Fic: We Are Nowhere (And It's Now): Part 1
Title: We Are Nowhere (And It's Now): Part 1
Author: antipamphlet
Rating: PG
Length: 3000+
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and not to me. Title is taken from the song by Bright Eyes.
Summary: Hogwarts AU: In which Ravenclaw prefect Rachel Berry finds herself in a situation involving none other than quidditch captain Quinn Fabray.
A/N: This is unbetaed, so I suppose that you'll have to blame me for any and all of the grammatical errors, and stylistic errors and also errors pertaining to tense, with which I have an irreconcilable problem. All the same, I hope you enjoy.
We Are Nowhere (And It’s Now)
Part 1
Rachel Berry had never really had any particular reason to like Quinn.
In fact, she had multiple reasons that would suggest that she shouldn’t like her, including, but not limited to, name-calling, jinxing and generally insulting her on a day to day basis. Despite this, Rachel didn’t hate Quinn, knew there was no point in harbouring some sort of unrelenting vendetta against her.
Plus, she could be quite alright at times, if she was in a compliant mood. When she came to choir she sang and danced with Brittany and Santana and was strangely less hostile to her than the rest of the choir members, who seemed to find exception to everything that Rachel said.
That is until Rachel inevitably started dancing and singing and touching Finn, who never seemed to take it as anything more than choreography; Hufflepuffs were trusting like that, but Quinn’s eyes always flashed and her nostrils flared minutely. Normally they wouldn’t come to blows - there was that one time when Quinn hexed her, but Professor Schuester had got really mad, and so the blonde tried to restrain herself, with varying degrees of success - and usually Quinn would shoot her a prolonged glance before latching onto Finn and leaving.
Today though, after a particularly handsy performance from Rachel, she just watched as everyone shuffled out of the door, still singing, to their respective common rooms, and gave Finn an almost imperceptible shake of the head when he called back to her.
Rachel always stayed late anyway - Professor Schuester said that it was fine, encouraged her actually - to practice on her own, and to avoid the girls in the Ravenclaw dorm, who really seemed to dislike her, even after five whole years of rooming together.
“Are you just going to sit there? Because I really want to get started on my scales; people constantly underrate the importance of a vigorous warm-up routine.”
Quinn looked unmoved by this piece of information, but rose to her feet and stalked towards the place where Rachel stood, her red jumper (the trademark uniform of one of Coach Sylvester’s quidditch team) peeking through the gap in her robes. When she spoke she did so slowly, slower than normal, like she wanted Rachel to savour every word.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what, Nargle-Nose. So stop.”
By this time Quinn was only a couple of steps away from her, looking cold and commanding, and just a bit strained, as she peered down at the brunette.
“I really have no idea wh-”
Before she could really pre-empt the action Quinn had moved forward so that they were close, really close and Quinn’s face was so near that Rachel could see the different coloured flecks in her eyes, and feel the flutter of air as Quinn breathed out -
“You know.”
To be honest Rachel didn’t know, had been expecting something other than Quinn’s lips which, just the next moment, landed on hers, as she was pushed back against the piano, but she really couldn’t think to complain.
Quinn’s mouth was soft and warm, surprisingly undemanding, and nothing that Rachel had ever given a conscious thought to, but now that was had happening, she definitely liked it.
The second time it happened Rachel was markedly less shocked when Quinn’s mouth descended on hers, parting her lips with deliberate strokes, though it didn’t go further than that, but no less surprised that Quinn actually allowed herself to repeat the action.
The time before Quinn had, eventually, stepped away and then stared, steadily and silently, for several seconds, at Rachel, as if examining her. She then left.
Rachel hadn’t thought to call after her. What would she have said? She also hadn’t thought to spread the information that Quinn Fabray had pressed her to a piano and kissed her. She didn’t think she would gain anything from spreading it around. If anything it would just incur Quinn’s wrath. Rachel was also quite aware that people wouldn’t believe her, Rachel from choir, over Quinn, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Gryffindor prefect and captain of the school’s prize-winning girl’s quidditch team. She could hardly believe it herself, that the girl at the top of the social pile had kissed her, a girl who was practically at the bottom. Not that she wasn’t kissable; Rachel was quite assured of her kissability, but it just didn’t quite... click.
Despite her disbelief, it was happening again, Quinn kissing firmly and Rachel reciprocating, and it continued to happen several times over the following fortnight.
