You guys are really generous. Thanks for all of the comments. Let's get into this chapter :) Pardon any errors.
Edited: To the guest reviewer, Em, a bunny boiler is someone who has become obsessed with their object of attraction - usually after being rejected or spurned. Bunny boiler is also a term that is used to describe people who stalk their object of attraction. The terms originate from the movie Fatal Attraction, which I have never actually watched lol. I did edit the last chapter to post this, but I'm not arrogant enough to assume that you read that chapter multiple times ;)
Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, Rachel sat down on her bed and sighed. For the umpteenth time that evening, she found herself peering down at the message that she'd, hours ago, composed on her phone.
Hey Elle. I was just wondering if it would be possible for you to drop by my house before you go to Mike's party? Not to pick me up or anything, as I'm still no better in the mood to attend. I would just like to talk to you, and I would rather not do it over the phone. It pertains to nothing serious, so you needn't fret : ) X
The somewhat conflicted brunette allowed her thumb to hover over the send option, tentative yet resolute.
She had a decision to make.
The long and short of it was that Quinn had backed her into a corner. At Morgan's Grill, earlier in the day, the tipsy cheerleader had not minced her words, and neither had she cloaked her meddlesome intentions during the ride home, despite the brunette's staunch cautionary protests.
However unwarranted, the reality of the situation was clear. Quinn was going to attend Mike's party for no reason other than to threaten Noelle away, which would only lend further tension to an already precarious situation that had very little – if not nothing – to do with her.
It was invasive. It was uncalled for, and it was downright out of line!
Whether she was conscious of it or not, Rachel narrowed her eyes at nothing in particular and slowly shook her head in disbelief. How dare Quinn seek to sabotage her flourishing friendship with the tall talented violinist?
And for what?
The sake of her own selfish plan?
Rachel scoffed. She would down a whole bottle of vodka – which was never going to happen – before she allowed the selfish cheerleader the power to interfere with her friendship. Not that Noelle was an easy person to deter, but aside from that stood the mere principle of the matter!
Rachel had made up her mind. She was going to revoke Quinn's leverage, and if such event led to the combustion of Operation Faberry, well then so be it!
Noelle's friendship was more important.
Without further delay, Rachel's thumb came down on the shiny device's screen.
Message sent.
No more than ten minutes later, she received a response.
From Noelle: Sure, sweets. Though I'm definitely feeling like I have an appointment with my principle now. A little nervous, so thanks lol. But as I'm always happy to see your face, I'll see you in thirty. X
Rachel's shoulders relaxed somewhat. Now she just had to figure out how she was going to deliver the truth to her friend, without coming off as an underhand deceptive toad...
Dark bags circled, like murky swamp water, beneath Quinn's drooped weary eyes.
Exhausted.
Unsightly.
Unattractive.
Her reflection in her closet mirror had taken to tossing all sorts of unflattering descriptives at her, all whilst scolding her for her untoward behaviour in Morgan's Grill earlier.
Since sobering up, and regaining her critical judgment skills, Quinn had undergone a slight change of heart. She'd gleaned that storming into Mike's party, snatching Noelle by the scruff of her neck, and hollering at her, wasn't going to achieve a thing.
Rachel would probably never speak to her again, which would inevitably lead to the succinct liquidation of the plan... as well as the succinct liquidation of whatever the hell it was that one would call their relationship.
Then there would be Finn; waiting with open arms and a smug grin – knowing that he could just drop her and pick her back up as he pleased – messing with her popularity status in the process.
No. Storming into Mike's party and telling Noelle to back off would only turn the heat up.
The old Quinn Fabray, the one who could cast silence over the McKinley hallways with her mere shadow, never had to raise her voice or hand.
The old Quinn Fabray knew how to use a smirk, and a wink, and an attractive girlish giggle to cast irreparable self-doubt within others.
It was clear to her that it was time to return to her roots…
Attired in one of her many sensuous dresses, she stood before her lengthways closet mirror; dusting life back into her cheeks with a blusher brush, and restoring the dazzle to her eyes with a few subtle coats of mascara.
No one would suspect that she was exhausted and dying at the hands of the flu.
That was the beauty of make-up.
One could be whoever one wanted to be.
And Tonight?
Well, tonight Quinn was going to be Rachel Berry's assertive, sexy, well-put-together girlfriend. Noelle was going to discover that she couldn't even match up to – let alone top – Quinn Fabray, neither in the looks nor personality department. The average-looking violinist would, no doubt, wilt under the weight of her own insecurity, and by the end of the night she would know that she had no chance whatsoever with Rachel.
