A/N: Thanks to all who alerted and favourited this already. I can tell you, this is nothing like I've ever written (or read) and is a nice combination of several genres of fiction, you're bound to recognize something from somewhere in this. Mentions of sex, drug use and some darkness in this. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: Glee? Not mine.
She ignores Quinn as she enters, dropping Anna Karenina on the entry table with a thud and putting her shoes neatly underneath.
It was her eleventh night by the bleachers, watching the sad silent stranger from the shadows as he runs. He never speaks and she still hasn't been able to read his mind. He goes to the bleachers at midnight every night, runs for an hour and then slinks tiredly away, back to wherever it was he hid during the day. She doesn't follow him, although she wants to. It was creepy enough she watches him at the field, following him home would be a bad idea.
Rachel. You've gone out every night for the past week and a half. And you always come back smelling like man. Who is he?
She cuts her eyes at Quinn. They go through this every night she comes in. "It doesn't concern you."
Quinn squeals happily and claps her hands. "She speaks! I knew that if I kept it up long enough I'd get you to talk! So, who is he?"
Artie strolls in with a can of Pringles in his hand. Sour cream and onion. He sniffs the can and shuffles it around, "I bet this tastes delicious."
Rachel raises an eyebrow then laughs. Artie was always willing to try anything at least three times, never mind the stomach-ache he was guaranteed afterwards. She flits over and steals the can from him, popping a handful of chips in her mouth as she looks from him to Quinn.
"I hate you." They both deadpan and she chuckles merrily, winking at them as she eats a handful more.
"What doesn't concern her?" Artie sighs, still glaring at her.
"Rachel met a boy."
She rolls her eyes and stalks to the kitchen for a bottle of water and of course, they follow her.
"Wow, Rach. Really? Who is he?"
"I don't know."
Matching confused looks flash across Artie & Quinn's faces.
"Didn't you check? You know, do that thing you do?" Artie asks.
She bites her lip and shrugs, "I can't."
It's silent in the kitchen and she walks out towards her room, snatching Anna Karenina as she walks past the table. She hasn't actually read it on her excursions out to the football field but she needs something to distract her for the next couple of hours. And she also needs new books. She suspects she'll be going to the field a lot, and if she brings just the one book Quinn and Artie are bound to notice.
Quinn appears in front of her as she reaches to push her bedroom door open.
"What do you mean you can't read him?"
She gives a heavy sigh and pushes her friend aside. "Exactly that. He's silent. Not a peep. Zilch. Nada. No thoughts whatsoever. Completely mum to me."
Is that good or bad? Artie asks silently.
She turns around, shrugs and gnaws at her lip. "I don't know. I've never met anyone like that before."
"What does he look like?"
Rachel fights her blush, disappointed when Quinn claps her hand in glee again. She reminds her of one of those peppy blonde cheerleaders they always saw in LA, but maybe if she told her that Quinn's ego would swell. She prefers not to chance that.
"He's tall. Broad-shouldered, thick brown hair, freckles, nice smile. Whiskey-coloured eyes."
"You like him," Artie snickers.
"I don't know him. And besides, I'm not too keen in getting involved with anyone anytime soon. Jesse is enough of a life lesson for me."
Quinn snarls mentally, when she looks over at her, at the blonde girl shrugs her shoulders slightly, eyes and thoughts focused on her manicure.
She goes into her room and makes to close the door but Artie speaks again, gesturing to her face. "At least make sure you eat before you see him again. Everyone here knows you as a brown-eyed beauty, I'm not sure how they'd react if anyone were to see you like this."
She frowns and turns her eyes towards the mirror on her wall, gasping as bright azure blue eyes sparkle back at her. She didn't even realize. There's a tugging from deep inside and she can feel the familiar faint throbbing in her chest, and as soon as she acknowledges it, her mouth starts to water. She groans and turns back to Quinn.
The blonde grins and winks, "there's a house party over at the Omega house. I'll bring the wine."
Smirking, she ignores Artie's mental growl.
Quinn isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with.
Still, she was born like that so it's not like she knows of any other way to be. And, technically, they are actually family, so aside from being Rachel's mentor and teaching her how to handle her urges, Quinn is the only blood relative she has left. They're close enough that they can tolerate each other and Artie was usually there to play peacemaker.
