This story was originally 100% fluff. But I am physically incapable of writing a completely happy Quinn.
It was a little past five when Rachel finally admitted to herself that nothing she watched on her television within the last two hours had actually registered in her brain. Her mind was much too busy with her current dealings for her to spare even the smallest bit of attention.
Phone in hand, she stared at the blank screen as she continued to deliberate how to respond to Quinn's original response from earlier. After having sent the blonde the request to talk the next day, she'd received Can we talk today? in reply. That was over seventeen minutes ago and she had yet to figure out how to answer.
Messages along the lines of Can you stop lying to me? and I just want today to think were long since typed and deleted before she even managed to send them. The words meant more than she wanted them to and not enough, but she was more concerned that Quinn would take them the wrong way: a larger rift between them was the last thing she wanted.
She couldn't say what it was particularly but, in the end, Rachel decided that her friend was more important to her than her own wounded pride and hurt feelings.
Rachel: Come over?
Rachel pressed send before she could take it back and threw her phone across her couch the moment the green check alerted her that her message was successful. She sat still as a statue, staring at the phone for a long moment, before the screen lit up again. Not a second later, she pounced on it, immediately unlocking it and looking for a text from Quinn.
To her disappointment, the screen read an unknown number and she cursed herself for believing that Quinn had texted her back so fast. Reading the text, she was surprised to find it was Kurt telling her that he'd gotten her number from Mercedes, seeing as she had left Glee so soon.
She had half of a reply typed out when she heard someone knocking at the door. For half of a second, she was paralyzed with the fear of some stranger in a mask at the door, but she shook it off just as quickly. Still, she eyed the bat she'd left by the door warily, deciding it was close enough in case she did end up needing it.
With her heart beating slightly faster than normal, Rachel pulled open the front door and sighed in relief as her friend's familiar face greeted her. "Quinn?" she asked, not having expected the blonde to show up so suddenly. She'd only sent the text a few minutes ago, and Quinn lived at least twelve minutes away.
"Hi," she said back, arms wrapped around her chest. Pale hands were clenched tightly around the sweatshirt at her arms and Rachel stepped back, feeling like an idiot for forgetting about the cold weather. The wind was already biting through her shirt, and she regretted having removed her sweater. She could only imagine how cold Quinn must be.
"You must be freezing," Rachel noted as she closed the door behind them. "How long have you been outside?" She couldn't believe the blonde could be so affected by the weather from only being outside for a moment or two. Quinn's face was pale from the cold, her lips moderately tinged blue, but her nose was red and, after just a few seconds of standing there, so were her cheeks.
Quinn stepped inside, shuddering at the sudden warmth that enveloped her.
"I was visiting my grandparents' house with my parents when I texted you, so I just decided to walk over," she admitted, and Rachel squawked.
"Quinn! They live four blocks away and—wait, you started walking after you texted me?" Rachel hardly noticed the change in subject halfway through her sentence when it hit her that Quinn had started walking over before she'd agreed to talking that night. "What if I had said no?" she asked, wondering what the blonde would have done.
The other girl looked down, her cheeks a pinch pinker than they were before, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I was going to try to convince you to talk to me if that was the case," she said when she looked back up. "I don't like knowing you're mad at me."
Rachel gazed at her friend, her expression softening. Quinn always seemed to know how to handle any situation with her when she really wanted to. Any actual anger she'd felt had long since passed, and mostly she was just feeling the residual stress from the situation.
Rachel found herself looking down at her arms, now folded across her chest from the slight chill that still lingered, and tried to think of a proper response. Quinn was her best friend and she was obviously trying this time.
"I don't like being mad at you," she replied honestly. "But you make it so extremely hard sometimes when you avoid me for days, for no apparent reason, and then you just expect me to accept it and move on. That's not how friendship works, Quinn." Rachel watched as Quinn looked over her left shoulder, gaze apparently aimed at the couch or wall, and waited for the other girl to respond.
The brunette could see where her friend was biting the inside of her cheek and she just wished she could see inside Quinn's mind. She hated that she was so open and the blonde was so distant at times, especially at the moment.