It was always the same room, the choir rehearsal room, and always the same time, after the other choir members had drifted away, and never had Quinn given her the slightest explanation.
At the start Rachel didn’t really mind, because the kissing was nice and it was a good feeling to know that someone wanted to kiss her, no matter how obscure it was that that person was Quinn Fabray. But Quinn was dating Finn and Rachel fancied Finn and it was all getting very confusing.
Quinn’s behaviour outside of those few shared minutes had not changed at all; she still threw pumpkin juice at Rachel at importune times and laughed and gossiped about her, normally within hearing distance. Rachel hadn’t expected any less, but all the same, she was sinking in this surreal situation, and she didn’t like that feeling. Rachel Berry was very unwilling to be used to some sort of kissing tool by a girl who had once charmed her breakfast so that it clung to her face.
She resolved to talk to Quinn.
Quinn apparently didn’t want to talk about it.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked what we are doing here, Quinn.”
The look that the taller girl gave her indicated that she had no more idea than Rachel had, that she was just as desperately confused, maybe more so, and Rachel felt sympathy spike through her, before Quinn’s face reverted to a frown.
“What does it seem like we’re doing, Krum? Or does it not normally happen to social rejects like you?”
“I’m going to ignore that, because I can tell that you’re rather confounded at the moment, and I don't mean the charm. I just mean... you have a boyfriend and you don’t even like me. You make fun of me most of the time with your little quidditch posse, and while I understand that that is expected by our respective positions on the social hierarchy, despite my undisputable talent which goes unrecognised, you can’t just think that I’m going to stay here with you three times a week while you humiliate me for the rest of the time. It makes no sense to me.”
Quinn pursed her lips and Rachel felt a flash of annoyance at herself that those lips weren’t against her own at that very moment, but felt vindicated that she was standing up for herself as she had been brought up to.
The muscle in the blonde’s jaw twitched, her face set almost painfully into a neutral expression.
“Yeah, well - it makes no sense to me either.”
With a sneer Quinn shoved Rachel away from her and strode out.
When Quinn didn’t turn up to choir rehearsals for a week, leaving Finn stumped and unguarded, but Rachel too distracted to make the most of it, Professor Schuester enlisted Rachel’s help to ‘cajole her into returning’. They needed twelve members to compete with other schools, and it was so difficult to choreograph dances for a prime number of people.
Rachel, ever the dutiful member, assented to the task, although she thought it would have been wiser of Prof. Schuester to ask Finn, or Santana, or even Brittany. They were Quinn’s friends and despite Rachel’s frequent ... encounters with Quinn, she and her were definitely not anything remotely close to friends.
Maybe he had asked her because Santana and Brittany would report everything back to Coach Sylvester, who was hell bent on disbanding the choir so that her quidditch players would stop harmonising during their practices and for other unfathomable reasons of her own.
And Finn... well, who could really tell with Finn? He was lovely, and handsome, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, but when Rachel spoke to him it seemed that half of her words completely passed over him.
It was therefore left to Rachel to ascend the many steps to the Gryffindor tower, which was at the opposite end of the castle to her own dorm in Ravenclaw tower, and muddle over what to say.
Muddling annoyed Rachel, but for the past week she had been nothing but muddled. Muddled about Quinn, about Finn, about kissing, about why she had to confront her, about a multitude of things that refused to leave her in peace.
Every time she even so much as thought about Quinn her whole face warmed up, before the pit of her stomach was flooded with an icy cold and she was left feeling highly uncomfortable.
Again the feeling plagued her as she walked the desolate corridors; it was too late for most students to be milling around.
Thinking about it now, she really didn’t want to have to face Quinn, Quinn with her dark scowl and fierce glare and yielding, delicate lips. It was bound to be awkward but, for the good of the choir and, by consequence, her future self, Rachel persevered.
It seemed that she’d arrived too late when she finally ascended that last flight of stairs, because she saw Brittany’s bright blonde hair and curled ponytail before she saw Quinn’s legs, swinging from where she was seated in one of the half-hidden window alcoves, a little way from a portrait of a fat lady.
The dim lighting of the floating candles made it hard to see, but when Rachel did, she couldn’t help the feeling of prickly heat that suffused her body as she saw Quinn’s mouth moving with purpose against Brittany’s, Quinn seeming every bit as gentle and steady as when she had kissed Rachel.
