A/N: hello. This is a good start, isn't it? Sorry for the long absence, but I've been really busy and I couldn't update stories anymore. Anyways, I'm starting to slowly update again, though i0m not sure of how often I will be able to post new chapters.
This story popped randomly in my mind, so I don't really know what I'm going to do with this. It will be a little chaotic, because you know, glee… but anyway. This has a dark plot (I mean, it deals with killers, after all), but I will try to keep it easy to read. I had so much fun writing this, because I think that a group as chaotic as the glee club could definitely get into a situation like this.
Obviously, the story is focused on Rachel and Quinn, but the other glee kids have important roles as well. The story starts during the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza.
Let me know if you like it!
Enjoy :)
/
One – Blame it On the Alcohol
"Wait, where are you going?"
"To find Puckerman," Rachel had said earlier that day. "You know, my journey from little princess to natural woman begins this Saturday night at my house."
Rachel was, in fact, wrong.
Rachel did not became a natural woman that Saturday night.
Rachel became a killer.
And now, Rachel was squeezed in between Kurt and the window of a minivan that they stole from Burt Hummel's shop, because they needed something they could use to run away without being incarcerated for murder. The cold glass felt amazing against her sweaty forehead and it gave her a little relief for her headache.
She turned a little to watch Kurt's face, but the boy didn't even notice. He was looking outside the window, with glassy eyes. He wasn't in fact looking outside the window, he was just staring into the void of his own traumas.
They had blood on their clothes.
It wasn't fresh or humid anymore, but it was blood. And Rachel was about to vomit. She could still feel the sesation of the red drops landing on her hands and neck earlier, the horrible moist feeling of having her green, long dress drenched in it. She pushed the thought away, for the whole van's sake.
Finn was right when he explained Rachel the different types of girl drunks in glee, but he didn't even remotely know how dangerous it could really be. Especially if the boys were terrified as well and just as drunk.
Nobody dared talking, they were too scared that saying words out loud would have caused them all to panic. And nobody wanted to panic. Because panic would have caused Finn to freak out as well, and they needed him to drive. They drove past Lima a few minutes ago, and they were headed to god-knows-where.
A fascinating location, indeed.
"Did you know that in the Archaic age in ancient Greece the Greeks didn't condemn people for murder?" Brittany suddenly asked. Rachel felt a rush of adrenaline when someone finally spoke, but as soon as she realized what Brittany had just said, the adrenaline quickly faded away. Why did she have to say something like that? That was just- just so not the topic.
Santana gave Brittany a weak pat on the shoulder – with her blood-clean hand – and she forced a confused scowl. She really wasn't in the mood. "What?"
"In the Archaic age when they caught a murderer, they just let the family of the victim take their own revenge," Brittany explained, matter-of-factly. In her lap, Lord Tubbington was contently purring as the dancer ran her hands through his fur.
Rachel just shook her head, and for a second her eyes met Kurt's. The boy looked even more dazed, so Rachel didn't talk. But while she was turning fully into her seat again, she caught a glimpse of Quinn's hazel eyes. Even if Rachel was sitting on a minivan with the glee kids, covered in blood, running away from the place they could call home until a few hours ago, she couldn't help but think that Quinn Fabray was really, really beautiful. The blonde didn't have blood on her face, but her alabastrine neck was stained with dark red drops.
Rachel wanted to get up and go check on her – when things got violent, some of them got injured too – but One, she didn't dare going straight to Quinn and ask her, and Two, Kurt was fast asleep, and she was now blocked in between him and the window. She felt a rush of intolerance towards the boy because come on, how could he fall asleep so fast?
Well, she wouldn't have dared going to Quinn anyway, so it didn't actually matter.
But still.
Rachel wondered how was it possible for Kurt to fall asleep in those circumstances. But she decided to shake her head and turn around once again. Behind them, Blaine and Puck were sitting next to each other, too deep in their thoughts to notice Rachel staring at them.
In the back of the bus there was the Unholy Trinity.
It was kind of fun, Rachel thought. She had always been the teacher's favorite, along with Kurt and Mike, and now they were sitting in the front top of the bus, while the girls who usually were above the rules were sitting in the back.
But no one could be above the rules when it came of murder.
Santana had her head dropped on Brittany's shoulder, and the blonde was soothing her by running her hands through black locks as Lord Tubbington continued his purring. Next to them, Quinn had her forehead lowered against the cold glass of the window, in search of some relief for her headache. She was sore, really. She was also replying Rachel's exact position.
