Chapter Three: The One With The Mess
iii. Throw away all your problems, 'cause right now it's party time.
It's a normal night by all means; Brittany is stripping in the corner of the club (the bouncers should have long ago put a stop to it, but it seems they're enjoying it just as much as everyone else), Santana is making her way through a long line of men, Quinn is dancing and singing loudly on the dance floor with Puck (it happens every time) and Finn is fumbling stupidly with a girl at the bar. He's even less smooth when he's intoxicated, and that is definitely saying something.
Rachel couldn't be persuaded to come out, she has pressing engagements Sunday morning. Kurt had/has a lot of revision to, and Mike simply declined. The others always have fun, regardless of who was out.
Finn sighs heavily as the girl makes a feeble excuse about finding her friend and ditches him. His shoulders slump, and he promptly orders a shot of vodka. He doesn't understand how the others do it – even Mike is better with girls than him! Mike who barely goes to night clubs. It's a new low for Finn (Not really, this happens all the time, but he's feeling particularly self-pitying tonight).
Lights are flashing wildly, music is thumping vibrantly and people are milling past him all around. There's a thin layer of sweat lacing everyone's features, and though it should be disgusting, no one seems to care or to notice. Letting inhibitions go and talking to who you like is part of the rush, part of the excitement and anticipation that comes with a night out. Finn begins to feel his mood pick up again as a petit woman with short blonde hair – too short for his tastes usually, and he prefers brunette's these days – eyes him playfully. It's then that his epic eye stare with blonde girl is interrupted as Quinn and Puck join him on either side, both throwing an arm around him.
"What're you doing, Finnie?" Quinn questions, placing her hand on his face so that he has to look into those deep, hazel and mesmerising eyes of hers.
He takes the hand from his face and spins her around lightly, "Scoping,"
Puck nudges him, "Blondie over there wants a bit. Reminds me a bit too much of Daisy with that haircut, but sure we can't all nab babes."
Finn blanches, "She reminds you of Kurt? Ugh, thanks douchebag, there goes me and her."
"You know, it would come muuuch easier if you didn't try so hard." Quinn informs him, then collects her drink from the bar as Finn does his vodka shot. She gestures to him, "Want to sit down for a bit? I'm rather thirsty after all that! A ten minute break at most though."
Puck nods to them, "Imma go check out the talent. Let the ladies experience the Puckasauras perhaps... I'll find you guys later. Maybe." Both know that's code for 'if I don't get laid'. Despite his reputation, he's rather picky about who he takes home. That means they're all hot, not that it's rare he brings a girl home for sex. No, no – far from it. Finn has lost count of the times he's walked into his kitchen in just his underwear to find an incredibly hot blonde sitting at his breakfast counter with only Puck's t-shirt on.
He shudders. Far too many times.
Quinn nudges him, "Finn? You coming?"
They sit down on the couches at the side of the club, talking occasionally and laughing at others pathetic dancing. She comments amusedly about how that's how Finn looks when he dances, and he tells her she's no Beyonce on the floor. She looks offended for a moment, and straightens her posture.
"I actually get mistaken for Beyonce quite a lot, thank you very much!" She replies haughtily, and both laugh uproariously then. It's not very funny, but they've both drank too much and they're enjoying each others company immensely. As they always did. They're best friends, as everyone else is, and sometimes both Quinn and Finn forget this.
"Finn, I think you should be my wingman next time we go out!" She declares suddenly. As he's about to decline, Santana approaches them. She sits sullenly next to Quinn for a moment and they wait for her to speak. Before she does, she leans forward quickly and swipes Quinn's drink and downs it. Quinn begins to object, but it's gone before she gets a word out and she sits back in resignation.
"I can't find the right one. And I need someone tonight. You guys know I got my needs.."
Quinn wrinkles her nose, "Yeah, we know. I usually hear."
The latina smirks, "Aren't you lucky? Provided with something to jack off to. So go on, help me choose a poor sucker."
Finn abandons the conversation at this point, and returns to the bar to get another drink for himself and Quinn. He'll splurge a little tonight – but she's only getting one drink out of him. Really.
