Title: I can make you feel real good (4/?)
Rating: PG (this one) / NC-17 (whole fic)
Length: 2000+
Spoilers: Duets? Let's just say NBK...
Summary: Based on this prompt:
Quinn and Rachel not quite friends - Quinn finishes cheerleading practice one day with very tight muscles. Rachel gives her a surprisingly amazing massage. Quinn then seeks Rachel out for massages which get more and more heated.
Pairings:Eventual Faberry, with mentions of Fabrevans and Finchel

A/N:GUYS GUYS GUYS! Exciting news! I'm straying from the chapter outline, which means that change is afoot, and things could begin progressing slightly faster (or slower) depending on what happens. Just thought I'd put that out there.

Quinn was fine with the straddling. She really was. Since she was left boneless and content after the first time, she'd let Rachel straddle her back every time she went there for a massage. She was consistently left boneless and content after every massage thereafter, and it was easier to relax around Rachel every time.

But this time, as Rachel was kneading her lower back, there was a brush of skin on skin contact. She involuntarily seized up, and she knew Rachel felt it too.

"Whoa, Quinn..." She felt Rachel tug the shirt back down. "Sorry, I didn't notice your shirt had bunched up."

"Oh, no, it's okay. It's fine. I just... I dunno." There was a sigh from Rachel, which made Quinn wince. "Keep going?"

"If you can relax again, sure, I'll keep going." Rachel rubbed lightly on Quinn's back, waiting for her to calm down. Quinn willed her pounding heart to relax, but she only found her breaths getting shallower and faster.

Rachel just climbed off of the blonde. "Ok, no. You're just... no. I can't help you if you're getting tense. Seriously, Quinn. Relax or something!"

"Sorry... I just... don't really..." Quinn paused as she sat up, unsure as to how to explain herself.

"Hmmm?" Rachel dipped her head as she folded her arms across her chest. There was a sarcastically smug look on her face, but Quinn saw hurt in her eyes.

"Nothing..." Quinn bit her lip, trying to look anywhere but Rachel.

Rachel rolled her eyes and spun around, grabbing her things. "Well, that seems to be it for the evening. I'd very much appreciate it if you could drive me home, Fabray."

"What about Chem?" They had an assignment due the next day, and had only taken a small break from it for the massage... They were very nearly done, but Rachel had needed a mental break from it all.

"The internet is a marvelous resource; I had been using it for quite a while before we came upon this agreement, and I'm sure I can do so again. Now if you could drive me home?" Quinn pursed her lips together tightly and grabbed her keys and jacket. She wasn't sure why Rachel's scowl was bothering her so much.


Quinn's car idled on the street as she waited for Rachel to get out and walk up the drive to her house. Instead, however, Rachel was sitting silently in the passenger seat, obviously deep in thought, as she had been the whole tense ride over. Almost ironically, light rain had started up partway through the drive over.

"Berry... we're here." Rachel's eyes flicked over to Quinn before she stared ahead again.

"I'm quite aware, thank you, Fabray." Her hand shot over to the key, turning off the ignition, before she turned to look Quinn in the eye. "But we need to talk."

Quinn looked at Rachel quizzically. "About?"

Rachel's jaw hardened into a deeper scowl. "I do you favors by giving you massages, correct?" Quinn nodded slowly, confused. "Well, it's an equal exchange, really, with the schoolwork help and the drives, but I was doing well enough on my own before..." Rachel shook her head. "That's not what's the matter, though. Why is it so difficult for you to relax around me? It's been over a month, Quinn, and you still can't relax around me! Why can't I touch you?"

Quinn sucked in a slow breath, suddenly nervous.

"Is it because I have manhands? Or, I don't know, I'm a freak with freak germs that will soak into the perfection that is you and leave you freakishly maimed in your social life? Why can't we be friends, and hang out without the pretense of schoolwork and massages, or without you constantly telling me you dislike my existence? It'd be nice to be appreciated..." Rachel looked out the car window. "I'm sorry, it's just... I don't know. You're the closest thing I have to a friend, Quinn, but it's obvious you don't like me at all." She sighed, and quickly dabbed her eyes on her sleeve. "I just get lonely sometimes, you know?"

Quinn sat silently as Rachel watched the rain, waiting for her to respond. She had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that, really. Rachel moved to leave, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. The sound of the door opening caused Quinn to act.

"It's not just you." The words left Quinn's mouth before she even knew she was going to speak, but her words were swallowed by the slamming of the door. Rachel was already outside, running in to avoid getting too wet from the rain.


Quinn had an inkling that something was up with Rachel during chemistry class, when she had spoke in terse sentences, and had never actually looked her in the eye, let alone in her direction. She actually figured it out when Rachel hadn't even stopped to say hello in Glee, like she had for the last month. Instead, the diva had sat off in the corner, staring out at the piano with a sad, contemplative expression on her face.

