Summary: "Can we go back to the moment you're too drunk or hungover to notice my stuttering self?" She scoffed, mostly at herself.
A/N: Joining the "Faberry Month" challenge, this is my take for the Prompt #3 "Drunk AU"
This is me trying
"Another one!" Slamming the glass on the counter, she leaned heavily on it and took a look around. No one had really noticed how loud she had been, nor cared about how much she had gotten in her system.
Finn didn't care. He didn't care about her dietary restrictions. He didn't care about her feelings when his coworkers made fun of her or took jabs at her, with him standing there doing absolutely nothing to defend her. He didn't care about coming home at late hours, without giving her a heads up. He didn't care about her finding the lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, the one he always wanted her to hand wash. The one she had shredded to pieces soon after.
"Another one!" She slapped her hands on the wooden counter, sending most of the shot glasses to the floor at her feet. She barely registered the sound, too numb for the alcohol coursing through her body and the sorrow filling her heart. She barely registered the pain, for having been cut by the broken glasses on the counter.
"Let me check that out, okay?" Rachel didn't register anything of that until soft fingers reached for her wrist, pulling her injured from the counter. "We need to clean this wound." She was too entranced by the way those delicate fingers caressed her palm, dabbing at the wound with a handkerchief that seemed expensive and felt even better on her skin.
"I want another one." Rachel reluctantly let herself be pulled from the high stool and followed the stranger away from the bar. To think of it, maybe she shouldn't have even let herself go so easily. She didn't know her. She had never seen her before.
"I'll get you another one after I stitch you up." Reaching in the back-pocket of her dark jeans, she took a key and unlocked the wooden door. Soon, they found themselves inside a small office whose furniture had seen better days. "Take a seat here. I'll be right with you." She pushed her down onto an old couch and Rachel followed along. She dropped unceremoniously on it, leaning her head back when the office had started spinning around her not in a fun way.
"Mmmh." She shut her eyes closed and held onto the edge of her seat. All the tequila shots were quickly coming right up. She should have stopped after the 4th one.
"Do you need a trash can?" She felt the same hands taking her injured one off her lap. She felt the handkerchief being untied from around her hand and something being dropped on her wound. Something that hurt her. Something that was not as pleasant as the touch before.
"No. I don't throw up." She usually didn't. She usually didn't throw up even though she was really fighting the need to.
"I hope so." The band-aid was placed on her palm and her hand was placed back down onto her lap. She felt movement from her right, but she just reached out, stopping her from going anywhere. Stopping her from leaving her.
"Don't leave." Rachel didn't like it when she was drunk. She didn't like it when she was clingy and holding onto anyone who was in the near proximity. She didn't like to be so vulnerable. She didn't like it and nor did Finn, who never failed to remind her of it.
"Why don't you take a sip from this and try to lie down?" She was offered a bottle of water and she just took a sip. She should have probably put up some more resistance, but her mouth felt like the Sahara desert and her head hurt. It was like someone had hit her with a hammer and not the rubber kind. "I'll be back before you know it."
"You promise?" Rachel let herself be guided down. She curled on herself, hugging her arms around her body and pressing her throbbing forehead against the back of the couch. She just wanted to crawl inside it and lie there. Lie there forever.
"I do." The response was so soft that she had barely heard it but, maybe it was the alcohol or the reason why she was drinking herself stupid, she believed the stranger's words.
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Waking up with the hangover had never been pleasant. She had never liked the bad taste in her mouth - even if she had refrained from throwing up - or the throb in her head. She hated the way she was so sensitive to the light. She hated how all the feelings were amplified the morning after, when the alcohol just postponed the issues. When the alcohol postponed the moment she had to face the fact that her boyfriend had cheated on her.
"Good morning." Rolling over on the small couch, she came face to face with the only person that had taken care of her. The only one who had even cared enough to clean her wounds - her physical ones - and had ensured her wellbeing.
"Good morning." Clearing her throat, she opened her eyes one by one until her vision focused on the person sitting on the edge of the coffee table, with a cup of coffee in her hands.
"I thought you'd need one." Reaching forward, the blonde woman handed her the mug and she was quick to take it from her. To take it and have a long sip, that soothed her throat and washed the bad taste away. "Do you need sugar or milk?"
"I like it black and I can't drink milk." She took another sip and balanced herself enough to fully sit up without throwing the drink all over herself.
"How are you feeling?" The blonde leaned forward, resting her chin on her elbows and giving Rachel the perfect height advantage to peer down into her eyes. To peer down into her beautiful hazel eyes with golden freckles all scattered around. They were mesmerising.
"Better, thank you." She looked away from those eyes and down to herself. She must have looked like a mess. It was hard to compete with other girls already, let alone when she had gotten herself drunk and there was this woman sitting across from her. This woman looked like a model coming out from a fashion magazine.
