The chapters seem to be getting longer. So they will be taking a little longer to get out, since I have more history to contend with as far as the story goes. Hopefully they won't take too long though ;) I am glad that I could make some of you guys laugh and cry, though I only wanted to make you laugh. Not cry. But I will take what I can get haha! Thanks for the comments :) Any mistakes are due to the fact that I have had very little sleep.
As soon as Rachel hopped into the passenger seat and neglected to drop her usual cheery, 'good morning,' into the silence, Quinn knew that something had changed in the time that had passed between now and yesterday afternoon, when she had driven Rachel home and quietly thanked her for all that she had done, only to be winked at and told: "Don't worry about it."
The change was in the air that surrounded the chirpy brunette, Quinn decided. This change – it pulsed vibrantly with Rachel's every breath, and it was only amplified by the flirtatious grins that she seemed to be shining down at her cell phone, as tan fingers pattered away at the device's soundless keypad, swift and eager.
Quinn eyes quietened down to watchful squints. She removed her hand from where it was spread atop the gearshift, detached her seat-belt, and meticulously noted every flex that struck Rachel's blissed-out expression.
Not even three seconds later, Quinn was forced to determine that – yes - the shorter girl was definitely behaving in a much more peculiar manner than usual. Except that her behaviour wasn't all that peculiar, because Quinn knew that look!
For those first few months of Quinn's first ever relationship, back in middle school, she had lived within that look. She had become it. So much so that her grades had suffered, and when Mr Linning had announced that she'd scored the lowest in her class, she had obliviously been sat at the back… texting rows of love hearts to Dillon Granger.
Similar love hearts seemed to be twirling in the darkest recesses of Rachel's eyes as she merrily typed away.
The writing wasn't just on the wall. It was on the wall for public consumption!
Rachel was dating someone else! Or at the very least she was flirting with someone else through the wonder that was text messaging…
Perhaps the sudden hot rush of anger that fogged Quinn's brain, in that moment of realization, was irrational. Perhaps not; she wasn't much in the mood for assessments. But as the searing emotion prickled to the tips of her limbs, she quickly became aware of the fact that her ire had the potential to be gravely destructive if she didn't rein it in. And she wanted to rein it in, because after yesterday's events Quinn knew that, despite her rocky past with the brunette, Rachel was somebody who deserved a large chunk of respect, regardless of how annoying she could be.
Her cloudy hazel eyes – billowing with wisps of forest green - flickered like the blinds of an eerie abandoned house, as she internally told herself, over and over again, to just chill out. But for as hard as she was trying, that toxic feeling persisted; begging her to express her urge to snatch the brunette's phone and interrogate her until she gave up this mystery girl's name, address, phone number, and shoe size…
Maybe this was a test of some sort – God throwing banana peels at her feet to see how well she would fare in this part of the marathon that he called life. To see whether or not she could doubt the fire within and grant Rachel the respect that she deserved.
Thinking about the situation in those terms provided a little relief for the blonde… somewhat. Such relief allowed for a clearer mind long enough for her to conclude that if she could just ask Rachel why she was talking to other girls – when everybody was supposed to think that they were together – without raising her voice, then she would be able to say that she'd been successful…
Rachel suddenly threw her back, and snorted a melodic girlish giggle; her nose wrinkling – the corners of her dark sparkling eyes pleating prettily with the untold depth of her mirth. "That is hilarious," she chuckled to herself, tucking some hair back behind her ear as she eagerly returned her gaze to her cell phone's screen.
And the dam broke…
"Who are you talking to?" bounded out off of Quinn's tense tongue.
Upon the discordant timbre of Quinn's voice Rachel frowned. She slowly blinked around the car's interior as if to reintroduce herself to her surroundings… or remind herself that she actually had surroundings; she couldn't say which one. "Oh," she uttered, finally peering across at the blonde. "Morning Quinn."
"Morning. Now who are you texting?"
Once fully caught up – because for all she knew, she was still upstairs in her room – Rachel sat up straight and slipped her phone, which had just vibrated with another three messages, into her bag. Her fingers found one another in the dip of her skirt, interlinking in her lap. "Not to start us off on the wrong foot this morning, Quinn," she chirped, "but I really don't see how telling you who I'm texting is either going to improve your life or detract from it. In short, I don't feel that it is any of your business."