When Quinn finally did respond, she turned her head back, and her eyes looked glassy. Rachel felt a chill completely unrelated to the weather run through her at the sight and she had to force herself to remain where she was instead of stepping forward to do something. Quinn didn't cry often, especially not in front of her, and she was stunned.
"It's not easy for me, Rach," she said, and Rachel caught the catch in her voice at the end. "I'm not you."
"Quinn," she spoke quietly. Two steps forward was all it took for her to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck. She couldn't have stopped herself from embracing the girl if she wanted to, and she really didn't want to.
After the briefest of pauses, Quinn removed her hands from her pockets and returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist. Rachel shivered a little from the cool temperature that remained around the blonde, but tightened her hold in hopes of helping her friend warm up. Even Quinn's neck was cold, but Rachel felt it warming up relatively fast.
"I can't just say how I feel most of the time," Quinn mumbled the top of Rachel's head. "Words are hard."
At that, Rachel pulled back enough to look at the blonde. "But ignoring me and proceeding to drink enough to be hungover is easy?" she asked.
Quinn's gaze roamed across Rachel's face, and the brunette could feel her searching for something. "It was easier. At the time, anyway."
Rachel bit her lip, not happy about the answer. She was willing to bet anything that Quinn would do the same thing if given the chance to turn back time.
"You're cold," she stated, ignoring the tightness in her throat. She tried not to acknowledge the possible double meaning to her words as she pulled away. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Feel free to grab a blanket and sit down." Rachel was already halfway to the kitchen when she heard Quinn's sigh, but she was glad to see the blonde take her advice with the blanket.
Two cups of hot chocolate and a bowl of barely touched popcorn later, Rachel and Quinn were sitting on the couch together and watching an animated movie. Or, rather, Rachel was watching Quinn not watch the movie. The blonde's mind was obviously somewhere else, and Rachel hadn't even wanted to watch the movie in the first place.
Quinn had insisted, though, and she'd given up the battle. Her friend could be very convincing when she wanted to be. Her argument had been that she needed some time to think and that sitting in the silence they'd formed wouldn't help.
"I promise after the movie we'll talk," Quinn had said.
The movie was only a quarter of the way through when Rachel couldn't take it anymore. She never had been patient.
"Qui—" she started, but the girl in question looked over to her and held her hand up at that exact moment.
"You never have been patient," she said, and Rachel's lips fell into a thin line. There Quinn was, this multilayered safety box with forty different keys, combinations, and passcodes necessary to breach even the first level. Yet, Quinn could apparently read her mind as if it was second nature.
"I hate when you do that," she said, even though it was a lie. There was something so personal about Quinn's knowledge of her that she felt only came with the very best of friendships.
Quinn just smiled this barely-there-quirk-of-the-lips at her as if she knew. Rachel figured she probably did.
"I know it's cold out," Quinn started as she reached for the remote and turned off the television. "But do you think we could go for a walk?" Rachel knew she didn't have much of a choice if she wanted anything out of the blonde. The taller girl was already halfway to the door as it was.
"Only if you borrow a coat." Rachel could deal with Quinn's sporadic behavior, but she refused to allow her friend to freeze herself to death. It was flu season, after all.
"Might I ask why this semi-freezing temperature is better suited for our discussion—that I'm still not entirely convinced will happen—than the comfort of my very much heated humble abode?" The pair had already walked two blocks and Rachel's doubt was growing with each new pattern of pavement.
"I went for a walk earlier," Quinn said. That was it. She said it as if Rachel had no idea, even though she'd clearly stated that earlier.
Following her friend's lead, Rachel asked, "Why?"
It was too dark to see Quinn's features, but she could picture the blonde shutting down. Her eyes would do that thing where they looked darker, harder. But Quinn said she would talk, so Rachel hoped that her imagination was wrong.
She could hear the deep breath Quinn took before exhaling loudly. "I wanted to get away."