She must have felt Rachel staring at her, because the blonde beauty turned around confusedly, and her eyes met Rachel's. The petite singer felt a weird shudder running through her spinal cord, and something dangerously butterfly-like in her belly. That feeling was reserved for Finn.
But Finn was now single, and so was Rachel. Quinn was sort of dating Sam a few days earlier, but they broke up due to Quinn kissing Finn in the auditorium, and that night Rachel had a very clear visual of Sam making out with Santana.
What a mess.
Rachel realized that she had been staring in Quinn's eyes for a while now, and she quickly looked away, clearing her throat embarrassed.
She once again cuddled in her seat, hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. Next to her, Kurt was awake again. Seriously, this boy had real problems with his sleep schedule. "Rach?"
"Hmm?" her voice was croaky and rusty after not being used for a few hours. That was a new for her: Rachel Berry had been silent for three hours and fifteen minutes while she was still very much awake. Crazy.
"Why are you eye-sexing Quinn?" Kurt vaguely asked, rubbing his fists against his eyes and trying to wipe the sleepiness away.
Rachel almost chocked. "I beg your pardon?"
Kurt snorted and turned fully to her. Rachel tried to ignore the craziness of the situation, because Kurt had his fancy clothes stained with blood as well as she did, but he was still gossiping as if nothing happened. Different ways of coping, Rachel guessed. "Please, it's becoming increasingly obvious now. I mean, even in glee, you spend a lot of time fighting for solos, but the rest of the time you just stare at her… all day long."
"Well, she is a very pretty girl," Rachel shrugged. "That's all, I don't get why you would assume that I have a crush on her."
"I didn't assume," Kurt smirked. "In fact, I didn't say anything at all. You did it, and now I have proofs."
Rachel eyed him hastily. "Well, I surely don't want to start this argument now, Kurt Hummel, because we have more serious things to deal with at the very right moment, and I will not let yo make assumptions about me that—"
The minivan brutally stopped. It happened so suddenly that everyone was thrown forward. Rachel slammed her forehead against the back of the seat in front of her, where Artie was sitting. She let out a pained noise, along with a furious squeal.
"What the hell?" Santana snarled from the back, "Why did we stop? Fucking hell, Finnept, you know we can't stop."
"Yeah, that was, like, the only thing we agreed not to do," Mercedes added from her seat and Sam nodded along.
"Start driving the fuck again, Hudson, or I will go all Lima Height—"
"Santana please," Quinn snorted tiredly, running her hand through her hair and closing her eyes. "Not now. Finn, why did you stop? Are you really that dumb?"
Apparently, it was 'let's insult Finn day'.
Rachel was very up for that.
Especially after the whole cheating stuff—but let's not go into that, right now.
"Guys, we need to get gas," Finn said, when the two – former – Cheerios stopped insulting him. "And also, we need to decide where we want to go."
Rachel studied him. His dopey grin was gone, and he had a worried and much more mature expression on his face. Blood was crusting on his shirt and hands. She swallowed and decided that if Finn wasn't able to direct the glee club as the male leader, she was going to do it herself.
Do it yourself, it's three times better, right?
She quickly got up, grabbing the back of her seat, hoping that would give her some strength, and she looked at her fellow glee clubbers. She felt horrible seeing them all so confused and terrified. "Have you all did what we agreed to do?" she asked. What-they-agreed-to-do was in fact going home, subtly sneaking in, and grabbing some clean clothes, no phones because they could track them, some useful stuff and run to the Hummel's shop, where they quickly stole the minivan and ran away.
They didn't even showered, because it was too risky.
There was a confused nodding coming from everyone, and Rachel nodded in relief. One less thing to worry about. "Alright, that's what we are gonna do. You will cover you stained clothes or arms or whatever, and we will stop at the next gas station. We will get gas, and we will change in the bathrooms, quick and clear. If one of you leaves stains of blood, we are done."
"What if someone recognizes us?"
"We are two thousand and fifty-hundred miles from Lima," Rachel frowned, "Why would they recognize us?"
"Uhm, I don't know," Santana furrowed her brows, pretending to think deeply. "Maybe because we killed a fucking person?"
The minivan fell silent. No one dared to say it out loud, that was the first time someone admitted what they did. As soon as the words left her mouth, Santana went pale. Yes, a Latina went pale. You can imagine how shocked she was. Santana closed her mouth and her head fell back against Brittany's shoulder.
