Chapter 14 – To Make You Feel My Love
To my betrothed, aka Cali, you're review was so epic! I hope you enjoyed your get-together after the chapter. Now I can't deny your request for my name ;) So without further delay it's: Angie for when I feel like a 5 year old and Angela for school. XD It's too bad you don't have an account I can't reply to your reviews til I post a new chapter, aaah wells more motivation!
To I hope your cross-country interquad went well. The distraction wasn't intentional The thing about doing the right thing is that you'd have to be a very strong person, so kudos.
Nightbrainzz, I totally want to just share my music library with you, it'd be awesome.
The song in this chapter is Josh Kelley's cover of To Make You Feel My Love.
/
Rachel breathed in deeply. The small part of her, which was still tethered to reality registered timepassing. It should concern her, but nothing really reaches her mind when she's in the blonde's arms. All points of reason seem malleable, whilst the content warm feeling threatens to overwhelm her. In this case, she's only too happy to oblige. Her relief manifests itself as short rounds of choked laughter. It causes her whole body to shake, pushing puffs of warm air to a pale neck. When it does, Quinn doesn't say a thing, she simply holds on, shuddering in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Without her notice her index finger is drawing a familiar pattern through an argyle sweater. Slowly she begins to pull back, if only to take a glance at familiar browns. Their breaths catch. A shy smile appears on the singer's features. A sense of warmth floods the blonde.
Quinn's hand makes it to the diva's cheek and they both lean forward. It's not a moment of lust or passion but instead submission. That, is all they can acknowledge in this moment. There are a lot of other feelings in the buffer zone waiting to be encoded. But, acceptance, by itself, on the ex-cheerleader is the most attractive trait. The taller girl places a lingering kiss on Rachel's forehead. There's a fierce blush igniting under her marble-like skin and she's willing to endure it. Green eyes carry a rare spark. She's not longing for anything. Not anymore…
"Wait a minute. Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on? What are Quinn and psychotic Miss Betty doing together?"
Mercedes confused voice rings out. A couple of glee members nod their heads in agreement as Mr Schue rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes kept darting to the doorway hoping that Emma would just appear so that he didn't have to deal with this alone. They were all just…confused.
At the interruption, the softball player whispered some kind of reassurance. It caused a frozen Rachel Berry to relax. The previous deer in the headlights expression smoothed out into a manageable level of nervous. Nobody missed the gaze that was shared between the two. The pianist didn't face the others until the diva made that minute nod and slight quirk of lips. Only then, did the glee club receive Quinn's unwavering attention. During the shift, the two girls slipped from their embrace. Immediately the brunette felt her hands clasp the blonde's arms. The taller girl paused, looking at her counterpart. She took the minute to softly interlace their fingers, all the while communicating with her eyes. Calm down Rachel.
Somehow she's strong and sure, when the diva isn't. It's…something.
"Well, this explains why Finn isn't here."
Kurt voiced. It's an observation that draws everyone's attention to the vacant chair. Quinn hardens a little. The automatic defensive process is halted by a soft squeeze of her hand. Rachel looks ahead, giving the blonde time. Breathing slowly, the pianist has never been so grateful. Sam sees the gesture and like that, his curiosity and puzzlement just seems to go away. Looking at the two, it's easy to understand. Beyond what everyone saw, there was a strange form of language, more distinctive than Morse code. When a look of worry flashed in the singer's eyes, the taller girl would trace a design in her palm. When the pianist would stiffen, dissociate, Rachel would bring her back to safety with a look, a smile only to let her go again...
Space… Sam realizes that it's something that Finn, Puck and himself had never been able to give Quinn. The boys had been so avid in the chase, vying for her favor but receiving her ire instead. Alarmingly, the little brunette singer had managed to find the peaceful in between. It's a symbiotic relationship that they both need. It's also a wonder that they've denied it for this long; Sam shook his head, turning with the others. By now, Kurt has rolled his eyes at the clueless bunch that was the majority of the club. He spoke slowly and directly.
"Quinn and Rachel are quite obviously to-ge-ther. When this happened I have no idea. Nevertheless girls, you have my blessing, I've never seen two people look so good in gowns together. If you reach the point where you start coordinating wardrobes, give me a call."
Rachel smiled at her friend. Her face must be like a tomato. Out of the corner of her eye, the singer thinks that she sees a flicker of amusement along with horror in the blonde's expression. The both remember the taller girl being dressed in argyle after the slushie incident at the start of the year. Mercedes's eyes flickered between the two and her mouth was open.
"But… How did this happen?"
Quinn opened her mouth to answer. However before she could get far, Santana cut in, impatient as ever. Her semblance of a good mood dissipated from the questioning.
"God, are you all stupid? Q helped Finn romance the dwarf, and somehow ended up liking her instead. Major case of Stockholm's syndrome I swear, but whatever. Then, they both became very repressed causing Britts and I some extreme pain and aggravation. Now, Q has finally gots her head out of her ass and Berry has given up her annoying tween fantasy of Finn Charming. That's it. We're done. Now can we please move on?"
Silence. Everyone is shocked by the Latina's outburst. Instinctively, Rachel leans in the blonde's side. Instinctively, Quinn squeezed the singer hand. She eyes her fiery friend, raising her brow. It caused Santana to shrug her shoulders nonchalantly.
"Hey, if I wanted to listen to ridiculous romance stories I'd let Britts make me watch The Notebook!"
Brittany pouted beside her darker haired counterpart. It was the one movie Santana wouldn't watch with her claiming that she would put her foot down. Most of the time the tall dancer forgot about it because Santana had the best ways of distracting her. But, she decided she would try again tonight to get her best friend to watch the love story. At any rate the consolation prize was more than worth it. In her happy daze, the innocent ex-cheerleader does not notice the heartbroken gaze of the boy by the wheelchair. Artie looks to the floor, wondering how Finn was doing. They were the same, both of them lost to a girl. His voice comes out slightly bitter as he stares at Quinn.
"So what, are you two gay now?"
A pause. The pianist stiffens subconsciously. A loud groan erupts from Santana. If looks could kill than Artie would be ten feet below the ground. The only thing controlling her is Brittany's light grip on her arm. The tall dancer simply passes the boy a sad look. She understands that he must be hurt. It would take time but she's sure that he will find someone else. She recognizes that Santana is her one, the person she can't give up. A soft nervous cough comes from the side. Tina clears her throat, trying to calm her nerves. She might not stutter in real life but the attention of the entire club can be daunting.
