Just thought of this...
What if Quinn had been with someone else instead of Puck?
Intended one-shot, but you never know.
Rachel woke up with her head pounding and her vision blurry.
She released a sleepy grumble as she shifted clumsily in the bed.
Well it was good to know that she was in a bed, at least. Because she actually did remember the total carnage of the party that had taken place last night, and it was safe to say that she could have ended up in a much less compromising location. Her mouth felt like cotton, and her head was still pounding to the point where she didn't even know if she could form a coherent sentence aloud. She deduced that she was never going anywhere near an alcoholic beverage again. Especially one with the name of Jose Cuervo. Or Captain Morgan. Or any brand of Irish Whiskey.
She didn't even know what had possessed her to drink alcohol last night.
Oh wait, she did.
She had taking a liking to Finn Hudson, who was the new - and quite cute - member of New Directions. It was one thing that he was the quarter-back of the McKinley High Titans. It was another thing that he actually had a pretty good voice and had amazing leading man potential. Exactly what she had been looking for. And when he grinned at her dorkily, and asked her what certain vocal chords meant, she was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat. So that was when she had set her sights on the boy and became quite relentless in attempting to strike a conversation with him. Or until she found out that he was Quinn Fabray's boyfriend. Of course. The one boy that she deemed worthy of herself just had to be the boyfriend of her biggest tormenter. Really, she shouldn't have been as shocked as she did.
So when she went up to Finn's best friend, who went by the name of 'Puck' and had this odd charm about him, and asked for a little info on Finn so she could possibly use it to her advantage, he had smirked at her and began flirting. So Rachel had made a sacrifice and began flirting back; if she wanted Finn Hudson then she was more than willing to play dirty.
Flirting had gotten her somewhere, apparently.
It had gotten her invited her to this God-awful party.
The party of which she had noticed Finn and Quinn curled up on the sofa together, laughing with their friends.
In which Finn had seen her and his eyes had widened. He had rushed over to her with a slightly confused expression on his face as he asked what she had been doing there.
Of course that had been when Quinn had interrupted - which she did a lot when she noticed the two talking - with her eyes blazing and her lips curled in distaste. It didn't take long for an argument to start, or for some attention to be drawn. Rachel remembered the satisfaction of seeing the look Quinn had when Finn had briefly defended her. She knew it was him just being polite, but it was still score one for her. And when some of the more popular kids had noticed she was there, there had been some controversial whispering going on, as well as a few taunts. That had suprisingly stopped when Puck had grabbed her and led her into the kitchen, steering her out of harm's way. That didn't mean that he was friendly with her, though. It's quite funny how people's opinions could change when their reputations were on the line.
He had instructed her to just have a few drinks and relax, and to be sure to stay out of the jock's and Cheerio's way.
Which she had, suprisingly.
But then it really wasn't. It was a suprisingly large party, so it wasn't hard to stay away from a certain crowd.
She just hadn't planned on drinking to the point that she couldn't even remember who was in the original Broadway cast of RENT.
But after she had seen Finn all over Quinn, who apparently was still rather miffed with her appearance, she thought just maybe it could take her mind off of it. But then he became more affectionate towards Quinn, who seemed to be getting even more irritated with the boy. And the more attention he bestowed upon his girlfriend, the more Rachel drank and watched safely across the room with sour eyes.
After that, everything was a haze.
She could remember loud music pounding, and she can remember clutching her alcoholic beverage to herself as she just kept drinking, and every once in a while clumsily and bitterly flirting with a couple over-eager boys.
She could remember going up to someone's bedroom.
And she couldn't remember anything after that.
But that was certainly okay with her, because she could have gone and had unprotected sex with someone.
But clearly she hadn't, because she was in the last place she could recall being in.
But she still felt like crap as she rolled over, wincing and screwing her eyes shut as she attempted to open them. She winced once more when the pounding in her head intensified. A part of her just didn't want to move for the rest of the day because of this, but another part was practically revulsing in itself at just smelling her morning breath alone. She knew she had to get up and leave, because her parents were going to absolutely kill her. Especially when they noticed her dazed and clearly hung-over look. Especially when they just smelled her in the room. Especially when they noticed her state of undress.
Her state of UNDRESS.
She had been awake five minutes and she just now realized that she was stark-raving naked.
