Summary: Quinn doesn't understand. Rachel seems like a player, but at the same time she's too nice and sweet to be one.
The first time Quinn noticed her was two weeks into her junior year at college. Before that one fateful moment, which was a rather unspectacular one, the blonde had never seen this Rachel Berry girl hanging around her dorm.
It had been pure coincidence. Standing in front of her dorm room, Quinn had fumbled for her keys and in that moment, the Rachel Berry girl had walked by and greeted her with a cheery, "Hi." Quinn had awkwardly nodded and watched Berry entering her own room.
And since that day, there was no way of avoiding her presence anymore. Or better yet, avoiding the people that reminded of her presence.
No, it wasn't Rachel Berry herself who kept spiking Quinn's interest in her, but the mass of girls leaving her room. And for the life of her, Quinn couldn't figure out why.
She had met Rachel before. Personally. Once or twice. She seemed like a nice, innocent and maybe even naive girl. She was rather sweet and cute and one of those very lovable girls, like adorable kittens, but Quinn would've never thought of her as a pouncing tigress. But apparently, the strings of girls leaving her room with a very much dreamy smile proved otherwise. The blonde would know, her own room happened to be opposite of Rachel's room and whenever she went out, the opposite door would open as well, just to reveal a content looking, nameless girl walking away with springy steps.
And it made Quinn furious. Kind of. She actually had no right to, but she felt like it was of her concern, since Rachel lived across the hallway. And because she believed she had Rachel's tactic figured out.
Playing the innocent, sweet girl. Looking for real love. Exactly what other naïve girls want, and bada-bing, they end up in her bed. Fooled by a professional player.
But no, Quinn was smarter than all of them. Rachel could pretend to be all sweet around her as much as she wanted, she wasn't going to rise to the bait. That was all a game to Rachel and Quinn knew better.
Quinn didn't know why she let the whole Rachel thing bother her so much. Maybe because she wanted to save all those hearts that hadn't been broken by Rachel yet, maybe she wanted to call the brunette out on her shit. Or maybe it was just unfair that she had to crush on her, unfair that she was crushing on someone who had thousands of other girls crushing on her, too.
No one, and really no one, knew about the conflict going on inside of her. Well, maybe just one person.
"I just don't understand why you don't like her," Brittany, her buoyant roommate since freshman year of college, asked with a frown. She sat on her bed with her legs crossed, bouncing a little bit on the mattress. "She is the sweetest person, even Santana can't say no to her."
A grimace appeared on Quinn's face almost instantly, she tried to block out unwanted pictures in her head. She didn't even want to know what Brittany meant with 'not being able to say no to her'. It had to be naughty stuff. Like, really crazy stuff. Because as far she was concerned, Santana was rude and snarky and so openly gay that made Quinn wonder why she was still so rude and snarky in the first place. But according to Brittany, the Latin girl was already a huge improvement in comparison to the younger version of hers. She used to be much nastier in high school, which made Quinn question how that was possible.
But back to the topic, Santana was Rachel's evil roommate, and if Rachel could convince the devil to do anything she wanted her to, then she had to have some serious moves. She didn't think she had seen anyone more stubborn than Santana, besides herself.
"And that's exactly the reason," Quinn countered after a while of thinking, turning around in her chair, away from her psychology essay that was due to next week. "I don't trust her. Everyone thinks she's sweet and harmless, but I know she's just waiting to hurt you all."
Brittany stopped bouncing on her bed. Utter confusion made her forget to continue her workout for her butt. "Are we talking about the same Rachel Berry? Because I don't think she's able to harm a fly."
Quinn innerly sighed. She really liked Brittany, she had so much luck in getting her as her roommate, but sometimes she didn't possess the same amount of skepticism towards the world as Quinn. She always believed the good in everything whereas Quinn eyed everything with caution.
"Have you seen all the girls coming from her room?" Quinn decided to be direct. There was no way Brittany could have missed them.