Meanwhile, Quinn scans the bar with an eagle eye. She narrows her eyes and squints critically at all possible prospects. Finally, she lands her hazel orbs on a young man with dark hair and a confident stance. Undeniably attractive, he has an undoubted aura of charisma – she can see that from her seat – and chats animatedly with those around him, as well as breaking into song every few moments. He seems pretty passionate and she just knows he'd be the same in the bedroom. Quinn has to stop herself from taking him, and points him out subtly to Santana. (That's a lie. She would have taken him easily if she honestly wanted it, but there's a little something off about him that she can't pin. Santana only wants him for one night; it's easier.)
The girl gets a feral look in her eyes, one that says she's about to go in for the kill, "I likey. Good choice, Q." She stands and straightens her posture. As she's about to leave, her eyes flicker to a certain corner and she hesitates before speaking, "You—you know the deal with Brit. Watch the creepers that are perving, yeah?"
There's a beat of silence, "Yeah. I know," It's said softly, but Santana still hears somehow and leaves to make her night worthwhile. Quinn wonders where Finn is with her drink.
She knows he went to get her another, because he's generally a poor sucker like that; Finnocence as Santana calls him. She tries to spot him at the bar, but fails miserably and decides that she should probably get up and dance again. Quinn enjoys it hugely as she feels free. There are few times in her life that she genuinely feels free, but every time she gets up in a club and just lets herself feel among those many other people doing the same, she can't help but feel liberated. When she's being checked out by a hot guy and knows she's in control, when she's eyed with jealousy by another attractive girl and has a surge of confidence, when she's so lost in the music that she loses her friends and ends up miles from where she started out; she's free.
"God, chicks in this place are dogs." Puck moans, slumping next to her.
She laughs, "You're just used to the high standards set by myself and Santana, babe."
He raises a brow, "Perhaps. So, wanna get a cab back to mine?" He winks then.
She rolls her eyes, "Oh, in your dreams, Noah."
He shrugs, "Sure is." They're joking, they both know that. It's routine for them; it's what they do. Their relationship had always worked like that – they flirt, they talk, they laugh. At the end of the day, they say goodnight and do it all again tomorrow. It's a comfort to know it's a constant in her life, if it's the only constant. He's also one of her best friends, but she and Puck never get sentimental as neither are inclined that way whatsoever. It's easier with Finn because he can be incredibly vocal about his feelings, especially after a few shots of whatever he happens to be drinking on a night.
"We both know you're not really the picky type, so just choose one." Quinn says then, which surprises him slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean? I have got standards, you know.." He looks at her imploringly and she makes the mistake of looking at him. Her gaze falters just a little, and she's brought back to the place she's been so many times before. It's never worth it.
She shifts. "I know. But look at that brunette, she's gorgeous."
"More of a blonde man, myself." There's a joke in there, and she laughs and rolls her eyes. She's glad to fall back into the normal routine.
"Of course you are. She is hot though?"
His eyes, which had been glued to her, trail away and towards the girl in question. She's shaking her body ferociously on the dancefloor to a beat that Quinn knows well, and the corners of Puck's mouth rise. "She's smokin'. I'm gonna' go work some Puck magic, I'll catch you later,"
He's gone then, and Quinn almost feels guilty for directing him to the girl. She feels sorry for her already.
He approaches her with a swagger that his practically owned by Puck, and surveys her in approval. The girl is not easily swayed and rolls her eyes, waving him off. Within two minutes of him sweet-talking into her ear, he leads her off the dance-floor hand-in-hand. Quinn smiles faintly, and decides that she should find Finn. He's been gone too long.
Morning rays filter through the crack in the curtains, heating her face nicely as she wakes. She smiles involuntarily as the warmth spreads throughout her body and she instinctively knows it's going to be a good day. Of course, there was little doubt that it could be any other kind of day, but she's comforted nonetheless. She has a long day ahead of her, but with the sun behind her, Rachel's quite confident – as she usually is – about herself and the outcome. Everything will be perfect.
