Fic: Autumn Nights - The sixth night - Part 2
Title: The Sixth Night-In Which Quinn Fabray Tries To Resist The Urge-To Get Into Rachel Berry's Pants-And The Irony Of Rachel Wearing Skirts (And Other Forms Of Torture)
A/N: Obviously, this is part 2.
“So how was your day, sweetie?” my mom asks as she greets us by the door.
“The usual,” I tell her, “went to class, aced all my quizzes, threatened a few people…”
“Quinnie…”
“I’m kidding, Mom.” I smirk, “I got a B+ in Physics.”
She just stares at me.
“Since when did you get a sense of humor?”
“Uhm… this morning…? It was on sale at 7-Eleven.”
She slaps my arm but she smiles a little. And she smiles wider when she turns to Rach.
“And how was your day, dear?”
“It was wonderful,” Rachel smiles back. “Thanks for asking. How was yours?”
“Oh, it was great.”
“Great…”
“Great.”
“Great, well, why don’t you two change into something more comfort-?”
“-we’re comfortable, Mom.”
Rachel nods fervently in agreement.
“But, sweetie, didn’t you just come from practice?”
“Yeah, but I took a shower in school. This is a fresh uniform,” I reason.
“Oh. What about you, Rachel?”
“Oh, no, I’m fresh-fine. I’m fine,” Rachel nods again. “I also took a shower at home before Quinn arrived.”
“Alright,” my mom concedes. “Was it really that cold outside today that you both had to wear turtlenecks?”
“Uhuh…”
“It was very nippy…”
Is it just me or does that word sound dirty?
“I didn’t notice,” my mom says. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re indoors now…”
“Yup…”
Rachel can’t seem to stop nodding.
“I’m hungry,” I blurt out.
“No worries, sweetie,” my mom smiles again, “dinner will be ready in a few minutes. You can just wait for it in the dining room.”
“Sure Mom.”
I place my bag on a chair in the foyer and lay Rachel’s on top of it before we follow my mom into the dining room.
“I’ll have to check on the food. Make yourself at home, Rachel,” she smiles.
“Thank you, Judy,” Rachel smiles back.
And as soon as my mom disappears behind the door to the kitchen, I rest my hand on Rachel’s lower back, lead her to her chair (to my mom’s left), and pull it out for her with a grin.
She looks surprised at first, not expecting that I would continue my chivalrous ways, but then she smiles that precious smile… and sits.
And, God, I can’t help myself.
I bend down to give her a quick kiss on the lips before walking away.
“Quinn Fabray!” she hisses.
I just smirk as I take my seat across the table and lean back lazily.
She sits straighter a moment later, looking outraged, and mouths, we are not playing footsie under the table!
I pout. She crosses her arms with a, “Hmph.”
I chuckle.
This is so much fun.
A slightly peeved Rachel is better than a nervous one.
I was worried for a bit because her palms were sweaty when I gave her hands one last squeeze before getting out of the car.
I could blame it on Paula Cole and her moaning (seriously, that wasn’t singing-that was moaning), but I know Rachel really wants to make a good impression, especially now that she’s our only guest.
Last Saturday was different. Brittany and Santana were there and Rachel got away with nodding, smiling, and responding in short sentences. But she knows she’ll have to converse with my mom tonight and she’s worried because she’s never really interacted with someone else’s parent before.
I extend both hands on the table, opening up my palms and silently asking her to take them.
She hesitates then glances at the kitchen door before laying her hands on mine.
I give them a squeeze and mouth, you’ll do just fine.
She smiles and returns the squeeze.
I smile back then let go.
I’m really glad my mom is back to her usual charming self. I really don’t know what came over her yesterday morning.
She’s still too young to have menopause, right?
God, I hope she’s not bipolar…
She comes out of the kitchen smiling then takes her seat at the head of the table.
“Dinner will be here shortly,” she says. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me more about yourself, Rachel? Quinnie tells me that you’re the captain of the Glee club.”
“Yes, I am. I was absolutely delighted when we all voted for me.”
Somebody stop me from giggling. Oh, Rachel…
“Well, that’s wonderful, dear. I guess that’s another thing you and Quinnie have in common-you’re both captains of your team.”
Something like awe takes over Rachel’s face.
“Why, yes… You’re right, Judy… I never thought of that before… I suppose the only difference is that Quinn is the sole captain of her squad while I have a co-captain for Glee.”
“Oh…”
Ugh, no, let’s not go there.
“…Who is your co-captain?”
Groan.
“Finn Hudson,” Rachel says. “He’s our male lead.”
“Ah.” My mom turns to me, “Isn’t he your ex-boyfriend, sweetie?”
“Yup,” I’m not very happy with where this discussion is going. “He’s also one of Rachel’s… ex… boyfriends.”
“Oh!”
Yet another thing we have in common…
“That’s probably why you sounded so good together,” my mom says to Rachel.
Uh, no! Rachel and I would sound a lot better together.
“I remember watching you all perform at that regional competition,” my mom continues. “You have such an amazing voice, Rachel.”
“Thank you so much.”
“How long have you been singing?”
Yay, much better topic, Mom.
“I’ve been singing since I was six months old.”
“Months?” My mom glances at me.
“She’s not kidding,” I tell her. “She won her first singing competition when she was eight months old. I saw the trophy.”
My mom looks amused. I snort. And the three of us burst into giggles.
“I know, I know,” Rachel smiles, “it sounds absurd, but I’ve always been musically verbal.”
Not just musically-God… that also sounded dirty…
“Oh, no, dear, I think it’s wonderful,” my mom says as she reaches out to squeeze Rachel’s arm.
“Thank you.”
“So are you dating anyone right now?”