"Of course," Brittany nodded with a smile. "But that's because Rachel is so good with her hands, she likes to give -"
"OKAY!" Quinn quickly interrupted her, louder than she intended to. "I believe you. I was wrong."
Not quite happy about being so rudely interrupted, yet comforted by the fact that she was right, Brittany went back to bouncing on her bed with the sheer power of the muscles in her butt cheeks.
Quinn released a sigh and turned back to her essay. She wasn't getting anywhere with it if she continued to think about her dorm neighbor.
"It would do you good, you know," Brittany piped up from her side of the room again, the rusty bedstead creaking from time to time. "Go to Rachel's. You're so uptight."
"Excuse me?" Quinn incredulously asked, dropping her pen and spilling some ink onto her paper. She silently cursed and crumpled the stained paper to a ball, throwing it into the trash can by her feet. She turned to Brittany again. "What do you mean, 'uptight'? I'm not uptight!"
"No, I meant your back," Brittany calmly replied, seeming very relaxed from all the bouncing. "Your muscles. Everything about your posture is uptight, I can see it from here when you write your homework. You should go to Rachel's. Let her fix it."
Quinn almost spluttered in response. "Let her fix it? No, no way, no Brittany, just no. I won't let her fix anything, I'm not letting her touch me, ever!"
She couldn't believe that Brittany was making such a suggestion. No way she was one of those girls that went to a certain person to get something fixed.
"Why not?" Brittany replied like she just couldn't understand Quinn's point of view. "Rachel doesn't mind. Like, you won't believe how magical her touch is, just ask all the girls in my dance class -"
"Thanks," Quinn pointedly said, interrupting her roommate again. She didn't want to hear all about Rachel's sexual prowess. "But I'm fine. I know it's been very long since the last time I...well, you know. But still. I don't need her."
"Well, your loss." Brittany shrugged. "I feel like going to her again."
Quinn's eyes widened at the girl still bouncing on her bed. "No...you, too?" Quinn's world seemed to crash around her. Where had Rachel Berry's hands not been?
"Yeah, it's been a while, you know," Brittany winked. She uncrossed her legs and jumped off her bed. "I feel like letting loose tonight. Good luck with your essay!"
Without waiting for an answer, Brittany strode out of her room barefoot, letting the door shut close behind her.
Quinn couldn't believe it. Just like that, her roommate had left to participate in sexual intercourse. With Rachel Berry. And she had announced it like a regular thing, like there was no need to discreetly hint on it like other people would probably do.
It wasn't that she thought of Brittany as a prude, for heaven's sake no, but that she could so easily say she wanted to have sex and was gone with the snap of her fingers. And that the source of her satisfaction would be Rachel Berry, like that girl was kind of a sex machine that was available at all times.
Needless to say that Quinn didn't get very far with her essay that night.
Quinn needed coffee. And sleep. But those two wishes were kind of contradicting each other, so she had to decide on only one thing. And since she hadn't even touched her essay on 'Psychological Influences in Screenplays' , then coffee it was.
There was a good coffee shop near the campus with affordable prices for college students and they even had free Wifi there. A reason why that shop was always full, giving you the feeling that seemingly no one had lectures to attend or exams to learn for.
Wrapped up in a warm coat and scarf, Quinn pushed open the door to the popular coffee shop and greedily inhaled the smell of brewing coffee.
Loosening the scarf around her pale throat, she stood in line and patiently waited like everyone else to buy their coffee. A dozen people were in front of her, but she didn't let that demotivate her. It was worth it, a hot coffee would make it up to her later.
The line got shorter and shorter until there were only two girls in front of her. Quinn was flexing her fingers in anticipation.
"I'm here! Rachel, here!" the girl in front of her suddenly exclaimed, looking past Quinn and waving enthusiastically. The blonde froze on the spot, not daring to turn around.
"You're lucky. I waited fifteen minutes to be where I am now."
