Title: No Space In-Between
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.
Summary: Sequel to One Degree of Separation. One can't forget, one refuses to remember, leading to only one possible outcome. The tension between Rachel and Quinn comes to a head when Rachel decides to confront her once and for all.
A/N: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed One Degree of Separation! A lot of you asked for a sequel to give Rachel and Quinn their first kiss. But first kisses between these two don't come without complications, I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy. ;)
The phone call that fateful night meant two completely different things for the two people involved. For Rachel, it meant opportunity. It meant that she wasn't alone. That things weren't one-sided. That all those times she caught Quinn glancing at her, with an inscrutable expression, there was something hidden behind it. A fire, a passion, something Quinn had never allowed herself to feel before. The thought alone thrilled Rachel, sent the most forbidden chills to run down her spine, because she was still Finn's girlfriend after all. She shouldn't have been feeling chills. But she did. She does. She really, really does.
And from what she's gathered from being in school the first two months of her senior year, was that to Quinn, the phone call meant nothing. Nada. Zip, zilch…zero. Nil. Quinn ignored her calls and text messages all summer and ignored her presence even more than usual when school started. The only indication that Quinn even remembered their conversation was the way her eyes flashed each time Rachel brought it up before she quickly shut their conversation down and moved about her business.
Rachel would just heave a heavy sigh and continue throughout her day. She still has Quinn's number in her phone because she still remembers even if Quinn refuses to. For that hour long conversation she got to see Quinn, her wants and desires and they were all directed towards Rachel. For that hour, Quinn belonged to Rachel and Rachel belonged to her.
Rachel smiles lightly. And then there was Finn. Things had cooled down significantly between them recently. And it wasn't from a lack of trying on both parts. Something was missing. Rachel didn't want to make it into some epic romantic novel of her being with Finn but wanting Quinn, but it was starting to feel that way. She has feelings and in the past she could completely stomp them down and make them go away, but ever since that phone call, ever since finding out Quinn felt those exact feelings she felt, Rachel hasn't been able to put them away. And even worse, they're beginning to grow. Like someone somewhere is dutifully watering the seeds that were planted in her heart against her will.
"Hi, Finn." He leans down to kiss her and she just stands there rigidly until it's over. When he pulls back she's smiling even wider because Rachel Berry is quite the talented actress.
"I wanted to ask you something."
Finn flashes his famous crooked half smile and Rachel's heart constricts because there was a time when that smile would make her swoon. It'd make her melt, it'd make heat simmer inside of her but now it just makes her feel sad and guilty.
"What kind of question do you have?" she asks brightly.
Her eyes catch blonde hair in her peripheral and she turns just as Quinn struts down the hallway. Quinn turns her head and catches Rachel's eye. Her gaze lingers, then she looks to Finn and Rachel watches the way her brow furrows. It's a blink and you miss it expression and as soon as Rachel blinks, Quinn is continuing down the hallway without a backwards glance.
Yeah, she got looks, but that was all she ever got. And that isn't enough for her. It was enough for two years when she thought those looks meant contempt, but now that she knows what it really means, Quinn simply looking isn't enough for her.
"Rach, did you hear me?"
She whips her head around to Finn. "Pardon?"
"I said Puck's having a party tonight." He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "And I know you've really never been to parties, but it's our senior year. I was thinking we could spice things up."
And is it weird that 'spice things up' makes her instantly think of Quinn? Probably. It's also probably really wrong.
"A party?" She looks skeptical and Finn must notice because he steps closer and cups her cheeks in his hands. His palms are warm and comforting and Rachel takes solace there because things are really confusing right now.
"A party. There's gonna be alcohol but you don't have to drink if you don't want to. In fact, don't drink because the last time a girlfriend of mine drank alcohol around Puck she ended up having his baby."
This conversation needs to end. It amazes her how much Quinn is brought into their relationship. No wonder she has a monster crush on her; she never gets to escape her.
She pulls back to busy herself with grabbing a history textbook from her locker that she really doesn't need because she has math next. Thankfully not with Quinn. "That sounds lovely, Finn."
"Cool. Tonight. I'll see you later, Rachel."
She nods as he leaves, lugging the extra textbook to class.
Glee club was the only school activity where Rachel felt secure about herself in relation to her issue with Quinn. Glee was always her turf, she was there first and she was always comfortable in the space of the choir room.
Members of the club begin to file in as she writes on the whiteboard.
"Who gave you permission to write on the board? Just because you dress like a middle-aged school teacher that's probably never seen a penis a day in her life doesn't mean you get to dictate our lessons."