Her eyes snapped open and she ignored her headache. She sat up hastily and it took a second for her eyes to lose their temporary unfocuse-ness. She pressed a hand to the sheet that was covering her chest and her breathing hitched when she noticed her clothes covering the floor. She began to hyperventilate when she realized that it was not the only pair. There was also another set of clothes strewn across the room. She prayed to any God that they belonged to the person that lived here and that they had been in here when she stumbled in last night.
But as she took in the rock posters in the room and she took in the X-Box that was in the corner that was lined with several games on the side of it, she knew they weren't.
Because the clothes strewn hazardously across the floor did not belong to a boy. They most certainly belonged to a girl.
Rachel felt that same feeling of her chest being caved in as she noticed the extra set. It was a white sundress it seemed, with a bow across the midsection. The underwear and bra that were thrown next to it were a simple white matching set. Just a regular bra and white bikini bottoms. Rachel shook her head fiercely, despite the jolt of pain it brought with it. Maybe...maybe some girl had randomly come in here and shed her clothes and had gone streaking. Maybe the person who owned the house had a little party with his girlfriend and she never got around to redressing. Maybe the guy in question liked to spice things up and go drag every once in a while but there was NO way that she could have just randomly slept with somebody. And she was pretty sure that it couldn't have been a girl because she wasn't gay.
There was only one way to solve this...and that would be to turn and look over at the hopefully empty spot next to her.
...No such luck.
Rachel gaped when she noticed there was a body lying next to her.
And her hands slapped to her cheeks dramatically when she noticed the long, blonde hair on the pillow next to her.
Well, her theory was proven wrong.
Apparently under the influences of certain alcoholic beverages she was able to turn her normally male-centered thoughts onto women. Because the person lying next to her was most certainly a girl. The white comforter was wrapped up around their upper body and thighs, revealing pale and very feminine flesh. The admittedly pretty blonde hair was strewn across the pillow in a rather unkempt fashion. She could tell that the girl took care of herself, because she could see perfectly manicured nails on the long and nimble fingers of the girl, whose arm was thrown above her head. The girl's face was pointed toward the wall and away from her, but Rachel could easily imagine the girl being pretty.
And she had never really been attracted to girls and had never really felt the urge to experiment, but she had to give herself a pat on the back for at least scoring one who was up to her standards when it came to looks. And apparently alcohol could change her into a shallow teenage boy as well. But a part of her was slightly angry at herself and disappointed. Because she honestly wanted to wait for the right boy to come along before she gave up something that actually did mean something to her. But no, she had to go get drunk and bitter and sleep with some random girl.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the girl next to her stirring.
Her breathing hitched and she prayed to God that the girl would not wake up.
She knew it sounded awful, but she was just so achy and confused and angry at herself that she just wanted to bail.
Which was why she was quietly getting up out of the bed, lowering her feet to the floor with the stealth of a panther.
She released a breath of relief when the girl just whimpered something cutely before settling back down. She watched the girl like a hawk, stepping and sliding into her underwear and plaid skirt. She kept an eye out as she began to turn her shirt right-side out, gently pulling it over her head and straightening her hair out afterwards. She hastily put on her knee socks and shoes, because she was getting sick to her stomach and she wanted to just go home and sleep it off and think.
She nearly shrieked in suprised when the girl rolled over, revealing her face.
She choked with her dry throat when she surveyed the very familiar face in front of her.
Oh. My. God.
She had slept with Quinn Fabray. The female lead of the New Directions had bumped uglies with the captain of the Cheerios. She had diddled with the president of the Celibacy Club. She had committed in very sexual lesbian acts with Finn's girlfriend and the leader of the Christ Chrusaders. She raised a shaky hand to her mouth as she stared at the bed-ridden form with wide eyes.
Where in the hell was her notebook when she needed it? She had a notebook composed of just about every situation that she could possibly ever find herself in. And she wrote down what she would specifically do in that situation if it were to ever occur. She had drawn up many scenarios. Like if she were to become a Cheerio. If she found herself suddenly popular after everyone finally realized her talents and recognized her for what she truly was: a star. If she officially had beaten Quinn and had suddenly gained Finn's affections and had him on her arm for everyone to see. Unfortunately, she had not even gone anywhere near what would happen if her and Quinn Fabray were to suddenly have drunken sex. So she honestly had nothing pre-planned for a situation like this.
All she could really think was 'oh shit.'
That statement repeated ten-fold in her mind when the body in front of her groaned.