"D-D-Does it matter? I mean it won't change the way we see them so…"
The statement is left open-ended. Most of the club begins to nod their heads. Artie has the decency to look ashamed. It was still weird, but no one could deny the difference in the girls. Suddenly, their blurry glasses were removed and they see just the way Quinn looks at the singer, protective, reverent and open. They register the ease and naturalness in the way that Rachel holds herself next to the taller girl. All of a sudden she's stronger, less frayed by her obsessions and more confident… They question how they ever missed it before. Puck leans forward, throwing the girls his sexiest eyebrow raise.
"Makes no difference to me, it's still hot; my baby mama and my hot Jew together. Anytime you want some Puckerone in that, give me a call."
THWACK! The problem with dating most of the girls in a room is that when you do something wrong, they all reserve the right to hit you. Mercedes aims to the back of his head. Santana punches through his meaty arms. The footballer winces. But what terrifies him is his girlfriend. Lauren puts him in a one-handed, painfully tight headlock and he falls out of his chair. There are chuckles all around. Rachel gasps covering her mouth in surprise. Quinn smirks, moving both their bodies to their chairs. They actually have to switch seats because the singer wouldn't release her hand. Flexing her fingers, the blonde really doesn't mind. The tan hand in hers is the fast beating of her heart and the fire under her skin. Mr Schue takes a final glance at the new couple before helping the Mohawk boy against the female wrestler. There are a million thoughts in his mind, not the least of which is the soft haunted gaze of the softball player when she said sometimes it's about what you don't say… The music teacher recognizes that a relationship that deep would be explosive. He thinks that they'll make it or – nobody else will stand a chance.
"Alright. Guys, I think that's all the excitement we can handle today. Congratulations Quinn and Rachel, my door is always open. Otherwise I'll see you next week."
/
The choir room is empty. The last of the glee club has filtered out, giving each of the girls a pat of acceptance, a gesture of encouragement or an offer to help when things got unbearable. Now it's quiet, the two are still in their seats. For the first time they're completely alone and they don't quite know what to do or say. Actually, that's a lie. Everything is racing though their minds; they just can't pick which to start with. Nothing is between them anymore. There's no wall to climb. Rachel holds tighter, bringing their combined limbs into her lap. She's hypnotized, as the brightness in her soul gets impossibly greater. Should she confess her attachment? Or should Quinn apologize for hers? God knows indecision has caused them so much pain. Its funny, because today, this afternoon, they're next to each other and they've given in. All they have to do is… start. It's sounds easier than it is. The blonde shakes her head softly; her voice is gentle and caring.
"I kind of need my hand back to get my stuff, Rachel."
The brunette doesn't acknowledge the comment. Her eyes are glazed over, staring at a point in the wall. It's sudden when she asks her battery of questions.
"What are we, Quinn? Is this real? Are you my girlfriend?"
The blonde notices the way the brunette seems to curl subtly. It's completely obvious how Rachel's hands grip tighter and how her body turns slightly in defense. Quinn sighs. She gives up trying to pack up her cluttered things and kneels in front of the brunette. The hand that isn't blissfully held captive goes behind the shorter girl's tan neck, bringing it down so that brown eyes were forced to gaze into clear hazel-greens. There's curiosity, willingness and vulnerability. Gradually, the blonde's breathing becomes shallower and her brows furrow. She tries to find the right words. Rachel is on a precipice. Her heart is jumping, throwing itself against her ribcage in anticipation; she isn't strong enough to handle another rejection. And then, suddenly…it becomes easier. A realization dawns on the pianist as she learns that hurting the other girl just will not happen. She's not capable. This time, it's can't and not won't. The warm hand clutching hers promises strength and happiness. Finally Quinn's voice croaks. There's not a second where her gaze breaks away.
"Look, Rachel…I don't know anymore than you do. But this…"
She makes a small flourishing gesture at the room and the lack of space in between them.
"…It's different to anything I've done before. At the same time it's good. I'm constantly on my feet. I don't know what to expect and sometimes I'll feel so much that I'll just want to walk away… But here's the thing, I won't… if you won't."
A tear slips down the diva's cheek and Quinn brushes it away silently. Rachel whispers softly.
"I can't..."
Silence. The words cause ice to freeze in the blonde's veins and arteries. Her world swims.
"What?"
When the brunette notices the second interpretation of her words and she begins to shake her head frantically. The sadness that was returning to the pianist's green eyes was profound. Rachel drags Quinn's head to face her again, making sure that nothing got lost. They were too close now. Her voice is raw with meaning. Distantly she understands that she's giving the taller girl the knowledge to break her.
"I meant that…I couldn't walk away from you, Quinn."
Time passes. The diva stares into the gaze of the taller girl. There's moisture accumulating behind green orbs. An innocent soft smile breaks on the pianist's pale features. Somehow, she looks like a person that believes in something again. She reminds Rachel of a child causing a strong wave of protectiveness to appear. The singer vows to guard that smile with everything that she has. Whereas Quinn takes a moment, she watches the thoughts in the singer's mind manifest outwardly on her face, often with a small nose wrinkle or crinkling on the forehead. The blonde's hand rubs back and forth on a tan neck, until she has the seated vocalist's attention.
"Then we'll start like this. You, Rachel Berry, are the beautiful girl who has just broken up with her boyfriend… People say, that you're completely captivated by a certain blonde classmate."
Rolling her eyes, the singer blushed at the words. Quinn tilts her head charmingly as she continued.
"I, Quinn Fabray, am the stubborn, piano-playing, ex-cheerleader…who wants to take you out on a first date."
There's a brief gap. And Rachel's eyes widen at the meaning. The blonde leans slightly closer.
"So say yes… and we'll start from there."
Rachel tries but no sounds come out. Her mind screams yes. There are streams of relieved tears running down her face. Quinn thinks that it the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. After a while the singer gives up trying to speak. It was impossible when she felt like this. Weights were lifted. There was no heavy feeling in her heart and gut. She felt as if…dreams of Broadway wouldn't compare to this moment. Sparks jump across her skin, creating a warm feeling all over. She brings her head down, closing the distance. It's a simple kiss, undemanding and leisurely, but both girls feel the hidden charge. Quinn leans on the balls of her feet she attempts to reduce the space between them. In the course of the exchange Rachel's hands have let go of the blonde's. Instead encircling the pale neck. She's clinging for strength not to collapse because the rest of her body has slackened in the unexpected delight. The softball player grips both sides of the chair's back; it's a platform to get closer. Faintly the girls are glad that their lung capacities are better than average.
Thank you Cheerios...
Thank you singing lessons...