She ignores the verbal jab from Santana and continues to write diligently. She casts a sideways glance once she sees Quinn walk in a moment later. Mr. Schuester comes in and closes the door after a few minutes and Rachel spins on her heel. She smiles brightly at the group, smoothing the back of her skirt down as she addresses everyone. "Good afternoon, fellow glee clubbers. It has come to my attention—due to last week's less than stellar performance—that a lot of you have become what I like to call 'vocally apathetic'. You have lost interest in performing, for what reason I cannot begin to fathom and frankly, I can't have that. It will cost us Nationals. Again. For the third time."
"You and Finn cost us Nationals the second time," Santana adds.
"Which was ignorant on Finn's part," Quinn says.
"Hey, I was just going with what I felt in the moment." He smiles over at Rachel.
Rachel looks from Finn to Quinn. Quinn looks down at him. "From now on how about you leave your little feelings for when the curtain closes."
Rachel clears her throat and—to her surprise—people quit talking. Finn turns around to glare at Quinn. A glare that Quinn returns with more intensity than he's capable of.
"Is there a point to all of this?" Kurt asks. "We've had the Nationals argument months ago. And then again two months ago when school started and Santana became enraged again after seeing Rachel's face for the first time since last year ended. What's done is done. Move on, people."
"Yes, I agree," Rachel says, her eyes on Quinn. "The past is the past and perhaps we should all leave it there." Quinn leans back in her chair with a careless shrug. She plucks a book from under her chair and cracks it open to read.
"That being said, I think it's best to nip this negative behavior in the bud and continue on with a more positive outlook." She flashes another smile to the group that no one seems to return except Brittany. But that's just because she likes smiles.
"Now…" She turns to point to the board. "I have compiled a list of key points that all of you have fallen a bit flat on. Some more than others, but the point of this public service announcement isn't to tear anyone down—"
"Could've fooled me," Mercedes stage whispers.
"It's to build you all up to be stars!"
"What did they put in her coffee today?" she hears Artie ask.
"Artie!" She turns to him. "My, hopefully helpful, advice to you in the near future performances is to wheel yourself just a bit faster. You're always one beat off in choreography."
His eyes widen.
"Santana. While I think you have a great voice, might I suggest just a few vocal lessons? It would greatly improve some of your...rougher edges."
"You son of a—"
"Mercedes, I love your vocal runs but perhaps you could cut back some."
"Oh, I'll cut something alright."
She turns to find those hazel eyes trained on her intently. Rachel falters. She has the most unreadable expression on her face. It's frustrating because Rachel is never even allowed one glimpse past Quinn's rough exterior to know what she's thinking or feeling. "I…" She completely forgets what she was going to say. Her gaze quietly washes over Quinn's face because she really doesn't get time to just observe it often.
"Let me guess," Quinn's low voice cuts through the fog in her brain, only to make it even foggier at the same time. "I'm pitchy."
"I—y-yes. Pitchy." She swallows. "Perhaps you should work on that."
Quinn huffs and rolls her eyes before turning back to her book. Rachel watches it all with rapt attention, making a mental note and tacking it onto the refrigerator in her mind that Quinn didn't insult her.
"Okay," Mr. Schuester drawls as he stands from his seat. He awkwardly pats Rachel's shoulder as he looks at his student's disgruntled faces. "I think that's enough for today, Rachel."
"But I still have the other half of the board left of notes and—"
"I think that's all anyone can take for the day. As a matter of fact, how about we just cut this day short, huh?"
"But I thought everyday was twenty-four hours," Brittany whispers to Santana. "How can Mr. Schue cut it short; is he magic?"
Quinn spares the two an incredulous expression as she collects her books. Everyone begins to pack up and leave. Rachel walks across the room and up the risers, until her feet carry her just behind Quinn. She waits until everyone leaves to lightly tap the shoulder in front of her. Quinn quickly whirls around with wide eyes. "Rachel," she hisses quietly. "You scared the hell out of me."
Rachel smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
Quinn shrugs it off, turning back around to cradle her books in her arms. "What do you want?"
She hesitates at how rudely the question is asked and bites her lip, wondering if this is a bad idea. "I was wondering if you were going to be in attendance at Noah Puckerman's party tonight."
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I'm going to be there."
She watches her closely. She has to because Quinn is actually quite subtle and what she doesn't tell you, she'll more or less show you. Her eyes flick down Rachel's body briefly before her hip cocks to the side. "I'm going, too." It sounds like a challenge, a dare. What she was daring her to do, Rachel doesn't really know.
Still, she smiles tentatively. "I'm glad."
"Why?" Quinn fires back.
"Never mind. Don't answer that." She looks around Rachel, towards the exit and sidesteps her completely. "I have to go."
Rachel quickly turns around. "You can't just act like it didn't happen," she voices quietly.
Quinn shoulders tense as she stops walking. She doesn't turn around. "You can't just act like it'll change anything."