She wasn’t quite sure why it was so horrifically embarrassing to be witnessing this, the way Quinn’s hands clutched at her robes, but the feeling intensified when Quinn’s closed eyes slid open, dazedly looking around until her gaze flicked sharply towards Rachel.
Hazel eyes widened instantly, but Rachel didn’t stay to watch her next move, spinning fast on her heel and clattering down and up the moving staircases as quickly as possible until she reached her dormitory, drew the curtains around her bed and pressed her head into the pillow.
She closed her eyes, but then opened them again when all she could see was a hazy vision of the two blondes kissing. It looked wrong; that much blonde just did not work.
It was stupid, but among the conflicting emotions rattling in her mind, the most prominent one was of betrayal, of humiliation. She felt a fool to have thought that she, Rachel Berry, had been the only girl that Quinn had kissed, when it now seemed that she was probably just one of many... or at least one of two, and Rachel hated it when she wasn’t unique in something, especially in something like this.
Though she hadn’t actually talked to her, Quinn was present at the next rehearsal, looking sombre and altogether rather ill, her skin being paler even than normal. She spent as much time glancing over at Rachel as she did singing, but the brunette returned none of the looks.
She was still a little incensed - maybe a lot - partly at herself for entertaining such delusions, but mostly at Quinn for landing her in a situation so uncongenial and alien to her. She really should have been focussing on her singing, her school-work and her prefect duties, but instead she was caught up in some sort of... teenage angst, she remembered Professor Pillsbury calling it.
It didn’t seem to just be Rachel who was on edge. By the end of the hour she had noticed that Mike Chang wasn’t talking to Quinn, although Rachel could have sworn they were good friends, and Santana was ignoring both Quinn and Brittany, pointedly walking off without the blondes as Prof. Schuester dismissed them.
Quinn, unsurprisingly, stayed in her chair, waiting for Rachel to look at her.
When it became clear that she wasn’t going to, she spoke, though her voice lacked its usual sharp confidence.
“I know that you saw us the other day. I wanted to-”
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She didn’t quite know why she was being considerate, as Quinn hadn’t afforded her the same privilege, but she just really wanted her to leave. The seated girl looked like she was going to agree for a minute, say that was it, and they’d go back to how they were. But then the colour rose in her cheeks and she turned sternly to Rachel in a way that that made Rachel’s breath shudder. People said that she could be intense, but they had clearly not experienced this look before.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to explain-”
“It’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“Would you stop interrupting me, man-hands?” She’d forgotten how fast Quinn was, because in a second she was right there in Rachel’s space, body taut and brittle with something Rachel didn’t recognise. “I want to explain the... the thing you saw with Brittany.”
And even though Quinn had just warned her not to interrupt, she really didn’t want to hear her make excuses and smooth everything over. She’d never thought that she was into Quinn, on any level, but now Rachel definitely didn’t want to endure her talking about kissing other people.
It defied her logic, the way her stomach leapt into her throat as Quinn’s mouth opened again.
“I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not how you think-”
“Quinn, I really don’t want to know.”
“But-” Quinn had started to look annoyed now, a bit confused, but mostly annoyed.
“You don’t think that this is embarrassing enough without you wanting to talk about it? I saw you with Brittany and I know that I have absolutely no rights over you, Quinn, but it doesn’t make me feel any better-” Something clicked in her mind, and she tipped her head up in indignation. “Was that what this was? Just another really horrible plan to make me feel worse than usual, and now you feel bad about it, because I’m not going to placate your conscience by discussing it with you.”
She was about to start on her next train of thought when Quinn stepped right up against her, pressing her back so that the solidity of the piano and Quinn’s own lean body were caging her in. There were hands on her upper arms too and Quinn’s face was in front of her own, solemn with restraint, and Rachel could see in her eyes that she knew it wasn’t the opportune time to cut straight to kissing.
“Rachel,” she said carefully, in that heavy way that meant she wanted you to listen properly, “That’s not what it was.”
Everything was so still, except for pink lips moving and Quinn looking at her, imploring and vivid. “I kissed Brittany because I was just... so confused... and Britt would never even think to judge anyone.”
“Why were you confused?”
