Whoo! Chapter 13 already. You guys must think I have no life with how fast I seem to be getting these updates out lol.
Who Bryony is seemed to go over a lot of your heads, strangely enough. She has been mentioned a couple of times throughout the story already. I guess if you don't know who she is, you will by the time you get done reading this chapter lol.
To the guest reviewer who said that I was using a weak writing tactic with Finn's characterization, I won't justify my creation. It just is and speaks for itself. No justification needed. Please go and find a fic that makes you happy ;) If this one annoys you, then there are a thousand other Faberry fics out there that may be more for you. You inspired me to get this chapter out even faster, so thanks ;)
Jo, lol. I knew that you were onto me since a few chapters ago hahaha. And don't say that this fic is your fav right now. The pressure just may kill me lol ;) THANK YOU for your input.
Original-Badass, I don't understand why Hey Arnold isn't more widely appreciated. It was so profound for a kid cartoon, and it had some of the best moral messages woven into the storylines. Not to mention that beautiful melancholic yet groovy jazz music by Jim Lang. I have a few of the songs on my mp3? Just an amazing creation. I'm glad you're starting to warm to Santana. She isn't all bad ;)
Haelthy, below is what happens next ;)
Thanks for the comments everyone.
Rachel had yet to come out of the bathroom...
She'd been able to slip away, her presence lost in the frenzy of the two new houseguest's abrupt arrival. Like angry parents who suddenly smile when strangers visit, the houseguests had shaken their feelings of betrayal regarding Finn's five to three vote. They'd put on smiles and banded together to greet the two intruders, as a united front.
All except for Rachel, whose complexion had drained as white as a sheet when Bryony had walked down the stairs, sipping champagne like it was nothing. From there the stunned brunette had issued Kurt a tepid greeting, and then she'd kept quiet whilst watching her ex giggle with an oblivious Quinn. She'd watched, at least, until she couldn't take it anymore.
So now she was hiding in the bathroom, gathering herself. Well, she was supposed to be gathering herself. But all she could do was stare at the bare white wall, scenarios of dread dancing across it...
As Bryony shook hands, and exchanged names, along with a few witty quips, she watched the bathroom door, waiting for it to open.
It never did.
Finally, she was forced to fake a frown and ask, "where's Rachel?"
Artie halted mid-ramble, tossing a searching glance around the house. "I don't know." He then frowned, so suddenly. "Wait, how do you know her name? I didn't see her introduce herself to you."
Bryony waved the inquiry off. "I know all of your names. Guess who's been watching the show? And also -"
"She's my ex," came a profoundly unenthusiastic voice from behind.
Rachel's voice.
Bryony span around and smirked. "Hey Rach. Long time no see. You look well. Still as beautiful as ever."
Tina sighed and facepalmed, her suspicions of the woman that she'd met just thirty minutes ago confirmed. This was all the house needed. More drama.
"Oooh. Big Brother is so fucked up for this!" Santana cackled, glancing between Rachel, Bryony, and Quinn, who was putting on the most equipped mask of indifference.
Either that, or the blonde genuinely didn't give a fuck.
Now that the truth behind the hot new woman's identity had settled into the silence, Brittany pouted, mumbling, "Big Bro, you totally suck." She turned to her wife. "I can't believe they did this."
Well neither could Rachel.
Ignoring Bryony's presence altogether, she pushed past her, headed towards the diary room, and repeatedly bashed the button that was built into the wall. "Let me in!" she demanded, folding her arms. "Now!"
Soon after, the button illuminated with a green glow, allowing Rachel to yank open the door and stomp into the small room.
Puck only had one thing to say: "Dude, no offense. But did all the straight people on the outside world die or somethin'?"
"I have a homophobic step-father, and unfortunately he's still alive," Kurt chimed, before taking a merry sip of champagne.
"Hey surfer boy, this is all your God damned fault," Santana accused, still chuckling from the sheer evilness of the situation.
Sam had the grace to give Quinn an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't know -"
"No, don't be so silly," Quinn interrupted, calm and poised. She batted her hand through the ruffled floral pleats of her dress, and smiled. "Sure, it's... definitely a little awkward. But I'm sure Rachel will be fine after the initial shock wears off. We're all adults here. It's not a big deal." She shrugged. "Right Bryony?"
"I'm glad that you see things that way," Bryony chirped, her overly sunny grin flatlining almost as soon as it had materialized, along with her cheery tone. "When are they gonna give us our suitcases?" she asked Kurt. "I want a cigar."
"Hmm. A fellow cigar smoker. You sound like my kind of bitch," Santana remarked, later receiving a scolding nudge from Brittany.
Bryony smirked at the handsome latina, because - married or not - she was extremely beautiful.
"I have no fucking idea when we'll get our suitcases!" Kurt merrily chimed, a little unsteady on his feet at this point.