Achoo!
Quinn sniffed away the sudden cloudy mass that seemed to be descending within her nasal passages. If less riled, she just may have taken a tissue out of her bag to blow the sensation free. But clearly she had bigger fish to fry. Rachel Berry sized fish, as a matter of fact…
"What you do affects me, Rachel!" she stressed, sniffing again. "If you're texting some girl, I need to know about it – everyone's supposed to think that we're in love! So, again, who are you texting? Is it someone from school?"
Rachel shifted slightly in her seat. Her sudden silence was loud with the sense that maybe she was pondering how she wanted to respond…
"What seems to be the hold up?" Quinn pushed, quite proud of herself for having kept her cool thus far. That didn't, however, mean that she wasn't aware of how quickly things could deteriorate.
"The hold up pertains to the fact that I don't want to divulge the intricacies of my personal life to you, Quinn."
"Are you kidding me?" Quinn scoffed, her brow lowering with her glare. "Yesterday, I told you that I thought I was pregnant! Doesn't get much more personal than that!" she somewhat bitterly exclaimed, remembering just how vulnerable she'd felt when she had turned around to see Rachel gazing sympathy at her from the bathroom doorway. "I'm really trying not to be a bitch here!"
Rachel's lips bunched to one side as she chewed the inside of her cheek pensively. Then her mouth relaxed. "I'm currently learning to play the violin," she finally answered, though her tone was factual – clinical almost. "I attend classes after school every Thursday. I'm quite popular there, thanks to the fact that you haven't had the chance to poison everybody against me, like you have at school."
Like someone had tugged a light off, Quinn's face fell. "Why are you bringing that up? I apologized for that, and I meant it!"
"A girl by the name of Noelle also attends these classes," Rachel continued on, as if she hadn't heard the blonde at all. "We're friends. That is the extent of my relations with her, so you needn't worry about her blowing our cover. Am I allowed to resume my conversation with her now, mother? May I also stay up a little later tonight?"
"Not if you're going to be up late texting some girl!" Quinn retorted, seemingly oblivious as to how she was coming across.
Rachel was far from oblivious though; her marble brown eyes skated through the small distance between them, and travelled the landscapes of possessiveness that scored Quinn's tight expression. She didn't dare delve deeper into the thought that suddenly knocked, relentlessly, at her mind. The notion was just completely and utterly fucking absurd!
She angled her torso sideways, so that she could watch the blonde without interruption. "Nothing is going on between Noelle and I," Rachel emphasized, with a slight nod of the head upon every syllable. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't have many friends. I just so happened to click with her, and I'm merely excited about our budding friendship. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to leave it at that!"
The Head Cheerleader almost had to stop herself from looking around for the bullshit that she could smell. She had seen that look on Rachel's face – the same look that Rachel had bestowed upon her at school, when they had swindled their peers into believing that they were taken with one another.
Only, it was clear that Rachel wasn't acting now. She liked someone else, and it was genuine.
As Quinn slowly shook her head, from side to side, she chuckled mirthlessly at the blatancy of the brunette's lies. "I can't call bullshit loudly enough right now. This Noelle - you either have a crush on her, or you guys are already dating! Let's just call a spade a spade," she stated, adamant. "I mean, what happened to Brittany, the love of your life?" she mocked the other girl, whose plump lips merely quirked up to echo flecks of a smirk. "What are you smirking at?"
"Never did I say that Brittany was the love of my life. If you care to remember correctly, you cut me off before I could finish what I had to say regarding that topic, and when I said that she would be mine by the end of the year, I was merely messing with you. Secondly," Rachel said, shooting the blonde a highly pensive frown, "be very very careful Quinn, because I am cautiously beginning to suspect that your aversion to the idea of Noelle and I dating has nothing to do with your concern for the welfare of our ruse, and everything to do with… something else entirely."
