A/N: This has been sitting around for the past week on bits of paper and Starbucks napkins (à la J.K. Rowling) and I just now had time to type it up. Enjoy :)
Fifty-Two
Rachel had the (dis)pleasure of being the only one to see Mr. Fabray step out on to the front porch somewhere in the middle of Finn's tantrum. Her reaction was one of complete (and utter) terror, gasping as her eyes zeroed in on the tumbler—two fingers full of Bourbon—he had clasped in his fat fist.
"I think that's enough son," he hissed, rough and dirty thanks to the single malt raging through his veins.
It stopped Finn's whining in its tracks, the boy only managed to needlessly identify Quinn's father before remaining quiet completely.
Rachel could see Quinn was terrified—and it was quite hard to resist her innate urge to go to her—until the blonde finally broke their eye contact. Hazel eyes (bravely) turned to face her father and Mr. Fabray matched her stare with a look so hauntingly familiar. Quinn might resemble her mother in every way but her eyes, her mannerisms, they were all of her father's making.
"Daddy…" Quinn said softly and she stood right there cradling her stomach until he made his move.
The wait was relatively short.
"Inside now," he spat, his glare cutting over to a teetering Finn before settling back in on Quinn. "Him too."
Mr. Fabray stomped back into the house—yelling for his wife as he went—and Rachel swallowed down the dread lodged painfully against her windpipe. Her lungs inhaled as much of the cool night air as they could handle until the need to exhale was immediate. Breathing exercises were always her go to method to prepare for potentially volatile situations and Rachel suspected venturing into the Fabray home would be just that.
Finn made this odd croaking noise before practically whimpering, "I'm really sorry. Man, I'm really—"
"Finn, I'm quite sure that isn't at all helpful right now," sighed Rachel as she watched him continue to act as if he were seconds away from knocking on heaven's door. "Could you perhaps give me a moment to speak with Quinn privately?"
Finn looked confused for a moment—rubbing the back of his neck in deep thought—before he nodded.
"Um… okay," he grumbled and then (surprisingly) he listened without much delay, just choosing to wander aimlessly in the direction of the house.
Rachel frowned.
Dealing with Finn was honestly quite perplexing but then Quinn was looking at her and Finn's most recent blunder quickly became rather lackluster in comparison. Hazel eyes were just so shimmery and brown and it was suddenly exceedingly obvious to Rachel that her previous (breathing) preparations were all for not. The pain and longing hit her in a wave, festering low in her stomach until it bottomed out.
"I suppose you're trying to determine the best way to sufficiently explain why you don't want me to accompany you inside," her voice was unusually soft, but it was still almost bellowing into the night. "May I… may I at least inquire as to why?"
Quinn looked away—over her shoulder towards the house across the street—biting her lip with every anxious breath until she whispered, "I can't, not with you there."
Rachel supposed it was possible to request some type of clarification—in this instance such a thing would definitely not be out of place—but Rachel knew Quinn's reaction wouldn't be at all helpful in terms of explanation.
The blonde—for the most part—was barely hanging on. Courtesy of Finn Hudson, the boy currently casing the outside of the Fabray home for any open windows that could double as emergency exits in a pinch.
Still, Rachel forced a smile to light up her face. "May I remain outside just in case?"
Quinn nodded before walking towards her house, disappearing inside of it with a sickly looking Finn in tow. The tiny brunette stood there for only a moment longer until her phone beeped in her hand.
It'll be fine.
Rachel highly doubted it but she appreciated Quinn's attempt to convince her all the same. Her thumb grazed over the many tiny bejeweled rhinestones protecting her phone from harm until she just ended up clenching the mobile device tightly in her fist.
She'd known it would be difficult. Noah had always told her that pretty girls took the most effort to woo—in much cruder language involving (excuse her French) bitches and sticking it in—but Rachel had always taken it to heart.
Quinn was the prettiest girl she ever met but she was a lot more than that. They didn't exactly have the most amicable of histories—so it was relatively easy to brush such adoring thoughts away—but she'd always yearned for Quinn Fabray in some way.
