Like A Date
Well this is completely awkward.
It was Friday evening and Quinn was sitting on the sofa between her girlfriend and her girlfriend's daddy (who didn't know his daughter's pretty cheerleader friend was his daughter's pretty cheerleader girlfriend) and watching the snooze-fest that is CNN while they waited for Hiram Berry to come home so that they could all sit down to dinner. This was so not how she pictured her first date with Rachel. Even worse, Rachel and her daddy were actually discussing the current events being broadcast, so Quinn had to pay attention instead of zoning out like she wanted in order to at least attempt to insert an intelligent comment every now and then. She glanced over at Leroy Berry again and saw the slight smirk on his face, and knew she was still being tested. If this is what the man put her through thinking she was just some girl his daughter decided to befriend, she dreaded to think what he'd do if he knew the truth. Quinn had a sudden pang of sympathy for Finn—a very tiny pang that passed really quickly.
The evening had started out pretty freaking awesome. They hadn't gone to Breadstix or any other restaurant for dinner because they really had just wanted to be alone for awhile. Quinn had hightailed it home right after school to strip out of her cheerios uniform and grab a quick shower before spending the next thirty minutes fussing with her hair and makeup, and trying to pick out the perfect outfit for their first…not-really-a-date. She'd finally settled on those skintight jeans and the green top she'd bought on their shopping trip, because she knew Rachel had liked her in that outfit. And, yeah, total score on the eye-sex the minute the door had opened, and this time, Quinn let herself enjoy it. She'd also returned the favor, blatantly checking out Rachel in her own jeans—because I don't lounge around the house in skirts and dresses, Quinn, but I thought you'd appreciate a little more effort than my typical yoga pants or athletic shorts. Quinn had really wanted to disagree. The only thing better than Rachel in a skirt was Rachel in shorts—because damn, those legs. Still, she could certainly appreciate the way the jeans hugged Rachel's curves in all the right places.
They'd kissed, of course, but they'd managed to refrain from falling onto the couch and right into a heated make-out session. Instead, they'd snacked on some fruit and just talked for more than an hour. Favorite foods, favorite color, favorite movie, favorite song (of course) and generally anything that they didn't already know about one another had been covered. Quinn could tell that Rachel had been surprised by just how much she already did know about her, because she really did listen when Rachel talked.
And, yes, there had been some making out (okay, a lot of making out) and she'd let her hands wander under the hem of Rachel's sweater (that thankfully bore no animal designs) and spread her palms over the smooth, warm skin on Rachel's back. Rachel's hands had slipped under Quinn's shirt in reciprocation and grown even bolder by sneaking around to graze the sides of her bra-covered breasts, and Quinn hadn't stopped her. She'd actually been dying to do the same to Rachel, and she nearly had until the ringing of the telephone interrupted them and they'd jumped apart, both stuttering out apologies for moving too fast.
Rachel had answered the phone while Quinn rearranged her shirt and combed her fingers through her hair, willing herself to slow things down. That turned out not to be a problem after Rachel informed her that her daddy was bringing home Chinese food and asked her what she wanted for dinner. And now here they were, on the sofa watching CNN while the cartons of Chinese were waiting in the kitchen and filling the house with their unique aroma. So when the front door opened and a short, balding man breezed into the living room, Quinn released a sigh of relief, because the television immediately clicked off and Leroy Berry got up from the sofa to greet his husband with a kiss.
She watched the two men in curious fascination, absently chewing on her lip. She'd honestly never seen two guys kiss before—well, other than the time she'd watched Brokeback Mountain with Kurt and Mercedes while she'd been pregnant, but she'd ended up looking away from the screen in discomfort and then claiming exhaustion and excusing herself to bed. Her father's voice had still been whispering in her head despite having been disowned by him. Now that she'd finally opened up to her own sexuality, she found that she didn't feel quite as uncomfortable with theirs, but she also didn't really see any appeal in watching them. Although it was kind of sweet that they obviously still loved one another after so many years together. Quinn couldn't remember ever seeing her mother kiss her father when he came home from work.
She turned to look at Rachel and saw the girl observing her with a soft smile. God, she really wanted to kiss her, or hold her hand, but she didn't think that Rachel wanted to come out to her dads like that, especially when Leroy still seemed to have his doubts about Quinn. Rachel winked at her, then stood, and she automatically did the same.
"Hi, dad. How was your day?"