Will placed a steadying hand to the effeminate man's back.
"Are you coming onto me?" Kurt chuckled out, slinging his hand to his hip.
Will rocked his neck back and laughed his gentle grandfather laugh. "I'm married, thank you," he said. "I just wanted to suggest that you take it easy with the alcohol. The HOH comp is coming up in just a moment, and you don't wanna be three sheets to the wind."
With the release of those words, minds began to tick over...
The Head Of Household competition would be taking place shortly, and it was very possible that one of the new houseguests could win it.
Jacob could only hope that this Bryony was still carrying a torch for Rachel, because that would mean that if Bryony somehow managed to win HOH, then Quinn would most likely be this week's target, and not him.
Though the hazel-eyed blonde sat calm and elegant, the slow drum of her fingertips against her knee cap hinted otherwise...
In the diary room, Rachel was going berserk!
"I would like to know what she's doing here now, Big Brother!"
"Big Brother would like to know who you are referring to."
"Are you kidding me?" the brunette shrieked, incensed just that little bit more by the sheer nonchalance of Big Brother. "I did not sign up for this! I would like for her to leave immediately!"
"Rachel, why are you so upset?"
It was at that point that the brunette realized the futility in talking to Big Brother. All they cared about was their fucking ratings, and stirring up as much drama as humanly possible.
But this wasn't a TV show to Rachel. This was her life!
For a split second, she considered packing up her things and leaving. But all of a nanosecond it lasted, swiftly washed away by thoughts of her parents. By thoughts of Quinn, who she'd only known for five days, and wanted to go on knowing.
She lifted her chin up, strong, like her parents had always taught her to. "Do you know what? I'm not going to give you what you want, Big Brother. I'm going to go out there and talk to her, then I'm going to win the Head Of Household competition, and in two days she's going up on the block, where thereafter she'll be evicted. It'll be like she was never here."
Fuck the three mystery voters. Rachel now had bigger fish to fry.
Most of the houseguests had migrated to the bedrooms to hash out what the new sleeping arrangements would be, now that there were two more people to cater for.
"You could share with me," Puck offered, grinning at the hot raven-haired woman as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"I could," Bryony emphasized, winking at the man. "But I don't wanna wake up in the middle of the night to find that there's a snake wrapped around my thigh, if you know what I'm saying."
She chuckled and allowed herself to be led into the other bedroom by Emma, Will, Kurt, Tina, and Sam.
For a moment Puck stood there, flabbergasted. He couldn't believe that Bryony was gay. That olive skin, that silken shoulder-length raven hair. If he were to chance a guess, he'd say that she was about five foot nine of pure Italian Goddess. Deep dusky green eyes, dark accentuated eyelashes, a perfect narrow nose, a lean figure, and those red heels were just sexiness personified.
Now she was someone that he wouldn't mind watching in the gym. It was official. Rachel was a certified babe magnet.
"So did y-you audition f-for the show, like everyone else, Bryony?" Tina asked, sitting down on her own bed.
Will scratched the back of his neck, Sam looked to the floor, Kurt hid behind his empty glass, and Emma pretended to inspect the shelves.
Anything to escape the awkwardness.
Bryony narrowed her eyes. "CBS contacted me," she cautiously replied, before shrugging. "I guess they wanted to stir things up, and whether Rachel was here or not, I wasn't going to turn down the chance to win half a million dollars. So here I am."
Tina nodded, and looked to Kurt. "How a-about you?"
"I auditioned. They rejected me," Kurt ho-hummed, as if going through the motions. "But they also told me that I'd been listed as a back-up houseguest, and that I should stay in the country. So, here I am!" he flamboyantly sang.
After ten minutes of sitting in the diary room ignoring Big Brother's inane questions, Rachel emerged.
Quinn, who was loading dishes into the dishwasher, noted the air of forced determination in the brunette's eyes immediately. "Are you okay?" she called.
"I will be," Rachel said, looking around. "Where is she?" she asked.
Quinn slotted one more plate into the dishwasher's bottom tray, and then rested her lower back against the sink. "They whisked her off into the bedrooms. Now that Finn's bed's free, something tells me we're going to be rooming with your ex," she said, wriggling her eyebrows in playful scandal.
Rachel sighed, but managed a tiny smile nevertheless. "Thanks for not being weird about this," she said, fiddling with her fingers.
"Of course. I'm twenty-eight. Even if I do find toilet humor to be extremely amusing, I'm mature enough to know how to handle serious situations. Well," Quinn whispered, "barely anyway." She winked and resumed her task of filling the dishwasher.
"Suitcases are now available for collection in the storage room!" Big Brother suddenly announced.
There was a happy squeal, in that moment, followed by both Bryony and Kurt's eager emergence from the bedroom.