Still, humans need oxygen. It's a fact that is in their textbooks and study notes… But, the girls give defiance a fair go, anyway. Stubbornness and perhaps stupidity causes them continue despite the weird feeling in their head and pressure in their lungs. It's actually Rachel that has to break away first, her easily excitable nature hindering her ability. Quinn can't help but smirk. Their foreheads are pressed against each other as they recover. After a few minutes, the brunette asks.
"Can I have an itinerary for the date?"
No response. The blonde rolls her eyes in dry amusement. In the distance, the cleaner of McKinley hears a series of frustrated but pleading cries.
"Quinn!"
"Come on. I want to be prepared. An itinerary will help us avoid any mishaps, regarding clothing, shoes and areas like that. "
When the workman gets closer, he'll think that he hears a petulant foot stomp and a soft whine.
"Quinn, stop smirking at me!"
Towards the end, when he starts to scrape gum of the school's front doors, he'll see an exasperated blonde leading a smaller brunette to a red car. The cleaner will stop and smile because he recognizes the look in her eyes; it's the same expression he wears around his wife. Familiar lights dancing behind green orbs. It's a sign that all souls wear, as distinct as military dog tags for their significant other. They're in love. His shoulders relax. By now, the shorter girl has made it to the passenger seat. The taller one is closing the door making sure that all fingers are clear. The way that she lingers, the way that she smiles because and not in spite of the demands that are being placed, tells him that, she'll give the brunette everything that she wants…and all that she afraid to ask for.
/
The next few days pass like an uncomplicated blur. During the first, Rachel was standing by her locker, retrieving her books. An unshakeable smile was on her face. After Quinn had dropped her off, they had stayed in constant communication with text messages, instant messages and Myspace comments. It had come to the point where Leroy actually carried his daughter to her bed, claiming that she didn't want to develop raccoon eyes for her newly minted girlfriend. There was a moment where the brunette froze. The tall African American simply grinned bringing the comforter up, he promised to keep it from his husband until she was ready. The diva then waited for sleep to come but something was missing. Blindly her hand reached around. Suddenly, a letterman is held in front of her. She's sheepish and her daddy is awkward. They don't say anything. Rachel wraps the sports jacket around her shoulders. Leroy turns her light out, walking out. It's a soft pressure on her cheek that brings her out of the memory, a chaste kiss.
A steady thrum vibrates under her skin. Rachel turns to see the blonde next to her locker. For a moment they both smile, enjoying the vision of the other. It's calming and more than slightly ridiculous because their separation has been less than a day. The brunette's hands go to brush a rebellious strand of blonde hair back behind pale ears. Just when contact is about to be made, she stops. Her eyes dart around. There are more than a few curious gazes at their proximity. The singer's smile drops and she becomes uncertain. The ex-cheerleader falters. Her heart ached at the lack of expected contact. Some soft murmurs make it to her ears. And in a second, there's no thought and no deliberation necessary. The fact that Rachel had stopped to protect Quinn's reputation, makes the decision easier. It reminds her that nobody else matters; it's her turn to be selfish. So with a step forward she's barely an inch away from the diva. Her free hand reaches for a small tan one. The brunette's relieved joyful expression is Quinn's light at the end of the tunnel. She comes to the understanding that she'll always perform the action that will bring it about.
Life in McKinley is actually easier than expected. Mentally, the pianist thanks Kurt for paving the way. People were mostly the same. The ones that the blonde had protected from Kelsey still looked up at her in admiration. The ones that she had told off still avoided her gaze in hallways, moving along quietly. The few that might have considered voicing something unsavory were silenced by the appearance of a threatening Puck or a sneering Santana. The two self-proclaimed ruffians did it, partly to appease their begrudging soft spot for the diva and partly, so that the pianist wouldn't have to. And so, an unspoken rule was made, no harm would come to Rachel Barbra Berry, lest you incur the anger and return of HBIC Quinn Fabray.
The second and the third days played out in much the same manner. Quinn would greet the diva by her locker with a slow and sometimes teasing kiss. She would take her to all of her classes. Instinctively, when the blonde's hand would drop, the diva would meet it. Once again, the softball player might be selfish but Rachel remembers that she, herself, is an opportunist. The diva sneaks quick caresses and basks in any sort of contact. They would eat lunch with Brittany and Santana. The two couples would take turns at embarrassing the other. However, with Quinn's pale skin and Rachel's natural low humiliation thresholds, it was easy to guess who had won. The girls are waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it doesn't, they'll wonder is this is it, if this was their reward for all past heartbreaks… If so, they are grateful.
And just like that, it's the weekend. The sun casts a warm blanket over town whilst the light blue sky looks completely untroubled… In different parts of town there are two girls preparing for their first date.
/
Quinn is outside of the Berry home. Now, standing in front on the porch, she wonders why she never got so close before. Was she really so reluctant, so scared, of feeling something for the singer if she did? Looking up to the sky, she marvels that it didn't do much good, because under the light morning breeze, she's actually just a little jittery and hungry for some contact. It brings a slight smile to her face as she straightens out the last creases on her powdered blue dress. Her white oxford shirt flaps against her body impatiently.
Rachel is inside. She's up in her room, staring out her window with nervous anticipation. In her excited daze she actually misses the blonde girl who has already made it to the door. The diva would go to a large mirror, only brush her hair again and make a small twirl. She's in love with a girl and that would only be the beginning. The brunette would hold the McKinley letterman she has on her bed, up in the light, questioning the ethical issues against keeping it. Oh, what the heck. A mischievous smile would eventually appear and she would decide to wear it instead.
Finally, the ex-cheerleader knocks on the door. A small man dressed in a light pink button up shirt and an argyle sweater answers the door. Quinn really has to resist the urge to chuckle because hey, Rachel had to get it somewhere. When she's sure that she's got it under control she meets his eyes. She wonders if he will be as forgiving as his husband. Suddenly, the blonde straightens; her voice is polite and respectful.
"Hello Mr Berry, I'm here for Rachel."
The man readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He has a kind expression as he takes a peek behind her shoulder. The father seems to be distracted by something.
"Call me, Hiram. You must be one of Rachel's new friends. She tells me that she's been making a few new ones this year. Nevertheless I don't think today is the best time. She's kind of busy today."
Hiram explains happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. At this, Quinn does chuckle. There's a wide-eyed glee in his eyes as he scans the road for his daughter's supposed suitor. Would he be disappointed when he discovered the truth? For the brunette, she hopes not. But even if, the ex-cheerleader knows that she'll persevere regardless. Just to make sure that Rachel has nothing sad to sing about. A smile, on one hand, is beautiful but it is actually the shorter girl's voice that is the softball player's haven, her incentive. Even against the pianist's wishes, Rachel's voice will always bring her calm and a temporary break from being...Quinn Fabray. At that moment, Leroy comes in from another room. He waves to the blonde, a gesture that she returns. The African American tilts his head strangely as he registers the fact that the shorter man still hasn't let the girl in. Approaching the duo he catches his husband's words. It causes him to roll his eyes in exasperation.
