Wow. 200 plus followers? Thank you.
And this is the best Faberry story ever? I don't know about that, but I take compliments any way that I can get them lol ;) My apologies for any errors.
Outside of the Berry household, Noelle had just powered her car down. She glimpsed her appearance in the rear-view mirror, checking her teeth, and make-up, and eyebrows. Though she wasn't quite sure why, since Rachel was apparently taken now. The appearance check had just sort of become this customary procedure that she always took herself through whenever she knew that she was about to see the adorable brunette.
Maybe her continuation of scrutinizing her appearance before seeing Rachel – despite now knowing that she was with Quinn – was a sign of some sort, Noelle gleaned; frowning in the dark of her car.
Just based off of observation alone, she believed that she knew Rachel quite well. Most often when those around her would speak, there were certain words that would stop her in her tracks and call a smile about her features, because they were a reminder of the aspiring Broadway star's vibrant personality.
Undoubtedly, one of those words was passion.
Rachel laughed hard, performed even harder, complained with vigor, and strung complex sentences together to the very best of her ability, even when simpler words could – and perhaps should – have been spoken.
Yet she hadn't said a single thing about Quinn.
Not once, which was about as peculiar as what was taking place on the sofa in the Berry lounge…
Rachel's body hummed as she grabbed Quinn's cheeks, and leaned up further into the blonde's warm mouth; their bewitched lazy tongues swirling and sliding together as one.
Possessed by the energy that seemed to snap, crackle, and pop between their bodies, Quinn's jittery hand skated along Rachel's outer thighs, squeezing the smooth supple flesh that rested beneath the brunette's sinfully short skirt.
More.
More.
More... until her shaky pale fingers began to trespass the elasticated waistline of Rachel's skirt...
The new sensation jarred the aspiring Broadway star entirely, to the point where her eyes leaped open wide, and a quiet whine left her, followed by, "Qui-hmm, we -"
Her attempt at words were fervently swallowed; dying off within the warm reverberant recesses of Quinn's throat.
Dangerous thoughts tempted Rachel, urging her to let the fervency go on as it was. Telling her to slide her hands down Quinn's back for a cheeky squeeze of the cheerleader's famously firm butt, but the quivering hand that began to slip too far beneath her skirt's waistline sobered her just as a slushie to the face would.
She politely pecked the insistent lips that had worked her up so, just once more, before placing a relatively firm hand to the blonde's chest, and pulling away, breathless.
Whilst it had always lived, the silence suddenly rushed in around Quinn's senses, like that of an axe murder who liked to chase out victims in the woods.
The kissing had ceased, and as a direct result of confirming that with herself, fear spiked – hot and acidic – within her gut.
What if Rachel told her to go fuck herself, or worse?
Although it had taken quite a bit of her best lip service to make it happen, Rachel had eventually begun to kiss back, so that had to be a good sign.
Right?
The trembling cheerleader wasn't at all sold, so she tucked her forehead into the warm thudding chest beneath her and shuffled down the brunette's petite body, until her face was...
Rachel quietly squeaked, grimacing down at the sight of the fumbling blonde, who was most definitely trying to find a comfortable position between her thighs. "W-What – hey, what are you doing?"
Quinn stilled, adopted a grimace of her own, and hid her face, which had filled bright pink, against Rachel's navel.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
She sighed and briefly rose up on her knees so that she could sit down on the other side of the couch, far away from the brunette, whose gaze she avoided at all costs. Instead, Quinn sought to cast her panic-stricken eyes over the large flat-screen television, and over pictures of a younger grinning Rachel – everywhere but at the object of her impulsive advances.
Had she really just tried to go down on –
The sad truth was that if she hadn't been discouraged, she just may have gone through with it, purely because Rachel was always so strong and sturdy, and that... well that would have turned her into a whimpering body of breathlessness.
To have Rachel bucking beneath her and puffing out choked gasps at her mercy…
The steamy forbidden imagery reached down into Quinn's inner thighs and clenched them; her pale throat revolving around a gulp that left her mouth gasping for moisture.
This was probably how Finn felt on a day-to-day basis – like a clumsy, fumbling, perpetual fuck-up, she concluded.
