A/N #1: Wow, thanks for all of the reviews and alerts/favorites! You guys know how to make a girl smile. Anyway, this chapter took a completely different twist than what I was expecting, but I suppose you have to go where the words take you. If you feel so moved, press the little Review button below. If not, so be it… Enjoy!
A/N #2: WARNINGS: angry!Rachel, clueless!Fathers, and Barbra.
A/N #2: I do not own these characters or Funny Girl. Sadly, all I own are mistakes.
The drive back to Rachel's proved to me once more that I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. After opening the passenger door for her and closing her securely in the car, I practically ran to my door as to not keep her waiting. She was serious when she said that she didn't want to be late and as far as I'm concerned, I was already batting a thousand. I didn't need any more heat tonight, especially when we were to spend the rest of the evening at the Berrys' residence.
As I backed out of the parking space, I chanced a look to my right. Rachel was sending a text, no doubt to her fathers telling them we were on our way. She then put the phone away and stared straight ahead with a permanently raised eyebrow. I knew that look meant trouble—so much trouble. I physically geared myself up for whatever the remainder of the evening would bring. We headed out of the parking lot and down the street. I kept glancing at my really pissed off girlfriend and against my better judgment, attempted some small talk.
"So, um, dinner was good, wasn't it, Rach?"
"…" Silence. Shit. Silence was not a reassuring sign that things would be okay.
"Uh, Rache—Oh shit!" I gripped the steering wheel and forced my eyes open to stay on the road ahead of me.
"That's. Not. My. Name. Quinn." She accentuated each word with a different click on the dial of her demon remote that instantly turned me into a quivering mess. What the fuck? What was she talking abou—oh. Oh no…
"Oh fuck, Rach! Sorry! Rachie!" The vibrations stopped and she turned and smiled at me. It was a genuine smile but it lacked the warmth she usually only reserved for me.
"That's a good girl. And to answer your question, yes, dinner was excellent. Although, I may need to speak with them about the stickiness of the pasta. While the sauce had a delightful flavor and a smooth texture, the pasta may have been slightly overcooked. Being one of the only vegan options they provide, it's imperative that they prepare it with the utmost quality in order to keep customers such as myself."
"I-I agree," I managed to mumble.
Something told me I wasn't going to like this new game she was playing. I found myself staring at her and trading glances with the devil remote that found a home on her thigh. She was leaving it there to say, "Oh, Quinnie, you silly girl. Don't you know what I can do to you?"
Way to go, Fabray! If you could've just kept your mouth shut! We'd be out of these treacherously pleasurable panties, our bet would be fulfilled, and we'd be enjoying kicking some ass in a good game of Sorry! But nooooo, you had to assert yourself as the big bad bitch and now look at where we are—cowering in the driver seat, praying to some unknown entity that she keeps her finger off the goddamn buttons! UUGGGHHH!
Trying desperately to calm the panic within, I searched my brain for anything that I thought would be appropriate conversation.
"So game night, huh? Think there's any chance of you winning at Sorry!?" I chuckled nervously as I mentally face-palmed. That's the best you could come up with? A lame question with a dig at how she NEVER wins? Who are you? I don't even know you anymore…
Clearly Rachel was not impressed either. She slowly turned her head to look at me and furrowed her brow, her mouth slightly ajar and not in the hot, "I'm turned on" way, but in the "Did you seriously just ask me that?" way.
Her lips met and tensed as she tried to figure out why I thought this topic would give ease to the tension between us. And then, her lips curled into a scheming, vengeful smile. She dipped her hand and unclasped her seatbelt, sliding over toward me in one swift motion. I lost sight of the remote and very nearly the road as her movement placed me on high alert.
Soon I realized where she ended up. I felt her breast press firmly against my arm and I, in turn, gripped the steering wheel to keep from palming it. I could feel her nipple hard against my skin through her shirt and it further added to the wetness between my thighs. She leaned into me and a warm breath rolled over my cheek. Swallowing thickly, I blinked, trying to concentrate on the road.
"Wow, Quinnie," she spoke lowly and eloquently, "it would appear that you really have no clue as to the amount of trouble in which you find yourself." She chuckled dryly at this and continued, "I want you to know that I don't intend to forget your little stunt outside the restaurant, and what's even better about this is that I'm fairly certain you haven't yet figured out that your bet is not paid in full. So, taking these into consideration, I suggest you, in turn, focus on how you're going to survive our evening of 'Sorry!'."
I sat in shock knowing she was in no way talking about the innocent game for children which involves playful banter and good-natured sarcasm. No, no, no. She was referring to the fact that I was dead. The 'Sorry!' she was talking about had to do with begging and groveling and suffering and torment and… wait. Did she just say the bet wasn't finished? What?
Before I could catch myself, I blurted out my confusion. "Wait, what do you mean the bet isn't fulfilled? Rache—HOLY, SON-OF-A…Ohmygod!"
The waves began again. I squeezed my legs together to absorb some of the ripples, but it only helped some as I tried to regain my thoughts. The buzzing was mild, and I was only too thankful for the slight reprieve.
"Quinn, what did I say about my name?" she hissed sharply still at my ear.