Whut? “Mom…”
“Dating? No, no, I’m not… dating…”
Well, it’s not really a lie.
“Quinnie hasn’t been dating anyone either…”
Oh, dear…
“I got pregnant, Mom.”
“I know, sweetie. I wasn’t… talking about that, but now that you’ve mentioned it, whatever happened to that Puckerman boy?”
“He didn’t stop seeing other people,” I say bluntly. “And he also… dated… Rachel,” I grumble.
“It was only for a few days, Quinn…” Rachel says.
“At least, he didn’t get you pregnant, dear,” my mom points out.
“Oh, no, I didn’t sleep with him,” Rachel tells her, “or anyone…”
“Well, that’s a relief,” my mom breathes out.
Then everything becomes quiet.
“Oh, Quinnie,” my mom says as she reaches out to hold my hand, “please don’t think that I still think… badly of you for that one mistake. I don’t.”
I nod. She releases my hand.
“I was just… wondering why two incredible young women like you can’t find a… suitable boy,” she sighs.
“They just weren’t good enough, Mom.”
She looks straight into my eyes and smiles a soft smile, “I could see that, sweetie.” Then she slowly turns to Rach with the smile still in place and asks, “Finn was indeed a bit dim, wasn’t he?”
Rachel can’t help but smile, “Yes, he was…”
And we all giggle at that.
Then my mom sighs again, “It would be a… real treat… to see you in a relationship with someone who is your equal…”
Rachel and I share a fleeting look.
“…someone who brings out the best in you…”
And we’re both thinking the same thing.
“…yet loves all your flaws…”
That someone is right here…
“…someone who manages to draw out your… sense of humor… when you hadn’t shown it before…”
“What?”
“Oh,” my mom suddenly gets to her feet. “Dinner is here!”
She takes a big, shallow bowl from our housekeeper and stands next to Rachel.
“I made this just for you,” she tells her. “It’s vegan.”
“Oh, thank you so much.”
“Here,” my mom starts scooping the food with a ladle and putting it on Rachel’s plate. “This is pan-fried farfalle pasta with butternut squash, sage, and pine nuts.”
“It looks absolutely delicious, Judy.”
My mom smiles then moves over to me to serve up some pasta on my plate as our housekeeper comes back with another bowl and places it on the table.
“That one is a kale and potato gratin,” my mom says. “Potatoes go well with anything.”
“I love potatoes,” Rachel says.
“Go on,” my mom tells us as she sits, “get some. It’s a terrific side-dish, I think.”
Then she gets some for herself.
“Would you mind if we say grace, Rachel?” she asks.
Thank you, Lord. I get to touch her again.
“No, not at all… Quinn always says a prayer before eating.”
I grin as I stretch my left hand out for my mom and my right across the table for Rachel.
She’s trying hard not to smile too much when she takes my hand and smiles shyly at my mom when she holds her hand.
“Bless us, oh, Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, amen.”
“Amen.” I give Rachel’s hand another squeeze before letting go, “Let’s eat!”
We take our first bites in silence.
“Oh, my… This is heavenly, Judy,” Rachel says.
“Thank you, Rachel.”
“It’s so good, Mom.”
“Of course it is, sweetie. I made it,” she smirks.
I chuckle. And we continue eating.
After a while, my mom asks, “How long have you been… vegan, Rachel?”
“For several months now,” she says. “This time last year, I was still eating pepperoni and cheese pizza.”
“So it’s fairly recent…?”
“Yes.”
They continue talking in between bites.
“What made you decide to become… vegan?”
“I saw a documentary on the exploitation of animals during winter break and was deeply affected by it,” Rachel answers in all seriousness. “It never really occurred to me before that eggs have mothers, too!”
My mom doesn’t know how to react.
“I haven’t been able to eat an animal or consume animal byproducts ever since.”
“And what did your… fathers say about it? They understand I’m sure…”
“Yes. Well, it wasn’t such a stretch for my family. We almost always order take-out and my daddy is Jewish. But my dad loves his meat. I think he enjoys having Quinn for dinner because they both love bacon.”
“Oh,” my mom turns to me, “so you’re not… considering… going vegan, Quinnie?”
“I love pork, Mom.”
“And you’re okay with that, Rachel?”
“I’m sorry, Judy-with what?”
“That Quinnie isn’t vegan.”
“Oh! Of course! Of course, I can’t force Quinn into being vegan. But she was kind enough to sit through my PowerPoint presentation regarding its benefits.”
“So you tried to… convert her?”
“Oh. No. I wasn’t trying to convert her. We had a debate over it one day and I just wanted to prove my point. Naturally, she already knew that going vegan will save you a lot of money in the long run with the possibility of prices of meat and dairy going… higher… next year… because she just… knows these things… Quinn is very smart,” she finishes lamely.
I’m cracking up inside.
My mom just smiles.
They go back to eating in silence. And I feel like I’m just here for the food…
Then Rachel praises my mom’s cooking again. “This gratin is very tasty,” she says.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” my mom replies. “I found the recipes online. I must say I was very surprised to see quite a lot of vegan and vegetarian dishes there.”
“Three percent of the whole population is vegetarian, Mom, roughly six to eight million people. And vegans account for more than two million of those.” I hope that explains it.
“I didn’t know there was that many,” my mom says. “But I did learn about a few celebrities who are vegan.”
“Ooh, yes!” Rachel looks excited. “Who did you read about?”
“Ellen Degeneres.”
No. Freaking. Way.
“I love Ellen!” Rachel gushes. “She and her wife Portia are two of the most famous celebrity vegans. And they’re also staunch supporters of PETA.”
“Yes. I was… curious about that, dear,” my mom says. “Is it a lesbian thing?”
