, breath echoing into the phone. Rachel swore she could feel it tickling her ear.
"So...so...," Quinn said, again trailing away.
"Adorable?" Rachel suggested helpfully.
"Mmm, that, but..." Quinn remarked.
"Kissable?" Rachel asked, grinning.
"That too," Quinn admitted. "And lick-able, don't forget... that."
Rachel felt the heat rise to her face, among other places.
"Um, what else?" she asked, heartbeat quickening.
Quinn pulled her knees up and rested her forehead against them. She closed her eyes and remember cuddling with Rachel in her bed on another morning similar to this.
"So soft," she said in a quiet breathy whisper. "And touchable."
"Quinn, tell me where you are," Rachel urged. "Just let me come get you."
"I can't be around you right now," Quinn said.
"Why not?" Rachel asked, knowing full well the answer.
"You know why," Quinn said. "All those reasons."
"Those are all the reasons you should let me come get you," Rachel told her.
Quinn laughed.
"I need you to kiss me," Rachel confessed, her voice a throaty growl. "I need to feel your lips on me, somewhere, anywhere."
Quinn swallowed hard, her stomach falling dangerously.
"Rachel," she said softly. "Please..."
"I need to see you," Rachel whispered. "Tell me where you are. Let me take care of you."
"Alright," Quinn said, relenting.
Santana knock lightly on the door.
"Hey doll," she said loudly.
Quinn jumped like a teenager caught kissing in the glow of the porch light. She dropped the phone and it skittered loudly across the tile.
Cursed. God-damned star-crossed!
"Fuck," she hissed under breath, scrambling after the phone. She scooped it up, taking several fumbling tries to get the right end to her ear.
"I can't talk right now," Quinn stammered.
" Quinn," Rachel said. "Just tell me where you are. Don't..."
"I'm not alone." Quinn hissed painfully, head throbbing wildly and her stomach rolling again. "Chickadee, I really gotta go. I'm sorry. Sorry. "
\" Quinn, wait, wait!" Rachel said urgently. "Quinn..."
The signal was gone.
Now in addition to just missing Quinn, she was yet again a quivering, frustrated mess. Not to mention she now couldn't get the thought of Quinn being with someone else out her mind.
It was definitely a woman's voice she heard. That coupled with the facts that Quinn had clearly been drinking, didn't know where she was and had said she wasn't alone.
Rachel squealed unhappily and tossed her phone away. It bounced on the mattress and landed on the floor.
Rachel curled up into her pillow, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
Awaken by the commotion, Mr. Arnstein batted the phone around and then nosed it under the bed, pushing it exactly in the middle where it would be impossible to reach. Then he proceeded to march his way up the comforter and plopped himself down on the pillow next to Rachel's head and began to purr, loudly. His paws flexed rhythmically against her shoulder as she bunched her fists up into her eyes trying to stop the flow of tears and failing.
=^..^=
Quinn's stomach turned over but she was so dehydrated nothing was left and she just choked miserably. When the dizziness faded, she hauled herself up off the floor and rinsed her mouth, then splashed cold water on her face. She rummaged around in the drawers but she didn't find a spare toothbrush. As a last resort she squeezed toothpaste onto her finger and rubbed it over her teeth, trying to get the vile taste of a night out with Santana out of her mouth.
Swish, spit, swish, spit. Oh god, please don't puke.
She found herself narrating everything in her head which made her feel worse. She leaned heavily against the sink gripping with both hand to steady herself.
"Quinn," Santana tried again, knocking loudly.
Quinn reached behind her and opened the door.
Santana pushed it up and leaned on the frame, arms folded and staring at her.
"I've see you worse," she mused, pursing her lips. "Frankly, I'm surprised you're standing."
"You and me both," Quinn muttered, wincing painfully. "Has your house always been so... bright?"
Santana chuckled.
"Want coffee?" she asked.
Quinn moaned and Santana quirked an eyebrow.
"I don't think so," she managed to mutter.
"Well, you gotta have something," Santana told her, rubbing a sympathetic hand on her back. "It'll make you feel better. Let's try some tea, okay.|"
Quinn nodded slightly.
"Find a bed and get in," she told her. "I'll find you."
She patted her back and went back down the hall.
Quinn pushed open the first door she came to and squinted in. Brittany was curled up, sleeping. Or so she thought. When she moved to close the door, Brittany sat up.
"Quinn," she said sleepily, holding out her hand.
Quinn smiled and stepped into the room.
"Hey pretty blonde girl," she said. She grabbed Brittany's fingers and Brittany tugged gently, pulling her down on the mattress.
"You look bad," she told her.
"Thanks," Quinn said with a tight smile. "You look sleepy."