Rachel watches her go. She gathers her bearings and walks out of the choir room. Finn isn't there to walk her to the parking lot. Her shoulders slump in disappointment though this is something she should be used to by now.
She and Finn are the first two at the party. Finn begged her to wait and just let them arrive at eleven, but Rachel had told him there was a difference between being fashionably late and being unprofessionally unpunctual. They compromised and decided to arrive at ten fifteen.
"Berry," Puck greets with a quiet chuckle as she walks inside with Finn behind. He daps Finn, all the while laughing at the pair. "How'd I know you'd get here so early?"
"Punctuality is important, Noah," she huffs. She walks through his home and into the living room, surveying his house. She had never been to his house before. Despite their short lived romance in the past, it was carried out at her house, not his. But as she looks around, she notes that Mrs. Puckerman has lovely taste. She expected multi-fabric couches with odd patches and lamps that didn't at all compliment the overall theme of the living room. She didn't even expect a theme, but be that as it may, his house was quite nice.
Rachel sat down on a couch and Finn sat down beside her. She crossed her legs with a wide, awkward smile. "So, what happens next?"
Puck cocks an amused eyebrow. "We wait."
"But I thought this was a party?"
"Berry, I start my parties at ten, but everyone normally arrives around eleven. Didn't expect you two to be here this early."
"When will Quinn arrive?" she blurts out before she can even hope to stop herself.
"Are you two friends now or something?" Finn questions.
She bites her lip, mumbling, "Not exactly."
"Quinn will probably get here between eleven fifteen and eleven thirty depending on whether or not she has to pick up Santana and Brittany."
She nods. She looks up to a nearby clock. It's not even ten thirty yet. She slumps a little into the couch with a sigh.
"You want a drink?"
"No, she doesn't," Finn chimes in, cutting his eyes at Puck.
He lifts his hands placatingly and Rachel smiles in apology. "No, thank you. I don't drink."
Puck smiles roguishly. "We all know that's a lie."
Rachel blushes in embarrassment with a self-depreciating chuckle. "Besides that one night—"
"And the following days after," he adds.
"Yes, and those. I have hung up my hat of underage drinking and have decided to wait until I am of legal age."
Puck shrugs. "What a waste. You were a cool drunk." He walks to his TV to turn it on. "Call of Duty?"
A second later he and Finn are huddled together on the floor with controllers in their hands like overgrown children. Rachel shakes her head. Her arms cross over her chest as she looks away. She looks down at herself, surveying her appearance. She's wearing the dress she wore the day she was trying to impress Finn. She wonders if it's enough or too much. The dress still fits, still clinging to her, still accentuating her cleavage. It stops mid-thigh, her hair runs down her shoulders in silky smooth waves. Kurt had come over to her house to apply mascara to make her eyes smoky. She's on a mission tonight. There is no way Quinn is going to be able to overlook her now. Rachel's determined to make Quinn talk to her.
She groans in boredom as her attention turns back to the boys. "Noah, is there perhaps a room with a television that I can watch to occupy my time?"
"My room…upstairs to the left," he murmurs distractedly.
She's up a moment later, climbing the stairs and walking into his room. She slips her heels off and climbs into his bed, finding his remote under his pillow and flicking the TV on.
The next thing she knows, Finn is gently shaking her. "Wake up, Rach."
"Huh? Where…" She blinks the bleariness out of her eyes to look at Finn. "Where are we?"
"We're at a party and you're missing out."
Oh. Right. The party. Rachel sits up quickly beside him. "What time is it?"
"Eleven forty. Come on!"
She quickly puts her shoes back on and follows Finn out of the room. They walk down the hallway and she stops at the top of the stairs. Finn comes to a stop when he tugs on her hands and she doesn't budge. Rachel gasps quietly. She's never seen so many people in one place. The music is thumping loudly. She can feel the bass rattle the floor under her feet. Her gaze sweeps over everyone. There are so many Cheerios and football players she almost thinks she's at a football game. So many red cups, grinding bodies, and lazy smiles. She looks to the kitchen and sees her. Quinn, wearing a—she squints into the dark—possibly navy blue dress. Her hair is curled and styled and beautiful and Rachel's heart flutters. She follows Finn down the stairs and he leads her directly into the kitchen. She walks in slowly. "Hi, Quinn."
Quinn looks over to her. Her eyes widen slightly. Rachel watches as Quinn drags her eyes over her in surprise. Finn lets go of her hand and walks past Quinn. He greets her but Quinn can't take her eyes away from Rachel. Their eyes meet and Rachel swears she feels like she just stuck her finger into an electrical socket. Quinn's eyes blaze into her own. Her gaze is unwavering, unyielding. Rachel feels as if she's been rooted in her spot. She doesn't move, doesn't even utter another word. She can't really bring herself to do anything. Goosebumps rise along her arms and this is not the reaction a person should have to someone that's only a 'friend' or 'associate' at best. Quinn says nothing to her but her gaze burns in the most delicious way. Those hazel eyes travel down her body yet again before meeting her eyes. Rachel's tongue drags along her lips. Everything north feels dry. Her throat, her lips. Everything south, on the other hand…
"Here you go, Rach."