Quinn's rosy model cheeks rode up with her signature smirk as she slowly traced jungle red lipstick around her full kissable lips, later smacking and sliding them together for even coloring.
Once done painting concealer into the shadows that webbed the flesh beneath her eyes, the blonde stood back and combed her gaze over her punishing reflection.
The closet mirror now had a rather different story to tell, falling over itself to toss sheer flattery and applause her way.
A few puffs of Sarah Jessica Parker perfume, and an elegant updo later, Quinn found herself taking her phone to her ear after having dialed Rachel's number.
She tapped her foot to the floor with each ring that went unanswered until...
"What do you want?" came the brunette's rather sudden yet stern voice. "If you're phoning so that we can arrange for you to return this dress to the store," she hissed, thinking disdainful thoughts of the black garment that hung on her closet door knob, "then by all means, come and collect it! I couldn't care less when – just come and get it out of my home!"
Quinn, who had just been about to slip her porcelain feet into a pair of red heels, halted.
"Are you listening to me, Quinn?"
"Unfortunately," the blonde grumbled out, kicking the heels to the side; suddenly not feeling so sexy. She twirled around with intentions to retrieve a pair of earrings from the bedside cabinet, but as soon as she glimpsed herself in the closet mirror, she stilled and scowled at her beautiful reflection.
Her beauty - none of it mattered, in that moment, because Rachel was being grouchy with her.
Though it wasn't like she hadn't known that this may have been coming.
Still…
"Where are you?" she impatiently asked.
"I'm Dorothy Gale, and I'm in Kansas. Where do you think I am?"
"I think that you may want to come to Mike's party with me, to make sure that the bunny boiler makes it home in one piece tonight. That's what I think!" Quinn snapped, letting her frustration get the better of her.
She immediately took a deep breath in through her mouth, and blew it out through said orifice, preparing herself to start the conversation over in a much calmer vein.
But by the time that she had somewhat cooled her jets, Rachel had already begun to speak, and it didn't seem like she would ever stop.
"I know how your mind works, Quinn Fabray. If you think that I am going to go to that party so that you can stake your irrational claim on me in front of Noelle, then you are sorely mistaken! Furthermore, if you think that you're going to go to said party to threaten and harass one of my only friends, in my absence, then you would be sorely mistaken on that count too! Your twisted power trip has come to an anticlimactic end, because I'm going to tell Noelle the truth – that you are nothing more than an adversary, who proposed a deal that I simply could not refuse!"
Quinn felt, as well as heard, the brunette's chest rapidly heaving up and down.
Rachel was really mad.
At her.
And that fact bothered her more profoundly than she could comprehend in that moment.
Her nostrils flared repeatedly, syncing with the harsh words that bubbled up on her tongue, only to dissolve seconds later; rinse and repeat.
She was done with the calm breaths. She could get just as loud, and just as leary as the other girl!
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" she seethed, clutching her phone so tightly that it was bound to crumble at some point. "If you tell her the truth – which you aren't going to – then she's going to think that she actually has a shot with you, which is – it's bullshit!" she shrieked, only getting louder as she spat, "you told me you weren't interested in her! W-What, do you want her pawing all over you?"
Crackling with unspoken truths and suspicion, a noiseless void began to swirl between the two girls, like a whistling elephant had just waltzed in, unzipped his pants, and taken a pee in the corner of the room; impossible to overlook.
A frown slowly manipulated Rachel's brow, wrinkling it with doubtful realization. She abandoned her large bedroom window, no longer concerned with keeping a look-out for Noelle's car.
Her petite bare feet wondered the carpet until her bed was bouncing gently with her weight, and only then did the stunned aspiring Broadway star part her lips to speak. "You're not aware of the fact that Noelle is one of the most trustworthy souls in this world, and therefore it would make sense for you to feel like she would blow our cover if she were to learn the truth. Based on those points, I could understand your desire to have me keep my mouth shut," Rachel said, her voice soft and unsure. "However, that doesn't at all seem to be the case. Much more bizarrely, it actually seems like your only concern lies with whether or not I'm going to run off and be with Noelle, which…"
The brunette allowed her words to trail into nothing; she didn't dare speak her suspicions. They were far too outlandish.