"Eh…same old thing," he shrugged, placing a quick kiss to his daughter's forehead and ruffling her bangs in the process—which had Rachel immediately frowning and hastily smoothing her hair back into place. "A little blood, a lot of sweat, and a couple of tears," he joked.
Quinn raised a brow at the man's glib response. "Dad answers the same way everyday," Rachel explained.
"Because you never want to hear any details, sweetheart," and Rachel made a face, causing Quinn to giggle softly. "And where are your manners, young lady?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dad, this is Quinn. She's staying for dinner."
Quinn smiled politely and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Berry."
"Oh, look, she has manners," he responded with a pointed look at his daughter as he took Quinn's hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's lovely to meet you too, Quinn. Call me, Hiram," he told her with a grin. "I get enough of Dr. Berry at work."
"You can still call me, Mr. Berry, though," Leroy added.
"Lee," the shorter man chided good-naturedly. "Don't mind him, he likes to think he's intimidating."
Probably because he is, Quinn thought.
"I'm sure Quinn doesn't have a problem with intimidation. She's a cheerio, after all," he quipped, and she felt her stomach churn as she shot a worried look at Rachel, but the girl was already glaring at her daddy. "She has to deal with Coach Sylvester everyday, and that woman is insane," he finished with a laugh, and then winked at Quinn. "I'm a teddy bear compared to her."
Quinn released the breath she'd been holding. "That wasn't nice, daddy," Rachel grumbled.
He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, baby girl, I know you like this one, but bringing a girl in a cheerleading uniform into this house is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I have to at least kick up some dust." He gave Quinn a nod of respect, "I have to admit, Quinn, you've impressed me a little. Not even Kurt managed to sit through thirty minutes of CNN and actually pay attention."
"Well, I like to keep up on world events, Mr. Berry," she lied with her sweetest smile.
He chuckled. "Sure you do. And you can go ahead and call me Leroy. It just keeps things less confusing."
Quinn's smile turned sincere and she nodded. "I'd just like to thank you both for welcoming me into your home and giving me the chance to be Rachel's friend."
"Well, you are most welcome," Hiram effused. "Rachel, why don't you and Quinn set the table? I am starving and that food smells delicious."
"Okay, dad."
Quinn followed Rachel into the kitchen, while the men hovered in the living room and asked one another about their days. Hiram was shucking his already loosened tie when the door swung closed and provided her a few precious moments alone with Rachel.
"Oh, my God, your daddy hates me," she whispered harshly.
"He does not hate you, Quinn," Rachel insisted, as she opened a drawer and began grabbing the silverware. "He just has an unusual sense of humor, and he likes to see how people react in uncomfortable situations. I mean, he teaches sociology. You should see some of the trust exercises that he makes his students do."
Quinn watched Rachel systematically line up the knives, forks and spoons on the counter in perfect symmetry. "Is he going to, like, have you fall backward and make me catch you or something?"
"Of course not," she said, "well, at least I don't think he will," she amended, opening the cupboard and reaching for the plates, which happened to be just about an inch too high. Rachel rocked onto her toes and stretched, causing her calf muscles to flex beneath the denim, and her sweater to ride up and reveal a tiny sliver of flesh along her toned side. Quinn bit down on her bottom lip to keep from touching that little patch of skin.
Rachel grabbed one plate, shifting it to place on the counter before stretching up for the second, and Quinn released a breathy moan. On the third stretch, Quinn couldn't take it anymore and stepped up behind Rachel, placing her left hand on Rachel's hip and reaching over her head to grab the last two plates together.
"Thanks," Rachel murmured, turning slightly into Quinn. Her eyes caught on Rachel's mouth and she leaned down, then remembered herself and backed away quickly, putting a safe distance between them and glancing nervously at the door.
"I can't believe you keep the plates up there," she muttered. "Your dad's hardly any taller than you are."
Rachel smiled. "But daddy likes to watch us both reach for them. Believe me, Dad and I have repeatedly moved them down a shelf, but they just go right back up there the next day. We've mostly given up now."
Quinn couldn't help laughing. "It was kind of fun to watch."
Rachel crossed her arms and pouted. "You're as bad as daddy."
"As bad as me at what?" Leroy asked as he entered the kitchen with Hiram trailing a step behind and wearing a fresh shirt.
"Disrespecting those of us who are vertically challenged."