Today is an important day. She's finally kicking off her show today – finally starting the process that had been calling to her for so long. It had been unreasonably difficult for her to get rights for the play she wanted, but she eventually settled on a more accessible, popular musical: Rent. It wouldn't be her first choice, but she figures it's a logical one. Today she's to audition and find her crew. It would be hard, she supposes, but she's well up for the job. She's been waiting for this day for far too long.
Despite looking dirt-poor with the struggle she sometimes has with rent, Rachel owns a small theatre not far from where she lives. Now, be far from it, she didn't pay or buy it herself, but is extremely grateful. She'd sell most of her possessions before her theatre to pay off rent.
She rolls out of bed and almost skips into the kitchen, excitement igniting her bones. She still needs a morning tea though, no morning would be complete without it. Except the moment she opens the door, Rachel is met with an unholy mess and cringes at the sight. Their living room is littered with crisps, wine glasses litter the coffee table – with no coaster - , the phone is off the hook and on the ground, and there's an attempt at cleaning up glass in the corner. She wonders which of her glasses they broke this time.
Her fists clench in annoyance as her eyes wander to the kitchen and she spots the mess they left behind. Dishes are piled high and all kinds of cooking utensils lie about. Puck must have done his usual thing of deciding he's Gordon Ramsey after a night on the town. Anger and irritation builds in Rachel as she opens the press to retrieve a mug, only to find sugar and eggs in with the mugs. She gets her 'Born to be a Star' mug and slams the press door shut, and for a moment, she's afraid it'll come off the hinges.
It doesn't. She briefly wonders whether that would have eased her anger.
Rachel sets the kettle to boil and wanders over to the window overlooking New York. She pulls back the curtains gently, and is once again warmed at the sight of the glorious morning. How could she have let a mess ruin her mood? They would clean it by the time she got home. Well, they had better have it clean, or she would have to unleash her terror.
Rachel goes about making toast then, getting the toaster out of the press and cutlery out of the drawer. She may have accidentally (purposefully) made more noise than necessary, and Santana emerges angrily from her room.
"Rachel!" She says loudly to catch the girls attention, "Shut up." She sends her a scathing look, then pulls her skimpy robe around her tighter and returns to her room. Rachel sighs, realising that Brittany is meant to come with her today. She glances around the kitchen again and grimaces; it was a good night, perhaps too good for Brittany to be up this morning. Regardless, she made a commitment to Rachel, and now she has to honour it.
Rachel doesn't do broken promises.
After finishing her breakfast, she knocks on Santana and Brittany's door lightly. They share a room – Quinn, Rachel and Santana hadn't been meeting rent due to them all having rather pathetic jobs back then. Santana volunteered her room to share with someone since she was the last to move in, and because it is the biggest. Well, Rachel has an ensuite, but that's irrelevant. They found Brittany, and the two had hit it off immediately.
Santana opens the door open and there's an aura of coolness, "What?"
"Brittany?" Is all Rachel replies with. Santana motions to the scrunchie on the door, and Rachel raises her hand to her forehead, cursing herself for being so stupid.
"Apologies, Santana. I forgot we had that ... process ... in place. I'll just go get her now. " Brittany shares Quinn's double bed when Santana is entertaining, and vice versa.
She and Santana have a tumultuous relationship to say the least. They get along, of course, otherwise they wouldn't live together, but they have vastly different personalities that often cause them to bang heads. Rachel doesn't mind so much because at the end of the day, Santana is one of her best friends and no amount of bickering changes that. Just as the hungover woman is closing the door, Rachel says one last piece, "The place better be clean when I get back, you scarlet woman."
Santana laughs raspily, "Yeah, yeah. Good luck with today."
Rachel smiles, "Thanks," and turns on her heel to retrieve Brittany. Besides, she doesn't want to keep Santana from her company for too long. (She wants to avoid an awkward scenario in which Santana's 'date' decides to show Rachel his face. She hates morning after sex talk with the girls partners of any given night.)
A loud and impatient knock rouses Quinn from her slumber. It's strange, she thinks, how after a long period of time one can learn their friends knocks. Not that many of her friends knock – she wishes they knew the meaning of the word. She knows it's only a matter of time before the person on the other side of her door barges in, and as she knows who it is, Quinn's not overly concerned. He'll come sit on her bed, and they'll dissect the night. It's tradition as both of them are die-hard gossips who enjoy nothing more than picking apart people and events.
