A/N: No smut again, but I promise the next chapter will make up for the lack, and then some. I promise I won't make you wait so long again. Things have been crazy lately now that I'm working and stuff. Hope you enjoy and R&R please :D Thank you for all the reviews I have received :)!
It was after 2pm when Quinn closed the front door to her house behind her. She leaned back against it for a moment and let out a long breath that she felt like she was holding for hours.
After Quinn had laid out her ultimatum, Rachel had gotten uncharacteristically quiet in bed. She couldn't blame her. She certainly felt like she had ruined the mood and it wasn't a proud moment in her life. Maybe it was the dream, or maybe she had just been over analyzing everything again, she knew that at times she was guilty of thinking too much, but it was how she felt. How she still feels.
She couldn't expect McKinley High to welcome their gay relationship with open arms, maybe it would go over easier if she was seeing another cheerleader, or at least someone with a little more social status in school than less than none. She couldn't help but feel guilty for still thinking those thoughts. In her mind, Rachel was still called Man-Hands or Rupaul, or a dozen other hurtful nicknames she had spent time coming up with over the last few years. She no longer thought of Rachel as any of those things, wasn't completely sure she ever really did, but somehow to her, the nicknames had taken on some kind of endearing trait. She was just beginning to realize that the reason she tormented her so much was the simple fact that she's always really liked Rachel. Apparently she acted like an elementary school boy when she has a crush on someone. A real crush. She wasn't even sure if she'd ever really liked someone before. Dating had always been about status, never about love. This was new. This was beautiful and gut-wrenching horror all wrapped in one. She still couldn't understand how one tiny girl could strike so much fear and warmth in her heart at the same time. She wasn't sure she had a good enough grip on her sanity to enter into this relationship. But whether she did or didn't, it really didn't matter. She'd already gotten a taste of Rachel, literally, and she was her new favourite drug.
"There you are, Quinnie! I was so worried," her mother's voice startled her from her thoughts and she jumped at the break in the silence. The fact that her mother noticed she was missing was her first surprise. The second was that her mother was actually worried about her. "My goodness, Quinn, you're a mess! What did you do to yourself?"
Quinn had forgotten all about the events that had occurred during the night, except for the good parts. Their discussion this morning had distracted her mind from everything else and until now, all she could think about was either a life without Rachel, or a life with Rachel in New York. It was crazy, utterly insane, definitely not the type of idea she would normally ever come up with, or at least say out loud with another being present. It could have been the alcohol that was giving her these new and bold ideas, or maybe as much as she said that she would always be a Lima loser, she really wanted to find her way out. Either way, she knew she did not want to be a high school drop out, but she also knew she was smart enough to make it work. The more she thought about it, the less crazy the idea seemed.
She looked down at her sweatshirt and shorts, both decorated with blotches of maroon where her blood had dried and stained. Her knee still had the bandage that Rachel had put on and there was a few dots of red where the blood had soaked through. She put on a smile for her mother and said in her sweetest voice, "Oh it's nothing mom. I just slipped and fell on the sidewalk."
It wasn't really a lie, that's mostly how she got the scrape on her knee, but she was well aware that the blood on her clothes was not from that injury. Luckily the long sleeves were covering the bandage on her wrist, shielding it from her mother's worried look.
"Well, you should go upstairs and clean yourself up. I will have mango margaritas waiting for you by the pool when you get out of the shower," her mother smiled at her lovingly and touched Quinn's cheek, as if she was telling her she was making her some hot cocoa. Quinn remembered her promise to Rachel. The next time would be sober. She would keep her promise and not just because of her gain in return, although she was definitely looking forward to living out her fantasies.
When she had told Rachel she needed to go home, change and shower, Rachel had pouted, an irresistible pout that told Quinn she would never be able to win any battles with her. She didn't want to leave, but she knew she was in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes, and she also felt an obligation to check on her mother and make sure she hadn't drank herself to death. She was well aware of how messed up her relationship with her mother was. Since she had tossed her father out for his infidelity and allowed Quinn back in, somehow Quinn had become the "man of the house". Always making sure to take care of her mother. She had started out cooking for her, making sure she was eating a good meal, picking up after her, helping her get to bed at night and even one shower incident that she was still in the process of erasing from her memory. It didn't take long for the stress to get to her and around the five-hundredth time her mother told her she should pour herself a drink, she did. She was broken already, maybe broken since she had learned of her pregnancy, but New York ruined her and suddenly she didn't know why drinking had been such a bad idea.