If the diva wasn't coming to her, she'd go to the diva, then. She supposed there was some explaining to do, after all. Before she could go to Rachel, however, Santana walked in with Brittany.

"Bitch." Santana smirked, reaching out to push Quinn's shoulder provocatively.

"Whore." Quinn rolled her eyes, completely unamused. The rest of the club ignored the exchange, the odd greeting something they had gotten used to after the initial cat-fight at the beginning of the school year. By now, the words no longer meant anything to them besides general pleasantries.

Their daily ritual done, the two cheerleaders sat flanking Brittany, who smiled and held out her pinky for Santana. Quinn looked behind her at Rachel, who pointedly turned her head away.

Santana reached behind Brittany to tap on the head cheerleader's shoulder. "Q. Q! What's up with the midget? Do you need me to do something?"

"She's not a midget," was the reply, and when Quinn realized what she'd said, she shook her head. Santana raised an eyebrow, and Brittany tilted her head to the side, confused.

"Are we talking about Rachel?" Quinn nodded slowly. Brittany turned to Santana, "Quinn's right. Rachel's not something you can add to our website, San. She's not computer enough for that."

Before either of the cheerleaders could voice their confusion, Mr. Schuester walked into the room. Quinn watched as he walked up to the board, marker in hand, ready to give a new assignment.

Her phone buzzed lightly, and she pulled it out.

I'm sorry for my incredibly indecent behavior yesterday. Could I talk to you after school today? I know you have practice, so... - RB* P.S. Did Brittany mean widget?

Quinn looked back at the brunette and nodded twice stealthily. She noticed that Rachel's fleeting smile didn't reach her eyes.


Santana sidled up to Quinn just as she was shedding her top in the locker room, placing her hand on the small of Quinn's bare back to announce her presence. The blonde twisted away from the contact with a growl. "Don't touch me, S. I keep telling you that."

Santana's hand dropped like a hot brick. "Right. Sorry. Forgot. Like, we haven't talked properly for a long time, so how was I supposed to know it hadn't changed?" She smirked slightly, Quinn turning to glare at her. "Who keeps texting you, by the way?"

"It doesn't matter," Quinn said, slightly defensive.

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Does Sam know?"

"I'm not cheating on him, it that's what you're trying to say." Quinn closed her locker door and turned around to face the Latina. "I'm pretty sure I learned my lesson the first time, when I got pregnant."

"That... wasn't what I was asking, but, okay." Santana nodded. An odd smile spread across her face. "Britt misses you, you know. We haven't had a girls' night for a while."

Quinn nodded. She'd missed them too. It was about time to remedy that.


She saw Rachel leaning on the hood of her car and called out a greeting.

"Oh, hello, Quinn." Rachel stood and straightened her clothes in nervousness. "I... apologize for yesterday. It was completely out of line, and I really shouldn't have said all those things." A strained smile, and Quinn was officially feeling like a horrible person. "Besides, it's not like a month or so can change years of animosity between us. If you so wish it, I'll be sure to stay out of your way in the future." The poorly hidden hope in Rachel's eyes shocked Quinn, and she took a deep breath.

"It's... not you. It's me." Rachel's eyebrows rose as she smirked, and Quinn winced when she realized what she'd said.

"Care to elucidate me on the meaning of this overly cliche statement in this circumstance? Isn't it usually used in some form of breakup?"

Quinn bit back a nervous giggle, rubbing her arms. "I... have never told anyone this, but I'm not all that fond of physical... contact." Rachel's mouth fell open into a small O. "My mom and dad never really..." Quinn mimed hugging, clearly uncomfortable with her admission. "...So when people do... that... it's awkward. For me, at least."

"That would explain a lot, actually." Rachel nodded understandingly. "Well, if that's the case, I'll leave you alone from now on, then, I guess. I just hope that we'll be able to remain civil in the future?"

"No!" Quinn's eyes widened at her exclamation. "I mean, I want you to touch me..." Rachel gawked at her. "That came out wrong. I have a lot less of a problem if you're the one touching me then if, say, Sam or Santana touched me." Quinn bit her lip, slightly frustrated at how nervous she was. Quinn Fabray didn't donervous.

Rachel giggled softly. "It sounds dirty no matter how you say it."

Quinn rolled her eyes, exasperated. "So... are we good?"

Rachel stilled, her face serious. "That depends entirely on whether you think we are."

"We're good. I like it when you give me massages. It's nice." Quinn walked around Rachel, unlocking her door. "Do you need a ride, Berry?" Rachel smiled gratefully, sliding in beside Quinn in the passenger seat as Quinn turned the ignition.

As per their usual drives, Quinn drove carefully as Rachel fiddled with the radio stations, settling on some random soft rock station. The drive passed quickly, and Quinn couldn't help but relax at the familiarity of it. There was something niggling in the back of her head from yesterday, but it didn't hit her until they were parked in Rachel's driveway.