Quinn snorted, then covered her mouth in embarrassment as Leroy looked at her. "Ah, let her get the plates down by herself, did you?"
She nodded, still holding back her laughter. "Y-yes, sir."
"Did she drag the chair over? Or crawl up on top of the counter?"
Quinn lost her battle with her laughter—the image of Rachel climbing up on the counter to reach the plates was just too hilarious. She'd probably have to wipe the surface down afterward for the sake of good hygiene.
"Daddy, please stop embarrassing me in front of Quinn," Rachel groaned.
Quinn took pity on her, and swallowed down her merriment. "It's all right, Rach," she soothed, "I could barely reach the first shelf at this time last year."
Rachel's eyes went soft with understanding, and she smiled at her girlfriend. Leroy gave her an odd sort of sympathetic look, but Hiram chuckled a little. "Oh, were you much shorter last year?" he asked, apparently oblivious.
Quinn sighed. She was kind of surprised that Rachel hadn't told both of her dads all about the knocked-up cheerleader. "No sir. I was seven months pregnant, and I couldn't get close enough to the counter to reach anything."
The poor man's eyes went comically wide. "Oh…Oh! You're that Quinn."
Leroy shook his head. "You'll have to forgive my husband. He tends to be a little self-absorbed, and completely horrible at remembering names."
"I'm so sorry," Hiram said, pressing a hand to his mouth.
She felt Rachel's hand on her arm, rubbing her bicep supportively. She glanced over at Rachel and smiled gratefully, then addressed Hiram. "It's okay, Dr. Ber—Hiram. Rachel and I, we weren't really friends last year. There was no reason for my name to even come up."
"Oh, it came up a time or two," Leroy told her.
Rachel dropped her hand and shrugged a little sheepishly. "Shelby…and Beth."
Quinn's eyes fell closed. "Oh." Shelby was still a really sore subject for her, as she imagined it would be for these two men.
She heard Leroy mutter, "Yeah, let's not discuss that woman tonight," and she opened her eyes to see him frowning darkly. Obviously, she wasn't the only one who was unhappy with Shelby Corcoran's behavior in regards to Rachel.
"Quinn, I really do apologize," Hiram stressed. "I didn't mean to broach such a personal subject with you on our first meeting."
"I'm kind of the one that brought it up," she told him. "I mean, it happened. I have to deal with it."
"And Quinn has done a remarkable job getting her life back on track," Rachel said with pride.
She felt the blush burn across her cheeks. "Well, I'm trying, anyway."
"Okay, enough of the heavy. Let's eat," Leroy commanded, picking up the plates off the counter and shoving them into Rachel's hands, then messily piling the silverware on top with a clatter. "Make yourself useful, baby girl."
Rachel huffed, "Yes, daddy."
"I can help," Quinn said, reaching for the silverware, but Leroy caught her hand.
"No, you're the guest. You just sit and relax." When Rachel moved to the table and started lining up the place settings, Leroy bent down and whispered, "Watch this."
Quinn frowned up at him, wondering what he was talking about. He winked down at her again, and walked over to the table, pulling a chair out for her. Not sure what he wanted, but intent to get on his good side, she sat down. Leroy tucked her chair in, leaned forward and casually slid a fork askew from the place Rachel had just set. Rachel released an adorable little huff, and moved the fork right back into position. Then Leroy bumped a knife on the other setting as he circled the table, causing it to turn at an angle, and Rachel reached across to straighten it. Quinn suddenly realized that her girlfriend was just that anal, and her daddy loved to tease her about it. She giggled, and Leroy laughed, too.
Rachel shot them both a look, then jerked her hand away from the silverware, blushing furiously. "Daddy!" she squeaked with a stomp of her foot. "You're terrible."
"And you really need to loosen up, baby girl," he told her, then looked down at Quinn with kind eyes. "Maybe you can help her out with that, Quinn."
She grinned, feeling a little more relaxed about having dinner with Rachel's dads. "I intend to try, Leroy."
Rachel's blush spread all the way down her throat, and she ducked her head and turned away. She finished setting the table, visibly attempting to be less particular with the placement, but failing miserably. They finally all sat down to eat, and the conversation was considerably lighter. Quinn managed to hold her own and even ingratiate herself a little more to the misters Berry. She didn't have to try very hard to be polite and charming—the men were surprisingly easy to talk to—but she did have to make a conscious effort to keep from touching Rachel, or saying something to give her deeper feelings away.