It was like pulling teeth, trying to get information out of the other girl, and Rachel had never aspired to be a dentist. But Quinn was clearly putting forth an effort, so she continued. "From what?" she asked, but she knew the answer the moment she spoke.
Quinn had been at her grandparents' house with her parents. Rachel knew that the blonde wasn't too fond of most of her family, and she thought maybe there had been an argument or something similar.
"Do you know what my family's motto is?"
Rachel had no idea Quinn's family even had a motto, and she didn't have much time to think about it once her friend's pace suddenly increased and she had to take faster steps just to keep up. As much as her legs protested, she felt that maybe she was getting somewhere.
Quinn continued without being prompted. "It's 'God first and father second.' Do you know what that means?"
Rachel was clueless for the second time and she could feel the tension in Quinn from the foot of space in-between them. Though part of her wanted to reach out, she was afraid of the movement sending Quinn so far back into her protective shell that she wouldn't get another chance at honestly for a while.
"No, but you could tell me?" There was room to interpret that as either a statement or a question, but Rachel had meant it as a question in case a demand would set Quinn off.
Quinn suddenly stopped and turned around in the middle of the sidewalk. Luckily it wasn't too dark, so Rachel had noticed and she had just enough time to stop. Though it was light enough to see Quinn's outline, Rachel had to strain her eyes to see much of the other girl's face. Small shadows showed enough for the brunette to see Quinn's clenched jaw and tense shoulders.
"It means that what my father says goes. And what his father says goes. And the women in the family have almost no say in the matter," she said, her tone bitter and low.
"Well that sounds dreadfully old-fashioned and outdated," Rachel replied. She couldn't imagine growing up in such a household. While she had been aware of how religious Quinn's family was, she felt that she wasn't as aware as she should have been. Then again, the blonde had always steered away from hanging out at her own house, or discussing the matter, so she really hadn't had much to work with.
"It is."
"So why did you leave?" That had to be the turning point, Rachel figured. Quinn must have left because of something that was said, which possibly related to the weekend debacle.
Silence hung between the two and the brunette didn't dare move. She felt as if the world around them didn't exist at the moment because she couldn't even feel the wind anymore.
"Because," Quinn finally whispered. The left side of Rachel's face ignited when the blonde reached a hand up to cup the side of her face and her stomach did a strange flip that she had never felt before. "My father told me to break off my friendship with you."
"Oh," the shorter girl said dumbly, and she inwardly cursed herself. Her thinking process was hindered by thoughts of how Quinn's hand was so warm. Where it covered her skin, she felt as if it was on fire. "Why?"
The hand dropped and Rachel swallowed, not ready for the disappointment she had felt at the action. The wind apparently chose that moment to return, and Rachel put it down to the rapid onset of freezing cold air. Quinn took a step back then and she worried that the recoil had set in.
"They say so many stupid things that they don't even realize how full of hate they are." She took another step back.
"Who's they?" Rachel asked, willing to do anything to keep the blonde going. "Your family?"
"The fathers Fabray," Quinn chuckled, but it was dark and full of anguish. This was a side of the blonde Rachel had never seen before. "They called you faggot spawn, Rachel, and I flipped. You have no idea…" she trailed off and Rachel tried to coax her into finishing her thought.
"No idea what, Quinn?"
With some distance between the two, Rachel could see her friend's features better. A nearby streetlight highlighted the parts she needed to see, and her heart strained at the tears she witnessed roll down Quinn's cheek.
"Can we go back, please?"
"Quinn," Rachel begged. She knew that whatever the blonde was keeping from her was what was killing her inside, she just wished the other girl could say it aloud.
"Please," Quinn repeated, and Rachel couldn't find it within herself to combat the plea. The blonde sounded so fragile, so broken, and she hated that her family had made her feel that way. That she made her feel that way.
"Okay." She nodded to herself and shuffled over to her friend. Without hesitation, she linked her right arm into Quinn's only to slide her hand down and interlock their fingers. Unlike at practice the other day, she had no present inclination to let go of the blonde's hand. She squeezed, pulling the motionless blonde to her and giving her a semi-awkward half hug with her left arm. "But you can't keep hiding from me."