Sighing, Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist, shivering at the gust of wind mercilessly crawling up her back. It had her slipping into the car in search of shelter from the cold mere seconds later, turning the key in the ignition and settling in as it suddenly became distinctively warmer.
Brown eyes flittered up towards the Fabray home with its pearly white brick and atrocious lion head décor. It certainly stood just a tiny bit taller than the rest of the houses on the street, casting its vast shadow accordingly. It was somewhat worrisome that Quinn was alone to face the personification of such a house in flesh and blood with only Finn Hudson's rusty old shield to hide behind.
Rachel glanced down at her phone—It'll be fine—and sighed, her gaze then flickered back towards the house.
Finn hadn't pondered any of the foreseeable outcomes before coming over—however inconceivable it might be, considering their current situation was fairly close to (if not already) toping such a list—and more than that his strength was only ever present when he had numbers. Still, he was a good guy at heart—maybe a little tactless and somewhat foolish but certainly not horrible by any means—yet that still didn't change the fact that their current predicament was almost entirely his fault.
Sighing, Rachel looked back down at her phone. Unlike Finn, she'd planned for this—during the time she'd unofficially adopted a customary paranormal 'expert' sleep cycle—and was quickly typing out text message.
I'm afraid I'm going to require you to move your belongings to the basement as soon as possible.
And (rightfully so) it didn't take Noah long to reply to her after such a message.
u my Jew n evryting bt yr basements kinda weird…
Rachel rolled her eyes, as she tried to decipher whatever it was he was trying to convey. Much like his ridiculous nicknames for her, he insisted on texting like an illiterate fool as well. She suspected it was because it bothered her quite a lot.
And by Barbra, he was insulting the Oscar room!
There is nothing wrong with a fully functioning Oscar room, Noah. One needs the proper ambiance to suitably witness such an iconic event! Daddy even decorated the corresponding bedroom in honor of the magnificent gown Barbra wore to the 1968 Oscars to celebrate her win for—
Rachel quickly erased her—succinctly composed and completely justified—message with a small shake of her head. Her love for Barbra had (rightfully) unfortunately got the best of her.
She glanced back towards the house before typing a new message.
Quinn is most likely getting kicked out, Noah. She'll have nowhere else to go, so you'll have to make due.
There was a short delay, as Rachel imagined she'd surprised him with her news. It was worse case scenario but quite honestly the probability was just too great to believe it wasn't anything but true.
b der in 5 mins
Brown eyes widened—as she had just expected confirmation that he was carrying out her request—before she was quickly typing away.
No, Noah. That's not a good idea. Finn's already here and you know you and Quinn are still at odds.
Honestly, Rachel was beginning to think that all men had very little sense but then she quickly scolded herself. Noah was probably feeling awful after reading her message—more than likely too busy blaming himself to extend their correspondence further—but she couldn't worry about that just yet.
Not when Quinn was making her way down the steps of the Fabray front porch, Finn lugging the blonde's bags out behind her.
Rachel stepped out of the car moving closer until Quinn was only an arm's length away. She seemed almost catatonic with her red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks on her cheeks. Rachel wanted to touch her but Finn lumbered in from behind them and dropped the bags at his feet.
He immediately looked at Quinn, his eyes searching out her (disturbingly) blank ones. Finn seemed genuinely remorseful, though Rachel suspected anybody would be in a situation such as this.
"I'm really sorry, Quinn. I didn't mean to," he rambled, just teetering away beside them. "I was just mad, you know? I was kinda over-reactive and stuff and I…I'm just really sorry and I know that—"
"Finn, I apologize for interrupting but maybe you should attempt to speak to Quinn later." Rachel glanced at Quinn and her hazel eyes were staring blankly at the wheel well of her daddy's car. "I think it would be best if she perhaps gets some rest, so if you could assist me in placing her bags in my car, I'd be most grateful."
"But you aren't friends," Finn frowned, looking between she and Quinn with a dubious (and awkward) look upon his face. "I know she lied and everything but I'm really sorry and I think this will show her that I am and it would be okay if she stayed with me, 'cause she likes me and stuff."