Oh, fuck.
“I’m sorry-what?”
“I was just… wondering if all lesbians become… vegans… or is it vice versa…?”
Oh, my God. My mom knows.
“Oh. I-I don’t think all lesbians are vegans,” Rachel starts. “But vegans are definitely not all lesbians.”
How could she have known?
“Natalie Portman, for example,” Rachel continues, “is another famous celebrity vegan. And she is straight-she does play a lesbian ballerina in her latest film, though I guess that doesn’t really count-but she’s pregnant right now…”
I thought she just considers Rachel as one of the friends I like hanging out with…
“…Demi Moore… another celebrity vegan… has lots of kids and is very much married to Ashton Kutcher, which just makes her a cougar, not a lesbian…”
Oh, God. It’s why she was acting weird yesterday.
“…Tobey Maguire… celebrity vegan… also Spiderman… not a lesbian…”
She knew.
“…Betty White…”
And why the hell didn’t I notice?
“…Olivia Wilde, Sandra Oh… all celebrity vegans… and none of them is a lesbian-well… they did play lesbians on screen…”
I guess I just didn’t want to entertain the idea…
“…former President Bill Clinton is almost vegan, but I forgot what he eats that doesn’t make him one…”
Oh, God. My mom knows.
“…Mohandas Gandhi…”
The rest of dinner goes by in a blur…
Before I know it, Rachel is thanking my mom for a lovely dinner and I’m just nodding and smiling.
I don’t know how we managed to ask permission to leave the table or get up from our seats or march upstairs to my room.
What I am aware of next is locking my door, then turning around and seeing Rachel rushing back to me from across the room. And she’s hanging tightly onto my shoulders.
“OhmyGod,Quinn,yourmomknows!”
I heave a very long sigh…
“I know, baby. I know…”
I wrap my arms behind her back.
“What do we do now?” she asks.
I heave another sigh, “I have to call Santana first,” and walk towards my bed.
“What can Santana do about it?”
I sit down, place my bag on the floor, and reach for Rachel’s hand, pulling her gently to sit beside me. Then, I dig out my phone, make that call, and wait until Santana picks up.
(“Yo.”)
“Did you lock the door yesterday morning?”
(“Nice to hear from you, too, bitch.”)
“Just answer the question, S. Did you and B lock the door when you left yesterday morning?”
(“Whut?!”)
“Did you?”
She’s silent for a second and then…
(“Holy. Sweet. Hell… Your mom saw?”)
“So you didn’t lock the door…”
She sighs.
(“Fuck… I don’t remember locking the door. Did she see you guys?”)
“I don’t know… We can’t know for sure. But when she woke me up, the door was locked. She must’ve been the one who did it…”
(“No shit.”)
“Yeah,” I sigh again. “Later, S.”
(“Keep me posted.”)
Then we both hang up.
“What do you want to do, baby?” Rachel asks, looking so concerned.
“I think,” I take a deep breath. “I think I’ll wait for her to ask directly about us.”
“Do you think she’ll be ready for the answer if she does?”
I nod.
“Can we not… worry about it… for now?”
I still have one more trick up my sleeve.
She nods and kisses me tenderly.
“Let’s get out of these clothes,” I murmur before I can stop myself, “-into something more comfy-I mean.”
“I’ll… change in the bathroom,” she volunteers.
“You can… change here…?”
“Well, I still have to… wash my face and brush my teeth,” she says.
“Oh, right…” brush my teeth… I almost forgot about that…
She gives me another kiss, gets her bag, and goes to the bathroom.
I quickly change into a pair of shorts and a shirt, bring out my last surprise for the day, put it back on my shelf, set it up, and plug it in, then drag out a box from under my desk, open it, and wait…
I’ve seen Rachel in short shorts and loose tank tops countless times but I’m still not immune to its… power… and my breath still catches every time… including now…
She’s standing by the door to the bathroom when she sees it.
“You’ve got a record player?!”
I just grin and nod, taking in her smile and the joy in her eyes. She’s practically skipping and squealing as she moves towards me.
This is probably close to how she sounded and looked when she went to see Wicked for the first time.
She wraps her arms around me when she reaches me and can’t seem to stop saying, “Baby, you’ve got a record player. Baby, you’ve got a record player.”
I lean back on my desk, rest my hands on her hips, and grin wider, “Yup. Sure do…”
“I’ve always wanted to have a record player,” she says as she looks at my player with longing. “I hope my dads get me one for Hanukkah.”
“I’m sure they will, baby.” I already bought a few records for her.
She smiles at me then kisses me and-“Wait,” she says abruptly. “You hid yours from me.”
“I wanted to surprise you…”
“Ohhh,” she smiles wider.
“Wanna put a record on?”
She nods eagerly.
I point at the box on the floor. She gasps and hurries to it. Then she sits on the floor and starts rifling through one record cover after another.
“Wow, baby… this is like a tribute to black people,” she says.
I giggle.
“I am so proud of my people… I am half black after all…”
I can only shake my head. Oh, Rachel…
I go over to her and bend down to kiss the back of her head, “I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Knock yourself out…”
“Mmkay…”
I keep the bathroom door open in case she asks something.
And it doesn’t take long until she does…
“Baby, who is D’Angelo?”
Oh, no. Not that…
“He’s an R&B singer,” I answer.
“Why does he appear to be naked?”
“Because… he can…?”
“And why would he label his song Untitled when he also put How Does It Feel in parentheses beside it? He could’ve just put How Does It Feel as its title. How does it feel anyways?”
Like… naked bodies writhing in slow motion, all sweaty and-
“Uhm… yeah… not really in the mood for that, Rach, just pick another song.”