Tonight, as they make their way towards the frat party, mingling with the other people milling about, heading towards that or another party, and of course she's immediately bombarded with images and thoughts and other hedonistic recognition of the beauty that is Quinn Fabray.
A group of men, third-year students apparently, standing at the steps leading towards the house practically undress Quinn with their eyes and thoughts as they walk up.
Rachel rolls her eyes when she sees where Quinn's mind is heading and promptly distances herself from the potent charisma swirling around the blonde, leaving her and makes her way into the party.
"Hello boys," Quinn purrs from behind her. What she says mentally though, makes even Rachel blush.
The party is packed with bodies, male and female, pressing in and gyrating on each other, music is loud and seductive with alcohol flowing freely. As do rolled up blunts of weed and tiny packets of pills and powder. She despises the habit and the people who gladly embrace them. Mentally, she passes on to Quinn who to avoid and heads over to the bar, grabbing a cold Red Stripe.
She leans against a wall and surveys the room, her eyes landing on a tall, dark-skinned boy, currently nursing his second beer and nervously fidgeting where he stands. He's a freshman and it's his first frat party; he's only came because his dorm mates dragged him out. She tips her beer back and moves towards him slowly, smiling when his eyes met hers. Matt.
She smiles seductively as his heart starts pounding against his chest when she steps in front of him.
"Dance with me," she murmurs, running the back of her hand across his cheek. Matt shudders as her hand glows dimly at the contact, giving her a burst of energy that wraps around her and creeps down her arm.
The boy smiles dopily and nods, dropping his drink on the floor and following her steps as she manoeuvres him around, her back pressing against the wall.
He bends down and tries to kiss her, his mind screaming how gorgeous she was and how good she smells and that he really, really wants her naked. She fights herself from cringing and lets him press his lips to hers, pulling her roughly towards his groin. His lips move sloppily against hers and she grips his shirt and slants her mouth beneath his, moaning greedily as more of his energy flows from him into her.
He groans and tries to hurriedly undress himself but she grabs both his hands in hers, pressing them into his side but lets him push her against the wall, swallowing his quiet moans as she feeds. She feels the wetness of his jeans against her leg and then he slumps against her, pressing his forehead against the wall. She slips from beneath him, smirking at the dazed look on his face as his legs give way and he falls to the floor.
"Thanks sugar." She winks and wipes her mouth, sipping from her bottle of beer again.
She dances seductively around the room, feeding off the remnants of Quinn's conquests, pressing herself between two cheerleaders under the staircase, her hands pushed up under the blouse of the redhead in front her as the blonde behind presses kisses to her neck, her hand shoved into Rachel's panties.
When the redhead slumps to her feet, Rachel turns around and pushes the blonde against the wall, attacking her lips easily and lightly pinching her nipples as the girl's orgasm rips through her. The woman keens and moans, holding on to her shirt as her legs give away, her body shuddering and spasming against hers.
"Fuck me," she pleads as she slumps the floor beside her friend, spent and breathing hard, already succumbing to the lure of sleep.
She pats the girl's cheek softly and slips away.
Unlike Quinn, she doesn't need to go all out to satisfy her hunger, and she has a pretty good hold of her cravings.
And unlike Quinn, she doesn't incite carnal mayhem and orgies when she walks through a room. Still, she doesn't really mind the tingles as she walks around, picking up random energy flowing through the room, because Quinn gets sloppy sometimes.
Also, she's not greedy. She's good with two, four at the most.
It's hard on her because she has to work to block out the thoughts of everyone surrounding her, and with Quinn nearby that's almost impossible, with simultaneous orgasms rippling through the room, private thoughts screaming at her once they unravel. Her 'mind magic' as Artie calls it was sometimes a curse more than a gift.
As usual, the headache soon starts prickling at the back of her head and if she stays much longer she could just combust from the pressure.
She spies Quinn moving near the bottom of the stairs, a bottle of water in her hand. The blonde is practically glowing as she moves sensuously through the crowd of people. Suddenly, she stops and turns her head in Rachel's direction, her eyebrows raised as she sniffs the air. She tilts her head to the right and frowns.
Do you smell that?
Sex? Rachel smirks and Quinn gives her an irritated look.
There's something, or rather someone here.
Rachel tastes the air, but the smell of sex, beer, drugs and sweat swelling around them makes her wrinkle her nose a bit.