Quinn had stopped talking, instead her throat was working convulsively, as if she kept swallowing the words she wanted to say. It was a demeanour so foreign when viewed on Quinn, this abject anxiety, that Rachel couldn’t help but feel a little disconcerted, although she reminded herself that the blonde was only a teenager like herself and prone to bouts of nervousness.
Her eyes, though, were bright and clear, never leaving Rachel’s own.
“I’m still confused.” There was a long beat before the next sentence, like Quinn had to think about every word. “You confuse me.”
Her tone was more accusatory than tender, and Rachel had to bite back a rebuke informing Quinn that it was not her intention to confuse.
“I mean, you look like you let a hinkypunk dress you every morning. You’re always showing off, like with your near extinct breed of owl, and all the things your dads buy you and you’re a know-it-all in class and you never let anyone else get a word in, and you make these constant notes about, like, nothing! Like, little things that no one else would even think to write down, but you seem to be making a book out of them.”
Rachel was really quite uncertain of the purpose of Quinn’s tirade, because by now she was just ranting, and it was a little bit insulting, the things she was saying.
“Most of the time you’re so annoying that I want to hex you, but... sometimes I just think about you... it’s never happened to me before, Berry.”
For a few seconds all Rachel felt was her heart thrumming. Quinn just watched, and when she seemed at least reasonably sure that Rachel wasn’t going to stupefy her and then run, she backed off a little, until she was only vaguely cornering the shorter girl.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, because... you’re you and I know you’re half in love with my boyfriend, but it doesn’t stop, even when I tell myself these things. And when I,” she wobbled her head a bit in indication, “with Britt, it didn’t feel the same.”
Rachel stared up, waiting for the next part of Quinn’s jumbled, obviously wholly unprepared, speech, though this apparently wasn’t the action that Quinn was looking for.
“Say something, for Merlin’s sake!”
“What do you want to do?”
The softly breathed words were a surprise to both of them; Rachel had thought herself too overwhelmed to speak.
Quinn smiled thinly though, bringing some semblance of the shine back to her face, and Rachel tugged one corner of her mouth upwards.
“I want- I have no idea what I want.”
The normally composed quidditch captain looked so befuddled that Rachel couldn’t help but smile fully, smile more when she heard the invitation and felt Quinn’s hand squeeze her arm lightly.
“Come to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday.”
Part 2
Author: antipamphlet
Rating: PG
Length: 3000+
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Fox and not to me. Title is taken from the song by Bright Eyes.
Summary: Hogwarts AU: In which Ravenclaw prefect Rachel Berry finds herself in a situation involving none other than quidditch captain Quinn Fabray.
A/N: This is unbetaed, so I suppose that you'll have to blame me for any and all of the grammatical errors, and stylistic errors and also errors pertaining to tense, with which I have an irreconcilable problem. All the same, I hope you enjoy.
We Are Nowhere (And It’s Now)
Part 1
Rachel Berry had never really had any particular reason to like Quinn.
In fact, she had multiple reasons that would suggest that she shouldn’t like her, including, but not limited to, name-calling, jinxing and generally insulting her on a day to day basis. Despite this, Rachel didn’t hate Quinn, knew there was no point in harbouring some sort of unrelenting vendetta against her.
Plus, she could be quite alright at times, if she was in a compliant mood. When she came to choir she sang and danced with Brittany and Santana and was strangely less hostile to her than the rest of the choir members, who seemed to find exception to everything that Rachel said.
That is until Rachel inevitably started dancing and singing and touching Finn, who never seemed to take it as anything more than choreography; Hufflepuffs were trusting like that, but Quinn’s eyes always flashed and her nostrils flared minutely. Normally they wouldn’t come to blows - there was that one time when Quinn hexed her, but Professor Schuester had got really mad, and so the blonde tried to restrain herself, with varying degrees of success - and usually Quinn would shoot her a prolonged glance before latching onto Finn and leaving.
Today though, after a particularly handsy performance from Rachel, she just watched as everyone shuffled out of the door, still singing, to their respective common rooms, and gave Finn an almost imperceptible shake of the head when he called back to her.
Rachel always stayed late anyway - Professor Schuester said that it was fine, encouraged her actually - to practice on her own, and to avoid the girls in the Ravenclaw dorm, who really seemed to dislike her, even after five whole years of rooming together.
“Are you just going to sit there? Because I really want to get started on my scales; people constantly underrate the importance of a vigorous warm-up routine.”