“You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman)?”
I almost choke on water.
“You already know that song.”
“But I’ve decided to make Carole King my new role model for songwriting and this is one of her masterpieces. Plus, no one can sing it the way Aretha can.”
“Just… pick a song you haven’t heard before.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
I finish brushing my teeth so I close the bathroom door and walk back to her.
“Ooh, baby, you have TLC!”
Eep!
“And I am positive that I haven’t heard Red Light Special before. Can we play this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… depressing.”
“Oh.”
Well, it really is depressing if you’re not getting any.
She flips through more records as I sit patiently behind her.
“Okay. I definitely haven’t heard of this song by Otis Redding before."
I smile, “I love that song…”
“You mean we can play it?”
I chuckle and nod. She beams. And we get to our feet.
“Baby, can I be the one to-?”
“Of course, you can, baby.”
That earns me a kiss on the cheek.
And I am content to stare as she’s lifting the dust cover up the turntable, removing the plastic sleeve off the record jacket, pulling out the vinyl with its paper sleeve still on, then sliding it out, holding it by the rim, putting it on the turntable, turning it on, watching it spin while cleaning it with a brush I gave her, setting the brush down with a satisfied nod, carefully placing the needle, and anxiously waiting for the song to start…
And when it plays…
“These… arms… of… miiine…”
She turns to me…
“They are lonely…”
And her lips… slowly curve into a smile.
“Lonely… and feeling blue…”
I take a deep breath…
“These arms of mine…”
…and offer my hand…
“They are yearning…”
…wordlessly asking her to dance with me.
“Yearning… from wanting you.”
And her hand on mine says yes.
“And if yoouu…”
I walk her to the middle of the room…
“Would let them hoooold you…”
…hold her right hand over my heart…
“Oh, how grateful I will be…”
…and bring her left hand up my neck.
“These arms of mine…”
And we start to sway…
“They are burning…”
…as my right hand rests on her lower back…
“Burning… from wanting you.”
And we dance…
“These arms of mine…”
…for the very first time.
“They are wanting…”
And it feels… so damn good…
“Wanting… to hold you.”
She looks at me lovingly, caressing my neck with her thumb, and whispers…
“Who knew Quinn Fabray could be so romantic?”
I kiss the middle of her forehead and murmur…
“Just you…”
She takes a deep breath, sliding her hand across my shoulder and leaning her forehead on my right temple.
I close my eyes and hold her tight, breathing in her scent and savoring the feel of her body against mine.
And we continue to dance, turning around in a circle and soaking in the moment.
She nuzzles closer to my neck.
Her breath is warm against my skin but it makes me shiver.
I feel her lips part just below my jaw and they move with her breathing… brushing lightly against my neck-tentatively, at first, then purposely the next.
She turns her head just as I turn mine… slowly… nervously… both of us trembling in anticipation…
Our lips touch.
And everything comes to a standstill as we kiss…
It’s so intense it’s almost painful. And I feel myself boiling over.
I release her lips and the breath that I’m holding, only to come rushing back to her… and back to her lips. And she welcomes me with her mouth wide open.
Our tongues meet.
And they have a slow dance of their own…
It’s well-rehearsed… and so sultry I’m almost delirious. I feel like I’m crumbling. I urge Rachel to move…
And we let our feet drag us to the bed… until we find ourselves tumbling down, with our lips still very much attached.
She worms her way up my bed with her elbows as I crawl on my knees above her…
When we stop, her hands immediately grab hold of my neck to pull me down… and my hips fall between her legs. I moan at the contact…
And lunge at her neck… and my right hand slips underneath her shirt. She whimpers at the touch.
And it spurs me on… and my mouth kisses its way down the length of her neck… the middle of her chest… to the right side of her waist… where my hand has revealed a sliver of skin and-
“Unghh…”
I suck harder at the spot.
And I want nothing more than to find other spots on Rachel’s body that when kissed or lapped or sucked or bit into, makes her produce the same kind of moan…
She threads her fingers through my hair… as I move across her stomach… and I get a shudder… a hair pull… a sharp intake of breath… and another moan…
I can’t get enough.
I steadily push back her top with my hands… as I trace the outline of her rib with my lips and my tongue and my teeth… She starts breathing audibly through her mouth…
And every breath brings me further up her body… until the tip of my nose touches a nipple and it’s calling out to me and I’m dying to know what noise she makes if I put it in my mouth… and I do and she gasps and jerks and pushes me away-
Oh, my God.
“Oh, my God, baby, I’m so sorry!”
I scramble to pull her shirt down.
“Baby, I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”
She has turned away from me, with her face all scrunched up and her eyes shut tight.
“Oh, God… I’m so sorry…”
I bury my face in her neck, close my eyes, and hold on to her…
“I’m so sorry… I got… carried away… I’m so sorry…”
I feel her covering her face with her hand.
“Baby, I’m sorry… I should’ve asked… I’m so sorry…”
“No, no… I… I’m sorry…”
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me even closer to her.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “I was… shocked… I… I didn’t know it would… feel that way…”
I feel terrible, “It was… that bad…?”
“No, no… it actually felt… so good… I just,” she sighs, “it seems that I… just wasn’t… prepared… for it…”
“Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
We stay silent for a while… and stay right where we are, just holding each other… until she kisses my cheek and shifts in bed.
I feel her turning to me so I open my eyes. And she’s staring back at me.
She gently cups my face with her hand and her thumb starts caressing my cheek…
“When… when I’ve… prepared myself for it… when I’m… ready… to feel that… extremely… pleasurable sensation… would you be… inclined… to… do it all over again?”
I nod…
“Okay… we’ll… take it slow…? For now…?”