Rachel wasn't entirely sure he was completely serious but Finn rarely displayed much in ways of humour, intentionally of course. It appeared he actually believed that Rachel had come across them on a leisurely walk around the block. She briefly wondered how an educational system—that pledged to leave no child behind—could explain Finn and then she felt tremendously guilty for even entertaining such a nasty thought.
"Shut up, Finn."
Rachel blinked, as she stared at Quinn whose three word brush off was followed by her getting inside Rachel's car without even so much as a glance back.
"I'm sorry, Finn," Rachel whispered, smiling sadly. "Maybe you'll see better results with time."
Finn nodded before sulking off to his truck. She was obviously upset on his behalf but his feelings being hurt would have to be left off her list of priorities at the moment. She had far more important things to worry about and—after fainting in front of Santana—Rachel gathered it would just have to be that way unfortunately.
Glancing down at her feet, she sighed. Thankfully, she possessed a deceptively strong upper body. Noah had worked proper weight training into her daily exercise regiment back when she was of the belief that Survivor was a stellar idea.
It also helped that the bags were unusually light. She'd have to deal with that later but for now, Rachel was carefully placing them in the trunk before quickly making her way into the car.
Quinn was staring out the window at the home she was no longer welcome in. Rachel sought desperately through her vast vocabulary for the correct words to say but ultimately came up empty. Tragically, Rachel usually did in situations such as this. When Noah's dad had left, Rachel sat beside him eating Oreos and failing abysmally to rescue the Princess from that odd-looking turtle dragon. Glancing at Quinn, Rachel imagined she wouldn't appreciate Luigi's peril quite as much as Noah.
Her lip found its way between her teeth, as she started the car, maneuvering it down the street without much warning. Quinn didn't seem to mind, hazel eyes just continued to watch the houses as they passed.
The drive to her house was relatively short. Traffic in Lima was pretty light after six o'clock, since most people worked in the bigger metropolitan areas and had commuted to their homes by now.
The sun was just about to set—dusk was almost upon them—and Rachel was finally turning her daddy's car into the Berry driveway. They sat idle for only a moment and then the vehicle was off. She looked over at Quinn—watching the blonde so blankly stare at her house—before hesitantly reaching her arm out to clasp Quinn's hand. Rachel was ready for any of the predictable backlash for her impulsiveness but it didn't come.
Quinn entwined their fingers instead.
Rachel let out a barely audible gasp because quite honestly she hadn't expected that, well maybe in her wildest dreams but the tiny Diva was fairly sure Barbra wasn't currently seated in the back of her father's Lexus. Brown eyes flittered over behind her just to make sure—in case her sixth sense was momentarily Barbra immune after the shock of Quinn's unexpected touch—when the blonde started squeezing her hand.
"He just kicked me out," Quinn whispered brokenly.
Hazel eyes were pressed closed, wrinkling her forehead and her perfect nose, causing another bout of impulsiveness to wreak havoc on Rachel's will once again. The tiny Diva was just barely able to reel her desperate need to touch in.
"I know," Rachel gripped Quinn's hand tighter in an attempt to offer some type of tactile support, "but you're always welcome here, Quinn. For as long as you choose to stay."
The blonde showed no sign that she'd heard her at all—and it was greatly discouraging—but Rachel supposed Quinn was never known for showing much in ways of apparent emotion. Though, she always believed that the girl felt things so much more deeply, it was quite astounding really that it took the hormonal fluxes of pregnancy for Rachel to finally witness such proof.
I didn't know you'd…I thought… You left breakfast for me, even though…I'm so sorry, Rachel. I…
"Thank you," Quinn said softly and Rachel blinked—feeling Quinn pull her hand out of her own—then hearing the car door open and close.
The tiny Diva quickly scrambled after her, finally catching up just in time to open the front door.
Once they were both in, she fiddled with the door for a moment longer—until it was shut and securely locked to ward off any lurking cat burglars—before turning back to Quinn. The blonde was staring at her with an unreadable expression but then she blinked and only tired sadness remained.
"Can I get you something?" Rachel blurted out in a blatant attempt to fill the silence that always managed to fray every last one of her nerves. "Juice, water, some type of baked good?"