"Hiram."
"What? Oh hello Lee. I was just explaining to this young girl that today wasn't the best day to hang out with Rachel. After all, she has that date tha – "
The significantly taller man shakes his head disbelievingly.
"Hiram."
Leroy is ignored and waved away as the smaller father continues his train of thought.
"– she's been so excited for. I've never seen her so… happy. I think I approve already!"
It takes all that the ex-cheerleader has, not to break into old habits of snickers and sarcasm. There's mirth in her eyes as she entertains a notion in her head. In the mental scenario, Hiram is dangling a nice piece of fish and Quinn is the cat. Her instincts and personality tried to get her to say something, do something. More than ten, less than fifty, that's the number of mocking remarks she could have, would have made, if she didn't have something worth losing. Thankfully, Leroy intervenes.
"Hiram!"
"What? Leroy honestly! I'm trying to talk to this young lady here. Stop being rude."
As Hiram begins to turn towards the blonde again, a firm dark arm stops him. Leroy shoots Quinn an apologetic glance as he leans down towards his husband.
"That young lady is your daughter's date. Let her through the door already, before Rachel realizes and comes down to yell at you for making her girlfriend wait outside!"
At this point, the tall African American has to wonder how his daughter hasn't caught the ruckus downstairs. He was more than shocked that she wasn't barreling herself into the softball player's arms after walking on air all week. Still, it was wonderful to see her so happy. Leroy would just make a mental note to keep tabs on that relationship. Whilst he admired Quinn, such total dependence and immersion in another could be…damaging. Especially when you had love as your unwitting guide. Unbeknownst to the three downstairs, Rachel was lingering on the top of the staircase away from view. At first, after hearing noises, she had simply come out to check on her fathers, they always did have trouble saying 'no' to door-to-door salesman. But upon encountering Quinn's voice, her balance was thrown. The soft lilt in the pianist's tone brought butterflies to her stomach. And, the imagined brilliance of the ex-cheerleader's likely appearance caused her mouth to get dry. Her breathing would become erratic, because this time, it would be all for her. Hiram rubs the back of his head confusedly.
"But Rachel said she was dating a blonde – "
"– with green eyes. Yes, and take a look honey, she has those traits."
Leroy finishes, interrupting Hiram's confusion. The pianist takes the time to set the record straight. In a corner of her mind, a few things tease her thoughts. Was she not good enough? Who was the father expecting? And did it matter? She begins with a strong introduction.
"I'm Quinn Fabray. Hiram, it's nice to meet you."
This seems to shake the short man out of his reverie. An embarrassed blush appears on his cheeks as he gives his husband a firm stare. Neither he nor Rachel appreciated being the fool. Leroy's brand of humor was strange in the household. The price of love, Hiram shakes his head to himself. He goes to greet the blonde properly.
"It's nice to meet – wait a moment, Fabray? As in slushie queen Fabray?"
Four reactions happen to four different people. The short father's lips begin to thin. Quinn flinched, as familiar feelings of self-loathing seep in with the nickname. Leroy stiffens as he looks away and to the floor. The taller man understands the young girl in front of him better than he's let on. He used to be her. Popular. And Rachel worries, she fears that the past isn't something that her Dad can learn to accept, she fears that this will cause the pianist to walk away. Most of all, the diva fears that the tone of the conversation will lead to the blonde's deterioration, a spiral back to indifference and pain, everyday. The singer wants to run downstairs but she's frozen. Hiram's hard expression lets out a grunt.
"Hmph."
Anger and grief clouds his bespectacled eyes because he's a father. He's had to watch his daughter cry herself to sleep on the account of the girl standing in the doorstep. Somehow, in his haze he turns to his one, his trusted other. Sensing this, Leroy looks up sadly, meeting the gaze. And like that, in a second, Hiram softens. He turns to the ex-cheerleader. His voice is soft but steady.
"Do you regret your actions in the past?"
Quinn's mouth opens to speak but no words come out. Her reactions and responses are a jumbled mess. When she had given in to her feelings for the singer, she wasn't completely put together. There was the familiar, cold and calculating HBIC of McKinley. And then there was the vulnerable little girl who had been thrown out by her parents, all the while, plagued by notions of worthlessness and disgrace. The person that she wants to be is trapped between the two. But around the brunette, old scars begin to heal and past misconceptions get righted. Quinn is learning to feel… Rachel is her best place to start and her only place to end. The softball player wants to say it out loud but she's not there yet, so, instead she chokes out a monosyllabic confession.
"Yes..."
The storm behind her green eyes goes through Hiram. Suddenly, he's thrown back to his high school years and his vision blurs with tears. The small glasses wearing man was by no means popular, attacked every day for his quirky nature and misfit clothes. He remembers the pain felt from each barb and each callous rejection. It's not fair because the father does understand that the Quinn isn't that person. She's not his tormentor. However, there's something in the way she carries herself, in her stance, in her words and in her tone that reminds him. His voice cracks when he asks the lingering question. Leroy observes quietly from the side whilst Rachel listens patiently from above.
"Why do you popular kids do it? It's always the same people who get picked on. Do you not realize our pain?"
It pierces Quinn's armor. She recalls that look of same hurt in slightly different brown eyes…Rachel's.
"I – I don't…"
The blonde's fists clench. She tries to gather her thoughts. Upstairs the brunette closes her eyes, silently lending the softball player strength. This chapter of their relationship had been resolved. Quinn had been forgiven. Now, she just needed to adjust. The singer moves to sit against the railings, it astounds her that she is all right with this disruption of plans and schedules. They should have been on their date by now. But interestingly, there are things that matter to her more: her fathers and …Quinn Fabray.
The taller girl downstairs believes in very little, starting with God and ending with music. Still, in the front door of the Berry household her eyes flicker and waves of strange energy crawl across her nerve endings. The pressure in her mind and body filters out and she's standing a little taller. The softball player begins to place her faith in one more thing, Rachel Barbra Berry... It's like an invisible push of courage and finally, she's able to answer honestly.