The unspoken implication swayed the blonde perhaps a little more than it should have, because although the notion was truly absurd, she did find that she was feeling strangely territorial of Rachel now that this Noelle girl was a part of the picture…
Making sure to swiftly disregard those thoughts, she tugged her seat-belt back on, and began to massage her twitching temples, which were undoubtedly becoming a little heavy and congested. "I can't even talk to you right now. You're ridiculous."
'I can't even talk to you right now. You're ridiculous?' That was it? That was all that Quinn had to say? A particularly peculiar response, at least in Rachel's book it seemed to be. She sat there waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when Quinn simply rolled her eyes to herself and remained silent, Rachel was forced to conclude that she had struck something within the blonde, though she wasn't sure that she wanted to know what exactly she had struck.
She took her palm to her sternum, rubbing soothing circles into it as she took care with the selection of her words. "Quinn," she began with rational calm, "If you don't take the opportunity to deny my unspoken accusation, I'm going to assume that you've fallen in love with me. Then I'm going to exit this car and run. Far, far away!"
Well that had ended rather dramatically, hadn't it?
Quinn caught herself thinking much along the same lines, and out of the absolute blue her cheeks eased up with a grin, which she quickly directed out of her window; because fuck if she was going to let Rachel see it. "You're such a drama queen," she half complained and half sniggered, her shoulders dancing with the stilted and clandestine rhythm of each reluctant bray.
"Oh really? How so?"
Genuinely; Rachel was quite curious.
Once Quinn had pushed down her mirth, she side-eyed the brunette. "Do you really want me to get my list out?"
Rachel's mouth globbed shut, the course of her thoughts instantly changing. "Wait, you have a list?" she asked, her forehead deepening with a frown.
"Sure do," Quinn nodded, aloof.
"Aha!" Rachel exclaimed victoriously. "Because you're in love with me!"
The claim caused Quinn's top lip to gradually fold up in disgust. "You're not my type," she barbed, merely repaying the favor for yesterday. "Besides, I like to leave the gaying-it-up all to you. You do it so unbelievably well."
"Well…" Rachel grinned haughtily, and dusted something imaginary off the sleeve of her sweater vest. "I don't know what you've heard. But I'm more than happy to take the street cred."
"Rachel?"
"What?"
Suddenly serious, Quinn regarded the other girl and gravely shook her head from side to side. "You can't talk to Noelle anymore."
"Pfft," Rachel folded her arms, barking one syllable of dry laughter. "Good luck with that."
"The six degrees of separation theory isn't just a theory. It's true, especially this town. I'm not risking it and neither are you. I generally don't care who you bang in your spare time…"
Rachel clicked her tongue. She couldn't imagine herself banging anybody, but still…
"But," Quinn went on, "when it could negatively affect me, I've got to step in and eliminate all potential threats, namely Noelle in this instance. I hope you'll understand." She hunched her shoulder up to her cheek with a tight smile, and positioned her one hand on the steering wheel, whilst the other lowered in search of the key that hung in the ignition.
But Rachel's hand beat her to it. She used her palm to gently block the blonde's now tense fingers, and then leaned in close towards Quinn, so that there would be no mistake about what she said next…
"If anything happens to Noelle, Quinn," she enunciated sternly, "there will be hell to pay! You would do well to reflect on that before going along with whatever barbaric plan it is that you have in mind!" Having said her piece, she retreated back into her own space.
"Aww," Quinn cooed, though her expression remained completely dead and unenthusiastic. "How sweet of you to threaten me on behalf of your little girlfriend," she antagonized the riled brunette, under the guise of their usual banter.
But internally the blonde was growing resentful of the fact that she had nobody in her life to fight her corner the way that Rachel seemed to be prepared to fight Noelle's…
After a few minutes of quiet gazing through the windscreen, she couldn't help but part her pink lips to ask the question that seemed to be multiplying on her mind. "Are you having sex with her?"
Once upon a time, Quinn may have gleaned that the prudish little diva was still a virgin, and that she would remain that way until her mid-twenties. But, strangely enough, she had learned that the brunette was nowhere near as square as everybody thought. The aspiring Broadway star was annoyingly quirky, crude at times, and actually quite silly...