"I mean, Rachie. Rachie, what did you mean about not having finished the bet?" My voice was shaky as the vibrations continued their gentle onslaught. "Three nights, three numbers… oh shit. I did all three. You… fuck, you made me do all three. Ohmygod… I mean, right?"
I was quickly losing my concentration, and I was grateful that we were only a few blocks from Rachel's house. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the oncoming orgasmic haze from my mind and focus on the response to my question.
"Oh, Quinnie," she whispered as she increased the speed. Damn it, she has that remote hidden—like a fucking Broadway ninja! "Sweetie, you see, if you were paying any attention, you would have realized that I only sang half the song."
"Baby—Fuck me! Agh, Rachie, Rachie, I… wha—I mean…" the steady vibrations became sporadic and varied and if I had to be honest, felt sooo damn good. I would come soon and it wasn't helping my oral communication skills.
She saw my quickly diminishing resolve and replied sweetly, "What's the matter, baby? You seem a little confused, but don't worry, I'm sure things will be clear by the end of the night."
At that, she flicked the switch one more time and my body jerked forward at the steering wheel.
"Fu-uck meee…" I moaned out.
I gripped onto it hard as my eyes clenched shut and tremors racked my body. It was the third time I'd come tonight and each was seemingly taking more and more out of me. I panted against the dashboard as I willed my body to recover. Opening my eyes, I realized we were idling in front of Rachel's house. How in the hell did I make it here? Somewhere in the back of my mind, the HBIC called out, "'Cause we're Quinn fucking Fabray, bad-ass driver extraodinaire!" Shut up! Have you no memory of the flaming pile of 'Fuck, we're so screwed' that you landed us in tonight? Just, shut it!
Rachel saved me from strangling my traitorous ego only to make me aware once more of my surroundings.
"Let's go in, shall we, Quinn? Mustn't keep my fathers waiting!"
"Rach—" I saw the immediate glint in her eye and corrected myself, "—ie, Rachie, um, am I supposed to, you know…" I gestured at the offensive garment beneath my skirt, wondering if she really, truly expected me to wear them while hanging out with her dads. I should've known the answer would be yes.
She raised her eyebrows, mocking confusion. "Why, whatever are you trying to say to me, Quinn? Now, be a good girl and come along."
The stupid panties buzzed again when she said come, but stopped just as suddenly. Fucking game night! I got out of the car and followed my she-devil. Oh how that woman enjoyed the control she had over me. We made our way into the house only to be met with a squeal from what we guessed was the kitchen.
"Daddy?" Rachel called. She looked at me and I shrugged.
We rounded the corner to the kitchen to be met with perhaps the cutest and quite possibly a most disturbing scene. Leroy Berry had his husband, Hiram, wrapped in the biggest bear hug from behind. Seeing as he was twice as big as the petite Jewish man, he held him off the ground with one of his arms while his free hand was attempting to wipe a dollop of cookie dough on his nose.
"Come on hon', you know you want to try some!" Leroy sing-songed.
Hiram was fighting with every ounce of his strength to keep him away while shrieking, "Leroy, no! I just finished my new honey-apricot exfoliating scrub. Do not—don't you do it! I'm warning you…"
"Or what, sweetheart? What are you going to do?" the larger Berry laughed.
"UGGHHH, Leroy Berry, you put me down this instant! I do not have the slightest qualm in withholding sex—"
"Aa-hemm." I cleared my throat loudly not wanting my girlfriend or her Jewish clone to die from embarrassment as both men froze.
"—tuplets."
Leroy dropped his husband and began busying himself with spooning dough onto the baking sheet. Hiram turned all of five shades of red before failing miserably at saving himself.
"Sextuplets, you know, uh, why anyone would want that many dicks—KIDS, I mean kids is beyond me. You know with all of the biting and screaming and oh my, I mean, hi there!"
Amused with the situation, I decided to throw the poor guy a bone and change the subject.
"Hello, Hiram. Hi, Leroy, what are you making?" I smiled, looking over at my still mortified girlfriend. Serves her right!
Leroy picked up on my redeeming effort for conversation and answered, "I'm whipping up a batch of the famous Berry sugar cookies. I thought that they would be an excellent addition to our family fun night! Wouldn't you say, my little star?"
Rachel stood catatonic as we tried to get her attention.
"Rachel?" Hiram tried.
"Rach, sweetie?" Leroy called.
"Huh, what?" Rachel shook herself out of her clear discomfort and looked at all three of us. Hiram looked on with concern while Leroy winked at me and we both chuckled softly.
"I said, don't you think our famous sugar cookies will be an excellent addition to our fun this evening."
"Oh, yes, of course. Those cookies are fabulous and nothing short of such." Spoken like a true Berry.
"So, girls, how was your evening?" Hiram asked, glancing between the two of us.
My face instantly flushed in reaction to the fire that ignited low in my belly. I blinked trying to get a hold on my reaction before Rachel could see the hot mess I was becoming. No. Such. Luck. Her eyes met mine and locked down on them, a wicked smirk, forming across her breathtaking face.
"Oh, daddies, I should let Quinn tell you," she answered not leaving my eyes.