A second later her gaze is swimming with images of Finn. He hands her a red cup. "I figured you could drink if you wanted to. You know, since I'm right here watching you and all and Puck said he wouldn't try anything with you."
She looks to her left just as Quinn walks away and out of the kitchen. She sighs. "No, thank you, Finn. I do not wish to drink tonight." She has an objective that can't be fully accomplished if she's intoxicated. All she can hope is that Quinn is sober as well.
Finn shrugs and the two walk out of the kitchen and into the spacious living room. She spies Quinn on a nearby sofa, rolling her eyes at Puck's antics and she sighs as she's pulled further away.
"Whoa, Berry, you actually look hot." Santana's lips twist in what Rachel chooses to recognize as approval. Santana's eyes roam over her body more shamelessly than Quinn's ever would.
"Rachel, I would totally bang you if you weren't with Finn," Brittany tells her with a grin.
"Thank you, Santana and…Brittany."
Finn makes a face and Rachel smiles as Santana smacks Brittany playfully on the ass, grabbing her wrist and leading her across the dance floor. "Come on, B, it's a slow song. Let's get our lap dance on."
Brittany waves as she's pulled through the crowd. The next thing Rachel knows, she, too is being pulled along. Finn spins her forward, then pulls her close. She almost laughs at their height difference. She can't rest her head on his shoulder, so she settles for resting against his bicep.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"I am," she lies. She didn't come here to dance with him she came here to—
Rachel spots Quinn again. She's sitting along the back of the couch, holding a red cup in her hand that must be Puck's because his face and hands are glued to a cheerleader and Quinn didn't have a cup the first time Rachel saw her on the couch.
Her eyes soak in her dark dress that compliments her pale, creamy skin, the brown boots on her feet, and her curly blonde hair. Rachel sighs wistfully, heart pounding loudly and aching in her chest. Like always, Quinn is so close and yet so far away. So unattainable. Just then Quinn turns and meets her eyes. Rachel's breath hitches. Every time Quinn looks at her she melts on the spot. And this time isn't any different. Finn moves to twirl her and she holds fast in obvious disapproval. She doesn't want to miss this.
Her lips part just as Quinn runs a tongue along her lower lip. Rachel clutches Finn's arms tighter, blunt nails dig into his arm and he grunts, pulling away. "You okay?" he asks.
Rachel looks up at him with a shaky smile. "I'm fine," she whispers.
She looks back over and Quinn is gone. Panicked, her eyes scan the crowd to find a slim silhouette walking to Puck's bedroom. Rachel lets go of Finn and disentangles from his arms. "I'll be right back," she calls over her shoulder. She feels possessed. She feels unlike herself, blindly following Quinn wherever she goes because once and for all Rachel just wants to know.
She's up the stairs and peeking her head into Puck's room before she even knows it. Quinn is pacing. Her hands are behind her back and she's walking back and forth across Puck's room in front of his bed from one wall to the other, muttering to herself. Rachel's heart constricts because something about her dark expression and furrowed brow is endearing and charming and all the things she never allowed herself to feel or think about in relation to Quinn in the past keeps bubbling up like a volcano and it's confusing.
The door creaks as she pushes it further open and Quinn looks up at her. "Get out." She looks weary and a little scared like a cornered animal.
Rachel's steps stutter as she walks further into the room. She slowly walks over to Puck's bed as Quinn continues to pace. "Why are you here?"
"You know why I'm here," she says softly.
Quinn doesn't say anything. It reminds Rachel of their phone conversation. Quinn would open up the tiniest bit, then completely close herself off for seconds, minutes before she'd speak again.
Rachel smoothes down the skirt of her dress as she regards Quinn's rigid posture. Quinn paces to the far side of Puck's room and rests her back against the wall. Her arms cross but her head is held high. Regal. Rachel almost smiles.
"Are you going to speak?"
"What do you want me to say?" she asks gruffly.
"We can start with why you called in the first place. And how you even got my number."
She tosses her hands in the air in exasperation. "One, I was drunk, Berry. It's not a big deal. And two, none of your damn business."
"It's a big deal when you call someone on the phone, tell them their boyfriend doesn't deserve them and tell them that you have thoughts and desires of kissing—"
"No," Quinn cuts in sharply. "No, what I said to you was a mistake. I didn't mean it."