"I'm glad." She smiled softly and those eyes became even more entrancing. It was such a truthful smile that Rachel forgot how to breathe properly. She had forgotten the feeling of being stared at, the way this stranger was looking at her. The way every girl wanted to be stared at. "Do you need a ride home? Whoever is waiting home must have been pretty worried about you. Your phone kept buzzing in your purse."
"Not worried enough to keep it in their pants, though." She said it with so much spite and bitterness that she even surprised herself. She couldn't forgive Finn. Not this time.
"I find it hard to believe someone would even look at another woman let alone cheat on you." She shook her head. "I am not trying to make you feel better, but God...you're beautiful."
"No, obviously I'm not." She wiped the lone tear trailing down her cheek. She was angry at herself for having chosen him over everything else. For having stayed behind when she was supposed to go places. For having chosen Finn over New York.
"Yes, you are." The blonde woman moved from the seat on the edge of the coffee table to sit beside her and use her own palm to brush the tears away. "And he doesn't deserve your tears."
"I gave up on everything for him and what did he do? He cheated on me with some skank. He didn't even have the balls to tell me." Rachel leaned in her touch. She held onto her wrist and nuzzled herself into the hand that was caressing her so tenderly. She didn't even remember the last time Finn had touched her like this, without further motives.
"Men rarely do, even if they naturally have the right equipment." She chuckled softly. "Do you want my advice? Go home and talk to him. Tell him everything. You owe yourself that much, don't you think?"
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"We're closed!" The voice came from the back of the club. Visiting it at night was one thing, but being there in the middle of the afternoon was really something else. Rachel walked further into the familiar room and looked around her. It looked bigger a week ago. But everything was different back then. Her life was different. "Okay, what's so hard to get? We're clo-"
"Hi." Rachel stopped dead in her tracks when the familiar blonde walked her way. She could read the conflict in her eyes. She was ready to give her a piece of mind, but it was before she revealed herself. It was before she realized she was the one trespassing. "The door was open."
"Sam must have forgotten to lock it up on his way out." She shook her head.
"I can still lock it on my way out." She nodded to the door that had been closed anyway. She had pulled it close with her, once in. "I could still go if you're busy."
"Yes, I mean no but..." She rubbed the back of her head.
"Which one is it?" Rachel chuckled softly and looked up at the blonde. She hadn't realized their height difference that night. She was looking up at her, without really straining her neck. It was a feeling she was no longer used to after having dated Finn for so long.
"Can we go back to the moment you're too drunk or hungover to notice my stuttering self?" She scoffed, mostly at herself.
"It's cute." Rachel took a step closer. "You're cute."
"I am anything but cute." Now, she was scoffing at her.
"Right. You're also very pretty, but a lot more than that." She took another step forward and the blonde took one back, pressing into the counter behind her. "You're probably the prettiest girl I've ever met."
"Is this a payback for having called you beautiful?" She gulped down.
"Well, I wouldn't call it a payback really. Am I making you uncomfortable?" She took a step back, feeling her confidence slowly slip away. She had no idea what to expect from going there. From going there and seeing her again. Seeing the stranger who had helped her put her life back in perspective. Who had given her the courage to do something she should have done so much time ago.
"You're not, but I'm not used to getting hit on." She gestured between them. "I mean, I am used to this but is this what you want?"
"What do you mean by what I want?" She took another step back.
"Is this what you really want? A quick rebound to make things even with him?" She took the step forward. "I've been there and done that. But do you really want this?"
"I…" Rachel looked away from those eyes that were baring her soul like no one before.
"I don't even know your name." The blonde said softly. "But maybe it's better for what you have in mind."
"Rachel. My name is Rachel." She looked up at her.
"Quinn." She nodded and took a step forward, but this time Rachel didn't pull back. "That's my name."
"It sounds good. Quinn fits you." Rachel stayed rooted in the spot and when Quinn took another step forward, she unclenched her fists at her side.
"It sounds even better on your lips." Quinn reached forward to take the hand she had injured. She lifted it slowly until she could inspect the fading mark on her palm.
"Now who is hitting on whom?" She used the other hand to brush a loose strand away from her face.
"Well, I've done this before." Quinn dropped a kiss on her palm and looked down into her eyes.
"So you've said." Rachel tugged her by the elbow and as soon as her hand dropped back to her side, she leaned in.
"You're sure about this, Rachel?" Quinn's palms cupped each side of her face and Rachel couldn't feel surer than this. She couldn't feel better about this.
"Yes. God, yes." Rachel leaned up on her tiptoes and braced herself against her shoulders to crush her mouth against her.
So I got wasted like all my potential
And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad
and I ended up here
Pourin' out my heart to a stranger
But I didn't pour the whiskey
The End
comments and thoughts are always more than welcome