Her jaw tensed, pulsing beneath her alabaster flesh in intervals. "I…" She sighed, frowning rather painfully, as though even she couldn't understand her own behavior. "I don't know what I was thinking," she muttered, still not daring to meet the other girl's gaze. "I wasn't thinking -"
"No, it's alright. Anomalies are to be expected, because this – well, this is..." Rachel frowned, blinking over and over again as if to better get her mind to accept what had just happened. "This is a peculiar situation," she eventually murmured to herself, letting the back of her head fall flat against the sofa cushion, from where she peered up at the boring ceiling in what was her very own version of Finn's famous mailman arousal-kill technique.
Yeah... it wasn't working. At all.
Thinking that sensory deprivation was perhaps the most effective way to go, she closed her eyes and just allowed herself to focus on her breathing.
In and out.
In and -
"It's not like you can be mad at me anyway, b-because you kissed me back. If the red handprint on my butt is any indication, y-you wanted me too," came Quinn's somewhat fragile yet mostly accusatory voice.
Rachel ruffled her hair, sighed her shoulders saggy, and sat up, all whilst attempting to figure out how she was going to make her intentions clear without hurting the blonde's feelings, too much.
Flattery was perhaps the best way to go, she soon gleaned.
"Even though I dislike your defensive tone, which isn't necessary at all, by the way," she began with a composing swallow, and a slow processing nod of the head, "I'll admit that I may have overstepped certain boundaries. I'm not sure whether you know it, Quinn, but you look quite scrumptious tonight, despite those sneakers. Plus you smell fantastic, and you're a rather good kisser. I'm only human. But I want to apologize for perhaps giving you the wrong impression, because..." She paused, softening her tone and her gaze as she gently explained, "I don't think that I'm going to be able to give you whatever it is that you're looking for."
Feeling her heart seep down into her stomach, Quinn narrowed an intense glare at the floor.
She hadn't even been aware of just how much she'd been dreading the sound of those words. The sound of being shut down, so complete and utter.
If Santana were to know about this – about Rachel Berry rebuffing her, well, the Latina was bound to laugh until her lungs collapsed; the bitch!
On top of that, Rachel's soft tone had served to do nothing but patronize; rejection was rejection, no matter how many feathers one fluffed it with.
Quinn felt like she might have preferred, 'go fuck yourself,' over this insulting air of pity.
As it stood, everything was fucked! How was she supposed to continue to be around the brunette now, with everything that had happened?
Awkward was too tame a description...
With the weight of her words still echoing in the silence, Rachel took to studying Quinn's flustered side profile; noting everything from the small ripples that seemed to be rolling through the blonde's body, to the unhealthy crimson hue that populated her otherwise pale cheeks.
"Quinn, I do not wish to upset you, but allow me to highlight that we do nothing but squabble with each other," she continued, feeling toxic waves of energy waft off of the blonde; hoping to quell them with simple logic. "I like my own way, and so do you. One of us would be dead within a month of the relationship – most likely you – and I can't imagine that I'm cut out for jail food. Also, I wouldn't be without my Penny Loafers, or my fucked up sweater vests, as you put it earlier."
Rachel attempted a light-hearted chuckle, but it fell weak and lifeless under the gravity of Quinn's taught and unamused facial expression. She let her residual smile disintegrate. If the atmosphere was anything to go by, this was going to end badly.
Quinn's hands ceased their tremble, balling in her lap. "Save the lame humor for those kid parties that you're going to have to work whilst waiting for Broadway to deem you worthy! I don't want to be with you! I could have anybody that I want. Why would I want you?" she spat, still unable to spare the shorter girl a glance.
Rachel bristled at the jab at her career chances. She pursed her lips; chest puffed. "That response only illustrates my point, Quinn. I don't even want to think about the fights that we would get into if we were to take things to a romantic level. The police would know us on a first name basis within a year, and -"
Frowning to the point that her nose pleated, Quinn shook her head, and with such vigor that the action silenced the brunette rather abruptly. "Are you implying that I'm physically abusive?"