Quinn let out a wet laugh but returned the hug with her own free arm. "I can't promise you that I won't," she said, and Rachel at least appreciated that she admitted it.
"Will you at least try? For me?" She looked up at the girl in front of her and felt the familiar ache of knowing something was wrong with her friend. Releasing her hold, she used her newly free hand to wipe away the streak marks on Quinn's cheeks. "You're much too pretty to cry, you know."
Rachel regretted her words and she could only guess at what she said wrong when additional tears formed new paths. "Quinn?" she asked, hoping to get some kind of response.
"I'll try," she said, her voice breaking. "For you."
"I should go."
Rachel whipped around, her jacket halfway off but completely out of mind. "What?" she asked and she cringed at how sharp the words came out. "What do you mean?" she rephrased in a gentler manner.
"It's getting late and I should go home." Rachel watched Quinn reach for the doorknob but she swiftly slid between her friend and the door, thanking all of her dance lessons for her slight frame.
"You're not going anywhere."
Quinn's face scrunched a bit but it smoothed out just as fast. "I need to go home, Rach." She tried to push past the shorter girl but Rachel stood firm.
"No," she corrected. "You need to not be alone tonight. More importantly, you need to be away from your family and near someone who loves you."
Quinn stared at her for a long moment, eyes giving nothing away. Rachel felt her heart racing, but she refused to give up.
Eventually, the blonde admitted silent defeat and looked away. "Fine."
Once they took their jackets off, Rachel basically had to force Quinn up the stairs and into her bedroom. She handed the blonde a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt before hastily changing into similar attire and jumping under the covers. With all of the drama behind them for now, she finally realized how cold she was.
"Quinn?" she called, poking her head out.
"Yeah," her friend replied. The blonde made her way over to the opposite side of the bed and picked up just enough blanket to slide under and still be as far away from Rachel as possible.
It was then that Rachel realized that, as close as she had come to learning more about the hidden side of Quinn earlier, she had never felt so far away from her.
The rough end to Rachel's night was more than made up for when she woke up wrapped in something much warmer than a blanket. Though she had fallen asleep facing Quinn, the blonde had originally faced away from her. Now, however, Quinn had moved over a few feet and one arm was around her waist while the other was connected to the hand that was loosely laced into her hair.
For a moment she was hit by how intimate the position was, but she ignored it. She would take Quinn however she could have her. And, if unconscious cuddling was what she was dealt, she wouldn't complain. Quinn was warm and her breathing was steady, and it lulled Rachel steadily back to sleep.
As much as she wanted to contain the moment, to capture it and never forget, Rachel knew they had school soon. Her internal alarm clock would never let her sleep past six thirteen in the morning—well, not accidently, anyway—which meant that they had at least an hour before they needed to get ready. Of course, she had already decided to skip her elliptical workout.
Glancing up at the blonde with her eyes, Rachel smiled at the quiet snore Quinn released before closing them again and gently burying closer. For the day they'd had yesterday, the brunette was willing to forgo a day of school. It would be her first missed day ever but, as she faded back to sleep, she couldn't find it within herself to care.
"Rachel, we're going to be late for school!" Quinn shouted, rousing Rachel from her slumber. She couldn't remember her dreams, but she knew they must have been pleasant if the hum throughout her body was anything to go by.
Alert in only a few seconds, Rachel sat up from her spot on the bed and watched her friend scurry around her room.
"I figured we could just skip." She shrugged as if it was no big deal.
The words had Quinn frozen in place and she stared at the brunette as if dumbfounded. "You're joking, right?"
"Well, no. I thought, maybe, you'd want to stay in after last night," Rachel confessed. Fully awake now, she realized Quinn might not appreciate her thought process. Doubt filled her decision until her friend looked back at her with a neutral expression.
"Rachel, if I skipped school they'd call my parents and Sue would have my ass," she said. "Besides, there's something I have to do so we need to go." To emphasize her point, Quinn threw Rachel an outfit she grabbed from her drawers and grabbed the extra cheerleading uniform she kept at Rachel's for such times.