She looks back to Quinn and shakes her head. She doesn't see, smell, taste, feel or hear anything unusual - that is if you don't count the two girl-five boy orgy going on upstairs in the second bedroom. Hmmph, someone really likes handcuffs. She sighs and shakes her head, pulling herself from the mind currently screaming in ecstasy.
But Quinn is older, and having just fed, her senses are much more refined than Rachel's. Quicker than the blink of an eye, she moves to stand beside Quinn and touches her bare shoulder. Briefly, Quinn's eyes flash silver before she reluctantly lets her connect.
She can barely taste the lingering, cloying sweetness in the room and she recoils when she does. Quinn's voice in her head tells her to calm down or close her eyes. She closes her eyes while she tries to get a better grasp on the sensation prickling in the back of her mind. It's dangerous, loud and bold, she can feel that. And it was here about three or four days ago.
"It's like Artie. But colder," she murmurs to Quinn.
"Yes. And with us being here is going to cause a clusterfuck. I thought Artie said the area was clean?"
She pulls her hand away from Quinn and looks around the room, "Artie isn't psychic Quinn. They could've have come here after we did."
"But here? To OSU, Rachel?" Quinn wrinkles her nose.
She refrains from rolling her eyes. Quinn wanted to go to Paris or Milan this time around, preferring the exotic lifestyle as opposed to the relaxed and laidback notions Rachel shares with Artie and was none too pleased that they had left New York for Ohio.
"Yes, Quinn. To Ohio State."
Just be careful. You're still young.
She glances back at Quinn then turns to focus on a couple in the corner making out, ignoring the repetitive lecture in her head, grateful when Quinn gets distracted by a tall blond man drinking a beer, his eyes undressing her. She purrs throatily as she makes her way over to him, her thoughts dirtier than usual. Rachel screams at her mentally, cutting her eyes when Quinn glares back at her.
"Five minutes. My head's killing me. And you're not making it any easier."
She's at a music store near the OSU campus when he walks in.
Joe calls her in every time he gets new (old) records because he knows she has a soft spot for old soul albums, especially Smoky Norful and Etta James. She's in the back corner with those thick studio headphones on listening to Solomon Burke's crooning when her new favourite smell floats over to her and she hears him laughing as he talks to the store owner.
"I'm trying to find some screws for my hi-hat. Got any?"
"Sure Huddy, gimme a sec."
She presses her fingers into the sponge of the headphones, so hard they thread in her hands, her breathing halted as she listens to the easy thump of his heartbeat, steady and calm under the music in her ears.
She needs to leave.
She finds it funny that it's easier to deal with him when she's shrouded in darkness when technically that's when it was more dangerous for them both. The trick was, here, there were two exits, but one is in the back near Joe's stockroom and the other was directly behind the stranger, so there is no way to get out without not being seen.
Why does she have to hide though? It's not like he could recognize her. But she can't – shouldn't - stay, she knows that much.
Slowly, she puts the headphones back on the shelf beside her and bends to pick up her bag. She hears Joe shuffling in the storeroom in the back and walks as slowly as she humanly can towards the counter and the exit. Joe comes back out and calls out to her, frowning at her empty hands.
"Hey, Rach? Nothing new this time?"
She shakes her head at him, giving him a small smile. "Nah, I'll come back some other time. See ya, Joe."
She gives him a small wave and nods politely to the stranger as he smiles down at her, stepping aside so she can escape. She feels his eyes on her as she does, and has to fight the urge to not turn back, holding her breath as she leaves.
She runs across the street, hurrying into the evening mist but still listening to the easy conversation in the music store. The quiet stranger seems to have a love for drums because he buys a new pedal and some decals for his kit at home. Joe promises him he'll call him when he gets the new Gotye record and laughing, bids him goodbye.
"Have a good one, Finn!"
She hides in the shadows when he walks by her, his relaxed façade gone, twirling his drumsticks, face grim as he heads to a red truck in the parking lot across from the line of stores where the music shop is. She decides to follow him this time and keeps up with him as he drives, following his scent and the rattle of his truck. He parks in front of student housing on the opposite side of the campus from where she lives.
She's so focused on Finn that she almost doesn't recognize the cloying sweetness she picked up recently at the Omega frat party.
