Rachel won't look at her; she absolutely refuses to look at her and it has been going on like this for a week. A long, torturous week and not just for Quinn, but for everyone who has had to be around the blonde because she has not been Little Miss Nice Girl.
"Hey, Lady Lips, out of the way," Santana says and Quinn watches as shoves the poor boy aside. Kurt scoffs and she fights to hide her amusement as Kurt links arms with Mercedes and starts ranting about wrinkles and his designer clothing.
She swings her head around to look at Santana once everyone else, including Rachel who she really wants to talk to, but cannot talk to because Rachel is doing everything in her power to continue avoiding her, leaves the room.
"Okay, Quinnie, this has to stop," Santana starts in on Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest and staring Quinn down in that Lopez way that would be intimidating if Quinn didn't know Santana so well.
"What has to stop?" she asks like she hasn't a clue what Santana is referring to, though she isn't stupid and she does actually know; she simply doesn't want to talk about it.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh puh-lease, babygirl. Don't act like a dumb blonde bimbo bitch. You're better than that, Quinnie, and you know it."
Quinn shifts from one foot to the other, trying to keep herself moving so that she does not physically attack Santana because she does not need another trip to the Principal's office for getting into a girl fight.
"One, quit calling me Quinnie because it is an annoying nickname and makes me think way too much of my mother who I just want to forget," she says and Santana almost looks apologetic, but Quinn isn't buying it, "and two, I really don't know what you mean by 'this has to stop' because I really do not know what has to stop."
She is maybe telling the truth. Maybe not. Okay, she is not telling the truth. She can admit at least that much to herself. She knows what has to stop is this whole spiel with her Rachel. Not that she knows what is going on because Rachel is always finding new ways of avoiding her and cutting her off mid-sentence whenever she does manage to be alone with her for more than five seconds. Something that is decidedly not an easy feat nowadays.
"My house. Tonight. Eight 'o' Clock. Bring KinderGrandma and tell Cripples McGee that, yes, he is invited because everyone is going to hear about this party and I know he is going to ask you about it." She smiles and Quinn shakes her head because she has no idea how she can be friends with someone who is so entirely evil (hence the nickname of Satan), but then she reminds herself that Santana is not too awful because she did ask her parents to let Quinn stay with them when Quinn's parents kicked her out and she helped Quinn accept herself for who she is (which is pretty impressive because Santana has not even accepted herself), so... yeah, Santana is not totally evil. Just misunderstood (kind of).
"Her name is Rachel, San. Not KinderGrandma," she snaps, completely ignoring everything else Santana said. "Do you have to be a bitch to everyone? I think you need to relax on the name calling. I am Queen Bee and I'm not even on your level of bitchy." It usually wouldn't be bothering her so much, but Santana is being like, extra bitchy. Quinn knows why, of course. It is because of Brittany who has finally given Santana an ultimatum; she either has to come clean about her sexuality and the fact that she is in love with Brittany or no more "lady kisses".
"Fine, bring Rachel... that is if you can get her to talk to you long enough to actually invite her," Quinn ignores the metaphorical stab because she is trying to be a good girl, but Santana is definitely not helping her irritation. "Also, you are not on my level, Q, because my bitchiness is a defense mechanism," Quinn is not an idiot, she already knows this, "and yours is because you want to fit in so you don't leave high school a joke. And I am not judging you for it because leaving high school a joke would fucking suck and we all know that's going to happen to JewFro... and none of us want to be a JewFro."
Quinn can't fight it, she laughs because, honestly, Santana makes a good point... No one wants to leave high school as a JewFro.
"You through?" Santana moves her bag to her other shoulder, her expression blank. "I'll take that as a yes," Quinn mutters with a roll of her eyes. "No worries, I'll try to invite Rachel to your party. Thank God it is the weekend because Lord knows everyone is going to be on their asses before the night is over."