She walked gracefully toward me with the prowess of a hunting lioness. (Get off my back—I just so happen to watch a lot of NatGeo. Sue me!) Trailing a finger across the back of my hand resting on the counter, she caused an involuntary shiver to race through me. I set my jaw and geared up to provide an answer only to revert back to a pile of mush at her next words.
"Tell them about the apple pie you had, Quinnie."
Really? Fucking really, Rach?
Luckily, Leroy chimed in disappointingly to our, unbeknownst to him, dirty recollection. "Oh, you mean you've already had dessert?"
I had never been so thankful for my girlfriend's totally aloof fathers. Still I forced a Fabray smile and dodged the bit about the apple pie with ease.
"Oh, don't be silly, Leroy! I always have room for sugar cookies. I have no idea how anyone could resist them. They're delicious!" I said with enthusiasm. Hoping to keep avoiding any questions about our evening, I continued, "So, what's on the agenda tonight? Scrabble, Life, Scattegories…"
"Perhaps, Sorry!..." Rachel interrupted me, clearly unhappy with the fact that I was deflecting to ensure my survival.
"Haha, no Rache—" Bzzzzz. My panties began softly strumming against my clit. I looked to Rachel for mercy but the determination in Rachel's eyes told me that I would receive none. "Aah! I mean, Rachie, I don't, um… I want to, fhew, uh, play something else."
"Quinn, are you okay?" Hiram noticed the glistening on my cheeks and the heat rising up from my neck. He reached to place his hand on my forehead, only to be met with air as I pulled away, gasping lightly.
"Uh sure, Hiram, just a-a little warm."
I fanned at the tinge on my face and quietly excused myself to the bathroom. As I turned to leave I caught Leroy mouthing to his husband, "Rachie?" Hiram shrugged it off as I left the kitchen. I made my way to the bathroom with the intent to take the still vibrating garment off. I would endure whatever punishment I had coming but I was sure as hell not going to let Rachel torment me in front of her—
"Quinnie? Are you okay in there, sweetie?" She said it in that high-pitched mockery she called her "Stick-it-to-the-man" voice. She planned to use it to say, "I told you so," to all of the people who told her she wouldn't accomplish everything she wanted. One might say she was using it appropriately here.
"Uh, yes, baby—Rachie!" I cried as the material under my fingertips moved more intensely. The fabric was hooked around my knees when the door suddenly opened. "Shit!"
"Hmm… what are doing, Quinn? I know you aren't thinking of taking those off, are you? She gave me a stern, pointed look, and I bit my lip in response.
I looked like a deer in the headlights of a really, really dangerous-looking, sexy, vegan Mack truck. Fuck my life. Fuck it all to Funny Girl hell.
I slid the panties up painfully and shook my head slowly. Once they were back in place, she smiled at me and grabbed my hand, leading out of the bathroom. I seriously wanted to cry. The panties didn't stop their waves as we walked into the kitchen. I dropped Rachel's hand and she turned to question the action.
"I-I just need a drink of water. I'll be in there in a minute." I smiled to let her know that I wasn't going to try anything and she nodded, leaving me alone to regain my composure. How in the fuck am I going to make it through a game? Okay, Fabray, you can do this. She clearly wants to get a reaction out of you. Game Plan: First, always, always call her Rachie. Good, second, give her subtle reactions. You have to be in control, Quinn. Let's do this.
I filled a glass with water and made my way into the family room that uncharacteristically sported dim lights. This isn't typical game night lighting. What the hell? I took two more steps before I registered the music in the background. I snapped my eyes to the flat screen in the corner only to have Barbra greet me with, "Hello, gorgeous."
My eyes went wide and I nearly dropped my glass of water. No, no, no! She can't be fucking serious! With her dads in the room? She's fucking crazy! I whipped my head around to glare at my clearly crazy girlfriend. She met my eyes triumphantly and quirked her eyebrow as that evil grin settled on her face once more.
"Oh, Quinn, you're back! Here, have a seat. Rach told us that you were having a craving for Barbra and that you just didn't want to say anything! Now, that's just nonsense! You know we Berrys have a thing for Barbra!" Hiram giggled. "Isn't that right, Leroy?"
Leroy rolled his eyes only to immediately nod forcefully as Hiram looked to him. He bulged his eyes at me and shrugged behind his husbands back.
Please, Leroy! Object! You hate musicals! Oh, for the love of my sanity, someone do something! It appeared my silent pleas went unheard as the father figures turned their attention to the movie playing on in front of them. Maybe I'm over-reacting. Surely, Rachel would not allow this to happen. Give her the benefit of the doubt. She loves me enough to not do this. I looked to Rachel once again and she beckoned me with her finger. I smiled at her, hoping to draw out some compassion, but she turned her head to face the enigma that was Barbra. I sat down next to Rachel on the loveseat and she threw the blanket over our laps. This entire time, I still had the steady vibration that was making me weak. At that moment, I was incredibly happy the Berrys had surround sound. I was sure it would be needed, especially when Rachel leaned into me and whispered huskily in my ear, "It's time to pay up, Quinnie…"
A/N #4: Please don't hate me… ;)