Yes she'd mocked Quinn, in the past, about her possessive nature by way of alluding to the possibility that the cheerleader was harboring romantic feelings for her. But she'd mostly just been attempting to irk the blonde, and she had done so with great success, although now things didn't seem so black and white.
But just – no way! There was absolutely no way that Quinn Fabray was attracted to her... right?
The very notion that Quinn had all along felt threatened by Noelle, for such reason, was just...
Just...
It, strangely enough, made a lot of sense; Rachel had to admit to herself.
"Quinn, are you there?" she poked after quite some time, now rubbing slow circles into her sternum.
"Fine! You win! I won't go to the party. Just don't tell the bunny boiler the truth!"
Rachel frowned; that had not been the response that she'd been anticipating.
She shook her head, no, and with much conviction as she allowed her hand to fall away from her sternum. "No, you're not getting out of this that easily, Quinn. Why are you so bothered by the idea of me dating Noelle?"
Quinn's jungle red lips didn't twitch. She combed her clear hazel eyes over her own face in the shiny silver surface, noting the fine beads of glistening sweat that were beginning to gather about her blanched temples and forehead.
"Why do you think I have a problem with it, Einstein?" she eventually managed to hiss over the audible thrum of her own heartbeat.
From where Rachel had begun her slow and stilted descent downstairs, so that she could watch some cable TV whilst waiting for Noelle to arrive, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Wow, you're really going to make me say this. Out loud."
"Whatever you're thinking – say it! You don't have problems shooting that mouth off any other time!" Quinn pushed, deciding to hold onto whatever small shreds of dignity and power that she could on her inevitable spiral down.
"Alright," Rachel uttered, raking her fingers back through her soft brown hair as she strode across the lounge, and absently sat down on the sofa. "I'll say it..."
"Say it then!" the blonde challenged, seemingly psyching herself up, akin to how fighters slapped themselves in the face to get the adrenaline pumping before a fight.
She brought her free hand up to the mirror, pressing her palm flat to the surface as if in need of support.
Then she closed her eyes and waited.
She waited for the brunette's voice to pour back into her ear.
"I think you have a problem with the idea of Noelle and I dating because… because you are harboring romantic feelings towards me. As absurd as it may sound, I think that you're jealous of my bond with her, Quinn."
There it was, out in the open. No longer avoidable.
Rachel wasn't exactly sure what kind of reaction she'd been expecting, but Quinn laughing derisively in her ear hadn't come top of the list. "Please share the joke, Quinn. I feel as though I need laughter in my life after spending the morning in your presence!"
"You know, I just have to ask; have you been hanging out with my – with Judy? She give you some of the strong stuff?" Quinn sensuously purred, purely to make a mockery of the brunette's dangerous conclusion. "Because if you were drunk right now, it would make total sense. But I'll play along if you want me to, baby. Yes, I'm jealous. I've always despised you, but in the short time that we've spent together, as false girlfriends, I've grown irrationally attached to your annoying sense of humor, and to those stupid little faces that you pull – as well as those fucked up sweaters that you insist on putting everybody through. All of those things get me going like you wouldn't believe, Rach," she continued to purr into the shorter girl's ear, each one of her words dripping with calm theatrical snark – in spite of the reality of her disposition, which told the stark story of a panicked heartbeat and a quickly puddling forehead.
"Mock me all you want to, Quinn, but I now see the reality of this situation clearly. If you're not willing to be truthful with me, then I don't see what more I can do. Now, you may deal with your feelings for me in whichever way that you choose to, as I am not particularly fussed. Just as long as you don't pull anybody that I care about – including Noelle – down into your web of self-loathing!"
There was something about Rachel's tone; the nonchalance, the cold disregard – it caused something within the cheerleader to break loose. "Screw you, Rachel!" she spat, resentful.
Rachel rolled her eyes, but made a point to draw compassion into her tone as she said: "If you tell me the truth, I want you to know that I'm not going to make fun of you or your feelings. I once had a fleeting crush on Mrs Langley, so I know how unexpected these things can be."
Quinn scoffed bitterly. "I don't have any feelings for you, other than extreme -"
As abrupt as a finger to the eye, the line suddenly died...
Like a thrashing body of water, Quinn's chest rolled with each congested breath that puffed past her lips. She dragged the back of her hand across her damp forehead, and forcefully tugged her hair loose; shiny golden tresses falling tussled around her tense flustered shoulders.
She stood there, in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips; thoroughly riled.