"Not so much," she told her. "I'm gonna go get San to make pancakes."
"Oh geez," Quinn moaned, rolling into a pillow that smelled faintly of Santana's perfume. "Please don't talk about...that."
Brittany laughed and rubbed her arm, then she pulled the sheet up over her. "Sleep some more."
|Quinn grunted, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow.
She heard Brittany and Santana talking quietly in the hallway, but couldn't make out any of their conversation except her name. It was mentioned a couple of times. She thought she might have heard Rachel's name as well. Santana walked into the room carrying a mug of hot, sweet tea, a bottle of water and cookies. She eased down on the mattress, nudging Quinn over.
"Sit up, doll," she told her.
"Mmm mmm," Quinn fussed.
"Yeah, don't make me get Brit involved," she warned.
Quinn pushed herself up with a groan. Santana held up a cookie and Quinn's nose turned up.
"Gingersnap," she told her. "Ginger is a powerful thing. Eat."
Quinn took it reluctantly and nibbled.
"Really?" Santana said, shaking her head. "I'll be here forever at that rate. Take a fucking bite."
"Yes, Nurse Wretched," Quinn said, chewing.
"Try not to spill this all over yourself," she told her, handing her the cup of tea. Quinn juggled the cookie and slurped loudly.
"Charming, "Santana smirked.
Quinn laughed.
"I'm sorry I got you like this," Santana said, staring into her lap.
"Yeah, I hate it when yo u hold me down and force things on me," Quinn said.
Santana shrugged.
"Still, Q," she said. "I feel bad."
"Don't," Quinn said, mouthful and spraying crumbs.
"NoDuh was hella pissed, too," she confessed.
Another chuckle from Quinn. She took another bite of her cookie.
"Everybody feels guilty about lil ole me," she said, chuckling.
"Yeah, well," Santana shrugged. "You're such a pitiful mess, how could we not?"
Quinn scoffed, smiling.
"Love you more," she told her, bumping her shoulder.
Santana rolled her eyes and leaned over and kissed Quinn's head.
"Ugh, take a shower," she told her, standing up. "And finish those cookies before you take these."
She grabbed Quinn's hand and tipped several pills into her palm.
"Roofies?" Quinn asked.
"Yeah, you wish," Santana smirked. "As soon as Britt gets out of the shower we're taking off. It's pancake day."
"So I've heard," Quinn remarked, shuddering.
" You know how to find us if you need anything," Santana said. "Right?"
Quinn nodded, chewing slowly.
"No wild sex parties and stay out of my stash," she told her walked toward the door. She turned the light off and pulled the door closed behind her.
Quinn finished one cookie and another, then drained her tea. She tipped the pills into her mouth and chased them with several gulps of water, then put the bottle onto the nightstand. She curled back over on her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin, shivering.
She stayed that way for several minutes, staring blankly. She fished in her pocket and pulled out her cellphone and pushed redial on the last call.
The phone rang several times and then went to voice mail. Quinn hung up and tried again to sleep.
=^..^=
Rachel was still quietly sobbing into her hands when she heard her phone ring. It was muffled and faint, but the chorus of "Defying Gravity" was unmistakeably warbling away. Somewhere.
"Quinn," she said out loud and started furiously scrambling around for the phone. Nicky hissed his displeasure at being disturbed and sulked away to the other side of the bed where he watched placidly as Rachel flailed about like a mad woman. She rifled through the covers and, once satisfied it wasn't on the bed, began running in manic, hand-wringing circles looking for it on the floor.
Finally, in the throws of a full-fledged meltdown, she dropped to all fours and crawled around the bed, hands scrabbling frantically underneath. When that also proved futile, she belly-flopped onto her stomach and peered into the dark chasm beneath the bed.
Inexplicably, smack-dead in the center, she could see the faint green glow of her cell phone.
"What the fuck?" she hissed.
Nicky sauntered to the edge of the bed and peered over just as Rachel began swimming and squirming her way underneath the bed. He lackadaisically began licking a paw and scrubbing his face with it watching her legs kick and flail.
Grunting loudly with effort and trying to shake the perspiration out of her eyes, Rachel strained to get her fingertips on her phone.
Just a few more inches. Why weren't her fingers longer?
She inch-wormed a few more painful inches and finally felt her fingers touch the vibrating phone, She inched it back until she could close her hand around. She pulled it to her face as quickly as she was able in the tight confines and answered.
"Hello...hello?" she said, borderline in hysterics. "Quinn, hello? Hello? Quinn?"
The line was dead.