"A mistake? A mistake is slapping me in the face." Rachel stares at her pointedly until Quinn looks away. "But a mistake is not an hour long phone conversation, Quinn. A mistake is not calling my phone, leaving a voicemail asking, no, ordering me to call you back. A mistake is not telling me that you want—"
"You put those words in my mouth!" she shouts.
"I did not!" Rachel springs up from her seat. She stands just a few feet from Quinn. Feet that feel like miles. "I may have asked you those things, I may have even confessed some things on my own to make you more comfortable but what you told me were your words, Quinn. You gave me a confession."
"I told you a lie!"
"You told me the truth."
"I don't want you."
"I think you do," Rachel murmurs.
Quinn swallows. "Shut up, Rachel," she says thickly. "You don't know what you're doing."
"What does that mean?" Rachel takes a cautious step closer.
"It means that I'm getting angry. And you need to back off."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Take it however you want. Just leave."
"I've already been slapped by you. I think I can handle another." She dares to walk closer still. Quinn balks in surprise but her eyes narrow dangerously, frustration drawing her tense body more and more taut.
"Is it worth it? Just—for what? For me to say I want to kiss you?"
"For you to admit what you're feeling. And for me to not feel like I'm alone in this."
"Alone in what?"
"These feelings that have been lingering between us for so long."
"You can't just say things like that and…" Quinn runs her hands through her hair in frustration. She leans further back into the wall, trying to fall through it and Rachel takes those couple of steps forward that bring her directly in front of Quinn.
"Rachel, just stop talking."
"I feel the same way," she says softly. "Quinn, I've wanted to kiss you for two years."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." This time she does smile. "You can't rely on that lie any longer, Quinn."
Quinn folds her arms again. They brush just below Rachel's breasts and they both gasp. Quinn tries to leap back, but that damn wall is always there. Rachel looks up at her. Quinn's eyes look a little darker and the whole situation seems to shift. For once in the entirety of their friendship? relationship?—Rachel finally feels like they're on equal footing. It surprises her even more when she suspects that she might actually have control. It's precarious and the other metaphorical shoe can drop completely at a moment's notice. Quinn can easily shove her violently away and storm out of the room. Rachel isn't particularly sure that Quinn won't do all of those things but she still feels she should try.
"I feel the same way you do," she tries again.
Quinn turns away. It occurs to Rachel that with her heels and with Quinn's flat cowgirl styled boots, they're almost the same height. Her head tilts as she views Quinn head on for a change. Her beauty doesn't change much; if anything she looks even more beautiful because whatever Rachel misses from being too short, she sees when they face each other head on. "You look beautiful tonight."
"Will you stop?" Quinn asks tiredly. "You're with Finn."
And suddenly this moment crashes down on her like a ton of bricks. The fact that she has Finn, the fact that Quinn could still very well shove her off any second, the knowledge of what she's about to do.
She swallows thickly. "And if I wasn't?" She grasps Quinn's wrists loosely in her hands and pries her arms apart. They fall limply to her sides and Rachel keeps ahold of them as she steps even closer. Their breasts brush the barest hint. Quinn inhales deeply. Her gaze dips down to their point of contact, flick to Rachel's, then flicks away again.
"It doesn't matter," she breathes.
Rachel's breath quickens at her tone. She licks her lips, eyeing the long expanse of a pale throat. She imagines how Quinn must have looked the night of their phone conversation. How she must have been blushing all the way down the neck she's staring at. She suddenly feels flush, hot all over, contemplates cracking a window but nothing can tear her away from the girl in front of her right now.
Quinn looks small, Rachel notes. She's so used to having to look up to her that now, being eye level, she can't help but notice how small and almost vulnerable she looks.
"You promised you'd kiss me if I asked and we were alone together—"
"If you weren't with Finn."
"So, you admit you said it?" Her lips tick upwards. Quinn stares at her and all of this is getting just a little too heady for Rachel.
"I never said I didn't."
"Then kiss me."
She sighs exasperatedly. She's close, so close and Quinn won't even budge on the issue. Rachel leans those last centimeters until her forehead rests gently against Quinn's. It surprises her that Quinn doesn't even pull back, but she suspects it's because she has quite literally nowhere else to go. Rachel's backed her into a corner and the only way for her to get out is to either give in or physically assault Rachel in order to get free.
"What are you so afraid of?" she whispers against those lips she's fantasized about for years. So fucking close.
Whether Quinn is answering her question or voicing her name in an attempt to get her to shut up, Rachel isn't sure. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides until she brings them to Quinn's hips. Quinn surges forward with a gasp and their lips brush. Rachel hears a groan that isn't hers as her bottom lip slowly slides along Quinn's top one. She gasps at the tingling of her lips. Her arms slide securely around Quinn's waist and tugs her closer.