But the truth of the matter, as she knew it, was that if she had been Rachel, she might have hung up too.
Still, knowing that didn't stop the infuriating ache that flared within her chest.
This felt final. This felt like Rachel had given up on her.
And more than anything, that bothered Quinn.
Without a thought for the rest of her immaculate appearance, she shoved her feet into a pair of tattered sneakers, shrugged on a cardigan, snatched her car keys, and left the Fabray residence.
Over at the Berry household, Rachel clicked her tongue, whispering hushed profanities down at her now dead cell phone.
What was with smartphones and their shoddy battery life?
Quinn was now perhaps going to think that she'd hung up on her, which – if Rachel were to be honest – she may not have been so far off from doing.
The rush of emotions that teemed within the cells of her body were perplexing; frustration, confusion, disbelief, denial, compassion, and even a hint of... curiosity?
If she'd read the situation correctly, which she was certain that she had, then Quinn Fabray – the girl that had been trying to make her life miserable for the last however long – had a crush.
On her!
Yes, Rachel was curious indeed.
What was it about her that Quinn found appealing? And how had the blonde even come to find her appealing in the first place?
Despite her parents and their myopic views, Quinn seemed most nonchalant about homosexuality; she was friends with Santana and Brittany, and when she had found out that Rachel, too, was a lesbian she hadn't seemed repulsed in the slightest.
Had that relaxed stance on homosexuality been the crack through which the cheerleader's sapphic inclinations had flourished?
Rachel had no idea, but she'd been given a new lens through which to gaze things from. So she began to scrutinize past events through it; Quinn's invasive questions regarding Noelle, Quinn's possessive behavior regarding Noelle, the gallant slushie incident, the generous gesture in Boop 101.
The fleeting droopy-eyed gaze that she had caught Quinn giving her as they'd browsed Boop 101's jewellry selection…
They'd always said that fact was stranger than fiction. But this?
Surely this was the plot of a sci-fi movie that had come to life!
Rachel sat there in the dimly lit lounge, wondering how she'd gotten herself into such an unfathomable situation – caught in-between two girls that she wasn't particularly interested in.
Truthfully, she could not imagine herself making love to either Noelle or Quinn.
Noelle was her friend, a person that she valued and respected greatly. Someone who she could laugh and be goofy with, without fear of reproach. But that was as far as her feelings for the talented violinist extended. Besides, Noelle was one of her only friends – what if something were to go wrong and their friendship then soured as a result?
Not a chance.
Then there was Quinn, who the brunette couldn't imagine herself making love to, or snuggling up to, or pecking on the cheek, or even having deep and meaningful conversations with, because Quinn was, well… she was Quinn Fabray...
Close to fifteen minutes later, the sudden low hum of a slowing vehicle made itself known to Rachel's ears from just beyond the front window.
She quickly rose up from the sofa and smoothed down her appearance, more than aware of the fact that she was over-compensating due to the pesky nerves that she felt within; because she knew that she looked fine.
But what if this talk with Noelle went badly, for whatever reason?
As she unlocked and gently pulled open the front door, Rachel breathed in a renewing breath and then exhaled…
The calming preparation didn't matter in the end though, because what she saw just beyond the garden caused her eyebrows to dip in towards one another, and her eyes to narrow.
The car that rested on the curb did not belong to Noelle, and the girl that was pounding the pavement towards her certainly wasn't Noelle.
"This is what happens when people hang up on me. I show up at their house," Quinn barbed as she pushed in past the clearly put out brunette.
Rachel pushed the door in and rounded on the unwelcome blonde. "What do you think you're doing here – just showing up at my home? And I did not hang up on you! My battery died!" she raised her voice, as she slung a hand out towards the lifeless cell phone that rested on the sofa. "Now what are you doing here?" she reiterated with force.
Quinn glanced around the quirky yet warm room; her previously puffed up chest slowly deflating.
Sighing lengthily, she raked all ten fingers back through her hair – suddenly stopping halfway, before letting her hands flop to her sides. "Where are your parents?" she rushed out, glancing around once more, this time with a flicker of panic in her eye.
Rachel watched the other girl, studied each one of her perfect features. She hadn't a clue what she had been expecting now that she knew how Quinn felt about her. But she couldn't say that anything seemed different. Quinn still looked like a Milan model, still spoke the same way. Still had that quick temper.
The only thing that ceased to be was their usual banter, which had been replaced by high intensity frustration.