I nod again…
“Okay…”
She leans in, rolling me… onto my back… and lies on top of me… then spends the rest of the night… kissing me senseless…
The seventh night
A/N: Obviously, this is part 2.
“So how was your day, sweetie?” my mom asks as she greets us by the door.
“The usual,” I tell her, “went to class, aced all my quizzes, threatened a few people…”
“Quinnie…”
“I’m kidding, Mom.” I smirk, “I got a B+ in Physics.”
She just stares at me.
“Since when did you get a sense of humor?”
“Uhm… this morning…? It was on sale at 7-Eleven.”
She slaps my arm but she smiles a little. And she smiles wider when she turns to Rach.
“And how was your day, dear?”
“It was wonderful,” Rachel smiles back. “Thanks for asking. How was yours?”
“Oh, it was great.”
“Great…”
“Great.”
“Great, well, why don’t you two change into something more comfort-?”
“-we’re comfortable, Mom.”
Rachel nods fervently in agreement.
“But, sweetie, didn’t you just come from practice?”
“Yeah, but I took a shower in school. This is a fresh uniform,” I reason.
“Oh. What about you, Rachel?”
“Oh, no, I’m fresh-fine. I’m fine,” Rachel nods again. “I also took a shower at home before Quinn arrived.”
“Alright,” my mom concedes. “Was it really that cold outside today that you both had to wear turtlenecks?”
“Uhuh…”
“It was very nippy…”
Is it just me or does that word sound dirty?
“I didn’t notice,” my mom says. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re indoors now…”
“Yup…”
Rachel can’t seem to stop nodding.
“I’m hungry,” I blurt out.
“No worries, sweetie,” my mom smiles again, “dinner will be ready in a few minutes. You can just wait for it in the dining room.”
“Sure Mom.”
I place my bag on a chair in the foyer and lay Rachel’s on top of it before we follow my mom into the dining room.
“I’ll have to check on the food. Make yourself at home, Rachel,” she smiles.
“Thank you, Judy,” Rachel smiles back.
And as soon as my mom disappears behind the door to the kitchen, I rest my hand on Rachel’s lower back, lead her to her chair (to my mom’s left), and pull it out for her with a grin.
She looks surprised at first, not expecting that I would continue my chivalrous ways, but then she smiles that precious smile… and sits.
And, God, I can’t help myself.
I bend down to give her a quick kiss on the lips before walking away.
“Quinn Fabray!” she hisses.
I just smirk as I take my seat across the table and lean back lazily.
She sits straighter a moment later, looking outraged, and mouths, we are not playing footsie under the table!
I pout. She crosses her arms with a, “Hmph.”
I chuckle.
This is so much fun.
A slightly peeved Rachel is better than a nervous one.
I was worried for a bit because her palms were sweaty when I gave her hands one last squeeze before getting out of the car.
I could blame it on Paula Cole and her moaning (seriously, that wasn’t singing-that was moaning), but I know Rachel really wants to make a good impression, especially now that she’s our only guest.
Last Saturday was different. Brittany and Santana were there and Rachel got away with nodding, smiling, and responding in short sentences. But she knows she’ll have to converse with my mom tonight and she’s worried because she’s never really interacted with someone else’s parent before.
I extend both hands on the table, opening up my palms and silently asking her to take them.
She hesitates then glances at the kitchen door before laying her hands on mine.
I give them a squeeze and mouth, you’ll do just fine.
She smiles and returns the squeeze.
I smile back then let go.
I’m really glad my mom is back to her usual charming self. I really don’t know what came over her yesterday morning.
She’s still too young to have menopause, right?
God, I hope she’s not bipolar…
She comes out of the kitchen smiling then takes her seat at the head of the table.
“Dinner will be here shortly,” she says. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me more about yourself, Rachel? Quinnie tells me that you’re the captain of the Glee club.”
“Yes, I am. I was absolutely delighted when we all voted for me.”
Somebody stop me from giggling. Oh, Rachel…
“Well, that’s wonderful, dear. I guess that’s another thing you and Quinnie have in common-you’re both captains of your team.”
Something like awe takes over Rachel’s face.
“Why, yes… You’re right, Judy… I never thought of that before… I suppose the only difference is that Quinn is the sole captain of her squad while I have a co-captain for Glee.”
“Oh…”
Ugh, no, let’s not go there.
“…Who is your co-captain?”
Groan.
“Finn Hudson,” Rachel says. “He’s our male lead.”
“Ah.” My mom turns to me, “Isn’t he your ex-boyfriend, sweetie?”
“Yup,” I’m not very happy with where this discussion is going. “He’s also one of Rachel’s… ex… boyfriends.”
“Oh!”
Yet another thing we have in common…
“That’s probably why you sounded so good together,” my mom says to Rachel.
Uh, no! Rachel and I would sound a lot better together.
“I remember watching you all perform at that regional competition,” my mom continues. “You have such an amazing voice, Rachel.”
“Thank you so much.”
“How long have you been singing?”
Yay, much better topic, Mom.
“I’ve been singing since I was six months old.”
“Months?” My mom glances at me.
“She’s not kidding,” I tell her. “She won her first singing competition when she was eight months old. I saw the trophy.”
My mom looks amused. I snort. And the three of us burst into giggles.
“I know, I know,” Rachel smiles, “it sounds absurd, but I’ve always been musically verbal.”
Not just musically-God… that also sounded dirty…
“Oh, no, dear, I think it’s wonderful,” my mom says as she reaches out to squeeze Rachel’s arm.
“Thank you.”
“So are you dating anyone right now?”
Whut? “Mom…”
“Dating? No, no, I’m not… dating…”
Well, it’s not really a lie.