Out of her peripheral she watches slim arms flail a little in uncertainty. One lands on her shoulder, the other tentatively rests on her lower back and she sighs in appreciation. Quinn's grip on her shoulder tightens until she looks up into dark, determined eyes.
"If we do this, we do it my way."
"Whatever you want," she agrees.
Quinn licks her lips and then those lips are on Rachel's in a hard demanding kiss. Rachel whimpers because this is finally happening and she tugs her even closer. Quinn's head tilts so her lips slant across Rachel's effortlessly. A hand curls around her neck. Quinn's tongue slides along her lower lip causing her knees to weaken. Her lips part and Quinn dips inside. The first thought that crosses Rachel's mind is that Noah Puckerman was right. Quinn is pretty awesome at this. Her toes curl, her breath becomes shorter, her whimpers lengthen to full on moans. Quinn's tongue slides over hers teasingly again and again. When Rachel sighs in frustration, Quinn smiles against her mouth.
Her hips shift just the slightest bit forward when she sucks on Quinn's tongue. Greedy hands touch anything they can find within the confines of under Quinn's breasts and above her hips. It isn't much but Rachel claims every inch of skin there. The body she has pinned to the wall writhes and squirms under her assault. The most delicious friction begins to happen as Rachel presses forward just a bit harder.
She trails her lips down Quinn's jaw and just about reaches her neck when Quinn grips her forearms tightly. She freezes, thinking this is the moment when Quinn shoves her away.
"I said we were doing this my way," Quinn husks out.
Rachel looks up at her. "And I said whatever you want."
Quinn makes that same strangled noise in the back of her throat that made Rachel throb the night she heard it over the phone. Her stomach coils in a tight knot as she's swiftly spun around and slammed into the wall. Then those lips are on her again. Rachel notes that while Quinn's kisses tend to be hard, they're also slow and languid. She's also a bit of a tease. And from the way full lips are smirking against hers, Rachel suspects she knows that. Her hands take the liberty of roaming over Quinn's torso again because that seems to be the only bit of control Rachel has left in the situation. Even teeth dig into her lower lip and she moans, pumping her hips forward. It surprises her when Quinn responds in kind, pinning her hips to the wall behind her.
Quinn's hands dive into her hair, tangle in long dark locks and pull. With a whimper, Rachel's head tips back against the wall. Insistent lips nip along her throat softly. It startles her how non-aggressive making out with Quinn is. She had imagined it being good of course, but borderline painful and this is nothing like that. There is no pain, only mind-boggling pleasure that continually makes her legs weak with each broad stroke of an agile tongue along her collarbone.
She feels the muscles in Quinn's stomach quiver as her nails rake down them. Quinn tenses, then surges forward into the touch with a throaty moan. Rachel continues the process and again and again until she rakes her nails up her stomach again and her thumb brushes the underside of Quinn's breast. Rachel stops breathing. Either Quinn doesn't know or she doesn't care to stop because she continues kissing Rachel's neck as if nothing has happened. Rachel releases a breathy moan because this is Quinn Fabray's breast that she's touching. It doesn't matter that it's only with a thumb, it totally counts.
She uses her other hand to bury in Quinn's hair and yank her up into another kiss. Quinn moans and Rachel just goes for it. She cups the aching breast her thumb was resting on. Quinn's back arches and she groans. Rachel thinks she's just died.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Quinn instantly jumps back. She looks at Rachel briefly before her eyes move over to the other person in the room. Rachel finally takes her eyes off of Quinn long enough to see Finn standing in the doorway. She's instantly mortified.
"Quinn, what the hell did you do to my girlfriend?"
Before Rachel can interject Quinn already has her hands on her hips and a cold sneer on her face. "I didn't do anything! So don't you dare storm in here blaming me. She followed me up the stairs!"
"Guys, please don't fight." Rachel steps up in-between the two of them. She looks to Finn with a forlorn expression. "Finn, I asked her to kiss me," she admits.
He has this crazed look in his eye as if he doesn't believe her. Rachel nods mutely, confirming that he's heard right.
He looks an interesting mix of mortified and angry that completely flushes his face. "Is that why you even wanted to come to this damn party? Why you've been asking for her?"
"You've been asking about me?" Quinn asks confusedly behind her.
She looks down in shame, unable to meet anyone's eyes. "I—not really." She sighs, unable to explain herself. "I didn't plan this, Finn."
Finn shakes his head. "Whatever, Rachel. After two times, I'm fucking done."
He waves his hand in dismissal as he walks out of the room. Rachel spares a withering glance at Quinn before following behind her boyfriend as quickly as she can. She doesn't even know what to say. She can't say she regrets kissing Quinn but the hurt look on his face shatters her heart completely. "Finn, please let me explain," she calls over the loud music. She weaves through the crowd as best she can, thankful she can keep track of his tall stature.