Rachel clicked her tongue once reading just how offended Quinn was. "I didn't say that. What I meant was that you have a temper, Quinn, and I'm a handful even for those that don't. Onlookers would perhaps call the police due to our volume -"
"I want my dress back!" the disgruntled cheerleader barked over her, snapping her fingers loud and hard as if to hurry the brunette along.
"That's absolutely fine." Rachel replied, smoothing down her skirt as she stood up. She tugged her cell phone out from where it had wedged itself down between the sofa cushions, and began to head for the stairs – when the doorbell gonged.
The loud merry jingle traveled throughout the house, halting her feet.
How could she have forgotten that Noelle was coming?
Her eyes cut through the air towards Quinn, who was regarding her for the first time since their small romp on the sofa.
"You're not answering that!" the blonde growled, standing up as though she was getting ready to do something. She put a foot forward, readying herself for whatever – but stilled when she recalled the fact that Rachel thought that she was some psycho spouse beater. "What are you going to say to her?" she instead demanded, deciding to slowly round on the brunette.
Ignoring Quinn's proximity, Rachel redirected her feet towards the front door.
Quinn tugged her fingers back through her own hair, her shoulders visibly hiking up and down with each breath. She sent a panicked glance around the neat room as if to look for clues as to what she should do.
But to no avail...
To no avail, at least, until she glimpsed the somewhat dull lip-shaped crimson hues that were smudged blotchily about Rachel's lower cheek, jowl, and neck.
The mere sight of such marks quieted Quinn's heartbeat. They called the steamy events that had transpired just moments ago to the forefront of her senses, evoking small tingles in her toes and fingertips. They called a calculated smirk to her face, and a conniving gleam to the golden flecks that populated her eyes…
Rachel opened the front door to find Noelle crouching on the lawn, fingering through the many fine blades of moon-lit grass.
"Hey Rach," Noelle chirped with a sheepish wave and an embarrassed wince-like squint. "Do you have a torch light? Muggings here has managed to drop her keys in your unruly lawn grass," she chuckled, though she wore a concerned focused frown as she continued to search for her lost keys. "I've been looking for like ten minutes now. Gonna have to get on Leroy and Hiram about this garden. Noelle is not impressed."
"What am I going to do with you?" Rachel clicked her tongue, reaching up to turn on the wall light. "The only thing that you seem to be able to do well is play the violin," she teased dryly.
"Thanks for those soul-enriching words, Rach. I'm sure I'll go on to accomplish great things – oh, there they are. Found them!" Noelle exclaimed, jingling the keys around in merry celebration, before rising to her feet and gently slapping her quadriceps muscles to get the circulation going again.
Stood a few feet behind Rachel, Quinn rolled her eyes and mockingly mouthed the pretty Asian girl's words, before deciding to return to the sofa, where she sat sullen; stewing over how effortless Rachel's relationship with Noelle seemed to be.
The girl had met Rachel's parents – knew them by name!
So freaking what though? Noelle's lipstick wasn't marring the brunette's skin. Rachel hadn't arched beneath her, or squeezed a handful of her butt.
The bottom line was that Rachel could tell the bunny boiler that they were not a real couple if she wanted to, but the blotchy jungle red smudges about her lips, neck, and jaw said otherwise.
Noelle made her way up the stone steps towards Rachel, frowning more and more with every stride. "Did you get into a fight with a tube of red lipstick? Because I can give you tips on how to wrangle that sucker into submission, so that it will do what you tell it to do."
Confusion took to shimmering in Rachel's eyes, billowing like smoke that fogged from the end of a lit sage stick.
But then the smoke cleared, realization colliding with her at full force.
And in more ways than one...
Even if she wanted to tell Noelle the truth – which she still wasn't decided on – things were complicated now, because apparently her face was covered in Quinn's freaking lipstick! To admit that she wasn't actually dating the cheerleader – would Noelle even believe that after this?
Rachel vigorously rubbed her cheek in an attempt to get rid of the red smears, all whilst glaring off at something unknown – lost in her suspicious thoughts.
If there was one thing that she knew, it was that Quinn Fabray was a manipulative so and so. She moved people about life's chess board for personal gain, and without a second thought for the casualties.
Without hesitation.