She invited Rachel over that evening, falling victim to the protruding bottom lip and sad chocolate brown eyes, although if she were being honest, she was going to ask her over whether the pout was there or not. Rachel had brightened at the invitation, but her smile faltered when she said that she didn't think Quinn's mother liked her all that much. Quinn had kissed her lightly on the cheek on the way out Rachel's front door and pointed to her car, still parked half on the Berry's lawn and half on the driveway and replied, "I'm sure your dads think I'm the greatest."
Rachel had smiled at this and stared at the car, "Yes, well I am definitely going to need to smooth things over with them when they get home from work."
"I don't want a margarita, mom," Quinn sighed as she began to make her way to the stairs.
"Long Island ice tea," her mother suggested, thoughtfully, "or a daiquiris? Or both?"
"No," Quinn said gently, as if she was talking to a child, "Rachel's going to stay over again tonight and I don't want to make an ass of myself."
"Rachel," her mother questioned, like she had never heard the name before.
"The girl who was here yesterday morning? Short. Long brown hair," Quinn replied, and then added beneath her breath, "Gorgeous."
Her mother nodded and waved a hand at her as she finally recalled the girl, "Oh yes, of course, the daughter of the baby snatcher."
Quinn groaned angrily and raised her voice, "For the last time, mother, I gave Beth to Shelby, she didn't steal her and second, Shelby didn't raise Rachel, she has two dads. We've been over this, many times."
"Well the entire situation does not sit well with me," she replied, taking a long sip of her drink.
"Then it's a good thing the situation has nothing to do with you," Quinn snapped. She was so tired of having this conversation with her mother. A conversation that went the same way anytime Rachel's name was mentioned.
"I just don't understand why you need to hang around with her, Quinnie. She doesn't seem like a good influence on you. Why don't I see you with your cheerleader friends anymore," her mother asked, looking sadly at the bottom of her empty glass.
Quinn almost laughed when she thought of who was a better influence on her; Santana and Brittany who had slept with just about every boy in school, and some of the girls, or Rachel, who until recently was a virgin. There was nothing improper about Rachel. She may have been a little selfish, especially when it came to Glee, but other than that, Rachel had always been a good person with a kind heart. She was always there for Quinn, even when she knew she didn't deserve it.
"Rachel's a good person," Quinn replied, smiling as she thought of her, "If you really knew her and if you really knew me at all, you'd realize that she's too good for me."
Quinn was finished with the conversation, she knew her mother would want to reply with another remark, starting another fight, but Quinn didn't care. Simple fact was, although she had spent the past few years believing Rachel was beneath her, she was realizing now how wrong she had been. Rachel was too good for her.
She turned away from her mother and ran up the stairs, heading straight towards the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost laughed. Her short blond hair was tossed wildly around her head and she could see dark purple hickeys colouring the nap of her neck. She wondered how her mother could have possibly miss them, but then decided it was more likely she had seen them and was afraid to ask about them. She wasn't really her mother anymore and she certainly wasn't in any condition to involve herself in real parenting.
She lightly poked at the hickeys, smiling to herself as she recalled the passionate night they had spent together, and the night before that. The memories were intoxicating, almost better than alcohol. Almost.
She pulled the hoodie and camisole over her head and tossed them in the corner beside the bathtub, admiring the new hickeys that were revealed on her breasts and stomach. Rachel was definitely into marking and biting, which was perfect for Quinn as she loved it just as much. She never thought that seeing the marks made by her would turn her on this much. When Puck or Finn had left a mark on her flawless body she had been so angry, she hated feeling like she belonged to them, but belonging to Rachel felt right. She knew Rachel was wearing similar marks, that they both owned each other, and she loved it.
She started the shower and stripped off the rest of her clothing, revealing more marks on her inner thighs. She ripped the bandages off her knee and wrist before stepping under the hot stream of water and sighed into the warmth. She stood there unmoving for a moment, hands pressed against the cool tile as the water splashed onto her face and shoulders and rolled down her body. The feeling was delicious and she closed her eyes, imagining that warmth was caused by Rachel's naked body pressed up against her back with her soft arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel Rachel's delicate fingers tickling the lines of her hip bones as they teased their way to her centre.