He makes it outside and she chases after him, nearly tripping in her heels. She grabs his wrist and he whirls around to face her, anger and hurt written clear across his face. "How could you do this to me?"
"Finn, I-I feel things for her," she stammers. "I can't help it."
"You can control it," he insists.
"Not anymore, I couldn't. Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to hurt you. I-I didn't even come here to kiss her. I came to talk to her and things got out of hand."
"You're not even gay," he snarls. "None of this makes sense. Do you hate me? Was this to make fun of me?" he yells. Rachel slinks back under the thunder of his voice and the intensity in his eyes.
People begin to come outside as they hear the commotion and it doesn't seem to make Finn stop. If anything he gets louder. Rachel grows more embarrassed and upset with each second that passes.
"I could never hate you, Finn," she says softly.
"Then why would you kiss her when you were with me?"
Shame engulfs her completely. She looks down at the ground guiltily, too ashamed to even meet his eyes. "I suppose I wanted to know."
"What it felt like."
"So you're just a victim in all this?" he asks incredulously. "You, poor Rachel, the closest lesbian who has feelings for Quinn. My ex-girlfriend."
She bites her lip to keep from correcting his use of 'closest' to 'closeted', deciding there was really no need to add insult to injury.
Her eyes well up as onlookers begin pouring outside. She takes a step closer. "I'm so sorry, Finn."
"You're something else." He looks down at her. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Rachel starts to cry even harder and Finn takes that as his answer. "I really, really care about you, Finn."
"I can't believe this."
She wipes her eyes vehemently as tears cloud her vision. Finn shakes his head, backing away from her. He walks down the car porch, kicking a nearby potted plant in a surge of rage.
"Dude, that was my mom's favorite one," Puck calls from somewhere over Rachel's shoulder.
He looks over at Rachel as she wipes tears from her eyes. She looks up at him helplessly. "I'm sorry," she mumbles.
"We're done. I hope kissing Quinn was worth it for you."
Finn walks down the driveway. His shoulders slump with every step as he ignores Rachel's last call. "You're just going to leave me here? Finn, I'm sorry! I know you're angry and you have every right to be, but how-how am I going to get home?"
Drunken students snicker behind her as Finn gets in his car and drives away. Rachel cries even harder. She doesn't really know how else she expected this to turn out but this is unbearably painful. It isn't even the fact that Finn broke up with her. It's the fact that she hurt him, the embarrassment of being dumped in front of a crowd of drunk people. Loneliness surrounds her as everyone backs away. The feeling of dozens of pairs of eyes on her back causes her to curl in on herself as best as she can. Completely stripped of dignity, she just stands there.
She shivers against the gust of wind. The next thing she knows, a light cardigan is placed on her shoulders. Rachel wipes her eyes and turns around to see Quinn looking at her with one of her unreadable expressions. Her mouth opens and closes. There's so much to say. She just settles for a heartfelt thank you.
Quinn rubs her eyes tiredly because it's pushing one in the morning and this is probably the most eventful party she's ever been to. "That was stupid," she mutters.
"What was?" Rachel asks despite herself. Sometimes she's a glutton for punishment.
"Kissing me, perhaps? Risking it all and losing your boyfriend in the end? It was stupid."
"It was worth it," she whispers.
Quinn doesn't respond. The wind picks up again and Rachel shuffles closer. She weaves her arms through the sleeves of Quinn's cardigan and wraps her arms around a slim waist. For a long time Quinn just rigidly stands in her arms. Then, tentatively, strong arms wrap around her comfortingly.
"What you did tonight was probably stupider than that time you sent Sunshine to that crackhouse."
"Do you regret it?"
She buries her face in Quinn's neck, hiding herself as she mumbles, "No."
"I'm not really all that much better than Finn," she grumbles.
And maybe she isn't. It's not like Finn was a terrible boyfriend but in the end for Rachel it came down to a simple case of the heart wants what it wants. And in that moment her heart blossomed when Quinn's arms tightened protectively around her.
Still, some issues were for another day. And whether or not Quinn is good for her is definitely an issue for the future. Rachel chooses to focus on the fact that in this moment, she has Quinn and Quinn has her.
"Take me home?" she whispers.
Quinn casts a curious gaze towards the house. Rachel pulls back to watch closely as blonde eyebrows crinkle in some sort of inner debate she must be having. Finally, she looks back at Rachel. "Sure."
"Will Santana and Brittany be alright?"
"They're probably having sex in Puck's mother's room since—" Quinn clears her throat. Her cheeks dust pink as Rachel suppresses a smile. "Puck's room was occupied."
