It's dimly lit. It's one of the reasons she was so attracted to the place the moment she stepped inside. It reminds her of something, she can't quite put her finger on it but she's smart enough to realize that it's something important and that's the reason she favors this place. It smells of stale beer and outdated peanut shells. One of those places that appears to not give a fuck but without the crunched peanuts on the floor, it would lose its appeal. Quinn would probably still come here, sentimental reasons and all.
It's a wide open space, only a few booths along the wall for privacy, but most of the time she sits right at the bar. Special circumstances call for a booth seat. There's a limited food menu. Bar pies, burgers, and peanuts. She never eats.
The dart board is always lit, though she's only ever seen someone throwing darts a handful of times. Next to it there's an old jukebox, and next to that there's a newer version of a jukebox but it never gets used. People tend to favor the oldies and that's another reason why she likes it. There's a pool table in the middle of the floor, with one too many spilled beers and it gives the cue ball a certain edge to it. She's seen many a drunk regulars using it for a stage from time to time.
The bar has a history to it. One that she's proud to be a part of. Her name etched in the wood of the bathroom doors makes it feel like part of it is hers. And a part of it is hers. The bartender, the regulars, she considers them her relatives. She even buys them something for the holidays.
"Ready for another one, Kiddo?" The bartender, Lucky, laughs.
Quinn shakes the glass and the ice clinks against the side, she nods her head and pushes the glass across the old mahogany.
"What time is she coming tonight?"
Quinn shrugs, "Normal time."
He checks his watch as he pours some Cranberry juice into the glass, "Little early, huh?"
She spins her cell phone on the bar after she checks the time, she has an hour to change her mind, "Guess so," she shrugs.
"This one's on me," he winks and nudges the glass back towards her.
He's been saying that since she first walked into the bar over 3 years ago, not one drink has ever been on him which is why she admires the place. No one attempts to buy her a drink, unless they're from out of town and have a death wish. She considers them family because they treat her like a younger sister.
They don't treat her like she's an expensive crystal vase that will break if handled too roughly. They don't watch her every move as if she's about to go on a killing spree, either. Lucky can tell when she needs a Whiskey on the particularly rough days, and he can tell when she'll want a beer so she can unwind. Though, he can tell that with everyone, so she doesn't necessarily consider herself special.
The only other person that could do those things, was the exact reason she was at Murphy's at 7 pm on a Saturday night.
Ironically, the only place she could clearly think right now was the place that she often never thought clearly. Alcohol clouded her judgment and tended to lead her down paths that ended in dead ends. The awkward mornings that ended with notes on bedside tables under Advil and a glass of water.
The first time she had drank, well, she'd rather not think about it. The second time, well, she'd rather not think about that either but her mind often didn't do what it was told.
"Who wants to play spin the bottle? Spin the bottle!" Rachel shouted before jumping down from her makeshift stage. Who even has their own stage? The Berry's, obviously.
She dutifully sat at the edge of the circle, praying that the bottle never pointed to her. God surely could help her out on a request so miniscule, since He surely wasn't hearing her other prayers recently. She slid by unharmed and watched the others make fools of themselves. Jealous boyfriends and girlfriends, yelling over the music as their crushes hooked up with one of their friends.
It would be amusing if it wasn't all so sad.
She needed to drink more.
"Quinn," she turned to Kurt with a lazy smile.
"Hi," she replied and closed her eyes.
"Honey, wake up, we're leaving."
"No? Did she just say no? I'm not in the mood for this," he said.
Quinn giggled to herself as she pictured Kurt getting riled up, but she just didn't want to get up, the couch was too comfortable.
"Quinn, come on," she felt pressure on her knees and forced her eyes open. It was Finn. "Don't you wanna, ya know," he hinted with a shrug of his shoulders.
"No." her brows scrunched together in firmness.
"Quinn, get up right now," Kurt stated firmly, "I'm not making two trips."
"I'll drive her home," Rachel announced before burping loudly and laughing to herself.
Quinn laughed along.
"Yeah, no. Quinn. Up. Now. Or you're sleeping here."
"Slumber party!" Rachel yelled and Quinn sat up with wide eyes.
"I vote that."
"Quinn, are you sure?" Finn asked. "I thought we could…"
Quinn's face contorted in disgust and Rachel made a throw up noise.