Rachel pursed her lips and looked at the Head Cheerleader, who merely stared back with bold brazen eyes, as the off-hand inquiry regarding the brunette's sex life hung between them. "As riveting as this little inquisition has been, Quinn, I'm over it. You're not getting another word out of me regarding my relationship with Noelle. Your questions have become invasive and borderline disturbing – not to mention suggestive of the notion that you like me more than you care to admit, which is actually really quite worrying. Now, you can either begin to drive, or you can give me the run-though of today's itinerary. Your choice."
"Quit fluffing that ego of yours. I only asked because I need to know how serious you are about her," Quinn explained, rolling her eyes. "Everything you do affects me now! So if you're having sex with this girl, you need to tell me so that I can work out what I'm going to do if anybody sees you two glowing post-coitally!"
…
"Rachel?"
The brunette simply smoothed her hand down her hair and clothes, all whilst humming something that sounded like a song from Disney's The Lion King, or something.
Quinn's jaw clenched, visibly contracting beneath her pristine alabaster skin. "If I didn't strongly suspect that you would take legal action, I'd punch you right now. Just… pow right in the eye."
The humming came to an abrupt stop, followed by a merry: "Keep the smack-talk up, Quinn. Our future children are going to hate you by the time they're old enough to understand what domestic abuse is. Also, know that I'm calculated enough not to fight you back in front of them. You'll die a lonely old woman, and I'll croak with our children sobbing at my feet – all fifteen of them."
"You need to stop feeding whatever weird fantasy it is that you have about having my children," Quinn grumbled.
She had just wanted to know what she was dealing with as far as Noelle was concerned. Simple. It was neither invasive nor disturbing, in her mind. Quinn Fabray liked to be one step ahead is all.
But now Rachel wouldn't talk about it anymore, which was frustrating to the nth degree.
Achoo!
"If you sneeze one more time, Quinn, I'm going to have to end this relationship. People are not going to believe that I would date someone with such a shoddy immune system."
Quinn sniffed and rubbed her nose back and forth rapidly, hoping that the turbulence of it all would reset the way that she was feeling. "And people aren't going to believe that we're together if they see you out buying edible lingerie with Noelle," she retorted.
"You know; it's so strange. Every time I hear you, specifically, say the name Noelle, I experience this insane urge to hum. I'm seriously going to have to look up such strange phenomena in the medical journals."
"If I want something badly enough, I make it happen. Take that however you want to, but just keep it in mind." With that, Quinn cranked the key in the ignition, feeling the car rumble beneath her body. She pressed her white pump down on the pedal and jerked the gearshift. "Oh, and today we're moving onto step four of the plan. Unfortunately, we're going to have to act like we enjoy touching each other. I'll try not to throw up all over you."
The car steadily eased down from the curb and rolled off.
"How considerate of you," Rachel replied dryly. She wound her window down, only to have the blonde press a button that saw the pane swiftly rise up shut again.
Just as the unamused brunette had prepped her lips for the release of her complaint, Quinn pushed the button for the second time, and once again breeze generously wafted in against the side of Rachel's face.
The cheerleader smirked spitefully, though her sight never left the road.
Rachel simply rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure that I enjoy your brand of humor, Quinn. It resembles that of a boy flicking dead insects at the girl he secretly desires. But moving on; when did Finn come crawling back to you on his hands and knees? Isn't that step supposed to come before our upsurge in PDA?"
"I wouldn't flick a dead insect at you if you begged me to," Quinn countered, easing the steering wheel around. "And Finn hasn't come crawling back to me on his hands and knees just yet! He sent me a text; he wants me back."
"I can't think why."
"Because the size of his package hangs in the balance. That's why."
Not wanting to query anything pertaining to Finn Hudson's penis, Rachel fetched her phone from her bag and set about reading the three messages that were waiting for her…
Achoo!
Achoo!
Achoo!
Third time lucky... or not!
Quinn forcefully stuffed her hand into her bag, snatched out a tissue, and quickly blanketed her nose as her reddened nostrils exploded once again.