It echoed even more loudly in her head when very unfocused hazel eyes opened.
It was like a screen-vision had gone off in her head.
Rachel raised her head up lazily as the door to the room suddenly burst open.
She had been laying in the bed and just surveyeing the ceiling with her slightly blurry vision.
She sat up when light flooded the room, and she was about to snap at the person to get the hell out. Because she just wanted to be left alone with Captain Morgan, who was currently clutched unsteadily in her hand. She watched through her blurry vision as the familiar and unwelcome form of Quinn Fabray was currently leaning heavily on the side of the doorframe. The blonde didn't seem to notice her presence as she continued to stumble blindly throughout the room, holding herself ungracefully against the wall as she headed into the direction of the adjoined door that Rachel hadn't even noticed until now.
She watched unblinkingly as the blonde ran into the bathroom's doorframe, nearly falling over until she had grabbed the television that was up against the wall.
If Rachel wasn't so trashed herself she would have laughed cruelly.
Instead she heaved herself off of the bed, stumbling just as bad as Quinn had, and followed the blonde into the bathroom.
She watched in pure fear as the blonde closed her eyes once more, lifting up her hand and pinching the bridge of her nose.
She hoped that Quinn would go back to sleep and not remember anything.
Because she was starting to remember. And it was scaring her. She recalled following Quinn into the bathroom. She remembered holding the girl's hair back as she vomited and groaned into the toilet. She remembered Quinn's drunkenly harsh words as the blonde finally realized who was helping her, and she remembered firing right back. She also remembered Quinn grabbing a random toothbrush in the drawer and using it and mouthwash after she had thrown up; she only hoped that the person in question never used that toothbrush again.
But her heart skipped a beat when hazel eyes re-opened.
Rachel didn't know how they had even gotten into this position.
It had started with the two of them fighting.
It ended with Quinn lying on the bed and telling Rachel to 'fuck off.'
So Rachel had sat on the floor and reclined her back against the bed, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of alcohol that she had brought up. She was here first.
Then Quinn had started talking about her problems with Finn. Rachel had listened because she was drunk and she really had too much of a headache to tell the blonde to shut up. The blonde kept babbling drunkenly about feeling fat and about Finn flirting with other girls. Rachel knew that assessment certainly wasn't accurate, because he had been attached to Quinn the entire night. She eventually began spouting off things to get the blonde to be quiet. Things that she was certain would placate the blonde. She pulled the bottle from her lips clumsily as she talked.
"You're pretty, Quinn."
"Why would Finn flirt with other girls? It's obvious you're better."
"You're not fat."
She had thought Quinn had fallen asleep, but she was proven wrong when she felt a hand reach down and grasp her arm gently.
She cursed inwardly when the blonde sat up slowly, clutching her head and mumbling quietly to herself.
She began to quietly tip-toe backwards, breathing as quietly as she possibly could. She used that familiar panther stealth as she almost reached the door. Unfortunately, the blonde on the bed ran her hands through her hair unsteadily, laying back against the bed before arching and groaning softly. Her throat closed up and her eyes grew hooded. She couldn't stop the squeak that escaped her throat as Quinn shifted her body and let out a soft grumble before a breathy sigh. The blonde's body flew up at the sound.
"Say it again," was whispered breathily against Rachel's ear.
Rachel stopped from where she was laying soft kisses against the skin of Quinn's neck. She awkwardly shifted back up to where her face was hovering over the blonde's, and she had to re-adjust to where her elbow was holding her up. She gently unwrapped her leg from around Quinn's and she moved her body so that she was next to her.
"You're not fat," breathed Rachel, leaning down and kissing Quinn gently.
Quinn clutched the brunette's shoulders, holding her in place.
"Say it," whispered Quinn.
"You're so pretty," mumbled Rachel, ghosting her lips over Quinn's jawline.
She felt herself beginning to breath more deeply as Quinn grasped her hand and pulled it down to her bare thigh, holding her hand above Rachel's. And as Rachel kept breathily whispering the things the blonde wanted to hear, the higher that Quinn's hand guided Rachel's up her leg and under her dress.
Her eyes met Quinn's from across the room and Quinn looked confused.
She watched in pure dread as the blonde looked at her state of nakedness on the bed and the brunette's disheveled appearance at the doorway.
Hazel eyes widened.
It was simultaneous.
They both screamed.
Just a silly idea. Dunno if I will continue this or not.