"I'm leaving." Kurt stated. "Come, Blaine."
"Yes sir," he saluted before Kurt dragged him towards the steps.
"Bye Finn," Rachel pushed him towards the stairs and spoke over him as he attempted to convince the girls otherwise.
Rachel plopped down next to Quinn on the couch with her wine cooler and passed it over.
"I have markers, we could draw on Puck."
Quinn's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly as she attempted to sit up. She fell back down and held her head, "My head hurts, you go."
Rachel leant back in order to get good leverage and hopped off the couch all in one swift motion, she held her arms out to balance her, "The earth is moving." She looked to Quinn in panic, "Oh my god, are we having an earthquake? Quinn, we have to get to my bathtub."
Quinn laughed and grabbed her hand, "We're not having an earthquake."
"We most certainly are!"
"It's just the alcohol, haven't you been really drunk before?"
"No!" she closed her eyes and began to sway, "Am I going to die?"
She was on the verge of tears as she looked back to Quinn for help, "No you're not going to die."
"I don't like this. What do I do? What do I do?"
"Shush, come here and sit down." Rachel hesitantly stepped forward and sat back on the couch, "Better?"
"No!" She began fanning her face, "It's hot."
Rachel inhaled and exhaled a few times, "Maybe if I drink more, it will counter it and go away."
Quinn chuckled to herself, "Doesn't work that way, you need water and probably some kind of bread. I'll be right back."
Rachel gripped onto Quinn's wrist, "You can't leave me here to die!"
"You're not going to die."
"You're not going to die, stop saying that!"
Rachel began fanning her face again, "Now you're yelling at me," she inhaled deeply.
"Okay, okay, shhh, I'm sorry," Quinn replied softly. "Here, lie down, maybe that will help."
She guided Rachel to lie down on the couch and scooted a bit closer so she could sit next to her body, "How's that?"
Rachel waited a few seconds, "Worse, now I feel like I'm spinning. Oh my god, make it stop!"
"Okay, okay, calm down and open your eyes," Quinn took Rachel's leg and put it over the side of the couch, "There, you're grounded, do you feel better?"
Rachel continued to breath and opened her eyes wider, "A little."
"Can I go get you some water now?"
Rachel swallowed and nodded her head, "Please hurry."
Quinn bit back the comment she was dying to make about how dramatic Rachel was being but she remembered the first time she was so drunk that she was nauseous—not to mention for 3 months after—and took pity on her. "Okay, I'll be right back," she patted her arm and made her way back up to the kitchen. She hadn't been privy to a grand tour but she managed to find her way easily. She was able to fill two glasses of water and find a bagel on the counter. Her ability to sober up so quickly both impressed and scared her. Her parents were sneaky drunks, often appearing relatively sober, and it seemed that she had the same trait.
She went back down the steps to find Rachel with her eyes closed, softly singing, Quinn noted the song and smiled to herself.
"What took so long?"
Quinn laughed out loud, "I've been gone less than a minute."
"I counted to 130 in my head."
"You were just singing out loud, how could you do both?"
"Drink." Quinn reached her hand behind to help Rachel up by her neck. "Not so fast, you'll feel worse." She instructed as Rachel began gulping.
She lied back down and Quinn ripped off a piece of the bagel and handed it to her, "Eat that."
Rachel chewed slowly as to not choke and Quinn lifted up the brunette's legs in order to sit under them.
"You should be a nurse," Rachel commented after half the bagel was gone, which took about 10 minutes.
Rachel nodded and lifted up to get some more water by herself, a good sign that she was feeling better, "You have a soothing voice."
"I would know, I have a very soothing voice, too." She added, almost entirely killing the blush on Quinn's cheeks and turning it into laughter.
"Are you denying it?"
Quinn stared at Rachel with the straightest face she could manage at the moment and when the brunette dropped her head and raised her eyebrows just a bit in contest, Quinn felt her smirk showing and knew she lost once Rachel cracked a smile, "No," she huffed playfully.
Rachel held her hand out expectantly so Quinn could give her another small hunk of bagel. She sat up fully and leant against the back of the couch so she was sitting next to the blonde and not lying nearly on top of her. Quinn, not for the first time in the past 30 minutes, would internally shudder when Rachel allowed her left leg to dangle over Quinn's.