She winced down at the partially sodden tissue that rested warm with her own mucus, drawling a low whiny groan as she then folded it up, dropped it into her bag, and slumped back against the locker that neighbored Rachel's.
"You seem to be coming down with something, baby," Rachel cooed, jutting her bottom lip out sympathetically. She swiftly closed her locker, and brushed gentle fingers up and down Quinn's bare forearm.
If Quinn wanted spectacles of PDA, she was going to get just that.
"Life really isn't fair. On the odd chance that I do get sick, I always look like I've been dead for three weeks. But you?" Rachel baited with a whisper, growing tall on her tiptoes to let the heat that wisped from her lips pour over Quinn's porcelain neck. "You still look so unbelievably sexy," she sensuously husked into the blonde's ear, though just loud enough so that their peers could hear.
Predictably, most within earshot swiftly abandoned what they were doing at their lockers to glance over. Not that they hadn't already been watching the freakish couple anyway…
Quinn's right eyebrow slowly jaunted up towards her flawless hairline, the rest of her face otherwise expressionless; she would never get over how convincing Rachel was as an actress! Everything just flowed – the inspiration, the dialogue, her movements, her facial expressions; the little things.
Quinn didn't like to admit it, even just to herself, but she was beginning to feel like she couldn't keep up. If it were not for the existence of the film industry, it would have been quite disconcerting to know that someone could be such an adept liar.
"Thanks gorgeous," she eventually replied, beaming down at her supposed love with as warm a smile as she could. Then she hesitantly, at first, brought her hand up and brushed soft brown hair away from radiant tan skin. "With you by my side, I know that I'll be as good as new in no time," she added affectionately.
Rachel practically purred and buried her face in the cheerleader's neck. She murmured the tip of her nose, deliberate and gentle, up and down Quinn's slowly contracting throat. "I love you, Q-bear," she whispered, before pulling back and smiling somewhat demure.
"I-I love you too, Rach."
Neither Quinn nor Rachel, wrapped up within their false love stupor, noticed Finn glaring at them from the end of the hallway. His fists clenched to the point where angry half-moon nail marks bit, sore and red, into his own large palms.
But he felt not a morsel of pain; his eyes a murky reflection of the way that Rachel was giggling and pawing all over Quinn, so carefree...
It wasn't fair. How was it that his days of being carefree had passed? Yesterday had been absolute hell - the teasing relentless! He'd realized, as Azimo, Karofsky and Price had all danced around him, sneering, that he couldn't fight everybody who had something smart to say about the fact that Quinn was so damaged after being with him, that she now deemed it acceptable to be getting her rocks off with the local troll that lived under the Broadway bridge.
But he could fight back. He knew that much.
If he could just send Man Hands back to the depths of loserdom hell, where she belonged, then Quinn would realize that Rachel wasn't good enough, and swiftly return to his side.
Simple.
What he didn't know, as he brought the frosty grape slushie out from behind his back and approached the two oblivious girls, was that a keen pair of brownish-hazel eyes – off to his left – were not so oblivious…
Noah Puckerman could see it all ending in tears, or at the very most: violence. Somehow he just knew what was about to go down, and he wasn't on board at all!
So he acted with uncensored haste, dropping his bag to the floor, and charging forward.
The sound of his sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor alerted many, including Rachel, whose face slowly drained of its makeshift infatuation, instead crumpling with an anticipatory wince as she caught sight of what Finn was holding.
Noting the drastic change, Quinn wasted no time following the brunette's gaze. She did so just in time to see Puck tackle Finn into the locker opposite where she was stood. Upon the loud steely collision, trickles of deep purple slush ran the hallway floors, like the blood of a nation after a gruesome war.
"What are you doing, idiot?" Puck roared into the pasty boy's reddening face. "She's never gonna want you, because you're slow, bro!"
"Get off of me!" Finn yelled, flailing wildly in Puck's strong grip. He had little space to manoeuvre due to the fact that he was being forced up against the locker, but he was going to make his point, come hell or high water…
Everyone – including Puck - ducked when the slushie cup, still rich with remnants of crushed purple ice, soared gracefully through the air, leaving indiscriminate trails of splatter in its wake.