"It doesn't matter anyway," she mumbled, "They won't find the body until it starts to stink, or when the midget's dads come home."
"When does a body start to stink?" Sam wondered.
"Two days," Artie replied, "But it's still winter, maybe three or even four."
Puck scowled. "Dude, how would you know?"
"How do you not know?"
"Uhm, because I never fucking killed anyone?"
"Guys," Rachel hissed, exasperated. "Not now. So, everyone agrees with the plan? It's not like we have much more choices anyway…"
The glee kids all nodded again.
/
Miss Elspeth McEwen was a ninety-seven cranky woman who spent the majority of her time hating the world. She hated everyone, she didn't discriminate anyone. Miss Elspeth didn't care if you were white, black, yellow, green, blue, gay, straight, trans or whatever. She would hate you anyway.
So, when the music coming from the Berry household became too loud, she snapped out of bed, with an agility that was honestly a little freaky for a woman that old. She grabbed her glittery fuzzy slippers, her lovely pink coat, her cute grandma glasses and her loaded gunshot.
She was a lovely woman, indeed.
Miss Elspeth marched determinately down the stairs, she crossed her backyard as if she was going to war and loaded the gunshot just before thumping loudly at the door of the Berry household. And the door cracked open.
Miss Elspeth scoffed and marched in, her hands firmly gripping the gunshot. She descended the stairs, her croaky voice warning the bunch of idiotic teenagers she saw stepping into the house a few hours earlier. (Her greatest hobby was spying on her neighbors).
"Shut the hell up, you little brats," she snapped, "You don't have any respect for older people, let me tell you. This generation will ruin the world, I'm sure of it. When I was young, things were different, things were better. My God, if my ma' – may she rest in peace – could see what happened to the youth nowadays she would have a goddamn heart attack."
No reply came.
Miss Elspeth McEwen pushed the basement door open, expecting to see a group of teenagers drunk or on drugs or both making out, maybe involved in an orgy or something. Instead, she saw something else.
She saw a dead body, face to the floor. A pool of blood was gathering around it. Besides the body, no one else was in the room.
/
"Crap, this thing is sticky," Santana muttered, vigorously brushing her left hand on her right arm, trying to wash away the blood. The public restroom was empty at that time in the night, so they didn't have to worry as the washed away the blood from their bodies.
Rachel was a little bit frustrated, because the red thing wouldn't come off from under her nails. She vaguely remembered of when she fell from a tree when she was little, and she cut her leg. Her father tried it all, but the blood never came off her jeans.
"This is worse than when we painted our face as the zombies for Heads Will Roll," Brittany vaguely observed. Santana nudged her in the ribs, because it really wasn't the time to mention that. The blonde seemed to be clean from the blood though.
Rachel was becoming increasingly conscious that on the sink next to hers there was Quinn, shirtless as she had a blood stain on her hip, busy with trying to clean a lock of blonde hair from the red liquid. "Shit, why is this so clingy?"
"Here, let me," Rachel immediately offered, and she stepped next to her. She picked out a finely-toothed comb and she tentatively reached for Quinn's hair. The blonde let her do that, and in a few seconds Rachel managed to clean the blood away.
"Thank you," Quinn whispered.
Rachel wisely decided not to mention that she had plenty of practice with all the slushies she had to clean off her hair.
"Alright, let's change," Santana said. Rachel jerked away from Quinn, scared from the sudden voice. "Now, I know that we are the only ones here, but I still think we should change into the stalls, you know, never say never."
"Please, you just want to make out with Brittany," Tina scoffed.
Santana didn't even listen, she was already pushing into one of the stalls. There were three stalls and six girls. Since Mercedes and Tina were already in the other one, Rachel already knew how this was going to end.
She looked at Quinn, who rolled her eyes. "Come on Berry, I won't eat you," she said. Rachel nodded and timidly followed her into the stall. She locked the door and when she turned around she almost fainted.
Quinn Fabray was turning her back at her as she was lifting the hem of her dress over her head. Her pale back was just so thin, Rachel could literally count her vertebrae. She wondered if Sue Sylvester's diet was really as healthy as the coach said it was.
But besides that.
Quinn Fabray had thighs!
I mean, Rachel knew that Quinn had thighs, she walked around with her Cheerios uniform all the time. But this, this was another whole level of Quinn Fabray. Because the former cheerleader was in her underwear. And Rachel was enamored.