She blinks rapidly, waking herself up. The room is swimming in front of her and her head feels like it's about to go shooting off. Quinn takes a few deep breaths, and begins to feel both sensations lessen. It's then that the door swings open, and is shut too loudly behind him. She flinches.
"Haven't we been over the closing doors policy?" She groans, burying her head under her pillow.
"Oh, you'll live. Move over," she does as she is told, and Kurt places himself on the bed beside her. His eyes are eager for information, and he waits in anticipation for her to tell her story. "so? First off, any men, Fabray? Because, really, it's been a while for you... I'm beginning to wonder if you're going to get desperate and sleep with Puck or Finn."
She picks her head up from the pillow and glares at him briefly, "Yeah, that's exactly gonna' happen." Taking a moment of reprise, she pushes her hair behind her ears and turns to lie on her side then. "There wasn't much gossip, to be honest. No men for me, no... I was with either Finn or Puck all night. Looked after Brit for a bit. Of course, when we got home, all of us thought it'd be a fantastic idea to have a few drinks here," Quinn blanches at this point, "I spent a good hour looking after Finn then."
Kurt looks disgusted. "Your bathroom, not mine, right?"
She rolls her eyes, "As usual."
"Then I don't care for that detail, it's like any other night! Finn obviously didn't take anyone home then." Quinn shakes her head. "Surprise, surprise. You two shouldn't be allowed spend time together out, because you're just cockblockers."
"Kurt!"
"What? It's true." He sniffs disdainfully, "Puck certainly took something home. It's why I'm here so early."
"Surprise, surprise," She says sarcastically, mimicking his words. Kurt smiles lightly, and she goes on, "Yeah, I pointed her out to him. He was rather hopeless last night for some reason.. Claiming there was no one worth the time until I pointed her out. Did you see her? She's hot, have to say."
"Passable," He replies lightly, "Nothing like you, my darling. So Puck is the only one to score once again.."
She smirks, "Not so fast there – what about Santana? I know, I know, it's almost a given that she gets someone but guess what? He's still here." She whispers the last part dramatically, and Kurt gasps.
"What? Someone made it past the eight o'clock mark? How do you know?"
"Rachel told me when she came in to get Brittany." Quinn pauses, "I pointed him out to her, too. I'm such a good friend."
"Too good." Kurt pats her hand, but she feels it's somewhat sarcastic and raises a brow. "Find me someone now!"
"Next time we're out, consider it done." Silence falls over them as both stew in their thoughts. Quinn knows Kurt regrets not going out, but it's probably for the best that he didn't. God knows she's paying for it with the hammer against her head. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and wants to sigh. She always feels that it's incredibly unfair how hard it is for Kurt. Being gay, his choice is extremely limited when they go out. They only time they go to a gay bar is when he's particularly whiny about it, and even then, it's a very, very rare occasion. She tries to help him out by spotting gay men but it's always a hard task. She tells him softly, "We'll find someone next time,"
"I'm starting to think it's too much to ask," He chuckles, but it's void of any humour. Quinn puts her hand over his and shakes her head, but says nothing. He averts his eyes and coughs lightly. "I had a little incident yesterday coming home from college – I was at the library – and Puck was surprisingly helpful."
Her eyebrows shoot up, "Woah, woah, back up. What do you mean 'incident'?" He fails to reply for a moment, and she probes him, "Kurt? What happened?" Her tone is demanding now, and he decides to answer her for fear that Queen Bitch Quinn will appear.
"This miscreant on the underground said some things, threw some things. I'm fine. My skin survived the collision and that's all that's important."
"Did your heart?" He blinks at her, because Quinn never speaks like that. She purposefully avoids anything sentimental, mushy or in anyway related to the heart.
He ignores that though and shrugs, "Does it matter? Anyway, the results were that I remember now how many homophobic people there are – but also, I remembered what a good friend Puck can be. Now, don't get me wrong, he was quite an idiot and helpless most of the time, but that was comforting. At least he was trying."
She looks a little confused. "I'm a little astonished.. What did he say?"