Numerous gasps hissed out – the shocked cries of those that had, in some way, been touched by the cold syrupy concoction.
Without even thinking about it, Quinn tugged Rachel behind her as if she were her bodyguard. Only then did she, too, duck for cover...
She knew that her efforts had been futile once the entire right side of her face numbed bitterly, and began to drip purple puddles – the empty slushie cup rolling to a stop nearby.
Puck savagely shrugged Finn loose, whilst shaking his head in complete and utter disgust.
"This is what your life's gonna be like if you stay with that!" Finn snarled at his ex-girlfriend, whilst jabbing a hateful finger in the stunned brunette's direction. "Shes a loser. She'll just bring you down! I know you don't love her. How can you love… that?"
Quinn stood there, fuming as she dripped. She had forgotten how to hear. She had forgotten about the dull fluish ache that had begun to work its way into her muscles. She had forgotten that she was Head Cheerleader. In that moment, she felt herself to be nothing but a girl who was about to kill a doofus!
The muscles in her legs flexed, all working together to quickly propel her into Finn's space, from where she threw a hand around his neck and forcefully drove him back into the locker just behind, though with much less impact than Puck had been able to.
Nevertheless, it wasn't like she was concerned about that…
Puck folded his arms, thoroughly enjoying every second of watching the smoking hot blonde manhandle Finnept! Charlie's Angles? Powerpuff Girls? Eat your heart out!
"Quinn!" Rachel scolded, sensing the potential danger of the situation. "Stop it!"
Quinn merely squeezed what she could of Finn's neck harder, making sure that her nails bit the flesh acrimoniously. "Rachel's better in bed than you are," she hissed out of pure spite. "She's everything that you aren't. She makes my toes curl, and for those few seconds when I'm coming I literally can't breathe. With every kiss, every lick, and every thrust," she purred crudely, "she manages to erase the trauma that I endured during my sexual encounters with you! I want you to let that sink in before I send you on your way to meet your maker!"
Finn squirmed uncomfortably, unsure as to what to do. He had never been in this situation before. All his life it had been drummed into his head that he should never hit a girl, but Quinn – she was actually hurting him. "I d-don't wanna… L-Let me go -"
Achoo!
…
Howls of laughter suddenly rang out like applause as Finn blinked; his eyelashes and upper top lip glistening with specks of his ex-girlfriend's mucus.
His eyes darkened, and with a growl he shoved Quinn away, sending her stumbling backwards on shaky feet.
Rachel glared daggers at the tall boy, ready to take extreme action if need be.
Puck willed brick-like power into his fist, getting ready to brutally behead Finn with it.
But he ended up having to snatch Santana's waist, before she could charge in – seemingly out of nowhere - and claw the absolute stuffing out of the Quarterback's eyes.
"Touch my bitch again, asshole!" she shouted, thrashing around almost demonically in Puck's clutch. "I will rip the cashew that you call a dick off, and fuck you blind with it!"
Finn's eyes grew wide as he deconstructed that threat. He gulped and wiped his face off, feeling caged.
"I should let her get at you!" Puck spat, though he never released the Latina.
"So let me go skunk-for-brains!"
"Yeah Puck, let her go. I think that you should kill Finn, Sanny," Brittany casually put in, as she picked up the empty slushie cup and licked it's rim as if it were an ice-cream. "Mmmm." She slapped her lips together moreishly, and offered a lick to the random boy next to her, who just shook his head and side-stepped away. "Your loss."
Finn suddenly dropped to his knees, skating them through the wet mess that swished the floors until he was kneeling at Quinn's pumps. "I-I-I'm sorry. Please just be my girlfriend again! I still love you!" he wailed pathetically, attempting to grasp at her hand, which she viciously tugged away from his searching fingers.
"Have some respect, you inane excuse for flesh and bones! How dare you put those dry baseball mitts on her?" Rachel snapped, advancing on the kneeling boy. "Get away from her! You had your chance and you blew it! She's mine! Now skedaddle, before I do something that I regret!"