"It's not that we don't notice. In fact, the pain is often the aspect that we know the best. We pick exactly the right words to hurt others, but the reason why, changes, depending on the person. I just wanted to make someone feel worse than me. Because if I could break a good person, if I could drag somebody like Rachel down to my level then maybe, just maybe, I wasn't so bad…"
A silence happens as the words sink in. Leroy watches with painful understanding. He shares a certain link to the ex-cheerleader. He also knows that Hiram needed to hear this from someone else, a third party of sorts. The diva feels her hands shake as she tries to steady herself on the railings. She always knew, but it sounds different out loud. For the first time, she registers how high the softball player has held her. Rachel was, no, is her standard of morality.
"Hiram, it isn't a reflection on you, but on the one that does the bullying. I won't hurt your daughter."
The blonde speaks with certainty. It is that simple. The small in stature father can see it. The ex-cheerleader would not intentionally harm his daughter. He imagines that it'll damage her more than she can endure. His eyes are wide as he surveys her features. A strange need to trust begins to grow. Resignedly he nods. Slowly, his features relax and he returns to the cheery version of himself that had answered the door. All is good. The switch is jarring but all people in the house are relieved. Hiram claps his hands in glee.
"Good! I'll go grab Rachel for you. Please, Quinn come on in."
The blonde does not move. She's shocked by the complete 180 shifts and frankly, a little afraid. The argyle wearing father skips up the stairs, humming a how tune. As he disappears two scenes happen. The first is downstairs. Leroy waves the Quinn inside.
/
"You know, you can come in."
"No thanks. I think I'd rather wait out here. The sun's nice."
Quinn answers quickly. The two hold a staring contest but before the end they're both smirking. The ex-captain will not go in and it has nothing to do with the weather. The tall father moves to lean against the doorjamb. His eyes shine with amusement.
"Scared?"
"…Petrified."
The answer comes out naturally, softly. The blonde's eyes widen comically when she realizes what she's said. Somehow, around this family, she's not reserved and more than a bit open. Leroy scratches his cheek.
"Yes. To some, Hiram is only good in small doses."
It's said wistfully. Leroy taps a beat on the wooden door and Quinn hums a tune to match. The both reflect on their counterparts. The African American thinks about the trials that he and his husband has gone through in this small town. He questions the person that would exist in his place if he had never met the short engineer. Nobody worth knowing, he supposed. The blonde thinks about her first meeting with Rachel's fathers and how their personalities were melded together to form the distinct entity that captivated her. An errant thought does a sinful thing and pictures a little culmination of the brunette and her. The blurry image doesn't scare her and that strikes her hard. She swallows, as Leroy's last words repeat in her mind… He was mistaken. Rachel was good in any dose…
/
On the other side, Hiram has just made it up the staircase. He sees the back of his daughter leaning against the railings and decides to accompany her. It doesn't surprise him that she's probably been here listening the whole time. So they just sit there. The father takes in everything from the stillness of the air to the minute changes in his daughter. Rachel's eyes are closed with her head tilted back. She's breathing slowly and her lips bear the traces of a smile. The facial features that are normally tensed with determination were completely slackened. The lack of effort in her expression is really not a measure of the depth of her feelings. It's simply that, for once, she does not need to embellish or overstate her happiness. This time, she does not need to reassure or convince herself of the truth of her attachment.
She wants this, more than anything else but she's still sitting here, because they all need a moment. There are only few people in life that Rachel will wait for and undoubtedly the tall blonde downstairs was one of them, probably the most important one right now.Hiram throws his only thought out there.
"She…she seems like a good person, Rachel. But, I think you already knew that."
There's a small gap. Something flickers behind her expression. She expels a light breath and speaks to the ceiling.
"Not always."
The confession is said in a whisper. When she looks down, all she sees is the confused eyes of her father.
"Rachel?"
Another deep breath is taken. She sighs as she runs her hand through her perfectly brushed brown locks. The singer's eyes begin to glaze over and her memories pull her in.
"There was a moment where I thought I could actually hate her…"
Her head is tilted with curiosity, at a point in the wall. Hiram thinks about bringing her back but he's afraid to break the spell. Whatever the recollection was, it's been a well-kept secret for a long time. Her hands start to wring in her lap when she narrates.
"Back in freshman year I thought Quinn and I could be great friends. And then, the slushies came. I don't know Dad, but for a second, I did hate her. I couldn't understand why… After school that day, I saw her at my locker and she had a note in her hands."
Rachel stopped speaking. Her eyes are shut as her body rocks softly. Her hand moves to get something that isn't there. She remembers feeling an intense dislike masked by a deeper desire to shake, push and scratch at the blonde to make her honest. The singer remembers wanting to get behind and under the layers of the then head Cheerio. Well, she's is now. Hiram brings her hanging limb back down. He speaks gently.
"Honey, you have to finish the story."
This seems to break her out of her trance. Rachel looks into his warm brown eyes.
"I think she was confused. Quinn kept moving back and forth. She looked like she was about to have a psychotic break, but in the end, somebody called her name and she just walked away. She threw the note in the bin."
"You read it didn't you?"
Hiram asks even if it isn't actually a question. But, he'll do her a favor and pretend that it is. There's no judgment, just a loyal understanding. The diva tries to shrug her shoulder nonchalantly.
"All it said was sorry and a series of equations."
"Why the equations?"
Rachel looks up at her father. Her answer spills from her lips in a torrent of frustration.
"Because, I offered to help her catch up with math just before she blew up on me. Ms Sylvester had forced her to miss the last couple of classes for some sort of cheerleading boot camp. Seriously Dad, I don't want to know what goes on with that woman and the big deserted woods!"
There's fire in her eyes and her previous hasty personality shows. For the first time, Hiram recognizes how much the blonde has changed his daughter. Somehow, because the differences had been so incremental her hadn't detected anything at all. But now, without Quinn, he remembers how unstable his daughter could be. Passion, kindness, jealousy and righteous anger, it could hardly all fit into one person without some sort of disturbance. The ex-cheerleader had just managed to reduce it to a barely noticeable feature, not so dissimilar as to a distinctive freckle. Hiram and Leroy had suspected that through everything Rachel's exaggerations had been the result of insecurity and dashing hopes. The blonde must have balanced it, somehow…
"Honey…you're off-track."
The diva turns her head to the side to give her father a contemplative look. She takes out a notepad and ben and begins sketch a few mathematical curves.
"If you combine the seven equations together on a graphics calculator it comes up into a sad face."
There it was. Two circles for eyes: 'Y' equals square root of one minus 'x' minus four in brackets squared. And then… a positive quadratic curve for the frown. Rachel looks down at her picture. Her heart jumps and she feels her care for the pianist swell. Hiram pries the sheet of paper from his daughter, taking a glance.
"Well, that's certainly a unique way of doing things."