The blonde quickly changed and rushed downstairs before Rachel could even properly pout at the turn of events. Huffing, the brunette changed into the clothes but stopped mid step when she went to leave her room. Quinn had said there was something she needed to do, and her foremost thought took her back to the notes.
Rachel continued to make her way downstairs, her mood now dampened.
When Rachel opened her locker, she was so distracted by the fact that she was seconds away from being late that she jumped when an envelope fell out. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she picked up the envelope and recognized it as the one Kurt had given her the day before.
As if on cue, it struck Rachel that Kurt had given it to her later than he was supposed to, and the tenth note had been strangely missing. With no time to dawdle, she grabbed what she needed and headed off to class. The halls were mostly empty, so she flipped open the envelope as she walked and stared down at what she saw in confusion. From the small triangle that she could see, she could tell there was a picture inside, but she was at a loss. She thought the tenth note being inside made compete sense, yet no note had come with an attachment before. Her hopes dropped at the thought and she sat down in her seat heavily once she made it to class. Just as she placed her books on the desk, the bell rang and she let out a breath of relief.
She may not have found the tenth note, but at least she got to class on time.
Once the bell rang and physics officially ended, Rachel pulled the picture out and rubbed her forehead. The hallways were full of students now so she tried to be careful. There, on printer paper, was a picture of Kurt being dropped into a dumpster while a few jocks surrounding the area were high-fiving.
Kurt had mentioned that he had no idea what was in the envelope, but he had been informed to deliver it. He wouldn't say who had given him the original orders and, at the time, Rachel hadn't questioned it.
When she couldn't figure out what the picture meant, she flipped it over and, sure enough, a note was taped to the back.
#10 She is more offended for and protective of her friends than she is for herself
The meaning of the picture abruptly made sense as Rachel recalled that day. Karofsky had thrown the much smaller boy into a dumpster and another jock had taken a picture of the scene. As if the humiliation hadn't been enough, the photo had been uploaded to Facebook and someone had dared to tag Kurt in it. Unfortunately, it had been his father's birthday and he saw the photo.
With impeccable timing, Rachel was so involved with reading the words and remembering that she crashed into someone and immediately felt something cold sinking through her sweater. Looking up, she recognized Mercedes and gasped at the girl covered in blue ice.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Mercedes. What happened?" she asked, but she knew the darker girl would understand what she meant.
"Some nameless hockey player," Mercedes responded, eyes still closed to keep out the dye. "This stuff is so not good for my hair."
Rachel placed her books in one hand and guided her fellow glee club member to the bathroom with the other. Once they were inside, and Rachel cleared everyone out, Mercedes finally spoke up.
"You know," she said, rinsing the slush off of her face first. "I don't blame Q for any slushie I receive." Happy to be able to see again, she wiped off her face with a paper towel. "Hell, I don't even blame Santana, and the lord knows I couldn't even imagine blaming Brittany."
Rachel stood and handed the girl more paper towels as she continued to de-slushify.
"But it's still annoying to have to deal with it, you know? You and Kurt, you don't have to worry. You're protected," she continued. "You've got Quinn for a best friend, and even Puck worst case scenario." Rachel chewed her lip, the guilt creeping up on her with each word her friend added. She wanted to protest, but the larger girl was spot on.
"And me?" Mercedes said. "Girl, I'm open game just like the rest of them. And I hate it." Rachel handed over the last paper towels from her hand and thought of something to say in reply. She had nothing. Mercedes appeared incredibly upset, and Rachel understood it fully. It had to be the worst, knowing that most of your friends were safe, but you weren't.
Rachel couldn't even begin to imagine.
Fortunately, Kurt chose that moment to come bursting in and save the day.
"I came running the moment I heard about it, and I grabbed your emergency slushie case from your locker," he said in a rush, running to the other girl's side.
Rachel watched them for a few seconds before slowly heading out the door. She felt as if they were having a private diva moment and their friendship was something she didn't have with Mercedes.