"Fuck," Quinn swore aloud, pressing her forehead against the tile and trying to shake the image from her mind. How much she would've given at that moment to have Rachel in that shower with her. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, turning the taps for a cooler temperature.
She washed herself off, taking care to gently clean her wounds, and then stepped out of the shower, briefly towelling off her hair before wrapping it around her and going to her bedroom.
Her room was still a mess. There was dried blood still on her bed from her misguided attempt to feel something and the bottle of rye was already calling to her from its perch on her desk. She so badly wanted to drink it. Maybe a few sips would be okay. Maybe Rachel wouldn't even notice. She knew that she would though, and even if she didn't she would feel guilty about it. Not only that, but she also didn't trust herself enough to stop after a few sips. She didn't usually stop until the bottle was empty.
Turning away from the bottle, she pulled the dirty sheets from her bed and tossed them in her laundry hamper, replacing them with clean ones from her closet. Then she let the towel fall to the floor and collapsed naked onto her bed, wishing it was six-thirty, when Rachel promised she'd come by. She looked at the clock on her night table, which read three o'clock, and groaned. It was too long to wait without drinking. She couldn't even remember the things she used to do to pass the time before she had started drinking.
Suddenly she heard the familiar chime of her phone, telling her she had a text, and she realized she had no idea where it was. In all the excitement the night before, she hadn't taken it with her to Rachel's. In fact, she couldn't remember looking at it since she had slipped it into the pocket of the cutoffs she had worn to the party.
She saw the shorts still pooled on the floor by her desk, when Rachel had slipped them off her hips, and took a few steps across the room to pick them up. She felt her phone in the pocket and fished it out, falling back onto her bed before flipping it open.
Quinn gasped as she read the screen; 7 missed calls, 4 voice mail messages and 10 unread text messages. All the calls were from Santana and she decided to listen to her voice mail messages first before checking her texts.
"Q, what the hell! Tina tells me you just left the party with the dwarf? Are you like sick or something? Or brain dead? Call me now."
"Just want to make sure you got home alright and Berry's not holding you hostage in her sparkly Barbie dungeon of crazy. So, call me."
"Q, seriously. I'm starting to get worried about you. Just call me, please."
"Should I be sending an ambulance? Did you finally drink yourself to death? God, I knew I should've given you shit for suddenly becoming an alcoholic. I should've thrown a fucking intervention. You better not be dead or I will go all Lima Heights on your fucking ass. No joke."
Quinn was near tears as the last message ended. The truth was too real. She was an alcoholic, just like her mother. In the back of her mind, she had known all along, but no one had called her that, and hearing her best friend call her one hurt a lot. No matter how truthful it was.
She gave her texts a quick scan through and all but one were the same type of message as the voice mails from Santana. The last, the one she had just received, was a text from Brittany telling her that Santana was too upset to talk to her anymore and begged Quinn to just send a message saying she was alright.
Not too many people were aware of just how emotional Santana was because she was so busy putting up a bitch front. Truth was, Santana cared a lot about her friends and the people around her, especially all her fellow Glee members, even Rachel. Santana may have spent most of her time berating Rachel and insulting her, but Quinn could recall one night just before their trip to New York, after a few too many drinks despite their pledge to Mr. Schue, when Santana had opened up to her. They had been sitting on Quinn's couch, doing a line of shots, when they both slammed down their last shot and Santana licked her lips after she had downed the alcohol.
"You know," Santana had said, hesitantly, staring at the empty shot glasses, "I like Rachel."
"What," Quinn gasped, she wasn't sure if the alcohol had made her delusional or if she was hearing things, but she could not believe the words Santana had spoke.
Santana looked over at Quinn's wide eyes and laughed, giving her a playful shove on the shoulder, "Not like that, Q, gross. I mean, I respect her, you know? She's actually pretty talented and some of her ideas aren't half bad. She's kinda normal when she's not obsessing about how talented she is or talking about Broadway. I guess I just kinda admire her ambition. She knows what she wants and she's not going to let anything stop her."
Quinn was pretty sure her eyes had popped out of her head as she listened to Santana talk. She wasn't sure if Santana had ever spoken kindly and that long about anyone other than Brittany before. For it to be Rachel that she was speaking of, she was certain that hell was freezing over right that moment.