Nicky had moved on to cleaning his ear with a new paw when he heard the tiny muffled scream from deep underneath the mattress. It probably would have sent lesser cats fleeing for cover, but Nicky was well used to it. The same was true for the frantic wailing that followed. He did, however, know enough to disappear by the time Rachel emerged from beneath the confines of the the bed – a disheveled, dusty, hysterical, needy hot mess.
"SHIT," she yelled. Then, fists and teeth clenched, she pitched herself face-down on the mattress, a graceful flail of a swan-dive that would have been the envy of toddlers and drama queens everywhere.
She was still in the midst of cursing and crying when the phone in her clenched fist rang again.
"Ooohhh, ohmygod," she cried out and spring bolt upright in the bed. She began pawing at herself, whimpering and trying to wipe her tear-streaked, dust-smudged face, smooth her wild hair and swipe the grime from her shirt as though she were going on camera instead of merely taking a call. After two rings she became convinced Quinn would hang up again and willed herself to be calm enough to answer.
=^..^=
"Hello," answered a quivering voice, sniffling.
"Please stop crying," Quinn said immediately.
"S..ss...so..." Rachel began stuttering, but Quinn cut her off.
"And don't say you're sorry," she told her. "Stop apologizing to me all the time."
"S...um, okay, "Rachel said and Quinn smiled. "You called me."
Rachel sounded out-of-breath and manic. Quinn couldn't even begin to imagine what she was doing or why she hadn't answered earlier. She knew she had to call back because she was genuinely afraid Rachel might have a breakdown when she realized she missed a call.
"I did," Quinn admitted. "I couldn't close my eyes thinking you were probably crying yours out."
"No, I wasn't," she lied.
"Okay then," Quinn said quickly. "Bye."
"Wait, alright," Rachel said in a rush. God, stop being such an idiot. "Maybe I was...a little bit."
Quinn chuckled.
"That was, you were teasing," Rachel said, nodding. "Right?"
"I suppose I was," Quinn said. "A little bit."
"So are you going to tell me where you are now?" Rachel asked.
"No," Quinn answered.
"Why not?" Rachel whined.
"It would only depress you," Quinn answered.
"Whhhyyy," Rachel asked hesitantly, fearing the worst.
"Well I am in some pretty girl's bed," Quinn teased.
"Oh," Rachel said her tone considerably cooled. "Gee, how nice for you."
Quinn grinned wickedly, pleased with herself.
"You have such pretty green eyes," she said.
Rachel scoffed.
"Don't you even...my eyes are br..." Rachel stammered and then stopped mid-syllable. "Oh. Funny, ha ha. Don't flatter yourself. "
"Right," Quinn said smugly.
"Seriously, what do I care if you go out and get drunk and pick up, " Rachel huffed. "Whatever it is you pick up."
"Oh really," Quinn snapped. "They'll be comforted to know that you approve."
"They?" Rachel squeaked. "Quinn, really. I'm..."
Quinn laughed.
"Don't be such a prude, chickadee," she said, "You have to loosen up a bit."
Rachel sputtered and Quinn snickered.
"I don't see what's so funny," Rachel snapped finally. "I hardly find your sexual escapades are all that amusing."
"First of all, I don't have sexual escapades," Quinn told her. "And even if I did, it certainly your place to approve or disapprove of them."
"Clearly not," she replied shortly. "Whatever. As you've so abundantly made clear, it's not my concern..."
"Santana," Quinn said, feeling drowsy.
"What?" Rachel said, confused.
"I'm at Santana's," Quinn admitted.
"You slept with Santana?" she hissed. "What about Brittany?"
"Oh my god," Quinn groaned and folded the pillow around her head.
She heard Rachel laughing
"Two can play that game you realize," she said smugly.
"I deserved that," Quinn admitted.
"You did," Rachel concurred.
They both just smiled, listening to the other breath.
"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," Rachel said.
"Don't be," Quinn answered. "I did it to myself. It was stupid. I know better than this."
"So why do you keep doing it?" Rachel asked, seriously.
"You know why," Quinn said softly.
"Quinn," Rachel said, feeling guilty and helpless.
"I'm...sorry," Quinn said ruefully. "I can't blame.. I shouldn't blame you."
"Quinn, I wish..." Rachel said and groaned in frustration. "I wish things were..."
"I know," Quinn told her. "I know. I wish, too."
They both retreated to their own thoughts. Rachel emerged first.
"Quinn?" Rachel said timidly.
"Yes?" she answered.
"If I asked you to trust me..." Rachel said.
Quinn was laughing before she could finish.
"No, stop, seriously," Rachel scolded. "If it was important, would you?"
"Of course, chickadee, " Quinn answered.
She grunted and rolled over onto her back.
"Please trust me," Rachel whispered.