"You don't have to take care of me."
"10 minutes ago I was in a death grip because you were afraid that you were going to die."
"Well, I'm fine now."
"I don't mind."
"I'm not a needy girl drunk."
"A needy girl drunk!" she replied, "I don't need people to take care of me."
"What is a needy girl drunk?"
"It's someone who is needy when they are drunk!" she whined.
"Where did you hear that?"
Rachel stayed silent.
"Well I've never heard of that so it's not a real thing," Quinn replied.
"Yes it is! Finn even said so."
"Ah, so Finn is the one."
"I didn't say that." Rachel replied stubbornly.
"Okay, you didn't say that. So when did Finn tell you that you were a needy girl drunk?"
Quinn smirked and Rachel began to argue, "That wasn't fair, you tricked me."
"Finn is an idiot."
"Does that make us idiots for dating him?" Rachel asked.
"Yes. Yes, it does."
Rachel pondered, "So I'm allowed to call you an idiot and you won't beat me up?"
Quinn rolled her eyes playfully, "Sure."
"I don't think you're an angry drunk, you're really nice."
"I'm hungry, are you hungry?"
"Do you want to go home?"
"Really? I'm not annoying?"
Rachel used Quinn as a crutch to get herself off the couch, "Will you make me food?"
Quinn used Rachel's offered hand so she could also get off the couch, "I guess, what do you want?"
Rachel bounced up the steps, and Quinn lingered in the basement, taking note of Puck, Sam, Santana, and Brittany sound asleep on the floor. She should probably wake them up so they could join them upstairs, and maybe find someplace more comfortable to sleep but Rachel's voice called her name at the top of the stairs and her friends were forgotten.
Rachel sat at the island that separated the kitchen from the living room while Quinn was forced to play a game of Hot or Cold every time she asked Rachel where an ingredient was located in the kitchen.
"You're fairly warm."
"I'm not playing this game with you, tell me where the plates are." Quinn replied and moved forward.
Rachel smirked, "You're getting colder."
She stepped back and moved towards the cabinets, it was way easier to just look for the things herself but something had her going along with Rachel's little game. She finally found the plates and gave Rachel some pasta and another glass of water.
"Slow down, you're going to get sick."
Surprisingly, Rachel listened to her and the two ate together on the couch as they watched America's Funniest Home Videos. Quinn washed their dishes in the sink and found the bathroom without asking for any help, when she got back into the living room, Rachel was lying on the couch and QVC was on.
"What happened to what we were watching?" Quinn asked with a frown, QVC drove her nuts.
"Well, put it back on."
"I can't find it."
"Let me see the remote," Quinn held her hand out.
"Give me the remote."
"No, they have the best things at this time of night."
Quinn sat heavily on the couch to announce her disapproval but Rachel didn't pay attention to her.
"You're hot." Rachel said after a minute.
Quinn turned with a raised eyebrow, "Excuse me?"
"You're hot…" Rachel paused with a sparkle to her eyes, "In relation to the remote."
Quinn was up for the challenge.
She scooted closer and put her hand in between the back of the couch and the cushions, "Getting hotter."
She felt her way closer to where Rachel's head was, she had a sneaking suspicion that the remote was under the pillow she was resting her head on.
Quinn was nearly hovering over Rachel's body, the object she was looking for was long forgotten. Her buzz from the alcohol was still running through her body, entirely blocking out alarms sounding in the back of her mind.
"You're on fire," Rachel whispered between them.
Quinn dropped her lower body, putting the slightest bit of pressure on Rachel, causing her head to tilt up just enough for Quinn to slip her lips between the brunette's. Her mouth was cold, and she still tasted like the wine coolers she had been drinking all night. Her cheek was hot under Quinn's clammy hand, but her nose was ice cold.
Quinn felt exactly how Rachel said, she was on fire.
Her body shifted off balance and she felt Rachel's leg disappear, breaking the kiss and breaking the hazy trance she was under. She began to sit back up but Rachel's cool hand guarded her back and held her in place.
"Grounded." Rachel said, her eyes still closed.
"What?" Quinn asked, peering over the couch to find Rachel's foot on the floor.
"The earth is moving again."
"Are you okay?"