Quinn looked unmoved by this piece of information, but rose to her feet and stalked towards the place where Rachel stood, her red jumper (the trademark uniform of one of Coach Sylvester’s quidditch team) peeking through the gap in her robes. When she spoke she did so slowly, slower than normal, like she wanted Rachel to savour every word.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what, Nargle-Nose. So stop.”
By this time Quinn was only a couple of steps away from her, looking cold and commanding, and just a bit strained, as she peered down at the brunette.
“I really have no idea wh-”
Before she could really pre-empt the action Quinn had moved forward so that they were close, really close and Quinn’s face was so near that Rachel could see the different coloured flecks in her eyes, and feel the flutter of air as Quinn breathed out -
“You know.”
To be honest Rachel didn’t know, had been expecting something other than Quinn’s lips which, just the next moment, landed on hers, as she was pushed back against the piano, but she really couldn’t think to complain.
Quinn’s mouth was soft and warm, surprisingly undemanding, and nothing that Rachel had ever given a conscious thought to, but now that was had happening, she definitely liked it.
The second time it happened Rachel was markedly less shocked when Quinn’s mouth descended on hers, parting her lips with deliberate strokes, though it didn’t go further than that, but no less surprised that Quinn actually allowed herself to repeat the action.
The time before Quinn had, eventually, stepped away and then stared, steadily and silently, for several seconds, at Rachel, as if examining her. She then left.
Rachel hadn’t thought to call after her. What would she have said? She also hadn’t thought to spread the information that Quinn Fabray had pressed her to a piano and kissed her. She didn’t think she would gain anything from spreading it around. If anything it would just incur Quinn’s wrath. Rachel was also quite aware that people wouldn’t believe her, Rachel from choir, over Quinn, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Gryffindor prefect and captain of the school’s prize-winning girl’s quidditch team. She could hardly believe it herself, that the girl at the top of the social pile had kissed her, a girl who was practically at the bottom. Not that she wasn’t kissable; Rachel was quite assured of her kissability, but it just didn’t quite... click.
Despite her disbelief, it was happening again, Quinn kissing firmly and Rachel reciprocating, and it continued to happen several times over the following fortnight.
It was always the same room, the choir rehearsal room, and always the same time, after the other choir members had drifted away, and never had Quinn given her the slightest explanation.
At the start Rachel didn’t really mind, because the kissing was nice and it was a good feeling to know that someone wanted to kiss her, no matter how obscure it was that that person was Quinn Fabray. But Quinn was dating Finn and Rachel fancied Finn and it was all getting very confusing.
Quinn’s behaviour outside of those few shared minutes had not changed at all; she still threw pumpkin juice at Rachel at importune times and laughed and gossiped about her, normally within hearing distance. Rachel hadn’t expected any less, but all the same, she was sinking in this surreal situation, and she didn’t like that feeling. Rachel Berry was very unwilling to be used to some sort of kissing tool by a girl who had once charmed her breakfast so that it clung to her face.
She resolved to talk to Quinn.
Quinn apparently didn’t want to talk about it.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked what we are doing here, Quinn.”
The look that the taller girl gave her indicated that she had no more idea than Rachel had, that she was just as desperately confused, maybe more so, and Rachel felt sympathy spike through her, before Quinn’s face reverted to a frown.
“What does it seem like we’re doing, Krum? Or does it not normally happen to social rejects like you?”
“I’m going to ignore that, because I can tell that you’re rather confounded at the moment, and I don't mean the charm. I just mean... you have a boyfriend and you don’t even like me. You make fun of me most of the time with your little quidditch posse, and while I understand that that is expected by our respective positions on the social hierarchy, despite my undisputable talent which goes unrecognised, you can’t just think that I’m going to stay here with you three times a week while you humiliate me for the rest of the time. It makes no sense to me.”
Quinn pursed her lips and Rachel felt a flash of annoyance at herself that those lips weren’t against her own at that very moment, but felt vindicated that she was standing up for herself as she had been brought up to.
The muscle in the blonde’s jaw twitched, her face set almost painfully into a neutral expression.
“Yeah, well - it makes no sense to me either.”
With a sneer Quinn shoved Rachel away from her and strode out.