She looks around but again, nothing out the ordinary.
Finn lives on the third floor, with two other men, who complain loudly because he forgot to bring back pizza. She chuckles and turns back towards home, her pace easy and relaxed as she walks.
Quinn had had a gentleman caller last night, and she and Artie were sexiled. She decides to order pizza as payback, detouring to the hospital before she goes to their apartment.
The next time she sees Finn, again she's totally unprepared.
She's sitting with Quinn, distractedly listening to some story about two men in her Advanced Theory class when the sudden shadow falling across their table alerts her to his presence before his intoxicating smell does.
Quinn's mental shout totally belies her calm demeanour as she smiles up at the two men standing beside them then she purrs, a salacious smile spreading across her face.
Rachel looks up, blinks and immediately stops breathing. She sees the smirk on Quinn's face as the blonde realizes what she just did.
Finn is staring at her. He looks over at Quinn and smiles politely, "hello."
She wants to internally snicker at the look of her friend's face but Finn's attention is back on her and he was clearly waiting for an answer.
She risks breathing to answer him, ignoring the barrage of questions in Quinn's mind as she surveys the two men standing there.
"Rachel, right? I saw you in Joe's shop the other day?" Even his voice is seductive.
She has to blink several times, swallowing quickly to control her reaction before she can speak again.
"Yeah.. hi. Again."
Finn's eyes widen slightly when she speaks and Quinn kicks her foot under the table, thinking at her. Turn down the charm sweetie, you're turning me on.
"I'm Finn, Finn Hudson." He holds out a hand for her to shake and she does, swallowing again when tingles erupt under her fingertips as he clasps her hand. He stares at their hands, his brow furrowed and she echoes the thought Quinn throws at her.
She nods imperceptibly and pulls her hand away, forcing her smile to stay on her face.
Whew Huddy! She's a babe. But that blonde is smoking! His Mohawked friend beside him has a cocky grin on his face, his gaze lingering on Quinn. Not surprisingly, his thoughts are dirty and she has to check he's human: he had a very creative imagination. Quinn would be proud.
Finn shakes his head as if he's clearing it and nods over at his friend, "Ah, this is Puck."
"Ladies." He reaches to shake Quinn's hand, pulling back with a glassy look in his eyes when she touches him. Rachel doesn't hide her snigger. She shakes Puck's hand quickly, surprised but happy that her palm doesn't tingle when they touch.
"Your name is Noah." She grins. "I'm Rachel Berry. This is Quinn Fabray," she says and Quinn waves.
Puck looks from Quinn to her and blinks. "Huh?"
"Noah Puckerman. Nice nickname." She smiles mischievously. Finn chuckles.
"Yea, everyone calls me Puck. How'd you know my name?"
He's a second year business major. "Business Statistics. Professor Landon."
Quinn hides her snort behind her hands.
Noah nods and smiles at her, turning his gaze back to Quinn. "So, mind if we join you ladies? We're just about to get some lunch."
Quinn's frown is brief before she smiles disarmingly. "Sure. I was just about to go get something to eat too. Rachel?"
"Actually, I need to go. I have a paper I need to hand in before two. Some other time?" She jumps to her feet before Noah and Finn can sit down. She ignores the hurt look on Finn's face and the snarky tone Quinn responds with mentally.
"Are you sure Rach?" Why are you running? Is he the guy you keep watching?
"Yes," she replies succinctly.
Finn shuffles from one foot to the other then gives her a boyish smile. "Alright, I guess I'll see you around then?"
She smiles and touches his arm covered by his jacket, turns and hurries away as slowly as she can manage before she finally can breathe easily again. She's needs to be able to breathe if she's going to hang around him. His scent was too intoxicating so close for her to think straight. Not to mention that, unlike Noah, she still couldn't hear a peep from Finn's mind.
Talk about intriguing.
She looks pale and eerie in the mirrored wall as they enter the club, the beat of the music steady and throbbing. Tonight is Quinn's idea, another girl's night without Artie.
Quinn, walking beside her, looks almost ethereal, her blonde hair almost white under the lights. She turns around and winks, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her green eyes sparkling as her body moves sinuously towards the throng of people writhing on the dance floor.
Rachel sighs and follows her, anticipation licking over her skin. She's lost count how long it's been since the last time; she doesn't need to be here, but someone needs to control Quinn and plus, she's a bit hungry.