She was relieved when, an hour later, Rachel told her fathers that she and Quinn were going to head upstairs to watch a movie, leaving them free to commandeer the home entertainment system in the den. Rachel had practically dragged her up the stairs and pushed her into her bedroom. Unsurprisingly, the moment the door closed, their lips were attached, but a little unexpectedly, this time it was Rachel who had backed Quinn up against the door and pinned her there. She wasn't complaining—like, at all. Rachel's tongue slid between her parted lips and she met it eagerly. Those small (completely unmanly) hands moved down from her shoulders and skimmed over Quinn's breasts ever so lightly before coming to rest over her ribs, thumbs moving in circles over the tight fabric of her shirt just beneath her breasts.
Holy hell, that feels good.
Quinn moaned and ran her hands over Rachel's back, wishing that the sweater wasn't in the way. When her fingertips hit denim, she hesitated, but then Rachel nipped at Quinn's lower lip with her teeth, and Quinn dipped her hands, cupping the curve of Rachel's ass in her palms and squeezing. Rachel gasped, then groaned, dropping her head onto Quinn's shoulder and breathing unevenly.
"I think we need to slow down," Rachel whispered.
Quinn wanted to laugh, because usually that was her line, but her body was too overheated to appreciate the humor in the situation. She nodded and let her hands fall away from Rachel, who released one last regretful sigh before stepping back out of Quinn's personal space. Glancing at Rachel's flushed face, she noted the glistening lips and blown pupils and hissed out a breath. "Maybe we should go back downstairs," she suggested, because suddenly being alone with Rachel and a bed didn't seem like the wisest decision.
Rachel chuckled a little, pacing over to that same (too tempting) bed and sitting down on the edge. "You're the former president of the Celibacy Club. Are you saying you don't have the wherewithal to resist the school prude?" She scowled a little as she said the last word.
"Finn is a damn moron," Quinn pointed out, "and I have the means, just apparently, not the desire." She frowned as she repeated that in her head. "I finally feel the desire to not resist," she rephrased, and Rachel giggled.
"Come here," she requested, holding out her hand.
Quinn's eyebrow twitched. "Do you really think that's such a good idea?" she asked, even though they'd managed to be alone in here last night without having a real problem. Yes, they'd kissed and done some pretty tame petting, but things hadn't gotten out of hand. Probably because Rachel had been in full Berry Superstar mode and was largely preoccupied with perfecting their song.
Rachel dropped her hand and titled her head thoughtfully. "Maybe not, but I really don't think either one of us is actually ready to have sex just yet."
"Rachel," she whispered, feeling her face heat at the casual way the words dripped from Rachel's lips.
"We can say the word, Quinn. It isn't exactly taboo."
"It was in my house," she muttered. Rachel smiled up at her and patted the mattress, silently requesting her to sit down. Quinn sighed and moved to the bed, carefully sitting two inches away from her. Rachel shook her head and shifted over until their legs and arms pressed together, and Quinn bit her lip. "You do things to me," she quietly confessed.
"Yes, I have actually noticed that." Rachel's eyes were sparkling with humor. "You do things to me, as well," she said, linking their hands together, "but we don't have to do anything that we're both not fully comfortable with. That being said, I seem to be alarmingly comfortable doing a lot of things with you already, and frankly, it scares me a little bit."
"I scare you?" Quinn asked with a frown.
"The way you make me feel scares me—like I'm losing control. Oddly enough, I think I trust you implicitly. It's myself that I don't trust."
"That is odd, because you're probably the most responsible person I know."
Rachel frowned a little. "I notice that you didn't say trustworthy."
"They're totally synonymous," Quinn argued.
"But not entirely interchangeable."
"Are you going to bust out the dictionary?" Quinn asked with a smile.
"Are you mocking me?" she gasped with feigned affront.
Quinn laughed, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to Rachel's mouth. "Not mocking, baby. Teasing. Because…"
A hand pressed over her lips, and Rachel growled, "Don't even say it, Quinn Fabray."
She poked out her tongue and licked Rachel's fingertips, and Rachel countered by licking her own upper lip. Quinn groaned, "God, you and that tongue of yours are going to drive me insane."
"That is the long term goal, yes," she husked, looking up at Quinn through hooded eyes.