She swallowed silently as she forced herself to turn as well to pull of her hideous green dress. Her long, soft curls fell from her shoulders as she crouched to reach the clean clothes. When her hands slid on the floor to pick them up, she was meet with Quinn's.
Rachel snapped her eyes up, and Quinn did too, embarrassed. "Sorry, I thought it was my dress and…"
"That's okay," Rachel assured her with a soft smile. Quinn bit down on her lip and that sent a rush of heat run through the brunette's veins. God, what was Quinn doing to her?
"Yeah, you know, I'm just a little—nervous," Quinn admitted. Rachel didn't even realize they were both still in their underwear because the tenseness in Quinn's voice made her forget everything. Everything but that fact that she wanted her to get better.
"Well, it would be weird if you weren't," Rachel tried to chuckle, and Quinn gave her a tense smile. "This whole situations is kind of crazy, I recognize that. But we are smart, we are going to be okay."
Quinn exhaled deeply. "It's just… everything changed so fast," she whispered. "One moment we were partying and having fun and the other—the other—"
"The other our lives would never be the same," Rachel finished for her. "Yeah, I know the feeling. But there's not much that we can do now, we can't go back in time. We certainly cannot go back to Lima either. I guess we are stuck forever, now."
"That definition of forever means that we are stuck with Puckerman and Finn Hudson for the rest of our lives?" Quinn scrunched up her nose. Rachel actually giggled at that.
"God, I hope not," Rachel replied. "But it's too soon to decide what we are going to be. For now, let's just focus on finding somewhere safe."
Quinn looked at her expectantly.
"You know, so we don't have to live on that minivan. We'll end up going crazy if we don't," Rachel forced another smile. Quinn tried too, but she didn't succeed as well as Rachel. The brunette took her hand and squeezed reassuringly. "We will come up with something," she reassured her. Then she bit her lip and tentatively meet her hazel eyes. "Can I hug you?"
Quinn gave her a soft smile. "You never have to ask," she whispered.
Rachel beamed and she stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck. It was embarrassingly awkward at first, but when Quinn locked her arms around Rachel's waist and pulled her closer, they both relaxed.
Then, Rachel realized it was the stupidest thing she had ever done.
Even more stupid that dating Finn Hudson and murdering somebody.
Because they were both in just their underwear. And Rachel was falling for her, big time. But she didn't think straight anymore (oh, the irony), because Quinn had released the softest thing and she had rested her cheek on the side of Rachel's head. The smaller girl allowed that movement by ducking her head and nuzzling her nose against Quinn's neck.
It felt so peaceful. The soft noise of the other girls chatting in the other stalls and the suffocated noise of the boys messing around in the other bathroom were just ambient sounds for them. Quinn ran one hand up Rachel's back and she rested it behind Rachel's neck, so gently that the brunette almost didn't feel it. But she did, and she cuddled tighter into Quinn.
Rachel was going to pull away, but Quinn held her in place. She was very much aware of their bare abdomens brushing against each other, of the goosebumps she could feel on Rachel's skin and she was even more aware of what it was doing to her. But she couldn't help but want Rachel closer, because she was small, and soft, and warm, and just comfortable.
Safe.
In that mess that they created all by themselves, Rachel was her safeness.
Her anchor.
And maybe, she always had been.
"Sorry," Quinn whispered, eventually pulling away from Rachel, but keeping a hand on her forearm. "I guess I needed that. You are kind of the best hugger I've ever met."
Rachel blushed furiously. Quinn smiled and she suddenly felt like leaning in and press her lips to Rachel's. And Rachel must have felt that too, because her eyes darkened, and her arm rested back on its spot on Quinn's waist. Rachel stood on her tiptoes, allowing herself to brush her nose against Quinn in order to tilt her head for the perfect angle.
And Quinn let her.
Rachel was literally millimeters away from kissing Quinn, and the former head cheerleader was allowing her. It was the best moment in Rachel's whole life—
"Oh fuck, yes Britt!" Santana screamed, followed by the sound of something – probably Santana's back – slamming against the stall door.
Rachel and Quinn jerked away from each other, with a disgusted expression.
"I want to be deaf," Mercedes announced from the other stall.
"I second that," Rachel mumbled.
"You two are fucking addicts, why are you always—"
"Shut up, Q!" Santana roared, and Quinn pressed hard her hands on her ears when she heard another moan coming from the other stall.