And to Quinn's utter disbelief and indignation, the girl in front of her pulled a overwhelmed looking Rachel Berry into the line, placing her in front of Quinn. The brunette gave her a sheepish grin.
"No," Quinn growled, feeling something hot burning in her stomach. That girl did not just cut the line, not when she had already been waiting for so fucking long and not when she was still angry at her for sleeping with Brittany. Because Brittany didn't come home last night and there was no reason for Brittany to not come home, their place just lied across the hallway, what was so fucking difficult about walking back the few yards. Hell, she could've even crawled if she wanted to. But no, they apparently had sex until now, or Rachel Berry wouldn't let her innocent and oh so beautiful face show in the coffee shop.
Obviously, Brittany wasn't enough for her, so that slut in front of Quinn was going to be next. She knew it.
"No, no, no!" Quinn repeated with emphasis, ignoring the weird looks she was receiving. Only one look mattered, and that was the confused one from Rachel fucking Berry.
"I'm s - sorry," the shorter brunette stuttered, "I'll just go back and stand in line as it was my intention from the beginning."
Quinn wanted to snarl at her with a sarcastic comment that yeah, she should fucking do that, but Rachel's friend frowned and interjected, "Non-sense, that takes ages! You know what, just tell me what you want and I'll order it for you, so blondie over there doesn't lose her shit."
"No, it's okay, it wouldn't be fair to all the people standing behind you. I don't mind, I'm in no hurry."
And Quinn couldn't believe that Rachel could say all of this without a strained grimace, showing a genuine smile instead.
Her friend sighed with a grin, "Okay, being perfect must be hard," and turned to order her coffee since it was her turn now and the cashier had pointedly coughed several times.
Quinn racked and racked her brains. She couldn't and wouldn't come up with a logical reason.
All the facts that she knew about Rachel contradicted each other. As a single puzzle piece, they made sense and seemed to fit into the whole picture, but once you tried to piece them together, nothing worked, all the edges were clashing with each other.
After absently ordering and getting her usual coffee, she didn't immediately leave the coffee shop but stood by the entrance and casually watched Rachel patiently standing in line.
Quinn apatheticly sipped on her coffee and burned her tongue as a result. Innerly wincing and narrowing her eyes in pain, she cursed the only one that came to her mind.
It was her fucking fault.
Did Quinn seem unreasonable for blaming Rachel, though it was her own fault that she had burned her tongue because of the steaming coffee?
No. Not in Quinn's mind.
Because if Rachel wasn't so nice and yet so mysteriously cunning for playing all the girls, then Quinn wouldn't be in such a dilemma. The cute brunette truly seemed to possess a golden heart, yet this interfered with the way the girls came and went from her room, making her seem heartless instead.
Quinn's theory remained: Everything was a masquerade to bait the naïve girls, who thought of themselves as smart and only trusted nice looking people.
And if Rachel wasn't such a contradiction in person, then Quinn wouldn't be absently standing by the door, barely paying attention to her steaming coffee as she automatically tried to drink it like a cold drink.
Therefore it was all Rachel Berry's fault, period.
"Are you okay?"
Thinking of the devil.
Quinn startled and almost dropped her coffee, her glazed hazel eyes slowly clearing again to register a curious looking Rachel.
No, I'm not, was Quinn's answer in her mind.
"Yeah," she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid talking.
"You know, Brittany is right," Rachel casually began, pausing to shortly sip at her own coffee. "You really are uptight, how long has it been since the last time you got -"
"Oh, really?" Quinn sarcastically spitted out. "You'd like to know that, huh? Well, here's what, I'm not one of your stupid bimbos and I don't want you to ever, ever, ever suggest anything like that again."
Rachel looked absolutely dumbfounded, her pink lips slightly parted.
Quinn huffed at the undeniably cute sight, which made her hate Rachel Berry even more; because she was still so beautiful and desirable, even if she had tried to hint on them having sex. So blatantly. So unlike the nice girl before, who had offered to go back to stand in line.