When Quinn didn’t turn up to choir rehearsals for a week, leaving Finn stumped and unguarded, but Rachel too distracted to make the most of it, Professor Schuester enlisted Rachel’s help to ‘cajole her into returning’. They needed twelve members to compete with other schools, and it was so difficult to choreograph dances for a prime number of people.
Rachel, ever the dutiful member, assented to the task, although she thought it would have been wiser of Prof. Schuester to ask Finn, or Santana, or even Brittany. They were Quinn’s friends and despite Rachel’s frequent ... encounters with Quinn, she and her were definitely not anything remotely close to friends.
Maybe he had asked her because Santana and Brittany would report everything back to Coach Sylvester, who was hell bent on disbanding the choir so that her quidditch players would stop harmonising during their practices and for other unfathomable reasons of her own.
And Finn... well, who could really tell with Finn? He was lovely, and handsome, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, but when Rachel spoke to him it seemed that half of her words completely passed over him.
It was therefore left to Rachel to ascend the many steps to the Gryffindor tower, which was at the opposite end of the castle to her own dorm in Ravenclaw tower, and muddle over what to say.
Muddling annoyed Rachel, but for the past week she had been nothing but muddled. Muddled about Quinn, about Finn, about kissing, about why she had to confront her, about a multitude of things that refused to leave her in peace.
Every time she even so much as thought about Quinn her whole face warmed up, before the pit of her stomach was flooded with an icy cold and she was left feeling highly uncomfortable.
Again the feeling plagued her as she walked the desolate corridors; it was too late for most students to be milling around.
Thinking about it now, she really didn’t want to have to face Quinn, Quinn with her dark scowl and fierce glare and yielding, delicate lips. It was bound to be awkward but, for the good of the choir and, by consequence, her future self, Rachel persevered.
It seemed that she’d arrived too late when she finally ascended that last flight of stairs, because she saw Brittany’s bright blonde hair and curled ponytail before she saw Quinn’s legs, swinging from where she was seated in one of the half-hidden window alcoves, a little way from a portrait of a fat lady.
The dim lighting of the floating candles made it hard to see, but when Rachel did, she couldn’t help the feeling of prickly heat that suffused her body as she saw Quinn’s mouth moving with purpose against Brittany’s, Quinn seeming every bit as gentle and steady as when she had kissed Rachel.
She wasn’t quite sure why it was so horrifically embarrassing to be witnessing this, the way Quinn’s hands clutched at her robes, but the feeling intensified when Quinn’s closed eyes slid open, dazedly looking around until her gaze flicked sharply towards Rachel.
Hazel eyes widened instantly, but Rachel didn’t stay to watch her next move, spinning fast on her heel and clattering down and up the moving staircases as quickly as possible until she reached her dormitory, drew the curtains around her bed and pressed her head into the pillow.
She closed her eyes, but then opened them again when all she could see was a hazy vision of the two blondes kissing. It looked wrong; that much blonde just did not work.
It was stupid, but among the conflicting emotions rattling in her mind, the most prominent one was of betrayal, of humiliation. She felt a fool to have thought that she, Rachel Berry, had been the only girl that Quinn had kissed, when it now seemed that she was probably just one of many... or at least one of two, and Rachel hated it when she wasn’t unique in something, especially in something like this.
Though she hadn’t actually talked to her, Quinn was present at the next rehearsal, looking sombre and altogether rather ill, her skin being paler even than normal. She spent as much time glancing over at Rachel as she did singing, but the brunette returned none of the looks.
She was still a little incensed - maybe a lot - partly at herself for entertaining such delusions, but mostly at Quinn for landing her in a situation so uncongenial and alien to her. She really should have been focussing on her singing, her school-work and her prefect duties, but instead she was caught up in some sort of... teenage angst, she remembered Professor Pillsbury calling it.
It didn’t seem to just be Rachel who was on edge. By the end of the hour she had noticed that Mike Chang wasn’t talking to Quinn, although Rachel could have sworn they were good friends, and Santana was ignoring both Quinn and Brittany, pointedly walking off without the blondes as Prof. Schuester dismissed them.
Quinn, unsurprisingly, stayed in her chair, waiting for Rachel to look at her.
When it became clear that she wasn’t going to, she spoke, though her voice lacked its usual sharp confidence.