Quinn shook her head. "No, thanks."
Silence again.
Rachel bit her lip and Quinn looked away to pay extra special attention to a family photo on display in the entryway. It was of a young Shelby holding Rachel in the delivery room, a picture her daddy had always taken credit for. Yes, her dads may not have been thrilled by Shelby's early reappearance in their lives but they'd made every attempt to appear supportive (on Rachel's behalf) regardless.
And Rachel would always appreciate such a gesture.
Quinn's lips twitched and her hands started to running along her stomach in small circles before she focused her eyes back on Rachel. But before she could ask, Rachel beat her to it.
"I'll show you to your room," she said quickly, as Shelby was certainly not a topic she felt like getting in to.
Thankfully, Quinn seemed to be in an amicable mood and allowed her sloppy attempts at evasion to pass with a small nod.
The guest room was decorated with unassuming lavender walls, a colour her dad decided on after spraining his ankle and spending his days in front of the television watching daytime HGTV. The furniture appeared sometime after he was back on his feet and able to attend the garage sale down the street. She and Noah were then tasked to paint it the perfect colour of cream as punishment for dousing the house in water during a spirited battle of the Super Soaker variety. Pale purple flowers covered a white duvet and Rachel was happy to see Noah at least managed to change the sheets. He'd brought his own black ones to add (what she assumed he believed was) testosterone back into the room.
Rachel (internally) rolled her eyes.
Quinn walked over and sat daintily on top of the bed, leaving the singer to awkwardly linger near the door. As one could imagine, mocking Noah was far easier than her current circumstances, there (alone) with Quinn Fabray. But (by Barbra) Rachel wasn't one to be intimidated in any situation and she was ready to march forward and maybe… well she wasn't exactly sure quite yet but she figured it wouldn't be hard to divine on her way.
Right?
Rachel suddenly wasn't so sure but she wasn't about to—
"She didn't do anything. She just refilled her wine glass when I begged her to…" Quinn gasped and her breathing wavered into an utterly broken sob, stopping Rachel's racing thoughts in their tracks, as hazel eyes continued to stare ahead at the Starry Night replica her dad had also insisted on putting on the wall. "All I wanted was for them to understand."
Rachel's feet quickly carried her towards the bed, as she sat beside Quinn and took her hand. "I'm not quite sure but perhaps they do and their reaction was one that was encouraged by fear."
"They don't love me, Rachel," Quinn laughed, it was eerily hollow and sent shivers clawing up Rachel's spine. "They just love what my accomplishments could do for them."
Rachel frowned.
She was most definitely struggling in her attempts to even locate the shoe rack that housed Quinn's shoes because—even at their (most recent) lowest—her fathers would never afford her the awful experience necessary to completely comprehend Quinn in this moment.
"I'm sorry," she offered and Rachel meant it.
Again, she was quite well adept at empathizing with other people's plight, even if she almost always had no understanding of it at all but the difference was that with Quinn, she yearned to know everything.
The blonde shook her head, her eyes finally meeting Rachel's, as they managed to embody her very own starry night.
"I'm not," Quinn mumbled and again Rachel was left with a handful of useless question marks until (finally) something she recognized flashed through those hazel eyes.
Before Rachel could act, Quinn mouth was upon hers. Lips against lips, bruising and so soft; Quinn was undoubtedly talented with her tongue and Rachel quite enjoyed letting the wet muscle roam freely wherever it pleased. Except, emotions were most definitely running high and Quinn had just been so severely let down. It wouldn't be right, Rachel knew but (by Barbra) Quinn was making it quite difficult to be chivalrous.
Still, she tried pulling away but Quinn's hands quickly tangled their way through her brown locks, yanking her back closer with an unintelligible mumble against her lips. Rachel gripped the blonde's shoulders, giving into the kiss as pale hands fumbled down her body, so suddenly tugging Rachel's shirt free to slip underneath and caress her abdominals with delicate fingertips.