Dramatically throwing the loose end of her scarf over her shoulder, Quinn raised her chin and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving a confused Rachel behind.
"How dare she...the audacity of that girl..." Quinn spoke under her breath as she roughly shoved her laundry into the washing machine, almost boxing them into it. "No tact at all, inquiring about my sex life...assuming I'm shallow as everyone else..."
She furiously pounded on a few buttons and released a sigh when water began to fill the washing machine.
"Oh, hi Quinn," a surprised voice said behind her.
Quinn's rigid body turned around and she acknowledged Gabrielle, a fellow cheerleader in the college squad, with a stiff nod. It wasn't that the girl ever did anything to annoy Quinn, but she happened to be one of Rachel's top visitors. And apparently, she had a lot to get fixed, because as far she knew, Gabrielle was in the same advanced dance class as Brittany.
Quinn grabbed her empty basket and walked past Gabrielle, who did the same as the blonde had done just one minute ago, but with reasonably less force and anger.
"Oh, and Quinn," Gabrielle called after her just as Quinn was about to leave the washing cellar, "You live across Rachel, right?"
Irritated at the mention of this name that haunted her dreams for far too many nights, Quinn stopped and whipped around, forcing a fake smile. "Yes, I do."
Gabrielle rubbed at the side of her forehead. "Could you please ask her if she has my red NYADA shirt? I think I forgot it at her place, but I don't have time to go to hers, I have dance class in five minutes."
Quinn's left eye twitched. "Why don't you just text her?" she said through gritted teeth.
Gabrielle sheepishly smiled and replied, "I don't have a phone. I'm not that into technology and stuff."
It was unbelievable. Quinn didn't know that these kind of people still existed. Well, not in her age, at least.
"And what about going to her place after your dance class?" Quinn asked again.
Slowly catching on that Quinn didn't seem to be very volunteering, Gabrielle answered with a shrug, "Alright, I'll try to ask her some other time. It's just that, our schedules don't really meet up, since I'm a sophomore, you know."
That made Quinn think. "But you're in Brittany's advanced dance class. And as far as I know, that's a course for juniors."
"I know," Gabrielle grinned. "Miss July kicked me out of her class and right into the advanced one. But compared to the classes now, her treatment was almost mild. My whole body gets tense more often, but thank God there's Rachel -"
"Have a good day," Quinn interrupted her and marched out of the room.
It didn't occur to her that maybe if she only let other people finish their sentences, her life would be so much easier.
The next time Quinn met Rachel, it happened in the college library.
The blonde was sitting by herself with tons of opened books sprawled all over her place and she kept chewing at the end of her pen while she tried to formulate full sentences in her head.
That was when a light scraping noise distracted her. She squinted her eyes and discerned Rachel standing opposite of her, pulling a chair out to sit down. With just one book in her hand. Something about the history of Broadway.
Quinn's eyes started to water from squinting in a painful angle, which made her feel like her eyeballs were about to pop out. She closed them with a soundless sigh, when the realization of Rachel Berry sitting opposite of her sinked in.
The whole library was half empty, hell, the whole length of the table was empty, at least five yards length of free space to Quinn's left, yet Rachel decided to sit opposite of her. And the width of the table amounted to a maximum of three feet.
"I came to apologize," Quinn heard Rachel whisper across the table.
The blonde was wondering if it was too late to pretend that she hadn't seen Rachel and pack up her stuff and leave.
"I understand that some people get easily more offended than others," Rachel continued to quietly say, which made Quinn finally look up in disbelief. "I didn't know that that topic made you so uncomfortable and it was wrong of me to assume that everyone reacts the same way."
What, did she fucking expect of her to react like every other mindless girl and jump straight into bed with her?
Quinn wanted to snap back, when Rachel started again, looking all bashful and cute as hell, "It's okay, I won't judge you. Some people may find it strange, but I'm able to relate to your reaction. What happens to your body is a private matter after all."
The more she talked, the crazier did she sound to Quinn.