Two hulking men raise their eyes as Quinn passes by them and she rolls her eyes, sidestepping them carefully as their gazes linger on her friend. She warns the blonde about them though, the one on the right has an affinity for choking women. While she's sure Quinn would be able to handle them, it was best to not tempt fate.
After claiming a beer from the bar, she walks to the nearest wall and closes her eyes, letting the energy pulsate around her. Someone presses in close behind her and her eyes slide open. A tall, svelte brunette brushes past her, winking as she does. She's twisting and turning her body on the dance floor, eyes glued to Rachel and beckoning her towards her.
Tiffany, a second year Biology major, twirls her body to the beat of the music and when Rachel calls out to her, she moves lithely toward her, backing the shorter girl onto the wall and pressing her lips to hers.
It's more of the usual, and Rachel fights to block out the running commentary the other woman has going on in her mind. She pushes her tongue into her mouth, pinching Tiffany's nipples and she can smell the woman's arousal as her body goes slack, her essence seeming into her. Wiping her mouth, she steps away from the brunette, pushing her so she's slouched against the wall, sighing contentedly.
She looks around and finds Quinn in the crowd, grinding between two dark-skinned men, her hands curled around the back of one's neck as he pushes his hand up her shirt, pressing into her from behind. She shakes her head at Quinn when she looks up and winks at her, going back to the bar for another beer.
She anticipates the headache this time, it's a given whenever she's out with Quinn like this. What she doesn't expect is the literal punch to the stomach that doubles her over. Flashes dance behind her eyes: messy brown hair, dimpled smile and someone very tall. She can feel the crunch of bone under her feet and the emptiness that surrounds his aura, signalling his death.
Quinn! She calls out. The other woman doesn't acknowledge her, too caught up in her hunger and the mass of bodies pressing in around her.
It was already starting.
She growls and narrows her eyes. Quinn!
Quinn snaps her eyes open, looking over at her, smirking. She knows what she's doing. What's about to happen if she keeps that fucking dancing up. Her smile dies on her face as she stares at Rachel and she frowns, her nostrils flaring as she looks around the room wildly. Rachel follows her gaze, scanning the crowded room quickly before the effects of Quinn's frenzied dance takes hold.
There! She sees him the same time Quinn's mind screams out, Finn is teetering on his feet, awkward and ungainly as he moves towards the front doors, fumbling through the people pressing in around him. He's drunk; she can smell it from here.
The token six seconds she was just privy to occurs in real time achingly slow and too fast at the same time. She's beside him immediately, gripping his arm and tugging him upright right before he falls over.
"Ow!" He complains, trying to pull his arm from her grip.
"Stop it. I'm trying to help you," she commands quietly. She's not overly fond of what's about to happen next and she needs to get him, and herself, outside before it does.
"Gerroff!" Finn mumbles, trying to pull away from her. Her hands are small, tiny in comparison to his and he's strong. She frowns, wrapping both hands around his upper arm and tugs him towards the door.
"Leggo. 'S hurts," he slurs.
Right as she pushes him through the doors of the club, she hears the scream of the stampede from behind them.
"Wah-," He turns to go back inside and she rolls her eyes, literally lifting him off his feet and towards the parking lot and into his truck.
Quinn knows how to get herself home so she pushes Finn in, grabbing his keys from his pocket.
"Wha- what's going on?"
"I'm taking you home."
He groans and leans his head against the seat as she drives off, people pouring out of the doors behind them. She can hear the shouts and screams as a veritable mass orgy explodes inside the club.
The big guy she saw when they first entered was pounding away at a tiny strawberry blonde bent over in a corner outside the club and Finn was suddenly throwing up outside his window.
Stopping the van, she hops out and flits to the dark corner, dragging the man off the woman and cruelly flinging him into a wall.
She plucks the girl off the ground, and ripping the door off the closest car, shoves her inside. Normally, she would have at least tried to take her to the hospital and deal with the big asshole in the corner but Finn was already stumbling out of his pickup, falling to his knees in the excitement still pouring out of the club.
Pressing some money into the girl's hands, she closes the door and hurries back towards Finn, pushing him back inside before driving off again.
Why was it so hard to stay away from Finn Hudson?
A/N: Exactly how crazy am I?