Well she had just crossed the line!
Though they were concealed by her long brown hair, the bristling brunette's temples began to twitch, along with her jaw.
"What's wrong, sweets?" Noelle immediately asked, sensing the change in energy. She took her dark eyes over her friend's face again; this time noticing that the blotches were not actual blotches, but lip-shaped. "Oh," she uttered, her merriment draining as she glanced past the shorter girl and saw Quinn sitting on the sofa, peering back nosily. "What's going on?"
Attempting to compose herself, Rachel put on a struggling smile – though when she realized that she couldn't keep it up, it fell flat within seconds, and she didn't bother to conjure another in its place. "I'm sorry, Elle. But I have to talk to Quinn for a moment," she explained, tossing her thumb back over her shoulder. "Would you like to come in and have a seat?"
Noelle arched an eyebrow. "Err… sure," she slowly answered.
The moment that she entered the house, just inches ahead of Rachel, she sensed the chill in the air.
Gone was the homely feeling that had always rushed at her whenever she had visited the Berry household in the past, replaced by this… this ominous imminence.
Still, she combed her long shiny black mane to one side, and sent a polite smile Quinn's way. "Hi," she said as she sat in the lone armchair and lapped one leg over the other, her black heel swaying awkwardly with the tension that swelled between all present.
Quinn deadpanned. "Do I know you?"
Noelle's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Wow," she chuckled mirthlessly. "What a warm ray of sunshine."
She thumbed the small silver links that made up her thin navel-length necklace, and eyed the moody blonde through a bold studious gaze.
Yes, the cheerleader was stunning – achingly so – but apart from that was she really supposed to believe that this was who Rachel was dating?
Something wasn't adding up.
"Quinn, I want to see you in the kitchen now!" Rachel suddenly demanded, crossing the lounge with brisk and purposeful strides, until she had vanished into the kitchen.
"You need to address me like I'm your better half, and not your pet!" Quinn barked back, before puffing out a stuffy frustrated sigh. She then glared at Noelle, simply because the girl existed.
"If I have to call you again I'm done, Quinn!"
The blonde begrudgingly stood up, tugging her cardigan closed as she followed Rachel's steps to the kitchen.
A satisfied smirk may or may not have been carving out a home for itself in the corner of Noelle's mouth...
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Quinn quietly hissed as she entered the narrow chrome kitchen. "Don't talk to me like that in front of... in front of her!" she grunted, jabbing her thumb back at the door.
Looking the blonde directly in the face, Rachel folded her arms. "Why did you kiss me?" she asked, blunt.
Just like that, Quinn faltered. Such a question sent her eyes a flicker, and caused her body to drain of all intensity; she might as well have had string for limbs.
A hard desert-like swallow rolled around her scratchy throat, but no words left her lips.
She would never say it out loud.
Never.
"W-What the hell are you talking about?" she rushed out, as though walking past a graveyard at night.
"I am not an idiot, Quinn. You kissed me because you wanted Noelle to see your lipstick all over my face – so that even if I told her the truth, she'd have a good reason to question it!"
The emotionally drained cheerleader closed her eyes and sighed. She took two fingers to her right temple, prodding the spot in a slow circular motion as puffs of air rushed from her nose.
Rachel shrugged. If Quinn wasn't going to say anything, then she would. "I'm done. With everything," she said, dusting her palms against one another as if finished taking out the trash. "I can't have such a manipulative person in my life. Never has my life been this complicated, Quinn. Now I'm going to retrieve your dress from upstairs, and then I want you to leave."
"I'm not going anywhere until you listen to me!" Quinn grumbled, suppressing the prickling sensation in her stuffy nostrils.
"Well I can call the police and have you removed if that's what you'd prefer."
Quinn's eyes shot open, glistening a rich syrupy gold that should have radiated warmth for their boundless depth. But they didn't, instead shining like a blade's cold silver gleam. "Fuck you," she rasped, barely above a whisper. "Fuck you, Rachel, because I was ready to go down on you earlier; that's how scattered – h-how frayed my nerves were after I kissed you!"