Rachel gasped—while Quinn's hands continued to roam—and the blonde finally broke the kiss, panting heavily while Rachel just looked on with what was perhaps a completely dazed look on her face. Chest heaving, lips bruised and eyes wild: Quinn Fabray was gorgeous and the tiny brunette's fingers slowly came up to run across the blonde's kiss swollen lips.
Quinn was on top of her, their legs laced together while hands continued tracing the contours of her stomach and it was utterly wonderful. Rachel leaned forward, removing the tips of her fingers, she pressed their lips back together. The blonde's lips were so soft, moving gently against hers and one of them sighed, the kiss deepening, tongues tangling as they held one another close.
Rachel shifted her attention to the blonde's neck, lavishing it with a few kisses until her lips just barely brushed against the delicate shell of the blonde's ear. Quinn gasped, her nails scratching at the skin of the tiny brunette's hips and Rachel paused momentarily to smirk at the blonde's reaction.
She was quick to take the earlobe into her mouth, sucking gently and flicking her tongue against the fleshy lobe. Quinn whimpered, bucking her hips forward against Rachel's thigh and the tiny Diva was merciless in her assault, again and again until her teeth bit down gently.
The blonde jerked on top of her and let out a loud moan until she flopped down, panting in Rachel's arms. Brown eyes widened before she smiled and held Quinn more securely in her arms.
"Oh God," Quinn mumbled and Rachel could almost feel the heat of her blushing face against the skin of her neck. "I…this can't be happening."
Rachel giggled and Quinn looked up to glare at her, quieting the tiny brunette so effectively Rachel was readily shaking her head in hopes of placating Quinn, who looked about ready to murder her.
"I most definitely wasn't laughing at you Quinn. In fact, it's quite common for pregnant women to orgasm—"
Quinn groaned. "Just please stop talking."
Rachel didn't dare giggle again—while Quinn was being delightfully cute—but reached over to move some of the blonde's hair from her face, curling it around her ear. She imagined her latest feat of hardly touching Quinn Fabray and bringing her to release had her confidence steadily rising.
"I suppose we can just rest then," she offered with a small smile until she remembered this wasn't necessarily her bed. "If you'd like me to stay that is. If not I can—"
"Turn around, Rachel," Quinn sighed and the tiny brunette was quick to follow orders, basically letting the girl position her anyway she pleased.
Rachel held on tighter when she realized Quinn just wanted to be held, though she was absolutely tickled pink to be allowed the bigger title. Looking down at the blonde in her arms, she realized Quinn was quickly becoming very important to her. It was oddly thrilling and so very terrifying all the same. She supposed it truly was indescribable and that—for somebody as loquacious as she was—was just plain facetious.
Sighing, Rachel let her eyes fall shut and focused on Quinn: her heat, her smell, her…and of course her phone decided to take that moment to come to life in her pocket. Rachel's heart beat faster; as she felt Quinn's slow due to exhaustion. Thankfully, she'd silenced it after conversing with Noah earlier.
Messages.
There were fifteen in total—all texts—thirteen were from Finn. Mostly poorly written apologies she was supposed to relay to Quinn until halfway through he started asking her to define a whole slue of different words. She didn't necessarily care as to why at this point but she'd write out the definitions for him sometime tomorrow.
Then there was one from Santana threatening her with some type of candy bar if they didn't talk tomorrow. That she did reply to and promised they would, if only to placate her before the Latina's lack of patience turned her overly vindictive.
And then Jesse (harrowingly) sent only a web address. She dared to click on it and for the most part she wished she hadn't. Because her multiple karaoke performances at Jesse's party had gone viral, especially their duet.
By Barbra, they'd even named them St. Berry.
Rachel suddenly felt nauseous. Her and Jesse, the very thought was utterly revolting and she doubted her new fan site had escaped Kurt and Mercedes' attention.
Hazel eyes suddenly fluttered open and Quinn shifted in her arms, "I can hear you thinking. Stop being weird."
"I suppose I can," she mumbled, though Rachel didn't exactly see how she could.
But Quinn hummed in agreement and the blonde's new position had her basically sprawled on top of the tiny Diva under the covers. Listening to Quinn's even breathing—basking in the warmth and wildflowers of Quinn's perfume—Rachel was asleep in mere minutes.