“Quinnie hasn’t been dating anyone either…”
Oh, dear…
“I got pregnant, Mom.”
“I know, sweetie. I wasn’t… talking about that, but now that you’ve mentioned it, whatever happened to that Puckerman boy?”
“He didn’t stop seeing other people,” I say bluntly. “And he also… dated… Rachel,” I grumble.
“It was only for a few days, Quinn…” Rachel says.
“At least, he didn’t get you pregnant, dear,” my mom points out.
“Oh, no, I didn’t sleep with him,” Rachel tells her, “or anyone…”
“Well, that’s a relief,” my mom breathes out.
Then everything becomes quiet.
“Oh, Quinnie,” my mom says as she reaches out to hold my hand, “please don’t think that I still think… badly of you for that one mistake. I don’t.”
I nod. She releases my hand.
“I was just… wondering why two incredible young women like you can’t find a… suitable boy,” she sighs.
“They just weren’t good enough, Mom.”
She looks straight into my eyes and smiles a soft smile, “I could see that, sweetie.” Then she slowly turns to Rach with the smile still in place and asks, “Finn was indeed a bit dim, wasn’t he?”
Rachel can’t help but smile, “Yes, he was…”
And we all giggle at that.
Then my mom sighs again, “It would be a… real treat… to see you in a relationship with someone who is your equal…”
Rachel and I share a fleeting look.
“…someone who brings out the best in you…”
And we’re both thinking the same thing.
“…yet loves all your flaws…”
That someone is right here…
“…someone who manages to draw out your… sense of humor… when you hadn’t shown it before…”
“What?”
“Oh,” my mom suddenly gets to her feet. “Dinner is here!”
She takes a big, shallow bowl from our housekeeper and stands next to Rachel.
“I made this just for you,” she tells her. “It’s vegan.”
“Oh, thank you so much.”
“Here,” my mom starts scooping the food with a ladle and putting it on Rachel’s plate. “This is pan-fried farfalle pasta with butternut squash, sage, and pine nuts.”
“It looks absolutely delicious, Judy.”
My mom smiles then moves over to me to serve up some pasta on my plate as our housekeeper comes back with another bowl and places it on the table.
“That one is a kale and potato gratin,” my mom says. “Potatoes go well with anything.”
“I love potatoes,” Rachel says.
“Go on,” my mom tells us as she sits, “get some. It’s a terrific side-dish, I think.”
Then she gets some for herself.
“Would you mind if we say grace, Rachel?” she asks.
Thank you, Lord. I get to touch her again.
“No, not at all… Quinn always says a prayer before eating.”
I grin as I stretch my left hand out for my mom and my right across the table for Rachel.
She’s trying hard not to smile too much when she takes my hand and smiles shyly at my mom when she holds her hand.
“Bless us, oh, Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, amen.”
“Amen.” I give Rachel’s hand another squeeze before letting go, “Let’s eat!”
We take our first bites in silence.
“Oh, my… This is heavenly, Judy,” Rachel says.
“Thank you, Rachel.”
“It’s so good, Mom.”
“Of course it is, sweetie. I made it,” she smirks.
I chuckle. And we continue eating.
After a while, my mom asks, “How long have you been… vegan, Rachel?”
“For several months now,” she says. “This time last year, I was still eating pepperoni and cheese pizza.”
“So it’s fairly recent…?”
“Yes.”
They continue talking in between bites.
“What made you decide to become… vegan?”
“I saw a documentary on the exploitation of animals during winter break and was deeply affected by it,” Rachel answers in all seriousness. “It never really occurred to me before that eggs have mothers, too!”
My mom doesn’t know how to react.
“I haven’t been able to eat an animal or consume animal byproducts ever since.”
“And what did your… fathers say about it? They understand I’m sure…”
“Yes. Well, it wasn’t such a stretch for my family. We almost always order take-out and my daddy is Jewish. But my dad loves his meat. I think he enjoys having Quinn for dinner because they both love bacon.”
“Oh,” my mom turns to me, “so you’re not… considering… going vegan, Quinnie?”
“I love pork, Mom.”
“And you’re okay with that, Rachel?”
“I’m sorry, Judy-with what?”
“That Quinnie isn’t vegan.”
“Oh! Of course! Of course, I can’t force Quinn into being vegan. But she was kind enough to sit through my PowerPoint presentation regarding its benefits.”
“So you tried to… convert her?”
“Oh. No. I wasn’t trying to convert her. We had a debate over it one day and I just wanted to prove my point. Naturally, she already knew that going vegan will save you a lot of money in the long run with the possibility of prices of meat and dairy going… higher… next year… because she just… knows these things… Quinn is very smart,” she finishes lamely.
I’m cracking up inside.
My mom just smiles.
They go back to eating in silence. And I feel like I’m just here for the food…
Then Rachel praises my mom’s cooking again. “This gratin is very tasty,” she says.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” my mom replies. “I found the recipes online. I must say I was very surprised to see quite a lot of vegan and vegetarian dishes there.”
“Three percent of the whole population is vegetarian, Mom, roughly six to eight million people. And vegans account for more than two million of those.” I hope that explains it.
“I didn’t know there was that many,” my mom says. “But I did learn about a few celebrities who are vegan.”
“Ooh, yes!” Rachel looks excited. “Who did you read about?”
“Ellen Degeneres.”
No. Freaking. Way.
“I love Ellen!” Rachel gushes. “She and her wife Portia are two of the most famous celebrity vegans. And they’re also staunch supporters of PETA.”
“Yes. I was… curious about that, dear,” my mom says. “Is it a lesbian thing?”
Oh, fuck.
“I’m sorry-what?”
“I was just… wondering if all lesbians become… vegans… or is it vice versa…?”