"Not to be difficult, but your apparent nerviness could have been an act for all I know!" Rachel countered, unfazed. "You knew that Noelle was coming over at that point!" she further pointed out, raising a strong challenging eyebrow. "How would I know if your actions were genuine? – Well I wouldn't, would I? You could have just been trying to sell that kiss to me as genuine, when in reality all you wanted was to lower the possibility of Noelle accepting that you and I are not an item!"
"I guess you're just going to have to take my word for it, aren't you?" the blonde snarled, glaring at the shorter girl.
"Oh, well that lends me great comfort. Thank you," Rachel retorted unenthusiastically.
"I realized that my lipstick was all over you at the last minute!" Quinn grated out, like pulling teeth, "and I didn't say anything because I didn't know what you were going to tell the bunny boiler. Better safe than sorry. But I didn't kiss you for the reasons that you're trying to pin on me!" she whispered snappily, and to the point that the tendons in her neck had grown more and more defined with every passionate syllable; leaving her panting.
Rachel's arms, which were still folded, slowly fell loose. "This is such a mess," she murmured, wading through her cluttered mind in review of the day's unlikely events.
She wasn't sure what to think.
And to top it off, Noelle was sitting in the lounge waiting for her to initiate a conversation that most likely wasn't even on the cards anymore.
Bzzt!
At the sudden sensation of her phone continuously vibrating against her thigh, Quinn clicked her tongue, before snatching it out of her cardigan's deep hood-like pocket.
Without bothering to glance the caller ID, she threw the device at her ear and barked, "what?"
"Bitch, come correct. I'm not in the mood!" Santana snapped.
"Me neither. What do you want?" the blonde bit back, just as aggressively.
In that moment Rachel abruptly brushed past her, disappearing into the lounge...
"Quinn, you listening to me?" Santana pressed from the other end of the line.
The blonde was lost in the way that the kitchen door swung back and forth with the brunette's swift departure. She quickly shuffled towards it, watching through the closing gap as Noelle chuckled and then stood up to placate a profusely apologetic Rachel with a hug.
"No, say it again," the blonde murmured into her phone, scowling at the way that Rachel embraced the tall violinist for an extra few seconds, before seeing her to the front door.
"You heard from Finn?" Santana asked, her voice smooth and curious yet guarded.
Quinn instantly grew alert. "What?" She frowned, leaning away from the spy-gap. "Why?"
...
"Answer me!"
A long sigh poured into the Head Cheerleader's ear, followed by a beat of silence and then: "Me and Puck drove Finn out a couple miles east. Left the Jolly Pale Giant in an area he doesn't know; payback for what that ass-wipe did to you at school the other day. He had his cell phone and a couple of dollars. He's a fucktard, but he should've been able to find his way back by now. 'Cept, his freaking mom is calling everyone, asking if anybody's seen him. Old girl's getting ready to call the cops and Puck's over here freaking the fuck out, 'cause we used his car and he's afraid that surveillance cameras might have picked us up."
Quinn palmed her forehead and closed her eyes, just breathing.
Seriously, what the fuck was in the air today? She hoped, at least, that God was getting a few laughs out of her life.
"What are – have you guys tried calling his cell phone?" she suddenly suggested, tearing her mind apart in the hopes that she would, by chance, stumble upon a solution to this potentially combustive situation.
"No shit, Sherlock; he aint answering it!" Santana quickly shot her down, her voice nowhere near as suave as it had been moments ago. "The cops are in this now, so we gotta come up with a story if this shit turns sour."
"We?" Quinn seethed, her eyes expanding with disbelief. "I didn't tell you guys to do this!" she whispered brusquely.
"We did this for you, bitch! You're in this whether you wanna be or not!"
"No! You did it because you're blood-thirsty! What the fuck do you want me to do? My hands are tied, and I have my own crisis going on right now!" she stressed. "You better hope that Finn's still breathing, because if he isn't you and Puck are done!"
"So that's how it is? Fuck you -"
Quinn indignantly thumbed the hang-up button and slung her cell phone back into the confines of her pocket. She slumped back against the counter, somehow placated by how sturdy it felt against her lower back.
If Finn was truly missing, well, she didn't even want to think about what that meant, or about what it would mean if he were to remain missing…