It was all very surreal to say the least.
Upon figuring out how to get her tongue working again, the brunette huffed and folded her arms. "My parents are not here, and I have a guest arriving soon. So if you could just leave..." She bobbed her head towards the door, letting the action speak her wish.
"A guest?" Quinn echoed, making no moves to leave. "Who?"
Rachel began to tentatively rub her hand up and down her own shoulder. She didn't want to spear the blonde's feelings in any way, but she wasn't going to lie either.
Lying was the very device that had allowed Quinn such leverage over her in the first place.
"I've invited Noelle over. I'm going to tell her the truth, Quinn," she answered shortly after, standing firm in her decision. "Regardless of the driving factor behind your behavior, you are out of control, and if I tell her that you and I are not really together, then you won't able play the possessive girlfriend that has come to warn her away. Neither will you be able to use our fabricated romance to rub the fact that she can't have me, because you already do, in her face. I will not allow you to manipulate or harm my friendships – especially when they are scarce as it is!"
"I-I wasn't actually going to – I was fucking tipsy when I said all that stuff earlier, Rachel!" Quinn yelled, blurring right past the brunette towards the front door. She pressed her back to it and folded her arms, as well as crossing her feet.
An incredulous frown passed through Rachel's features as she spun around to watch the blonde's antics, because surely this wasn't actually happening. "What in Barbra's name do you think you're doing? Remove yourself from that door this instant!" she huffed, resisting the urge to stomp both of her feet, one after the other.
"You're not going to tell Noelle," Quinn stated, rather eerie with her calmness, "anything!"
Rachel eyes shrunk to form a blood-curdling glare. A glare that she shot straight through the defiant blonde. "I'm really trying here, Quinn. Trying to be compassionate. But you are impossible! Why don't you just admit that you're jealous, and afraid of me telling Noelle the truth because you think that she's going to whisk me off into the sunset? Which, again, isn't going to happen!"
Silence ensued; pregnant with countless possibilities, each one more impossible than its previous.
It was in that moment that Quinn concluded that she, herself, was a fucking idiot. Aside from the matter of talking Rachel out of telling Noelle the truth – which wasn't going well at all – she didn't even really know why she was stood in the brunette's quirky yet homely lounge.
She'd merely felt that tug, and she had blindly followed.
Blindly.
And now she was here, squaring off against the seething brunette without a shred of armor or ammunition.
Without a mask.
She was jealous.
She was afraid…
"Quinn, I would like for you to leave -"
Rachel's words abruptly hummed mute into Quinn's gentle, grasping, tentative lips, the space between their bodies closing; warm chest to warm chest.
They stumbled back towards the sofa at first, enduring clumsy nose bumps and unfamiliar height issues, until the blonde snuck a steadying hand around the back of Rachel's neck, and pulled her in to sate her thirst for more pressure.
Rachel didn't move her lips at all, no matter how Quinn's mouth sensuously nipped and pulled, and coaxed them. She was, to put it bluntly, frozen.
Next thing she knew, her back had collided with the sofa cushions – Quinn on top of her. The soft turbulence of the fall should have perhaps thawed her enough to where she could place a hand to Quinn's chest and proclaim that this wasn't what she wanted. But as the persistent cheerleader's lips began to trace languid yet greedy lines across her tan neck, she drained of all conviction and shuddered most quietly.
"Why are you – why aren't you telling me to go fuck myself?" Quinn suddenly murmured, somewhat breathless as she lifted her face out from where it had been buried in the crook of the brunette's cherry-scented neck, moments ago.
Rachel slowly opened her eyes and blinked owlishly up at the other girl.
She had never seen Quinn look so small and unsure of herself – never seen Quinn Fabray tremble, and she was trembling, just ever so slightly.
Making it a point to ignore the sensation of Quinn's warm breath meeting with her cheek, she took her owlish brown orbs down between their bodies for a moment, and then carried her gaze back up to the silent blonde's eyes, which had become shimmering golden oceans of insecurity. "Quinn, I don't – this is…"
Despite calling attention to the phrase, the last thing that Quinn wanted to hear was, 'go fuck yourself.'
So before more incomplete sentences could leave the brunette's fumbling mouth, she quickly swept in for another incredibly soft, languid, wet kiss.
This time Rachel arched up into the warm body that weighed down fervently into own.
This time Rachel kissed back, unaware of the car that had just rolled up outside...