She could hear Quinn's steady, soft breathing. Several minutes passed and Rachel thought she'd fallen asleep.
"I do," she answered finally with absolute conviction. "I do, Rachel."
"Thank you," Rachel answered, smiling. "If you can be patient with me I promise th..."
"Don't," Quinn stopped her. "Don't, don't make me any promises. Just...just..."
"Alright," Rachel said, nodding. "So."
"So." Quinn repeated back to her.
"Can I come over now?" Rachel asked.
"No," Quinn said, laughing. "I don't trust you that much."
Rachel laughed softly.
"And I trust myself even less," she added.
"So when can I see you again?" Rachel pressed boldly.
Quinn was regretting not looking more closely at whatever medication Santana tumbled into her hand earlier. She was getting suspiciously drowsy and was not ready to end the conversation. If she could be with Rachel at least she could listen to her.
"Mmm, dunno know, chickadee, " she said, letting her eyes close.
"Quinn?" Rachel said and Quinn felt herself jerk awake.
"Mmm yes?" she answered.
It felt like she was swimming through fog.
"Did you mean that?" Rachel asked.
Oh shit.
"Mean what?" she asked nervously.
"That you wished I was there?" Rachel said.
Oh thank god. She hoped that was all she had said.
"Yes," she said, turning over. "Absolutely, so much, yes."
She was going to steal Santana's pillow she decided randomly. It was heavenly.
"I'm so confused," Rachel whimpered. "You want me there but you won't let me come over."
"Rach, don't listen to me," Quinn said, inhaling deeply, her mind fogging over. "I...um...hmmm, San may have lied about drugging me. I'm not really, um...responsible at the moment."
"I suspected as much," Rachel said, smiling.
"Gonna fall asleep soon," Quinn warned. "Can't help it."
"It's okay," Rachel assured her. "Do you want to hang up?"
"Oh no,no, no," Quinn said, chasing it with a breathy groan. "Like falling asleep with you, kitten."
Rachel buried her face in her pillow and squealed happily. The 'kitten' endearment was new and pleased her immensely. It felt somehow special.
"Quinn?" Rachel asked.
"Rachel?" Quinn answered.
"Do you really think I need to loosen up?" she asked.
"Goodness, no," Quinn said, once again reminding herself to watch what she said. Rachel took everything at face value.
"Uh uh, not even a little bit," she reassured her.
"Will you tell me...if I do?" she asked. "I know I can be kind of exhausting."
"You don't exhaust me, Rachel," Quinn told her. "Need to stop worry about everything."
"That's part of the exhausting thing." Rachel admitted.
"It's fine, chickadee," Quinn said. "You're just fine, promise you are."
"Or what if I'm...you know, boring," Rachel said, dropping her voice. "In bed."
"Shit, Rachel," Quinn sputtered, rolling into the pillow to smother her giggles. "You're not...you're so not."
"I mean, I know we've never, but..." Rachel pressed, trying to explain. "If we ever, and it's not..."
"Chickadee!" Quinn exclaimed. "Stop, you're...it's all good."
"But you'll tell me?" Rachel continued, having to have the last word. "Won't you? So we can fix..."
"Rach, yes, yeah, yeah," Quinn insisted. "I'll, it'll be...hah, oh my god...ah, yeah."
Quinn groaned and scrubbed her hand over her eyes, trying to rub some sense into her thoughts.
Why, why, why hadn't she let Rachel come over? Why was she so stubborn?
Rachel stayed quiet, just listening to Quinn's breathing getting slower and softer.
"Quinn," she whispered.
"Hmmm," Quinn said, again pulling herself awake and struggling to stay that way.
"Don't give up on me," Rachel asked quietly. "I know it's too much to ask but..."
"Won't," Quinn said, too drowsy to even form whole sentences anymore. "Too stubborn. Can't. Too crazy about..."
There was more, but Quinn couldn't say the words anymore.
"Thank you," Rachel whispered. She just squeezed the phone to her ear and listened to the quiet whisper of her breath.
When she knew she was asleep Rachel giggled and then gave a breathy, happy sob of mostly relief.
She turned up the volume on her phone and put it on speaker then placed it right next to her ear on her pillow. There was little doubt that Quinn wasn't going to wake up again soon, but Rachel was determined to stay "with" her as long as she kept the line open.
Rachel last 20 minutes until she, too, was asleep her hand curled over her phone like a lifeline. Their connection lasted until Quinn's phone charge finally failed them an hour later.
When she came home after her dance class, Brittany found Quinn in a drug-fueled sleep with her phone still held loosely up against her face. She pried it away gently and placed it on the nightstand.
There was no doubt in her mind who Quinn had been talking to and it made her very, very happy.
=^..^=