Where Finn normally would have towered over RuPaul and intimidated her into silence for such lip, he knew that such action was not an option here. From where he was knelt, he had a pretty good view of everybody's faces. All bared hostile teeth.
He was a dumbass, but he knew when it didn't serve him to stick around. So he huffily stood up, with dark patches at his knees, and stormed off…
Rachel made sure that she could no longer see the boy before running her hand down Quinn's arm, and asking: "Are you alright?"
"Do I look like I'm alright?" the salty blonde snapped, shrugging the petite hand off.
Santana forcefully spun in Puck's arms and shoved him in the chest. "There better be a reason why you held me back, like you are going to fuck that jolly pale giant up, and you didn't want me to do it before you got the chance!" she enunciated.
Puck's eyes were still narrowed in the direction that Finn had scarpered off in. "I've got something for him," he confirmed; dark and cryptic.
Those few words were more than enough assurance for Santana, who swiftly took her attention to Rachel. "And you!" she started, backing the somewhat startled brunette up against the locker. "If you're gonna be dating my bitch, you bests to grow some balls – stepping in all late and shit. You're a disgrace. I ought to -"
"Santana, back off!" Quinn ordered, done with playing games at this point. She was sticky, her head was beginning to ache, and her clothes were damp. Right now, nobody had the right to show out and turn up but her!
"Yes Santana. Back off," Rachel echoed, somewhat smug.
The Latina eyed her best friend, looking for a twitch – something that would let her know that the blonde was just stringing the diva along for shits and giggles. But it never materialized, and that left her frowning…
"Rachel, let's go!" Quinn demanded, already a metre or so away…
Both girls shuffled into the toilets; Quinn heading over to the sinks, whilst Rachel took a packet of wet-wipes from her bag.
"Welcome to the slushie club," the brunette whispered, tugging a wipe loose and dragging it along the side of the sullen blonde's face. "I should have your honorary membership card ready by the end of the day."
Quinn's expression flatlined. Literally, there was no pulse. At all. "Well make sure it's made of the good sharp plastic. Then I can slit your throat with it." She snatched the next wipe that Rachel had tugged loose, and huffily span around to wipe her face in the mirror.
Behind her, Rachel was mentally cursing herself for her verbal diarrhea. She really needed to learn to get it in check, because truthfully she had been quite touched by the blonde's thoughtfulness out in the hallway. "I would like to thank you, Quinn, for shielding me from that slushie. I wasn't quite expecting -"
Quinn's hand stilled inches from her face. She watched the brunette in the mirror. "Yeah, well I didn't expect for you to help me out yesterday either. So I guess we should both expect the unexpected…"
Rachel smiled quietly to herself.
"Santana had a point," Quinn suddenly said. "Where was the fire, just now, that I saw in you earlier when you were defending Noelle?" she picked, grudgeful. "You need to get your priorities in order – oh wait, I forgot; she sleeps with you and I won't."
"Do you want me to start humming church hymns? Because I will – and need I remind you of the fact that I apparently make your toes curl? As far as McKinley High is concerned, you are sleeping with me."
"This is pointless!" Quinn grumbled at her reflection, which hadn't improved much since she had started to drag the damp scented cloth about her skin. Half of her blonde hair was drying maroon, she still felt icky and flued up, and her Cheerio's uniform was fucked!
Great! Something else for Coach Sue Sylvester to be mad at her about – on top of the truancy that she had committed yesterday.
She tossed the dirty wipe into the sink, and sighed. "Fuck this; I'm going home. I'm getting sick and I need to get cleaned up. So I'm going home," she stated with a resolute nod, seemingly working it out with her reflection. "I'll call Brittany, and she'll take you home when school's over."
"You needn't bother," Rachel said, as she packed her packet of wipes away and tossed the used one in the trash, "I have Glee after school today, and so does Brittany. I'll ask her to give me a ride home when Glee's over..."
Over at the Fabray residence, Judy was patting down her wild hair in the bathroom mirror. She should have been at work by now, but she wasn't. She'd waited until Quinn and Russell had left, before deciding that she was going to text her younger lover.