It seemed like Brittany did her job good, because seconds later everything was quiet again.
Rachel was flustered, and more embarrassed that she had ever been in her whole life. She really, really didn't need hearing Santana and Brittany getting it on with only a thin plastic board between them. She ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks and she heard Quinn giggle.
"What?"
"Nothing," Quinn replied. "You just—you look adorable, as always," she said. She quickly put on another – clean – dress and Rachel immediately reached for her clean tee shirt and skirt. As she was trying to pull up her knee-socks, Quinn winked at her and leaned in. "By the way, what was about to happen earlier—I definitely did want that."
And with that, Quinn stepped out of the stall, leaving a shocked Rachel as she tried to tie up her shoes.
When Rachel finally got her brain functions back she eventually managed to tie up her shoes, collected her dirty dress and stuffed it into her backpack, then she followed Quinn outside the bathroom. She was helping Tina fixing her make-up as Mercedes did her own hair. Looking pretty was all they needed to get away with it.
Probably.
A few minutes later, they stepped out of the bathroom and joined the boys outside. They climbed on the minivan and waited as Finn tried to get the gas. "God, that idiot can't find the right one," Puck groaned, and he jumped off the minivan, to help Finn.
And that was when Rachel saw it.
They has switched places, and she was now sitting next to Quinn. She had her forehead pressed against the window, and her eyes met the television screen hanging next to the diesel cans. She almost chocked when she saw her own face on the screen, followed by all the photos of her fellow glee clubbers.
For the first time in her life, Rachel Berry swore. "Oh, fuck."
Before she knew what was happening, Quinn noticed it too. She jumped out of her seat and ran to Finn and Puck, dragged them on the minivan and forced them to drive away as quickly as they could.
Once the panic had settled down, Quinn plopped on her seat next to Rachel, her heart thumping loudly for the scare.
"My God," she breathed out, "I just had multiple heart attacks."
Rachel cuddled by her side and rested her chin on Quinn's shoulder. "We are leaving now," she weakly said. "Why are we on the news already?"
Quinn shook her head.
She had no idea.
/
Miss Elspeth McEwen was having the time of her life.
She was sitting in front of the wholesome, barely fifty-six years old special correspondent from the News Channel to join his interview. She was the one who found the dead body. She was the special one.
She was the greatest star.
"Anddd… we're on!" Grant Kelly, the special correspondent announced. "We are here tonight for our special edition of the news to denounce a horrible crime. A case of murdered set in Lima, Ohio. A seventeen years old guy was found dead in a family house and the neighbor found him. We are here with Miss Elspeth McEwen, who is here to tell us how she found the body."
"Well, I was just doing my job, you know. A poor old woman has the right to rest her frail bones in peace and quiet during the night. But the noise of loud, teenage music just wouldn't stop banging in my ears, so I got up, I grabbed my Betsy and I decided to check."
"Your Betsy?"
Miss Elspeth patted at her unloaded gunshot. "My Betsy. As I was saying, I saw some teenagers going inside the house earlier that night, so I suppose they were having a party. But when I opened the basement door, there was nothing but the dead body in there."
"And how would you describe the kids?"
"Well, the host was the Berry's daughter, a petite brunette. She is obnoxiously loud, you know? I used to hear her sing all the time until one day her fathers decided to soundproof her bedroom, thank God."
"That is Rachel Berry, and she is actually missing," Grant Kelly informed them. A photo of Rachel popped on the screen.
"Then I saw a Puerto Rican girl or something like that. Then a blonde dressed as a hooker. Then another blonde, dressed as a prude. Then a guy with an obnoxious haircut. Then a tall dude who looked a little dumb. Than two boys who looked like ladies. Then a guy with a huge mouth, it was kind of freaky. Then—who else… oh, yeah. Two Asians, a black girl and a cripple."
"Those description correspond to the names of Santana Lopez, Brittany S. Pierce, Quinn Fabray, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson. Blaine Anderson. Kurt Hummel. Sam Evans, Michael Chang, Tina Cohen-Chang—no, they are not related, and Artie Abrams."
As he listed the names, photos of the kids popped on screen.
"All of them are actually missing, and if you see them, please report it to the authorities. We are now going to interview their parents and their teachers. The police department wants to assure you all that you can sleep safe sleeps, since they are probably scared and confused, and won't kill again. Now, before we say goodbye Miss McEwen, would you like to add something?"