Kurt rises and wanders over to her wardrobe, looking at various dresses and pieces, "Oh, just this and that about finding the thug and beating him up. Offered to get drunk with me. You know, Puck's way of comforting.. I think he started to panic when I teared up. He stayed with me though. Granted, he started rambling about football," He turns to face her, his eyes soft, "but he stayed."
She smiles softly, "He's a good guy when he wants to be."
"You'd know," He mumbles, and she ignores the comment. "What are you doing today then? I'm feeling like I need some retail therapy. Your wardrobe needs therapy – so what do you say to a shopping date? I'll give you an hour?"
Quinn doesn't know why, but Kurt can twist her arm in a way that very few other people can. Maybe it's because she see's similarities between then, maybe it's because she see's that he's just as lonely as her and unwilling to fix it and maybe it's just that he understands. He understands everything. She doesn't tell him that though, because things like that are better left unspoken.
Although she'd tell anyone else where to go, she grumbles a little and bites out: "Fine. An hour and a half and you've got me."
Kurt claps gleefully, and then leaves her room so she can get ready.
"Oh!" He exclaims, holding a hand to his heart, "I wasn't aware Santana was entertaining in the kitchen now." Kurt had walked out of Quinn's room, and straight into a kitchen in which Santana and her latest squeeze were kissing heavily on the kitchen counters. This makes him frown, "Oh Santana, be more sanitary than that, you know Rachel will kill you if she see's you doing that here."
Santana shrugs, climbing off of the boy, "Probably. How's she going to find out?"
He smirks, "Looks like I've got some leverage," They both laugh lightly, and that's when the man with dark hair and memorable features leans forward. Through Santana and Kurt's exchange, he had been fixing himself. His face is friendly and his eyes are warm, and it makes Kurt feel welcome immediately.
"Sorry, I'm Blaine. I didn't mean to cause .. a scene," He laughs, and holds his hand out for Kurt to take.
Uncaring of where that hand may have been since last night, Kurt takes it gladly, "Kurt, nice to meet you. It's fine, San's not really the quiet type anyway. Many a time we've had to encounter mornings like this," He laughs, realising that he may be painting Santana a little as a whore. She doesn't seem to care though as she checks her reflection out on one of the spoons littered around the kitchen. Kurt casts a disapproving eye around; it's clear no one has intentions to clean up last nights mess. "I'll get going. You should clean this kitchen though – it's not fair to always leave it to Rachel."
That means a lot coming from Kurt, as he's usually the first to criticise Rachel on her pitch on a song or the outfit she wears (usually the latter), but he and Rachel are kindred spirits in ways. They both share a strong fanatic for musicals, and know every character and song inside out. Others may disagree, but it's something he thinks he and Rachel should be proud of. (They are. And everyone knows it as they never stop hearing about it.)
"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're only a daaaaaaaaaayyy a-waaayyyy!"
Rachel cringes, and jots down a large no beside the girls name. She should have insisted on auditions being done with a Rent song, but a tiny part of her is afraid she'll be scarred then and unable to listen to the songs again. She's beginning to feel weary though; it's been two hours, and so far she has one maybe. No definite people. Rachel looks back at the list of auditionee's, and is glad for the break that is coming. She's finished for today with people auditioning for roles, she just has a few people coming in for other parts now.
"Alright, that's a wrap. I've a director coming in now, so if –"
"One more Rachel," Brittany points out, showing her the list for today. Rachel realises she's right and sits back down, feeling weary and wishing for the excitement she had that morning. She wants to feel optimistic and ready to take on the world again, but it's becoming more and more difficult with each person. Rachel's not even sure she'll get a decent cast at this point, which is surprising. New York is crawling with struggling singers. She supposes not much want the hassle of a musical, and just want a straight shot to Broadway or a record deal.
She's cut short from her musings by the sound of footsteps across the stage, but keeps her eyes on the sheet of people for a moment more. She can hear Brittany talk to the person, and is once again thankful for the girl's presence. Brittany is a renowned dancer with many credits to her name, but still a struggling dancer at that. She struggles like any other artist in New York to make it big or make an impact, and decided to help Rachel out to at least add it to her experience.