Santana smirks. "Is there any other way to end a night?" she asks teasingly before nudging Quinn in the side and turning on her heels. She looks over her shoulder. "You coming or what, Quinnie?"
Quinn bites down on her bottom lip as she takes a deep breath. Don't snap, don't snap, she repeats the mantra over and over in her head until she is calm. Well, as calm as she can be considering what is driving her insane.
"Yeah, ready," she says before walking out of the choir room with Santana. She has to invite the important people and then get home because she is going to make herself look so fine that Rachel will be physically unable to ignore her... She hopes.
X
"Welcome, party people!" are the first words Quinn hears when she enters Santana's house in Lima Heights Adjacent, not that she can hear much of anything over the music blaring through the speakers.
Santana's house smells of booze and cigarettes and sex, the typical Santana Lopez party smell. It would be disgusting if she weren't used to it.
Santana spots her in the crowd and dances over to her with a drink in each of her hands. She hands a red plastic cup to Quinn. Quinn sniffs the drink before saying, "Fuck it," and taking a large gulp. "Any sign of her?" she asks after swallowing down the liquor. The alcohol stings at first going down, but she finds that she likes when it stings.
"No, but when she sees you, no way will she be able to resist. I'm having a hard time myself," Santana half-teases, her eyes raking over Quinn's body before meeting her gaze again.
"Been there, done you," Quinn chuckles at the mock offense on Santana's face, "but thanks for the compliment, San."
Santana opens her mouth to speak, but Quinn puts a hand up, signaling for her to shut up after she raises her eyes and spots the one person she started looking for the minute she walked through the front door.
There Rachel is, leaning against the table with a red cup in hand (the drink is most likely virgin or soda because Rachel admitted that she doesn't drink) and goddamn, she wishes she could be that table right now.
Rachel's hair is down and wavy, and her dress is dark red and tight and she is wearing that dress like she is doing it a favor. She looks down and finds herself feeling like she is trying way too hard with her little black dress that she hates because she likes baby doll tops and cute sundresses.
Rachel looks natural, like she is meant to wear that dress. Quinn looks like an idiot. At least she thinks she does even though she has been told otherwise.
"What are you waiting for, dumbass?" Santana snaps, dragging the blonde from her thoughts. She gives Quinn a shove. Quinn glares, but isn't really upset. "Get the fuck over there before I snatch her up because girl looks damn fine in that dress."
She rolls her shoulders and takes a deep breath before telling herself to stop freaking the fuck out and starting to make her way over to Rachel.
"Hey there, beautiful." She looks up when she hears the voice, so familiar and so soft, like a lullaby. She misses the voice and its owner. Quinn. She licks her lips absentmindedly as she blatantly checks Quinn out. Her dress is black and she thanks God for whoever decided to make a dress that short and she thanks whoever sold Quinn that dress, because she looks stunning.
Not just stunning, but undeniably sexy.
"Hey," is all she manages to say because her mouth feels dry and she suddenly feels terrible because she has been avoiding Quinn and she hates herself for it.
Quinn has only been trying to help her, trying to find a way in, and she is doing what she does best and pushing her away. Which is unfair. "I'm sorry," she blurts when Quinn does not say anything.
"Sorry? For what?" She knows that Quinn knows why she is apologizing, but she understands why Quinn is asking. She deserves to hear why from Rachel's mouth.
"Let's not talk about it here!" she shouts over the music because it keeps getting louder and she can barely hear herself think, let alone hear anyone talking.
"What?" Quinn shouts back. Rachel merely grabs her by the hand, ignoring her squeak of surprise as she literally drags Quinn up the stairs and starts searching for an unoccupied room. After what feels like hours rather than a few measly minutes, she sees an open door and drags Quinn into the room, shutting the door behind her.
"I think you are really as crazy as everyone says you are," Quinn deadpans, but Rachel can see the sparkle of mirth in her hazel eyes. "So, why'd you drag me up here?" she asks seriously, and Rachel notices that their hands are still joined, but neither girl makes a move to change that.