Rachel sighed again. Hearing Big Brother address the arrival of Bryony's suitcase just made the predicament seem all the more real - like it was really happening. "The mystery vote situation now seems like a picnic in the park compared to this," she told Quinn.
"Everything will be okay, Rachel. What's the worst that can happen?" Besides Bryony coming after us, she thought.
"You deciding that I'm not worth all the bother," Rachel replied, without missing a beat.
Quinn looked at the shorter woman for a moment that seemed to linger. Then she shut the dishwasher's door, punched the necessary buttons, and said, "I never imagined that I'd ever be a part of a showmance. I've always thought that they were a little tacky, and a risky game move. I never thought I'd ever flirt with a woman, have her flirt back, and enjoy it. But I like you, Rachel. Your ex entering the house isn't gonna change that. Stop worrying."
With the release of a long breath, Rachel relaxed and held her arms out. "Hug?"
The hazel-eyed blonde chuckled softly as she tugged the brunette into her arms, and held her. "You worry a lot, don't you?"
"Only about the things that matter to me," Rachel answered, squeezing just that little bit tighter.
"Hmm," Quinn hummed flirtatiously. "Well if push comes to shove, I'll just unleash my super deadly flashlight power, and shine it in her face whilst she sleeps."
There was no question of who she was.
Both women knew, and it made Rachel laugh into the blonde's shoulder. "You, Quinn, are such a goof. Thank you for taking the time to reassure me, as well as make me smile."
"Any time."
Just then, the distinct sound of two suitcases on wheels rolling across the floor rang out.
Rachel gently pulled out of the luxurious hug. "I guess I better go talk to her. Smooth things over so that the atmosphere is livable."
Quinn nodded and husked, "go do what it do, homie."
The brunette chuckled from the depths of her lungs, playfully pushing the goofy woman away. "What an idiot," she fondly rasped.
"Now I know you're not talking about me."
"Sorry to break up the party. But Rach, are you ready to talk?" Bryony suddenly called.
Rachel sucked in a breath, put on a tight smile, and nodded. "... Okay."
"Great. Let's take it outside, 'cause I'm going for a smoke."
Once the two ex-lovers were seated on the l-shaped sofa, out on the patio deck, Bryony sparked the end of her cigar alight.
Rachel watched the woman take the kind of drag that only ever came with practice, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. The scent of lit cigars would always remind her of Bryony. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"You're free to sit a bit closer. I promise not to bite."
Rachel narrowed her eyes, her patience already wearing thin. "I asked you a question."
Like a mafia princess, Bryony kicked back and blew free beautifully shaped clouds of billowing smoke. "You always were a worrier," she said. "But you should put that divaesque ego away. The only thing that I'm here for is the money."
Rachel scoffed, staring out at the night's sky. "We made the mistake of being together for six years - so I know when you're talking utter bullshit."
Bryony chuckled. "How are your fathers?" she asked.
"They're fine."
"How are you?"
"I'm just splendid, Bryony," Rachel chimed sarcastically. "How's your mother?"
"You can be as scathing as you want, but my mother never did anything to you. I know you still see her as a loved one."
Rachel rolled her eyes in reluctant resignation, because Bryony was right. Bella Astello. She was this lively loud-mouthed Italian woman, with no filter, and a penchant for seducing folks with her ostentatious yet homely cooking.
Rachel had always gotten along with her. She'd even come to see her as a mother figure - someone that she could talk to about her problems. But when things with Bryony had broken down, she'd begun to see less of Bella.
"Quinn's even prettier in person than she is on TV," Bryony suddenly remarked, taking the slow-burning cigar to her lips for another smooth hearty inhalation.
The shorter woman felt her muscles tense. But she said nothing, unwilling to discuss Quinn with someone who was of zero concern to her relationship with the blonde.
"She's just using you though, Rachel. You do know that, right?"
That was it. Rachel had heard enough. "If you think I'm going to sit here, and allow you to work your poison, you're clearly certifiable!"
In a whirlwind of dramatics, she got up to leave - when Bryony grabbed her wrist.
"She'll let you fuck her maybe once or twice when you get out of here. Then she'll eventually get bored of her little trip to lesbo land, and go back to getting down on all fours to suck cock. Then," the olive-skinned woman casually drawled, "you'll break up."
"Go fuck yourself!" Rachel hissed, forcefully ripping her wrist loose of Bryony's clasp. She then yanked open the sliding door, and stormed inside of the house.
"Will all houseguests leave the garden and return to the house!"
Bryony smirked and doused her cigar in the previously unused ashtray. She knew that Big Brother were ushering her inside of the house so that they could setup the apparatus for the HOH competition.
She also knew that if she had anything to do with it, Quinn and Rachel would barely even be on speaking terms by the time that they left the house.
;)