The diva smiles to herself. Her brown eyes have a breathtaking shine.
"Yeah, I thought so too. You know, she was behind on the subject already. We hadn't actually gotten to the math required for it yet… So, it meant that no matter what; her actions did matter to her. And, in a weird way, so did I. How do you hate someone like that?"
Hiram just nods. His voice is sincere.
"You don't… C'mon let's go. She's waiting for you."
The father moves to stand. Before he gets anywhere Rachel has a firm hold on his pant trousers. It was like what she did when she was young, afraid of being lost in a Barbra Streisand CD signing. A familiar looking lost expression appeared.
"Dad, do you think I'm doing the right thing by taking this chance?
Hiram sighs squatting back down. He takes his glasses off to clean them with a handkerchief cloth.
"I could never answer that for you, Rachel. But love… it's never the wrong choice. That's what you've always believed in... Plus, even if it were wrong or a big mistake, you'd go downstairs and be with her anyway."
He speaks because he knows the spark that he sees in his daughter. It doesn't take a rocket scientist. She's already there. Hiram imagines that there are a lot of people that rush into a relationship without the slightest bit of knowledge about what they are getting into. They could have been fools, teenagers in lust or even an adult in desperation. But, his daughter was rushing in because, she does in fact know, she understands. More than anything it doesn't matter because this is a deeper, more mature type of affection. It's thrilling and with the guaranteed chance of unconditional surrender to your emotions, to the other person…
"Let's get you to that date."
/
Quinn is standing at the door, waiting. She rolls her neck around, enjoying the light breeze. Finally, there comes a clutter as Hiram comes down the stairs. The pianist straightens automatically. First, there is a small tan arm sliding tortuously, slowly down the banister. And then, the scene is followed by the hints of a nicely defined calf. Rachel practically glides to the ground level.
And the softball player's legs don't buckle. Her vision does not swim and she's not thrown into a state of euphoria. No, because this isn't a paperback romance novel. There was no need to lie, or overact because it was real and it was theirs. The princess in this story was someone the ex-cheerleader could touch and yearned to unravel. It is the singer's imperfections which irritate, enthrall and captivate, like a siren's call. So, even if the pianist was still standing, there were a few things that did happen. The blonde's eyes didtrail over the diva's figure from head to toe, appreciatively and reverently. The brunette wore a soft pink t-shirt and her classic plaid short skirt. The usual argyle was traded in for a McKinley Lettermen causing Quinn's hand to twitch. The simplicity of the gesture spoke volumes, marking each of them for the other. Say you're mine... I'm yours…
The taller girl didhave to switch her breathing from her nose to her mouth. It was just easier to get oxygen in that way and her brain was seriously deprived. Rachel was getting reducing the distance in between. And the words that were jumbling around in the ex-captain's mind were less than intelligent, overtaken and outbid by the grin that broke over her features. The only other aspect was that Quinn's thoughts did take a slow stroll on the wild side. This caused a warm flush to manifest along her neck and chest. She continued to stare, meeting warm amused browns.
Rachel reached the foot of the stairs and the pianist found herself stepping past the house's threshold. Her reservations upon entering were forgotten in the need to be closer. Questions that were raised earlier were also answered. There were a lot of ways to validate one's worth but the blonde realizes that she's finally good enough because the singer chose her. And even if she wasn't, it didn't matter because the singer chose her.
When Lucy Quinn Fabray extends her hand… When Rachel Barbra Berry accepts... Two people's happiness becomes intertwined and dependent on each other. The ex-captain makes a split-second decision to change their plans. It occurs to her that they could just talk for the day, until they had nothing left to say. Everything would be all right because when words were lacking, they could look and hold each other instead. It's communication all the same, and that's all they want…
/
"It's not an itinerary, if you don't follow it Quinn."
Rachel states as they speed pass the mile marker for the highway. The blonde had been strangely vague since the moment they entered the car. The brunette stares at the sheet, trying to find a clue or something that she's missed. It's only when they pass another road sign that the pianist turns her head answers. There's a small smile on her face. She seems torn between excitement and a small sense of apprehension. There are some parts of her past that she's never considered sharing. Now, with the diva in the passenger seat, she finds that it's the only place that she wants to go. Her voice is light and teasing.
"And it's not a surprise if you already know what going to happen."
Rachel makes a small face. Her nose scrunches and the pianist lets herself think that it's adorable. She let's herself do a lot of things now, not the least of which is to graze, brush and trace parts of the diva. She thinks that it feels better than freedom. It feels like love because nothing else ever came close: not Puck, not Finn and not Sam. The shorter girl's rambling brings her out of her haze.
"There's nothing wrong with being prepared."
Quinn doesn't say anything for a while. There's a slight congestion on the road so she takes the time to analyze the brunette. Rachel is something that the blonde never thought she would be able touch. But when the singer is siting beside her and when she is wearing her lettermen, the blonde begins to believe that she can, that she was supposed to all along. Finally after a swallow she manages to ask.
"Were you prepared for this? Us?"
Blushing, the singer looks down to her lap. Was there a right response to that? She had an answer, but she wasn't sure if it would scare Quinn away. Rachel had contingency plans for everything. She starts to realize that maybe Finn Hudson wasn't Plan A. Because, being here with the pianist, it doesn't shock her. It feels like simple progression, a natural inevitability. She knows that any contact between them would singe and inspire. And mentally, she's ready… Her body just seems to change her expectations, every time. So yes, she was prepared, but then again, when those hazel greens pierce through her, she really isn't. Quinn pulls the car over to a resting bay. There isn't a universe where she's willing to risk the shorter girl's life. Gently, she takes one of the diva's hands and near whispers.
"Look, Rachel. Can you trust me?"
The brunette lets out a breath. She's staring at their combined hands when she murmurs. Her heart isn't on her sleeve. It's in her touch, it's in the blonde's pocket and it's in the air in the car compartment.
"I know you think it's stupid Quinn, but I already do."
"Why?"
The softball player asks, feeling stronger by the singer's words alone. An immeasurable sense of contentment threatens her composure. Her finger draws an outline over small tan hands. It's easy like this when they know that the answer is always going to be yes. Rachel smiles shyly.
"Why do you believe in me?"
Quinn tilts her head, somehow Rachel has learnt the art of double speak. Though technically it is the perfect reply because their reasons are the same. In their minds they admit.
Because you're what I understand best even when nothing else is constant and even my defenses fail.