Oh, my God. My mom knows.
“Oh. I-I don’t think all lesbians are vegans,” Rachel starts. “But vegans are definitely not all lesbians.”
How could she have known?
“Natalie Portman, for example,” Rachel continues, “is another famous celebrity vegan. And she is straight-she does play a lesbian ballerina in her latest film, though I guess that doesn’t really count-but she’s pregnant right now…”
I thought she just considers Rachel as one of the friends I like hanging out with…
“…Demi Moore… another celebrity vegan… has lots of kids and is very much married to Ashton Kutcher, which just makes her a cougar, not a lesbian…”
Oh, God. It’s why she was acting weird yesterday.
“…Tobey Maguire… celebrity vegan… also Spiderman… not a lesbian…”
She knew.
“…Betty White…”
And why the hell didn’t I notice?
“…Olivia Wilde, Sandra Oh… all celebrity vegans… and none of them is a lesbian-well… they did play lesbians on screen…”
I guess I just didn’t want to entertain the idea…
“…former President Bill Clinton is almost vegan, but I forgot what he eats that doesn’t make him one…”
Oh, God. My mom knows.
“…Mohandas Gandhi…”
The rest of dinner goes by in a blur…
Before I know it, Rachel is thanking my mom for a lovely dinner and I’m just nodding and smiling.
I don’t know how we managed to ask permission to leave the table or get up from our seats or march upstairs to my room.
What I am aware of next is locking my door, then turning around and seeing Rachel rushing back to me from across the room. And she’s hanging tightly onto my shoulders.
“OhmyGod,Quinn,yourmomknows!”
I heave a very long sigh…
“I know, baby. I know…”
I wrap my arms behind her back.
“What do we do now?” she asks.
I heave another sigh, “I have to call Santana first,” and walk towards my bed.
“What can Santana do about it?”
I sit down, place my bag on the floor, and reach for Rachel’s hand, pulling her gently to sit beside me. Then, I dig out my phone, make that call, and wait until Santana picks up.
(“Yo.”)
“Did you lock the door yesterday morning?”
(“Nice to hear from you, too, bitch.”)
“Just answer the question, S. Did you and B lock the door when you left yesterday morning?”
(“Whut?!”)
“Did you?”
She’s silent for a second and then…
(“Holy. Sweet. Hell… Your mom saw?”)
“So you didn’t lock the door…”
She sighs.
(“Fuck… I don’t remember locking the door. Did she see you guys?”)
“I don’t know… We can’t know for sure. But when she woke me up, the door was locked. She must’ve been the one who did it…”
(“No shit.”)
“Yeah,” I sigh again. “Later, S.”
(“Keep me posted.”)
Then we both hang up.
“What do you want to do, baby?” Rachel asks, looking so concerned.
“I think,” I take a deep breath. “I think I’ll wait for her to ask directly about us.”
“Do you think she’ll be ready for the answer if she does?”
I nod.
“Can we not… worry about it… for now?”
I still have one more trick up my sleeve.
She nods and kisses me tenderly.
“Let’s get out of these clothes,” I murmur before I can stop myself, “-into something more comfy-I mean.”
“I’ll… change in the bathroom,” she volunteers.
“You can… change here…?”
“Well, I still have to… wash my face and brush my teeth,” she says.
“Oh, right…” brush my teeth… I almost forgot about that…
She gives me another kiss, gets her bag, and goes to the bathroom.
I quickly change into a pair of shorts and a shirt, bring out my last surprise for the day, put it back on my shelf, set it up, and plug it in, then drag out a box from under my desk, open it, and wait…
I’ve seen Rachel in short shorts and loose tank tops countless times but I’m still not immune to its… power… and my breath still catches every time… including now…
She’s standing by the door to the bathroom when she sees it.
“You’ve got a record player?!”
I just grin and nod, taking in her smile and the joy in her eyes. She’s practically skipping and squealing as she moves towards me.
This is probably close to how she sounded and looked when she went to see Wicked for the first time.
She wraps her arms around me when she reaches me and can’t seem to stop saying, “Baby, you’ve got a record player. Baby, you’ve got a record player.”
I lean back on my desk, rest my hands on her hips, and grin wider, “Yup. Sure do…”
“I’ve always wanted to have a record player,” she says as she looks at my player with longing. “I hope my dads get me one for Hanukkah.”
“I’m sure they will, baby.” I already bought a few records for her.
She smiles at me then kisses me and-“Wait,” she says abruptly. “You hid yours from me.”
“I wanted to surprise you…”
“Ohhh,” she smiles wider.
“Wanna put a record on?”
She nods eagerly.
I point at the box on the floor. She gasps and hurries to it. Then she sits on the floor and starts rifling through one record cover after another.
“Wow, baby… this is like a tribute to black people,” she says.
I giggle.
“I am so proud of my people… I am half black after all…”
I can only shake my head. Oh, Rachel…
I go over to her and bend down to kiss the back of her head, “I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Knock yourself out…”
“Mmkay…”
I keep the bathroom door open in case she asks something.
And it doesn’t take long until she does…
“Baby, who is D’Angelo?”
Oh, no. Not that…
“He’s an R&B singer,” I answer.
“Why does he appear to be naked?”
“Because… he can…?”
“And why would he label his song Untitled when he also put How Does It Feel in parentheses beside it? He could’ve just put How Does It Feel as its title. How does it feel anyways?”
Like… naked bodies writhing in slow motion, all sweaty and-
“Uhm… yeah… not really in the mood for that, Rach, just pick another song.”
“You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman)?”
I almost choke on water.
“You already know that song.”