Quinn grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer, claiming her and her tempting tongue—and try saying that five times fast—on second thought, Rachel could probably do it. Quinn broke the kiss with a shuddering breath. "So, what musical are you going to subject me to tonight?" she asked pleasantly.
Rachel smirked. "While I do not deny having a large selection of musicals in my collection, I do own other genres of film, Quinn. And since I'd rather not scare you away quite so soon into our relationship, I'll even let you choose."
"I don't scare easily, Berry," she promised with a wicked grin. If she did, Rachel's brand of crazy would have sent her running a long a time ago. "But I'm not about to turn down power when it's so kindly offered to me."
"Yes, I do know that about you," Rachel reminded her with a smile.
"So, what do we have to choose from?"
Rachel extracted herself from Quinn's embrace and stepped over to a wall cabinet, opening the door to reveal six full shelves packed with DVD cases. Her eyes widened. "Ho-ly crap. What did you do, knock over a Blockbuster?"
"Very funny. I," she paused, dropping her eyes to the floor, "I spend a lot of time alone," and Quinn felt her heart start to ache. She stood and crossed the room in three strides, wrapping Rachel up into her arms.
"Oh, baby," she breathed, and the girl gripped her waist tighter, melting into the hug. "You'll be spending your time with me from now on," she promised.
"That would be nice," Rachel whispered.
Quinn pulled back and tenderly brushed at Rachel's bangs. "Do you want to go to a movie with me tomorrow?"
Rachel looked surprised. "Like…out to a movie?"
She snickered, "Yes…out."
"Like a date?" Rachel clarified.
"No," Quinn said, and Rachel's hopeful smile dimmed. "Not like a date, Rach. A date," she emphasized. "Will you go out on a date with me?"
There was nothing quite like one of Rachel Berry's smiles—not the megawatt I'm-going-to-be-a-star smile, but the sincere I'm-genuinely-happy smile. A blissful "yes" came flying out, and then that smile met her own in a quick, joyful kiss.
"Just no science fiction," Quinn begged.
"Please, Quinn, that's not to my taste at all."
"Are you going to make me see some kid's movie?"
Rachel ducked her head a little. "Well, I suppose not."
Quinn sighed, "Which one?"
Please let it be the one with the cowboy lizard and not the one with the gnomes. I hate gnomes…they're so freaky.
Rachel giggled at her obvious lack of enthusiasm for a G rated movie. "While I do occasionally enjoy the animated features that you so carelessly classify as kid's movies, I do have a myriad of interests when it comes to entertainment. So, how about Red Riding Hood? Would that be acceptable to you?"
"Ah Rach, you do know that's kind of a horror film, right?"
Her laughter rang out, and Quinn smiled at the sound. "Of course, I do. I happen to like a little suspense now and then…not to mention, Amanda Seyfried."
"Amanda Seyfried?" Quinn echoed with a slight frown.
"Yes, Quinn," Rachel answered patiently. "She has a very nice voice, you know? She starred in the film version of Mamma Mia. But you'd probably recognize her from Mean Girls. Not to imply that you should be particularly familiar with that movie…"
"I'm familiar," Quinn cut off her moderately cute rambling. "I also know who the actress is. I'm just kind of surprised your such a…fan."
Rachel blushed. "Well, she is very talented, and…a-attractive."
Quinn's eyes widened. "Oh, my God. You think she's hot, don't you?"
"Maybe a little," she confessed, fidgeting in the circle of Quinn's arms. "Apparently, I have a type," she muttered lowly.
"Am I going to have to watch you around every pretty blonde?" Quinn teased.
"You're the only blonde that I'm interested in, sweetheart."
Quinn stilled at the endearment, and then grinned widely. "I like that," she whispered, dipping her head to steal a kiss. "Now, what shall we watch tonight?" she asked, spinning out of Rachel's arms and looking over the shelves. She started to laugh as her eyes darted along the titles. "Why am I surprised? Of course they're in alphabetical order by genre."
Rachel placed her hands on her hips. "Well, how else would you suggest cataloging them, Quinn?"
"You're so cute." Quinn reached blindly for a movie, not really caring what she picked. She had a feeling she and Rachel wouldn't really be watching it anyway.
A/N: I apologize if this chapter is a little sub par. I kind of whipped it out in a day as a filler since so many people were commenting on wanting to see their weekend. So this just gives you a taste of it. Again, thanks for reading and commenting.