"To have my wanton way with you," she teases in bad taste. She sees something unrecognizable flash in Quinn's eyes and before she can decipher the look, it disappears. She decides to ignore it. For now.
"No, really," Quinn says dryly and Rachel doesn't want to think it, but she thinks Quinn sounds a little testy. "Why are we here?"
She hesitantly releases Quinn's hand and walks over to the silk sheets-clad bed. She pats the spot next to her. Quinn eyes her before joining her on the bed.
"I am sure my behavior this past week has been confusing and definitely uncalled for, but I swear to you that I have not been avoiding you because I am upset with you or dislike you or-"
"Rach!" Quinn interrupts her, her lips twitching. "Take a breath and calmly explain. Besides, it's no biggie."
Rachel is skeptical. She does not say anything for a few minutes; she studies Quinn, who looks like she wants to say something, but does not say anything as they look at each other. She takes in her blonde hair, her hazel eyes, her tiny (cute) nose, and she thinks of the way this beautiful girl sitting beside her carries herself in high school, with her head held high and her hand on her hip as she struts down the hallway like she owns the place.
The Quinn sitting beside her right now is not a mirror image of the Quinn who walks the halls of McKinley High School. There is a vulnerability in the blonde's eyes that Rachel has never seen before; it somehow makes her more beautiful.
"You are a terrible liar, Quinn," Rachel says knowingly. "I know that my having avoided you is a big deal because there is something between us... something real. You cannot deny that because when I kissed you, you kissed back, and I know I pulled away but I grew scared because the way you make me feel is terrifying."
She hears Quinn's intake of breath and she does not make a move as Quinn intertwines their fingers. Quinn's hand fits perfectly in her own, like it was made specifically to be held by her.
"You don't have to be so scared, y'know?" Quinn flips Rachel's hand so that her palm is facing up and starts tracing patterns on Rachel's palm with her index finger. The action is soothing and Rachel feels herself calming slightly. "I've had my eye on you since I saw those legs," she says this while touching Rachel's thigh with her free hand. Rachel shivers as the blonde's fingers dance on the exposed skin of her thigh, "walking out of the showers." She smirks.
"I'm scared, too," Quinn admits bashfully, smirk gone. If Rachel is being honest, the admission surprises her. Quinn does not seem like the type to become easily scared, but it could just be a front and Rachel knows all about fronts. "The last time I tried to be with a girl, she cheated on me with a guy and with a girl, but I won't get into that again because I've already told you all about the train wreck that was me and Santana."
Quinn releases Rachel's hand and picks up tracing patterns on Rachel's thigh instead of on the palm of Rachel's hand. Rachel gulps. There is a warmth in the pit of her stomach that she has never felt before and the sensations from Quinn's touch are driving her wild.
"Still, despite that, I want to give you and me a shot," Quinn goes on. Rachel wants more than anything to agree to what Quinn is saying. She wants Quinn and sometimes she feels like she may actually need her, but she has spent the majority of her life teaching herself to not need others that she is unsure how to transition into a girl who allows herself to need others.
Sighing, Rachel shakes her head. She wants to give in, but she can't. It is not fair to Quinn because Quinn knows so little about her life. "You hardly know me, Quinn. There are certain..." She pauses. She does not like bringing up her past because her heart aches when she thinks of everything that could have gone wrong that did. "My past is ugly and I find myself unable to speak of it without falling apart and I am not ready to let myself fall apart in front of you because you do not deserve to carry such a heavy load when it is my-"
Soft, demanding lips smash onto hers and cut her off mid-sentence and she kisses back without a second thought. Quinn's arms wrap around her as the kiss deepens and Quinn lays back, pulling Rachel down with her, their lips never parting for even a second.