She teaches a dance class every Sunday and Wednesday evening, and works as a waitress at a local cafe otherwise. Rachel's rarely seen anyone dance like Brittany can; she's mesmerising.
"... Alright, take it away," Brittany smiles brightly at the woman, and Rachel twirls her pen between her fingers as a means of entertainment. Then the woman opens her mouth, and Rachel's drops in surprise.
"And I am telling you
I'm not going
You're the best man I'll ever know" She starts out soft, a hypnotising and attention-grabbing quiet melodic voice at first. Her eyes are closed and she's portraying every little emotion through the expressions on her face. She then opens her eyes, and Rachel's taken aback.
"There's no way I can ever go
No, no, there's no way
No, no, no, no way I'm living without you
I'm not living without you
I don't wanna be free
I'm staying
I'm staying
And you, and you
You're gonna love me, oh ooh mm mm
You're gonna love me"
She sings it with passion in her eyes, but with an ease that says it all comes natural. The amazing notes she's hitting and the control she's keeping doesn't seem to faze her – it's not difficult or challenging, but just is. Rachel can't speak, and that's just as well, because as she goes on, Rachel's further impressed and knows that there's no way she's going to let her go.
"Tear down the mountains
Yell, scream and shout like you can say what you want
I'm not walking out
Stop all the rivers, push, strike and kill
I'm not gonna leave you
There's no way I will
And I am telling you
I'm not going
You're the best man I'll ever know
There's no way I could ever, ever go
No, no, no, no way
No, no, no, no way I'm living without you
Oh, I'm not living without you,
Not living without you
I don't wanna be free
I'm staying, I'm staying
And you, and you, and you
You're gonna love me
You're gonna love me, yes you are
Ooh ooh love me, ooh ooh ooh love me
Love me, love me, love me, love me
You're gonna love me " She belts out the last long even more effortlessly, waving her arm around theatrically. At the sound of 'me' she reopens her eyes and stares at them determinedly, and Rachel can barely move.
"Thank you," She smiles widely, and her teeth are perfectly straight and gleaming white. She's standing confidently in the middle of the stage, a young Jennifer Hudson among them. Smooth black skin void of any blemish or spot, dark brown eyes that capture emotion and passion like never before and an aura of 'I am the star'. To be honest, Rachel can tell straight off that she will be a diva, but she doesn't care. She's a little overweight, but it doesn't mean much to Rachel in light of her amazing voice. She glances down at the sheet to catch the girls name again.
It takes just about all of her willpower not to gush. "Thank you, Mercedes. We'll be in touch."
Mercedes pauses for a moment, and then nods. Rachel knows she wants to say her piece, but prays that she doesn't shatter all that Rachel had confirmed in her head about her. She wants Mercedes to walk off the stage – dignified – not to list off the reasons of why she is the biggest star, and deserves a part. Rachel see's she's auditioning for Mimi, but she's not sure if she wants her for that part.
Mulling this over, she sighs out of relief as Mercedes walks off stage.
"Wow!" Brittany gushes excitedly. All Rachel can do is nod: the excitement from this morning? It's back. Tenfold.
I'm quite disappointed with the lack of attention this story has gotten :( Anything you'd like to see more of? It is just heating up, it takes a bit to get such an epic up and running. But what I'm writing now is getting into the drama and couples of things.. nothing is as it seems, remember! haha... So, in short, I'd love some reviews. Oh ,and in my mind, I don't adapt the characters to be like the FRIENDS ones, but: Rachel has a little of Monica, Quinn has a little Rachel, Santana has a little Rachel and Monica, Brittany has a little Phoebe, Puck has a little Joey and Chandler, Finn has a little Chandler and Joey, Mike has a little Ross and Chandler, and Kurt... well, he's a character entirely unto himself. BUT, I could liken him to Rachel and Chandler. A LITTLE BIT. haha.. anyway, these have no indications of who'll be with who or anything like that. Just something I thought as I was writing it. Also, i do not own friends, glee, or Yeah X3 by Chris Brown.
Anyway, I'll post the next chapter soon! Thanks.
xCNx