Maybe that was it. The final puzzle piece. Rachel was schizophrenic, she had to be, that was the answer! That would explain her weird behaviour.
"Okay, I'll leave you alone now," Rachel hesitatingly said, since Quinn hadn't uttered one word throughout the one-sided conversation. "But just know that the offer still stands."
And pushing the chair back again, Rachel stood up and left with her book.
Quinn couldn't believe it. Rachel had come to apologize for her previous vulgar behavior, just to add another one to her list.
Rachel Berry was fucking crazy.
Or Quinn had become fucking crazy.
Tired from her ten hours library marathon, Quinn almost fell into her room once she opened the door.
"Hi," Brittany greeted with a full mouth, happily munching on a cookie in her bed. She waved with a small piece of paper at her roommate. "Rachel baked these for us at the communal kitchen in our dorm. Want to read the note she left for you?"
"Preferrably not," Quinn muttered, dragging herself to her bed. She let herself fall on her back, just to wince in pain. Her tense muscles were killing her.
She couldn't deny it anymore. She really was uptight. She couldn't fucking walk without imaginary squeaking noises echoing in her ears.
No. Absolutely not.
No way. No fucking way that she would let Berry fix her problem. She would never sink to that level.
"Okay, I'll read it out to you," Brittany cheerily said, opening the folded piece of paper. "Dear Quinn, I hope you will accept these cookies as a way of apologizing to you. And just know that you can always knock on my door if you need me. Rachel." Brittany looked up and laughed. "Aww, she's so sweet!"
Quinn released a sigh. "What is this girl? How many personalities does she have?" she muttered to herself. Yet not quiet enough for Brittany to miss it.
"What are you talking about?" her roommate remarked in confusion, which didn't hinder her shoving another cookie into her mouth though.
"Nothing," Quinn mumbled. Might as well enjoy a cookie, she was starving, but at the same time too tired to go anywhere to eat. Anything that required her to move was inconvenient now.
"Britt, could you please throw me a cookie?"
Brittany chose the biggest cookie of the plate and aimed it at Quinn's mouth with a narrowed eye. "Will you catch it?"
She threw it across the room and Quinn managed to catch it without it breaking into thousand crumbs. She unceremoniously shoved the whole of it into her mouth, when a heavenly taste suddenly stimulated all of her taste buds on her tongue and flooded her brain. It was the taste of perfection.
She moaned quietly, but it still sounded obscene to her ears.
"Tastes good, huh?" Brittany knowingly said. She stood up from her bed and brought the plate with the cookies over to Quinn's side. "Here, you can have them all. I'll head to the showers, got a date with Santana."
Quinn was too busy licking every corner of her mouth to hold on to the heavenly taste, that she didn't register what Brittany had said. When she spotted the full plate beside her head, placed on her bed, she couldn't contain herself anymore. She ate all of them. Like an addict, who hadn't had his fix for a long time.
And when she was finished, she felt dirty. She couldn't believe it, she had let herself get seduced by cookies! Cookies made by Berry!
"What have I done," Quinn whispered to herself, staring at her oily fingers stained with crumbs. In a trance, she had devoured all the cookies like monster. And now she felt like she had betrayed herself.
She wasn't tired anymore. Her heart was pounding like mad as she jumped off her bed, racing to the bathroom. She furiously scrubbed her hands under the running sink, wanting to get rid of the scent of the cookies on her fingers.
She sniffed at her hand and gasped when she could still smell the baked goodness on her skin. She knew she was imagining it, but she kept on washing her hands, with soap even, but when she tested again, she could still smell it.
Rachel Berry had imprinted on her. With the smell of cookies. She couldn't escape anymore, she was marked -
She was going crazy. What had she done? If she only had never touched the devil's cookies!
Quinn was about to lose it and she was so close before going over the edge.
She knew what to do next. She could only break this curse by sacrificing her soul. A pact with the devil himself. Or herself, in her case.