By the time she reached her locker, Rachel was already late for class and her sweater was unsalvageable. There were only a few spots on it but she most certainly was not going to go around school with a stained sweater. Against her better nature, seeing as the weather had dropped to twenty-seven degrees earlier, Rachel took off the piece of clothing and continued to her next class with just the shirt she had been wearing underneath.
Math went by normally but, on her way to Spanish, Rachel ran into her English teacher who offered her back a pop quiz they'd taken a couple of weeks ago. She'd accepted and thought nothing of it until she sat down and proceeded to ignore Shuester. While not one to ignore a teacher, Rachel made an exception seeing as the man hardly taught the class anything.
With the test in hand and nothing better to focus on, Rachel looked over the quiz, delighted to have received an A. She got to the last question when she saw the note stapled at the bottom.
#12 She talks in paragraphs (and essays when she's nervous)
She folded the quiz back over to the front and stared at it. Her teacher had handed her the quiz. Her teacher had to have gone through the quiz, graded it, and then, somehow, someone had to have snuck the note in and stapled it there without anyone noticing. Rachel shook her head—she didn't need this and she wasn't even sure she wanted it anymore.
Her thoughts trailed to who it could be but she just felt something sour in her stomach at the thought. She was beginning to fear she'd have to break someone's heart.
When Rachel walked into lunch, Quinn's greeting smile dropped as she asked, "Where is your sweater?" Rachel mentally groaned because she'd planned on bringing up the slushies mid-lunch, not right at the beginning.
"Oh, well hello to you to, Quinn. How are you on this fine day? Did you know, according to my—"
"Rachel." The brunette sat down, a huff of air releasing from her nose. After deciding to ignore the latest note, she had spent the rest of Spanish deliberating just how to word her concerns.
"I got a little bit of slushie on it—" Quinn cut her off.
"What?" she half-shouted, and Rachel covered her mouth, hoping no one noticed the blonde's outburst.
"Calm down, Quinn. I didn't say I was slushied," she said, and the blonde relaxed some.
"Mpfh." Rachel laughed at the other girl, her hand still over Quinn's mouth. She removed it to allow her to speak. "Care to explain?"
"Mercedes had been slushied by a random hockey player, whose name shall never be known, and I was walking down the hallway, distracted by something that came up in physics, when I ran into her. She was covered in slushie and now my sweater will forever be stained blue unless the new detergent my daddy bought has a kick that the previous one didn't."
"Oh," Quinn replied, looking down at her salad. "I hate that I can't protect everyone in the club," she confessed. "But I'm glad it wasn't you."
Rachel hated the part of herself that thought the same thing, and the part that was warmed that Quinn thought it too, even though she knew it meant that others were suffering. She unpacked her own salad and moved the pieces of lettuce around with her fork.
"Why did you?" she asked. At Quinn's curious expression, she clarified, "Protect me?"
The blonde chewed on a mouthful of salad and looked ahead, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if she was being intentionally slow about it. When she finally swallowed, Quinn turned her gaze back to Rachel and something in her eyes changed.
"Have you ever thrown water on a fire?" Rachel nodded her head slowly, wondering where the blonde was going with her line of thinking. "It's fun at first, the hissing and the puffs of smoke. Then, you pour a little too much before it's had time to recover and it's gone. Just like that."
Quinn pushed her salad forward and started drawing designs into the surface of the table with her finger. Rachel wondered if she just imagined the pattern she thought her friend was drawing. "It's sad, looking at the remains of something once so strong and bright," Quinn continued.
When Quinn pulled her salad back and was about to take another bite, Rachel pushed the other girl's fork down and gave her friend an incredulous stare. Quinn met her gaze and she was struck by how many emotions were swirling in the blonde's eyes. "I consider myself to be a fan of metaphors," Rachel started. "They're kind of my thing, as you know, but I think I need a translation on that one."
Quinn laughed lightly, her hand relaxing and resting on the table. The brunette was thrown off by how unsuited the sound was to the look she received.
"God," she said, and Rachel couldn't fathom what was going through her mind. "You were this little star and, every time you were slushied, I was terrified you would end up like that fire."