“I know that you saw us the other day. I wanted to-”
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She didn’t quite know why she was being considerate, as Quinn hadn’t afforded her the same privilege, but she just really wanted her to leave. The seated girl looked like she was going to agree for a minute, say that was it, and they’d go back to how they were. But then the colour rose in her cheeks and she turned sternly to Rachel in a way that that made Rachel’s breath shudder. People said that she could be intense, but they had clearly not experienced this look before.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to explain-”
“It’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“Would you stop interrupting me, man-hands?” She’d forgotten how fast Quinn was, because in a second she was right there in Rachel’s space, body taut and brittle with something Rachel didn’t recognise. “I want to explain the... the thing you saw with Brittany.”
And even though Quinn had just warned her not to interrupt, she really didn’t want to hear her make excuses and smooth everything over. She’d never thought that she was into Quinn, on any level, but now Rachel definitely didn’t want to endure her talking about kissing other people.
It defied her logic, the way her stomach leapt into her throat as Quinn’s mouth opened again.
“I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not how you think-”
“Quinn, I really don’t want to know.”
“But-” Quinn had started to look annoyed now, a bit confused, but mostly annoyed.
“You don’t think that this is embarrassing enough without you wanting to talk about it? I saw you with Brittany and I know that I have absolutely no rights over you, Quinn, but it doesn’t make me feel any better-” Something clicked in her mind, and she tipped her head up in indignation. “Was that what this was? Just another really horrible plan to make me feel worse than usual, and now you feel bad about it, because I’m not going to placate your conscience by discussing it with you.”
She was about to start on her next train of thought when Quinn stepped right up against her, pressing her back so that the solidity of the piano and Quinn’s own lean body were caging her in. There were hands on her upper arms too and Quinn’s face was in front of her own, solemn with restraint, and Rachel could see in her eyes that she knew it wasn’t the opportune time to cut straight to kissing.
“Rachel,” she said carefully, in that heavy way that meant she wanted you to listen properly, “That’s not what it was.”
Everything was so still, except for pink lips moving and Quinn looking at her, imploring and vivid. “I kissed Brittany because I was just... so confused... and Britt would never even think to judge anyone.”
“Why were you confused?”
Quinn had stopped talking, instead her throat was working convulsively, as if she kept swallowing the words she wanted to say. It was a demeanour so foreign when viewed on Quinn, this abject anxiety, that Rachel couldn’t help but feel a little disconcerted, although she reminded herself that the blonde was only a teenager like herself and prone to bouts of nervousness.
Her eyes, though, were bright and clear, never leaving Rachel’s own.
“I’m still confused.” There was a long beat before the next sentence, like Quinn had to think about every word. “You confuse me.”
Her tone was more accusatory than tender, and Rachel had to bite back a rebuke informing Quinn that it was not her intention to confuse.
“I mean, you look like you let a hinkypunk dress you every morning. You’re always showing off, like with your near extinct breed of owl, and all the things your dads buy you and you’re a know-it-all in class and you never let anyone else get a word in, and you make these constant notes about, like, nothing! Like, little things that no one else would even think to write down, but you seem to be making a book out of them.”
Rachel was really quite uncertain of the purpose of Quinn’s tirade, because by now she was just ranting, and it was a little bit insulting, the things she was saying.
“Most of the time you’re so annoying that I want to hex you, but... sometimes I just think about you... it’s never happened to me before, Berry.”
For a few seconds all Rachel felt was her heart thrumming. Quinn just watched, and when she seemed at least reasonably sure that Rachel wasn’t going to stupefy her and then run, she backed off a little, until she was only vaguely cornering the shorter girl.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, because... you’re you and I know you’re half in love with my boyfriend, but it doesn’t stop, even when I tell myself these things. And when I,” she wobbled her head a bit in indication, “with Britt, it didn’t feel the same.”
Rachel stared up, waiting for the next part of Quinn’s jumbled, obviously wholly unprepared, speech, though this apparently wasn’t the action that Quinn was looking for.
“Say something, for Merlin’s sake!”
“What do you want to do?”
The softly breathed words were a surprise to both of them; Rachel had thought herself too overwhelmed to speak.
Quinn smiled thinly though, bringing some semblance of the shine back to her face, and Rachel tugged one corner of her mouth upwards.
“I want- I have no idea what I want.”
The normally composed quidditch captain looked so befuddled that Rachel couldn’t help but smile fully, smile more when she heard the invitation and felt Quinn’s hand squeeze her arm lightly.
“Come to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday.”
Part 2