"Yeah," Elspeth snarled. "I was lucky I had Betsy, I'll tell you. One of those little criminals could have ended me! God knows what parents teach nowadays. That's what I mean why I say that schools don't work. I graduated from fourth grade and then I started working, and look at me. Now I am perfectly functional. This generation is going to destroy the world, just wait a few years. When I was young—"
/
Oil was dripping from the paper bags they brought on the minivan after stopping by a drive-thru and buying burgers for everyone. Luckily, the pimply boy at the cashier looked a little dumb and he didn't recognize Finn when he paid him and grabbed the food.
Now they were all eating hungrily the burgers, French fries lying all over the minivan and Coke bottles rolling on the floor. Rachel was quietly playing with her salad – the most vegan thing they could find – as everyone else enjoyed a big, fat hamburger.
"Come on Rach, have a French fry," Quinn held her one, "That's vegan, right? Potato, salt, probably lots of ambiguous-provenience oil."
Rachel had to smile and take it, because she was too hungry to settle for just a little salad.
"God, if Coach knew she would kill us," Santana groaned, biting the hamburger. "This tastes like heaven. Why in hell did we followed her crazy diet, in the first place?"
"Dunno," Brittany shrugged, then frowned. "I didn't. You taste better, though."
"Brittany!"
"God, I didn't need to know that," Mercedes scoffed.
"Hot."
"Shut it, Puckerman."
"What? I was talking about the food!"
"Fuck you."
"Right back at you."
"Are we in kindergarten again?"
Quinn rolled her eyes and she focused back on Rachel. The brunette looked tired, she had bags under her eyes and tiredness written all over her face. "Rach," she said gently, "You need sleep."
"No, I don't need—" Rachel's mere protest was cut off by her yawning deeply.
Quinn chuckled. She dropped the empty paper pack on the floor, and she carefully wiped her hands from the oil. Then she opened her arms to welcome Rachel in her arms. The brunette beamed and she was about to dove in, when Kurt's voice arose on the others.
"I know!" he squealed.
"What do you know, Porcelain?"
"What will be cool next season? Because I really need to change my wardrobe…"
"Not that, Britts."
"I know where we can go," Kurt clarified.
"Oh, thank God," Finn exhaled from the driver's seat. He was feeling a little sore after driving for hours.
"There is a house," Kurt explained. "It belonged to my Nana, but now it's abandoned. No one goes there since I was six. It's probably a little rusty and old, but we can make it better, right? It's a three floors house, and it has plenty of space for us all. Besides, it's just outside the city, and if I remember correctly, it's next to a farm."
"A farm."
"Yes, there is an old man who doesn't own a television, nor telephones. He won't bother us, if he is still alive."
Everyone looked around. There wasn't much they could do besides agree, though.
"So, where is this house?" Finn asked.
"Just outside Bangor," Kurt said.
"Bangor, Michigan?" Finn hopefully asked.
Kurt shook his head. "Bangor, Maine," he replied.
Finn wanted to slam his head against the wheel. "Dude, it's eleven hours from where we are now!"
Rachel resigned to the idea of spending eleven more hours in their minivan, and she sighed deeply. There were plenty of things the need to discuss, plenty of stuff they needed to do. But not now. she was too tired to do that. So she just lifted the armrest, so that there wasn't any barrier between herself and Quinn and snuggled close to the blonde.
"Can I hug you?"
"You never have to ask," Quinn mumbled, sleepy as well. Rachel beamed and she snuggled into Quinn's waiting arms. The blonde held her tight and clasped her fingers in Rachel's reindeer sweater. She thought that the brunette looked insanely cute all cuddled up like that, with her calves crossed under her thighs. Quinn squeezed her closer. "You know, even if I really hate that obnoxious sweater, I have to admit that those knee socks look amazing on you."
Rachel lit up. Like, her whole face lit up. She gave her megawatt smile to Quinn and ducked her head under Quinn's chin. It felt like home. "Thank you," she quietly whispered. "I'm sleepy, though. Sing me a lullaby?"
Quinn wanted to make fun of her for wanting a lullaby, but she couldn't help with the cuteness of the small brunette. "I'll sing you a lullaby," Quinn murmured. "And tomorrow we will be in a safe place, I promise."
Rachel nodded.
She needed to at least try to believe it.
Quinn was all she needed, though.
She vaguely thought that she could write a book about herself and become famous after all of that: How I went from dreaming Broadway to be a murderer, by Rachel Barbra Berry.
Fucking perfect.