He had passed through in a flurry of kisses, drool-worthy aftershave, and multiple orgasms…
Now she was alone again, left unsupervised with thoughts of how unhappy she was in her marriage. Left with thoughts of old age and abandonment. Her eyes rowed across the glass medicine cabinet, noting just how many anti-aging creams she had purchased over the years; soon there wouldn't be any room left for actual medicine.
As she slipped into her black heels, straightened out her collar, grabbed her purse, and made for the front door, her blazer pocket lit with a jingle. A grin highlighted the few youthful features that she had left, and she slowed her step to pluck out her cell phone...
Her smile dropped once she gleaned that she hadn't gotten a saucy text from her dashing bit on the side, but a video message from an anonymous number instead.
Curious, she pressed play.
The camerawork was shaky to begin with, but the hushed whispers that poured from her phone's speakers were indicative of teenage gossip. Soon to follow were clear images of her daughter, Quinn, who was standing awfully close to that Rachel Berry girl by a row of lockers.
Judy's brow pinched.
"What the…" The sentence died off, along with some of her brain cells as she watched the Berry girl rise up and kiss her daughter, without suffering an ounce of chastisement once they parted –
With amateur abruptness, the video then cut to black!
Judy stood in the middle of the lounge, not quite knowing what to do. What was Russell going to do when he found about this? She grimaced.
The front door suddenly rattled open, having to swing shut all by itself when Quinn's eyes unexpectedly found her mother.
She halted. "Mom. What are you doing here? I thought that you were supposed to be at work?" she probed, sub-consciously running her hand over only the purple strands of her hair.
Judy didn't bother to ask what had happened to her daughter's hair and clothes. She wasn't interested. "Are you a-a…" She took her wrinkling hand to her mouth and gasped as the video's images stomped through her mind again. "Are you a-a lesbian?" she grated out.
Quinn felt all moisture leave her mouth. "What?"
"Tell me Quinn!" Judy demanded. "The sooner you admit it, the sooner I can get you help regarding the extermination of your urges! If your father knew that you were going around letting that Berry girl kiss you, he would have a heart attack! And to do it for the whole school to see?" she shrieked, freaking out.
Realization blessed Quinn's senses the moment that she saw the phone in her mother's trembling clasp. Most likely, one of her peers had somehow sent her mom the footage of Rachel kissing her in the hallway. Finnept, no doubt! – yet was he really smart enough to pull such a punishing stunt?
"I think you've had one too many drinks again, mom," she recovered aloofly, though she didn't really know what she was recovering from since she wasn't a lesbian.
Maybe it was just all of the secrets and lies that had her on edge.
"Yes, Rachel kissed me," Quinn clarified, standing strong. "Yes, I was too stunned to do anything about it at the time. But she's going to pay for it, trust me."
"Have I had one too many drinks? How dare you speak to me like that?" The older woman hissed back. "You need to help me look for a facility that deals with stuff like this, so that we can get you the assistance that you need!" As she took off in frantic search of the laptop, a half-empty bottle of brandy fell out of her purse, clunking to the floor.
Quinn rolled her eyes and growled low in her scratchy throat. "I don't have time for this!" She kicked off her pumps, and dumped her bag on the sofa. "I need a shower, and a mother who knows when to step in when she's needed. Still, I won't hold my breath for that last one!"
"Quinn!" Judy yelled after her daughter, who had already taken off upstairs. At the sound of the shower pitter-pattering into use, she sighed.
Still, maybe it was a good thing that Quinn had gone upstairs and left her bag unattended…
It was slumped on the sofa, a book or two spilling from its mouth.
Judy slowly stalked towards it, like it was going to sprout legs and take off if she wasn't careful. She glanced at the staircase, and acted fast; shoving her hand into her daughter's bag and feeling around until her fingers brushed what she was looking for.
She lifted Quinn's cell phone up to her face, thinking that she would be able to get to the bottom of this if she just went through and read her daughter's text messages.
Sadly Judy didn't get that far along, because when she swiped her thumb across the screen to unlock the little device, the display brightened, and behind all of the widgets that littered the home screen, there was a picture – taken in the very room that she was stood in – of Quinn and the Berry girl snuggled up close, mid-giggle.