"Are you feeling alright, San," Quinn asked, pressing her hand to Santana's forehead, which Santana swiftly knocked away and rolled her eyes. "I know you had a lot to drink, but even so."
"I know," Santana shrugged, "It's not like me. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to be such a bitch all the time."
"But you like being a bitch," Quinn stated with a chuckle.
"It does have its perks," she laughed, nodding, "But promise me something, Q."
"What's that," Quinn questioned, suspiciously.
"I see how you are, you think nobody notices, but I do. You have this way about you, you pretend to be the head bitch and you're really good at it, but I know it's an act," she paused and took her eyes off her hands in her lap to gauge Quinn's surprised reaction, before she continued, "You care about all of them, a lot. You can be so quiet, hiding in the back of Glee and reading your books, pretending you don't give a crap, but I know you're watching everyone. You're interpreting their actions and emotions to every comment and making sure that they're all okay."
Quinn's mouth dropped, she never thought anyone noticed her secret. She did care about every single one of the Glee members, even though she would never admit it, "You're drunk, San, and you're not making any sense."
Santana shook her head and laughed, "I am drunk, but I know what I'm talking about."
"Whatever," Quinn sighed, wanting to get off this topic as quickly as possible, "What's the promise?"
"Make sure I don't hurt her too bad," Santana said nervously, her eyes falling back to her fidgeting hands, "I know I can push her too far sometimes and she's the only one that I really rag on that bad. I just don't want to hear about Berry offing herself because of some comment that I said that didn't even mean anything."
Quinn had taken Santana's hand in hers and gave it an assuring squeeze, "We both know Rachel would never let anyone push her that far, she's too stubborn."
"Do we," Santana asked and she looked back up with Quinn as she shrugs, "You hear about all this teen suicide because of bullying and we're the bullies, Q. We're the ones pushing these people and even knowing that I can't stop, because I'm afraid that if I do, I'll lose everything that I've worked so hard for. I like being popular, Quinn. I know that's so messed up."
"I get it," Quinn replied softly and threw an arm around Santana's shoulders, pulling her in to a side hug, "Popularity is a dangerous thing."
"You don't need to become friends with Berry or anything," Santana replied and, sensing things had gotten too emotional, she shrugged Quinn's arm from her shoulders, "just watch her and make sure she's okay."
"I don't think you're asking the right person," Quinn said, rolling her eyes at the thought of watching Rachel, the girl that Finn just broke up with her for, again. They didn't really have the best track record.
Santana let out a short laugh and said, "I know I am."
Quinn hadn't known what she meant by that, but she had promised to watch over her anyway. It was an easy promise, since she had already been doing just that, while watching everyone else too of course.
Now, lying back on her bed, she didn't really feel like getting into a conversation with Santana. She felt like there were too many questions that would be demanded of her if they spoke over the phone, and she didn't trust herself to lie well enough and convince Santana.
Sorry S. Lost track of my phone. I'm fine and Berry did not kidnap me. She was 2 drunk 2 stay at the party the other nite so I took a cab with her and made sure she got home alrite. The party was 2 much 4 me.
She felt like that was sufficient enough. It wasn't all a lie and nothing else really needed to be said. She tossed her phone on to the night table beside her and looked at the clock again, which read three-thirty-two. She sighed and went to her dresser, pulling a pair of black boy shorts and matching bra from the drawers. She slipped them on and headed towards her closet, looking over her clothes as she tried to decide what to wear. She decided to leave that decision for later and was about to turn away when something shiny on the floor caught her eye. It was buried in the back of her closet, but she instantly remembered what it was. She bent over the things in its way and fished out the basket. She placed it on the floor beside her closet and smiled as she looked at it.
It was the sex basket that that Santana had bought for her as a joke at her baby shower over a year ago. Santana had told her if she had just taken care of her needs on her own to begin with, she wouldn't be in this mess.
She never opened it. She had blushed so red when she got it and then hid it in the back of her closet where it had stayed. Now, she ripped open the cellophane to see what she could use on her sex adventures with Rachel tonight and was ecstatic to find all the things she could possibly ever want, and some things she never knew she did.
She set some things out on her night table and lied back down on her bed, fantasizing about Rachel and all the things she was planning on doing to her.
Rachel wasn't going to know what hit her.