Quinn reaches into the cardigan Rachel's wearing and fishes out a pair of keys. She disentangles herself and walks away towards the car. Rachel follows, choosing not to rush things by catching up to Quinn and holding her hand. She reaches the car, hops inside and buckles her seatbelt as Quinn starts the engine.
They ride in silence. Rachel clutches the seat belt in her hand tightly in anxiety. Her lower lip trembles as she thinks of the mess she's made. Her head lolls to the side until she's staring at Quinn. A tear slides down her cheek.
Quinn passes her a quick glance. She looks back to the road again and does a double take. She blows a loud puff of steam through her lips. "What's wrong?"
Rachel wipes the tear from her eye. "Have I ruined everything?" she inquires softly.
Quinn shifts uncomfortably. She slows down as the street light switches from yellow to red and stops just short of the line. She turns to face Rachel fully. "Define everything."
"My relationship with Finn, my relationship with you."
"We don't have a relationship, Rachel."
"My friendship with you."
"We've never had one of those either."
"Quinn," she whimpers. "I'm obviously trying here."
Quinn sighs quietly and slumps in her seat. The light changes green and she takes off again. "What are you trying for?"
"To be with you."
"Based on what? One make-out session at Puck's house that probably involved alcohol?"
"I didn't drink and neither did you. I would have tasted it." She blushes a little but continues. "You can't blame what happened on alcohol, Quinn."
"So, what do you want?" Quinn asks tersely. "You ask me to kiss you, I do, your boyfriend dumps you and now I'm driving you home."
They pull along Rachel's street and she points to the third house on the right as hers. Quinn stops along the road, putting her car in park and shutting off the engine.
"I want to be with you."
"Based on one make-out session—"
"Based on two years worth of mutual feelings that we never had the chance to explore until now."
Quinn's fingers drum along her steering wheel in contemplation. She looks over to meet dark eyes. "Rachel, it's not that easy."
Rachel nods. She leans over the consol. "Just tell me this," she says once she and Quinn are face to face. "Did you enjoy the kiss?"
Quinn begins to pull away but Rachel lightly grabs her forearm to drag her back. Once they're face to face again, Rachel reaches out hesitantly. She cups the side of Quinn's face, warmth spreading throughout her entire body from their point of contact. When Quinn's eyes flutter shut Rachel just knows she feels it, too.
Her thumb strokes just under Quinn's eye to soothe the girl's anxiety. "It's just a yes or no, Quinn."
Quinn sighs against the palm of her hand. Her eyes clench shut making her brow furrow. Rachel just smiles as Quinn nods mutely.
Rachel leans forward until there's hardly any space between them. She hovers slightly before leaning in. Soft lips press against the corner of Quinn's mouth and she gasps, her mouth falling open. Rachel pulls back to find dazed hazel eyes staring at her, Quinn's mouth agape. She smiles. "That's enough for me right now—the fact that you enjoyed it just as much as I did. Just—let me have this, Quinn."
Rachel inhales a deep breath. Finn…is going to be an issue, that much she knows. Her stomach drops in guilt. "I'll apologize as many times as it takes. I didn't mean to hurt him—"
"Did you go to that party just to kiss me?"
At some point Quinn's hand had come up to stroke Rachel's resting on her cheek. Rachel stares at it as discretely as she can, not wanting to call attention to it and risk making Quinn uncomfortable. "No." She bites her lip. "Subconsciously, maybe. But when I had asked you earlier today if you were going, my only intent was to talk to you outside of school in hopes that you would actually have a conversation with me."
"I feel guilty," she adds after a moment.
Quinn stiffens. "You regret it?"
Rachel's hand brushes across her cheek again and she reluctantly relaxes under the touch. "I don't regret kissing you. But I do regret hurting him."
Their eyes meet for the first time in minutes. And for once, she's able to really see Quinn. The confusion, apprehension, anxiety, and…affection. Rachel leans forward to connect their lips again. It's soft, tentative. They explore each other carefully.
Quinn is the first to pull back, gasping into the air. "You should probably go inside. It's cold."
Rachel smiles a little, deciding to give Quinn the space she's really asking for. She unbuckles her seatbelt, moving to pull the cardigan off when Quinn stops her. "Keep it." Rachel looks at her with so much gratification. Quinn bites her lip. "It's kind of cold outside."
She beams at the gesture. "Thank you, Quinn. I hope you have a good night." She opens the door and steps out into the wind chilled night. Before she closes the door, she leans in. "Call me tomorrow? Please?" she asks timidly.
Quinn turns to look at the road with particular interest. She looks back over to Rachel, her gaze flitting all across her face. Her jaw clenches before she answers cautiously. "I'll call."
Two words have never sounded so promising. Rachel flashes the brightest smile that doesn't leave her face until she falls into bed, completely optimistic that Quinn will keep her promise.