Rachel was halfway out the car door when Quinn turned to her. "You're not a freak, Berry."

Rachel smiled, and Quinn was relieved to see it reach her eyes. "You're not half bad yourself, Fabray." When Quinn made no move to get out of the car, Rachel bit her lip. "You coming up for a bit?"

Quinn shrugged, throwing her car into park.




They evidently hadn't really thought anything out. With no pressing schoolwork, and Quinn not really needing a massage, they didn't know what to do together. That left them standing in the foyer, bags on the floor, staring awkwardly at one another.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Do you have... Scrabble or something?"

Rachel shook her head vehemently. "That is a remarkably unwise suggestion. Not only am I incredibly competitive... well, I'm incredibly competitive. Dad and Daddy stopped buying board games for me when I accused my dolls of cheating at chess at the tender age of three and a half."

Quinn laughed. "That's so... wow. I'd pay to see that!"

"I'm sure fathers dearest have a recording of it hidden away somewhere, but we'll have to negotiate prices later." Grabbing Quinn's sleeve, Rachel led her into the living room, pushing her lightly onto the sofa. "I've decided. We're going to watch a something. What that something will be is entirely up to you, seeing as we have nearly every channel known to man, and I'm sure my eclectic tastes will bore you."


Rachel was in the kitchen getting snacks when Quinn settled onto "What Not to Wear", sitting back on the overly soft sofa.

"Oh! I love this show!" Quinn's stared at Rachel, in her argyle socks and woolen carousel sweater, as she walked in behind her, and burst out laughing.


"I'm serious!" Rachel set down the fruit and tortilla chips placing her arms on her waist. "Aren't I the perfect candidate?" Quinn just nodded, still laughing. "If someone cared enough to nominate me for the show, Stacy and Clinton aid me in my clothing choice, and then I could be discovered and thrust onto Broadway, because I will have been on national television. They always have a profile on the people at the beginning, you know."

"Oh God... why didn't I ever know you were this funny?" Quinn attempted to compose herself, shaking her head. Rachel pouted playfully before plunking herself down on the couch beside Quinn and leaning forward for a grape.

"You know, you could nominate me."

Quinn nodded. "I should. But not now... give it a couple years. Hopefully your fashion choices will correct themselves before I have to."

"Not if I want to be on that show, they won't."

"Then... in college, if someone doesn't beat me to it."

Rachel nodded, placated for the time being.

Several minutes passed before Quinn turned to Rachel, clearly bemused. "Does that mean you dress how you do to get on the show?"

Rachel blushed. "Maybe..."

Quinn pushed Rachel's shoulder lightly. "Insane is a good look for you, Berry."


"Is your mother expecting you home for supper?"

They had moved on from critiquing fashion divas to critiquing music videos, and Quinn was surprised by just how much fun Rachel was outside of school. Time had flown, and before they knew it, the sun was hanging low in the sky.

"Not exactly... but I should be going. It's getting late."

Rachel nodded twice, then jumped up. "Don't go anywhere just yet. I have something..."

Quinn watched Rachel run upstairs, confused, but she soon shook it off as another of Rachel's peculiarities before turning back to whatever top forty song they had been laughing at.

Rachel soon returned with a box of some sort, handing it to Quinn. "I know you still dislike me and all, but I got you a present, or something."

Quinn looked at the box in her hands, not expecting anything at all. "I don't exactly dislike you... and you didn't have to, but thanks for... this."

"I wanted to. In celebration of our first hang out, I guess. I wasn't sure when would be an appropriate time to give this to you." Rachel shrugged, but Quinn knew that this had meant quite a lot to Rachel. "It's a travel hair dryer... cordless even. Since it's evident you don't use one, I thought I'd purchase it for you." Quinn stared. "What you're doing to your shoulders really isn't making my job any easier. This is as much for my benefit as it is yours."

"I... thank you, Rachel. I... didn't even know that they made battery operated hair dryers." Quinn put the box down on the couch before standing and shuffling awkwardly over to Rachel, arms extended.

Rachel angled her head to the side, amused smirk on her face. "What exactly are you doing?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes, glaring at the brunette. "I'm trying to give you a hug, Rachel Berry. Now get over here." Rachel beamed, stepping into the hug. Quinn swallowed before wrapping her arms around Rachel's small frame, patting her back awkwardly.

Feeling Quinn beginning to stiffen, Rachel moved out of the decidedly awkward hug, patting her lightly on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Quinn Fabray. Now go home before your mother gets worried."

Quinn shrugged, walking to the door. "She wouldn't, but okay." The door opened to reveal the most magnificent sunset. "I guess I've reached my Rachel quota for the day anyway, so I'll see you tomorrow." With a smirk and a wink, Quinn stepped out, leaving Rachel leaning on the doorframe as she drove away.

A/N: The travel hairdryer actually exists, for the record. It's also incredibly expensive... in that I wouldn't buy a hairdryer for that money.