/
The girls eventually make it to the destination. It's a mixed market next to a lake, past a well-worn dirt road. There are a decent number of people milling about, but not so much as so you would feel suffocated or indifferent. It's three hours away from Lima and situated so that you would only find it if you knew it was there. Rachel notices the soft bittersweet sadness in the blonde's eyes. Quinn gives her memories a moment before getting out and opening the door for the singer. It's a sunny Saturday and a light breeze rolls across the lakeside. They're standing at the start, the first of many stalls. There's a community aspect as farmers take the time to entertain young children and offer their produce. Travelling carpenters and leather workers offer their wares, happy to engrave the story, the memory of the day for their customers onto something tangible. There's food and there's jewelry. There are buskers and dancers but perhaps most importantly there's a story to tell. The pianist's hands squeeze Rachel's, taking the first step down the long line of shops. They've got time.
Through the day, they walk pass so many things, stopping at a stall with handmade scarves and trinkets. They make each other try on the most ridiculous choices, laughing and admiring the results. The softball player buys the one that the singer lingers on, secretively. They're so far away from home that they can be somebody different. Quinn is more vulnerable and Rachel is more spontaneous. When they leave behind a small gadget booth, the softball player picks up a Polaroid camera. On some steps she snaps a perfect picture, where they're giddy for no apparent reason at all, on other steps the diva takes the machine from the ex-cheerleader's hands only to catch her unaware with a flash. In those images there's a shine to hazel green eyes that's sweet, kind and honest. To anyone, it's clear that the person in the image cares about the photographer. It's the most captivating aspect because the model is open…Rachel feels her breath catch, she lowers the machine and they share a smile.
The girls go through old records at the music stand. Quinn browses the classical and contemporary whereas Rachel goes to the show-tunes. It's relaxed because they don't need to be doing the same things to be together. The blonde has to roll her eyes when the brunette finds a rare copy of Streisand or original soundtrack to Rent. She just a little embarrassed when the singer jumps and squeals hugging her, the seller, and those nearby. The child-like qualities of the shorter girl amuse and endear, causing the ex-captain to brush a loose strand back behind Rachel's steadily reddening ear. The singer is just a little weak under all the attention.
Somewhere down the line after they eat their fill of fruit and exotic bread, they're collapsed on the lush green pasture. The girls lie on their backs next to each other, with laced hands. Rachel points out strange cloud formations and Quinn explains the way they are made. The blonde doesn't have to because they're actually in the same science classes, but it's something that interests her and the diva likes hearing her voice. For once, she doesn't feel the need to give her two cents.
After a while Quinn slowly sits up leaning on her elbows. She keeps the brunette's left hand in hers, tan and white rubbing against the other. The small bouts of friction keep her grounded. Thoughts and worries that would have otherwise fractured her are dimmed to a tickling buzz. Her eyes are closed and she's in a good place. The sun is warm on her skin. The wind carries the soft smell of cookies, strawberries and cinnamon to her nostrils. And Rachel seems like an old, long acquainted presence. Everything seems different now. Now that, the diva's company doesn't scare her and the blonde isn't alone…
Clearing her throat she speaks wistfully.
"My father brought me to this market every year when we lived in Bellevue. It was before he got the big job and found a friend in alcohol."
Without any sound, the singer sits up. She hadn't expected this but when the words registered, tears came to her eyes. The pianist was so unguarded, vulnerable. The brunette's wanted this for a long time but now that she has it, she has no idea what to do with it. All the grand gestures that she had pictured seem hollow and contrived. Now, there's no template to follow. She learns to let her body guide her. Rachel's free hand wants to circle the blonde's pale neck, so it does. Her lungs want to share the same air so Quinn's head is pulled slightly lower to lean on hers. Her brain wants a vacation so her heart takes control. She manages to say.
"I'm sorry, Quinn"
Deep breathes. The softball player's eyes are shut tight. Her body only moves to inhale and exhale. The next words blow across the singer's skin.
"Why? I'm not."
Rachel shudders and the way that they're connected makes it obvious. Quinn feels a sense of exhilaration. Gently, she pulls back to look into the diva's brown eyes. That in itself, is a battle because space was the enemy and something stronger than magnetism was bringing them together now. They hold a gaze and share a moment. The blonde's eyes scan the surroundings briefly before returning to the entrancing singer. The Mona Lisa might as well have been a two-year-old child's finger-painting in comparison. Something crosses Quinn's features, stealing Rachel's remaining air supply. She sees everything in those green eyes now. And, a tiny smile appears on the pianist's expression, she tells a story, hers.
"This was the place where, Lucy met Quinn. The summer before I transferred. He cancelled our trip for work, so I went by myself. I got into so much trouble…"
Her tone is one of bitter disbelief. Rachel does the only thing she knows at the moment. She cradles the blonde's head to her body and rocks slowly. Surprisingly Quinn lets her. A bird lands half a meter away, tilting its head strangely at the conjoined couple. The singer stares back, her arms tighten and she wants to stay here, Rachel wants to protect the pianist for as long as she'll let her. This place… suddenly she sees it in a different light. Every young blonde girl was Quinn, from the girl eating her lunch to the one enjoying face painting. It's like a slow movie. And the diva thinks that she watching a private screening. She's barely able to ask.
"Why bring me here then? If it brings back bad feelings."
The ex-cheerleader stills and then she pulls away. Not completely, but just so they're on equal footing again. She leans forward, placing a soft kiss on the singer's lips. She traces her tongue across the seam the diva's mouth. Rachel opens automatically, following every movement. She doesn't lead because this wasn't her message. She was just the receiver. Quinn's hands are planted on either side of Rachel so she can control herself. Slow. This was supposed to be…slow. If all kisses were a dance. Theirs would be a smooth waltz. Step. Turn. Come back. Lift. Turn. Every touch is barely there, teasing. Every rub is worshipping. They break apart and the softball player whispers.
"Because near to you, it doesn't…"
/
The girls return to the walkway of street shops. It's darker now, the sun begins to set and lantern lights are brought out. In their absence, everything has changed. Shopkeepers have switched around and were now selling different gadgets and antiquities. There's a different atmosphere as families have taken their kids home and couples come out to share the night. Quinn turns to the singer. She lifts the small tan hand in hers and presses her lips against it, holding the position for a while and holding the diva's gaze. Rachel feels a fiery flush as she tries to duck her head away. Her body won't let her, the elation causes her to tremble and almost stumble. The ex-captain's hands instinctively wrap around the small waist.