“But I’ve decided to make Carole King my new role model for songwriting and this is one of her masterpieces. Plus, no one can sing it the way Aretha can.”
“Just… pick a song you haven’t heard before.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
I finish brushing my teeth so I close the bathroom door and walk back to her.
“Ooh, baby, you have TLC!”
Eep!
“And I am positive that I haven’t heard Red Light Special before. Can we play this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… depressing.”
“Oh.”
Well, it really is depressing if you’re not getting any.
She flips through more records as I sit patiently behind her.
“Okay. I definitely haven’t heard of this song by Otis Redding before."
I smile, “I love that song…”
“You mean we can play it?”
I chuckle and nod. She beams. And we get to our feet.
“Baby, can I be the one to-?”
“Of course, you can, baby.”
That earns me a kiss on the cheek.
And I am content to stare as she’s lifting the dust cover up the turntable, removing the plastic sleeve off the record jacket, pulling out the vinyl with its paper sleeve still on, then sliding it out, holding it by the rim, putting it on the turntable, turning it on, watching it spin while cleaning it with a brush I gave her, setting the brush down with a satisfied nod, carefully placing the needle, and anxiously waiting for the song to start…
And when it plays…
“These… arms… of… miiine…”
She turns to me…
“They are lonely…”
And her lips… slowly curve into a smile.
“Lonely… and feeling blue…”
I take a deep breath…
“These arms of mine…”
…and offer my hand…
“They are yearning…”
…wordlessly asking her to dance with me.
“Yearning… from wanting you.”
And her hand on mine says yes.
“And if yoouu…”
I walk her to the middle of the room…
“Would let them hoooold you…”
…hold her right hand over my heart…
“Oh, how grateful I will be…”
…and bring her left hand up my neck.
“These arms of mine…”
And we start to sway…
“They are burning…”
…as my right hand rests on her lower back…
“Burning… from wanting you.”
And we dance…
“These arms of mine…”
…for the very first time.
“They are wanting…”
And it feels… so damn good…
“Wanting… to hold you.”
She looks at me lovingly, caressing my neck with her thumb, and whispers…
“Who knew Quinn Fabray could be so romantic?”
I kiss the middle of her forehead and murmur…
“Just you…”
She takes a deep breath, sliding her hand across my shoulder and leaning her forehead on my right temple.
I close my eyes and hold her tight, breathing in her scent and savoring the feel of her body against mine.
And we continue to dance, turning around in a circle and soaking in the moment.
She nuzzles closer to my neck.
Her breath is warm against my skin but it makes me shiver.
I feel her lips part just below my jaw and they move with her breathing… brushing lightly against my neck-tentatively, at first, then purposely the next.
She turns her head just as I turn mine… slowly… nervously… both of us trembling in anticipation…
Our lips touch.
And everything comes to a standstill as we kiss…
It’s so intense it’s almost painful. And I feel myself boiling over.
I release her lips and the breath that I’m holding, only to come rushing back to her… and back to her lips. And she welcomes me with her mouth wide open.
Our tongues meet.
And they have a slow dance of their own…
It’s well-rehearsed… and so sultry I’m almost delirious. I feel like I’m crumbling. I urge Rachel to move…
And we let our feet drag us to the bed… until we find ourselves tumbling down, with our lips still very much attached.
She worms her way up my bed with her elbows as I crawl on my knees above her…
When we stop, her hands immediately grab hold of my neck to pull me down… and my hips fall between her legs. I moan at the contact…
And lunge at her neck… and my right hand slips underneath her shirt. She whimpers at the touch.
And it spurs me on… and my mouth kisses its way down the length of her neck… the middle of her chest… to the right side of her waist… where my hand has revealed a sliver of skin and-
“Unghh…”
I suck harder at the spot.
And I want nothing more than to find other spots on Rachel’s body that when kissed or lapped or sucked or bit into, makes her produce the same kind of moan…
She threads her fingers through my hair… as I move across her stomach… and I get a shudder… a hair pull… a sharp intake of breath… and another moan…
I can’t get enough.
I steadily push back her top with my hands… as I trace the outline of her rib with my lips and my tongue and my teeth… She starts breathing audibly through her mouth…
And every breath brings me further up her body… until the tip of my nose touches a nipple and it’s calling out to me and I’m dying to know what noise she makes if I put it in my mouth… and I do and she gasps and jerks and pushes me away-
Oh, my God.
“Oh, my God, baby, I’m so sorry!”
I scramble to pull her shirt down.
“Baby, I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”
She has turned away from me, with her face all scrunched up and her eyes shut tight.
“Oh, God… I’m so sorry…”
I bury my face in her neck, close my eyes, and hold on to her…
“I’m so sorry… I got… carried away… I’m so sorry…”
I feel her covering her face with her hand.
“Baby, I’m sorry… I should’ve asked… I’m so sorry…”
“No, no… I… I’m sorry…”
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me even closer to her.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “I was… shocked… I… I didn’t know it would… feel that way…”
I feel terrible, “It was… that bad…?”
“No, no… it actually felt… so good… I just,” she sighs, “it seems that I… just wasn’t… prepared… for it…”
“Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
We stay silent for a while… and stay right where we are, just holding each other… until she kisses my cheek and shifts in bed.
I feel her turning to me so I open my eyes. And she’s staring back at me.
She gently cups my face with her hand and her thumb starts caressing my cheek…
“When… when I’ve… prepared myself for it… when I’m… ready… to feel that… extremely… pleasurable sensation… would you be… inclined… to… do it all over again?”
I nod…
“Okay… we’ll… take it slow…? For now…?”
I nod again…
“Okay…”
She leans in, rolling me… onto my back… and lies on top of me… then spends the rest of the night… kissing me senseless…
The seventh night