She breathes in, taking in the scent that is Quinn; vanilla with a small hint of cinnamon. So intoxicating that it is giving her a heady feeling. She can taste chocolate and alcohol on Quinn's breath and all she can think is that Quinn tastes perfect; Quinn is perfect or as close to perfect as one human can get.
She gasps as Quinn's lips move from her lips to her neck and she begins sucking and nipping at the exposed skin. She releases a moan of pleasure and even though it literally feels like it kills her, she forces herself to pull away and sits so that she is straddling Quinn, looking down at her.
Quinn is looking at her through half closed eyelids and Rachel touches her finger to her lips, reveling in the kiss they just shared.
"If you can promise to be patient with me, though I know it is unfair to ask of you to be patient when I am the most impatient person I know, I would love to take you up on your previous offer. I want to give this," she says, gesturing between the two of them, earning a grin from Quinn, "a shot. "
The smile that lights up Quinn's face is breathtaking. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but the door slams open, banging off the wall, and Quinn and Rachel both jump, startled.
Santana is leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette in her mouth. Rachel puts her hand to her mouth and stifles a cough. She cannot handle the stench of cigarette smoke, but she is not about to ask Santana to put it out.
Her cheeks are burning up as she realizes that she is still straddling Quinn and now Santana is in the room, which makes this extremely awkward.
"Didn't mean to interrupt." Santana's tone is flat and insincere. Rachel can be considered a lot of things, but she likes to think that naive is not one of them. Santana could not care less that she has interrupted Rachel and Quinn, which kind of irks Rachel, but because Santana scares her, she is not going to say anything.
"Just like you didn't mean to screw Puck and Brittany when you were supposed to be dating me?" Quinn fires at her. Santana's expression falters for just a moment as she blows smoke out of her mouth and Rachel thinks it is the most vulnerable she has ever seen the Latina, but the vulnerability disappears within seconds and bitchy Santana returns.
"See, that's the thing with you, San, you don't really mean a lot of what you do or say," Quinn continues and Rachel can feel the tension that fills the room as a result of her words.
She knows what went down between Santana and Quinn. She knows they have history, and she is starting to learn that, apparently, they have not completely let go of the past.
She can understand that. Sometimes letting go of the past can be nearly impossible. She is dragged out of her thoughts when she feels Quinn lightly press her hand against her stomach. Rachel catches on almost instantly; she is still straddling Quinn and she feels even more awkward than before because Quinn has been having an argument while she is in a very compromising position with her.
Rachel removes herself from Quinn and seats herself at the edge of the bed, throwing her legs over the side. She wants to make a break for it and get out of here so that she does not have to be a part of this argument that honestly has nothing to do with her, but she does not want to leave Quinn alone because she is almost positive Quinn is going to need someone after this argument ends... if it ever ends.
"Cut the crap, Quinnie," Santana seethes, her glare deadly. "You have everyone convinced that you are Little Miss Perfect, but you're not. The reputation you have is because of me. I taught you to be a bitch. Really, you're just like all the other pussies in school."
"You're drunk." It isn't a question. Rachel is not the one who speaks the words, Quinn does, but she can hear the slur in Santana's words and knows that the statement is justified.
"I am not," Santana counters, but the vulnerability from earlier returns and Rachel is surprised to see a few tears leave her brown eyes.
"Quinn," Rachel whispers when Quinn opens her mouth to, undoubtedly, verbally attack Santana once more, "please stop. I think she needs you. Be her friend. She could use one."
"But, Rach, what about-"
"We can talk about us later," Rachel interrupts her, giving her a chaste kiss before standing and walking over to the door. She offers Santana a sweet smile before leaving the room. She hopes she does not end up regretting leaving them alone, but she trusts Quinn. After all, she has not been given a legitimate reason to not trust her.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I lost so much inspiration writing this chapter, so it is merely "eh". There is a point to Santana interrupting them at the end. The Quinn and Santana thing has not been completely buried and they are going to hash it out next chapter, which will be a continuation with this chapter.
Thank you for the reviews.