A couple paces down, a young man in a college sweatshirt gets on his knees. He brings a modest shiny metal from his pocket, proffering it to the petite girl in front of him. Her arms are crossed, as she shook her head disbelievingly. There are happy tears in her eyes as she tries to answer. The girl in simple t-shirt and jeans had no idea. The male college student moves to stand, worried by the signs of sadness. But the girl drops to her knees, joining him on the floor. She repeats that the crying is in a good way. They're not that much older than the Rachel and Quinn, themselves, on their first year of independence. By now, a crowd had drawn and the diva drags the ex-captain nearer. She bounces excitedly at the scene, riveted. The pianist takes a cursory glance at the scene before focusing on the singer. She can't keep her eyes off her own animated girl, connected by the hands. Quinn is nervous enough as is; she wonders how the man must feel. Based on the shaky smiles and the adoring eyes, they're not so different…
The young man stands, bringing the girl up with him. The ring glitters on her finger. They're not even aware of the attention, so immersed by the other. Dance with me, her asks. He tries to move her around but it's hard because she's kind of frozen. There's no music she says, slightly embarrassed. A light appears behind his eyes as he grins goofily. It's low and off tune but his rough voice carries the start of a song. The girl laughs, shaking her head. It's their song. They begin to move.
When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
He's struggling with the notes and Rachel tugs Quinn's hand insistently. She has that look on her face and a brilliant restlessness in her frame. The blonde feels the comings of a smile. It almost seems like she'll never be able to say no again. The softball player lets their hands swing slightly before nodding resignedly. They let go. The ex-cheerleader signals to a nearby busker and grabs an old keyboard from one of the second hand stores. Slowly but surely as the different instruments filter in, it becomes more like a song. She looks up, giving the brunette an encouraging look. It seems to be enough because Rachel starts to sing, taking over.
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love
Quinn sways naturally to the beat, letting the singer's voice fill her. It causes sparks to flow down her spine, as she feels stronger, she feels there. The couple gives them a thankful look before continuing. It's interesting because this is different to any other performance, unplugged and stripped bare. Rachel has no reputation to uphold as she moves around. She doesn't have to be perfect and it's a relief. It's almost as if this whole day was a fairytale away from home. Bits of her personality and feelings weave through her voice. And, she's always staring at Quinn. Music is their language.
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there's no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love
The two girls smile to themselves. And it's as if their gazes were tangible forces because Rachel feels sheltered and the ex-captain feels whole. Their skin glows under the makeshift streetlights. The whole path seems to have separated into distinct patches as couples pair up and dance. Somehow Quinn hears her own voice before she registers telling herself to sing.
Oh I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I will never do you wrong
Rachel smiles, looking to the ground. A nearby boy asks her to dance. Quinn almost finds it amusing as the singer stutters in her rejection. The blonde shakes her head, letting her finger go over the keyboard. It's so old that some keys are off-tune but it just seems to make the moment more enchanting. Because…nobody seems to care about much, except for the person next to them, opposite them or behind them. She continues.
I knew right from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind we belong
It's a nice song, the softball player would admit, but it's not theirs. It wasn't anything at first sight for the girls. Quinn had been rather numb during her first meeting with the diva; her dad and mom had been pressuring her to do better in he studies. Still, the taller girl does wonder what it would be like if they knew everything they knew now, right from the start. Would they have been stronger? Would it be better? It's one of those questions that don't really have an answer and the pianist doesn't mind. They were different people back then. She would have never entertained the notion and Rachel would have given up. Time made them wiser. The ex-captain is brought back to the present by the singer's voice.
I'd go hungry I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
With each word, Rachel takes a series of shy steps forward, through the dancers, through the masses. They're both smiling.
No there's nothing that I wouldn't do
She reaches Quinn and they're face to face. The diva is standing on the opposite side of the keyboard. Brown eyes lighten and she leans slightly forward. There's suddenly not a lot that the blonde knows how to do at the moment, in this proximity. She swears the shorter girl's gaze is running along the curves of her body like a hand… She shivers.
To make you feel my love
Rachel takes the pianist's hands off the keys. And kisses them both. It's reminiscent of the action Quinn made at the start. A fire begins to build and the athlete feels restless. The brunette finally lets go, and plays a few notes that she remembers from the song. The taller girl can do nothing but watch. She's so far gone…and it's ok.
Rachel looks up slowly, meeting her look. Her voice seems thicker. Quinn thinks it sounds more attractive that way.
Oh when the storms raging on the open sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds will change they'll blow wild and free
You ain't see nothing like me
I wouldn't care to. That's the only thought flowing through the blonde's head. Her body moves forward, trying to close the space. Her arms reach out trying to find home. She'll never quite get close enough; it'll never be enough. She'll always want more. Selfish or greedy, there isn't anything else. Now, the pianistless than an inch awaybut Rachel steps away. She does a small turn moving around the instrument that was in the middle. The charged atmosphere turns playful and this time, Quinn can believe that she's chasing the singer around. She thinks that she's going to be doing so for a long time.
I could make you happy make your dreams come true
Though there's nothing that I wouldn't do
I'll go to the ends of the earth for you
Finally Rachel stops.
To make you feel my love
Rachel turns and the sudden motion causes Quinn to walk into her. So much for fast reflexes... The momentum sends then to the bench of the nearest stall. They laughing and praying that they don't fall. Well, Quinn is at any rate. She knows that if they do, she'll twist their bodies so that she's on the bottom. Fortunately, their feet move fast enough and Rachel back hits the bench.
To make you feel my love
Quinn presses against the petite girl. Her hands are from on the singer's hips. Rachel murmurs.
To make you feel my love
The diva is looking up from under her eyelashes. Her warm browns get darker and the pianist's mouth feels dry. Coyly, Rachel brushes a brown strand behind her ear. She tries not to focus on the way the blonde's hips shifted occasionally. She tried not to gasp at the electric signals running across her skin. And she tries not to stare into mysterious hazel greens. Her face, her hand and her body is heating up and it gets hard to breathe. Quinn contemplate her options. She knows what she wants to do, but there are so many people. Instead, she stays as still as she can, singing the last line because the diva had forgotten to. Her voice is husky and infused with something that Rachel can name. She feels it in herself as well.
The flickering of the lanterns casts shadows over their faces and reflects off the surface of the lake. They're just one couple in many and there's a childlike wonder to the night. Quinn pauses, tugging the lettermen tighter around the diva's body. It's partly because it was getting colder and it's partly because she likes seeing the shorter girl wearing it.
Grinning like… fools, they lose themselves in the words and in the knowledge that this is everything.
To make you feel my love…
/
Happy. Happy. Happy. With a dash of sad for realism. Awaiting your thoughts.
I'm an inch away from just saying screw it to university education. But alas that is not possible, Iest I end up jobless and homeless in the future. XD I will continue to update as soon as I can as it affords me with a break from my studies.