Quinn stormed out of her room, stomped exactly ten feet far before she wildly hammered against her dorm neighbor's door. With both of her hands. Balled to fists.
"What in motherfucking hell is wrong with you, Barbie McCray?" was the first thing Quinn got to hear once the door flew open. She stood face to face with the infamous Santana Lopez, who was scowling at her.
"I need to see Rachel. Now," Quinn quickly demanded, wanting to force herself into the room by brushing past Santana, but the latter one didn't share the same interest.
"Not so fast, Barbie," Santana warned, pushing Quinn back again. "What's so urgent that you need to see her now? As far as I know, you completely freaked out on her last time she tried to be nice. And now I know why, there are quite a few things wrong with you."
Quinn stared at her. Was everyone crazy now? Since when was suggesting sex a nice thing to do?
But she couldn't take it anymore, this obsession was driving her insane and she could swear that she could still smell the sweet cookies on her fingers. She needed all of this insanity to end. She wanted her mind back.
"Let me see her," Quinn breathed in need.
Santana was about to protest, when a voice inside the room questioningly called, "Santana? Would you please let, whoever that is, in? It's rude to keep them out."
The dark haired girl glared at Quinn before she shrugged her shoulders and said, "I needed to go buy flowers for a date anyway. But just a warning Barbie, you break her heart and I break your pretty nose."
With that, Santana brushed past Quinn and left her standing alone by the door.
The blonde didn't understand the warning. Why would she be the one to break Rachel's heart? Wasn't it the other way round?
She entered the room and shut the door behind her.
"Oh, hi," Rachel greeted in surprise, lying on the bed and reading a book. She obviously hadn't planned to go out tonight, since she was already dressed in boxershorts and a wide tank top. "Is there something you want?"
"Yes," Quinn whispered, her breathing getting heavier. "I want your touch."
Rachel's book slipped out of her hands and onto the floor, and as the brunette dove after it, she stuttered, "Er, I'm sorry?"
Quinn bit on her bottom lip. She wasn't even sure what she was doing. She was giving up her dignity and pride.
"I want you to fix me," Quinn breathed, feeling dirty as she said all these words, confusing Rachel even more. "I want your hands on me, making me feel alright again."
Quinn didn't think she could be any clearer than this. Especially since Rachel seemed to be the champion in making innuendos.
Comprehension seemed to dawn on Rachel's face. A beaming smile almost split her face.
"Why didn't you just say so?" she laughed and carefully placed her book on the small nighttable next to her bed. She sat up straight and patted next to her on the bed.
Quinn was right. All this time, Rachel was a nympho. Everything was about sex.
But this was the solution to her misery. Seal the pact with the devil.
She sat down next to Rachel, unsure what to do next. With foreplay or not? She expected the brunette to be more experienced.
"Now lie down flat on your stomach," Rachel ordered and Quinn almost wanted to point out the lack of demanding attitude in her voice. Wasn't emotionless sex about being rough with each other?
"Don't you want me to take my clothes off first?" Quinn asked as she lied down on her stomach.
"Only your top," she heard Rachel's voice answer, "and if you want, you can take off your bra, but I don't mind it staying there."
This was getting weirder and weirder. Maybe it was because the sex was so weird that it was good again. She was finally about to learn the secrets of Rachel Berry.
Quinn was hesitant about pulling her top off. It wasn't that she was shy about her body, but because this was it. She was doing it. She was selling herself to the devil, she was betraying herself and giving away all of her dignity.
She was going to become one of Rachel Berry's countless conquests.
She pulled her top off and when she reached behind her to open her bra, she felt a hand stopping hers.
"If you don't feel comfortabe, then let it on. I understand. Now relax."
Quinn gulped. What was about to come next?
Soft hands placed themselves on her shoulder blades and began to gently massage them. Quinn grunted in pleasure. If that's what foreplay was to Rachel, then she had no problems with it.
"Your muscles are so tight. Why didn't you come sooner to me for a massage like Brittany always told you to?"