HSN Exchange Fic: Doubt and Resolution (1/2), for corchen
Title: Doubt and Resolution (1/2)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Quinn
Warnings: Slight D/s play, egregious use of italics.
Word count: ~11000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: After everything that happened last year, Quinn wants to keep their relationship quiet, and Rachel is fine with that. But there are some unintended consequences to Quinn's conditions, and when things go too far, Rachel decides to take the situation into her own hands.
A/N: Big thanks go to my beta, for helping me through this process from start to finish. You’re incredible and I truly don’t know what I would do without you. Thanks also to the person who told me to give this a shot in the first place, for your faith and encouragement. This story is based on a combination of all three prompts I received, filling the second and third and just a little of the first.
Rachel pressed a line of hot kisses down Quinn’s jawline and onto her neck. She never thought she’d be much of a neck person - was there even a word for ‘neck fetish’? Neckophilia? What was the Greek word for neck? She couldn’t remember right then, but it didn’t quite matter, because the taste of Quinn’s skin on her tongue was positively the most distracting thing Rachel Berry had ever encountered. And, okay, it wasn’t exactly the taste - after all, skin didn’t actually taste like much, just a little salty from sweat or bitter from soap and perfume - but there was something about that indescribable texture on her tongue that made her nearly delirious with desire, and Rachel was fairly sure she could spend at least the better part of an hour sucking on Quinn’s neck.
“Oh, Rachel,” Quinn let out a breathy little moan, one hand winding its way into Rachel’s hair while the other stroked down the back of her tank top, already damp with sweat. Rachel’s lips curved against Quinn’s skin, and she let her teeth scrape gently over Quinn’s collarbone. The hand in her hair tightened its grip, and Rachel found herself being unceremoniously jerked away from Quinn’s absolutely delicious, delectable -
“Not my neck,” Quinn said, firmly despite the breathless quality to her voice. “No hickeys, remember?”
Rachel did remember, and she wanted nothing more than to rip apart her comforter with sheer frustration. Quinn insisted that Rachel leave no visible reminders of their lovemaking on her skin. It was a small price to pay, Rachel figured, considering all the hardship they had gone through to get together in the first place. But she hadn’t considered how frustrating it would be, to have Quinn laid out on her bed, flushed and sweaty, and not be able to just sink her teeth into that expanse of smooth, pale skin.
Of course, Rachel prided herself on her self-control. And really, she couldn’t complain - not when she had Quinn Fabray beneath her in just a blouse and her underwear. So she just nodded and smiled apologetically before undoing the rest of the buttons of Quinn’s shirt.
And if she took a bit of perverse pleasure in sucking just a little too hard on Quinn’s clit fifteen minutes later, well, no one had to know. Besides, Quinn was reacting fairly well to the sensation, her nails digging into Rachel’s scalp as she arched her back and moaned out her approval.
“Rachel, oh, Lord, Rachel,” she groaned, her hips moving up off the bed to into Rachel’s touch. Rachel grinned internally as she opened her mouth and sucked in much of Quinn’s flesh as she could. “Aaah!” Quinn cried out incoherently, her hands fisting in Rachel’s hair as she was surrounded by the liquid heat of Rachel’s mouth. She writhed in Rachel’s grip for another minute before letting out a long, satisfied sigh and slumping back against the pillows, feeling her muscles tense and relax, and finally tugging Rachel upwards when the long, drawn out swipes of Rachel’s tongue became too much for her to withstand.
“Too much,” she gasped out. Rachel grinned, but allowed herself to be pulled up to the head of the bed, lying on her side next to Quinn.
“Good?” she asked cheekily as Quinn wrapped her arms around her. Quinn let out a shaky laugh.
“You have no idea,” she said, pressing her face into Rachel’s shoulder. “Mmmm, Rachel…”
“Rachel.”
“Rachel!”
Rachel started in her seat, jolted out of her reverie as the rest of the class snickered. Ms. Higgins, her elderly English teacher, was peering down at her though her bifocals from the front of the room.
“Now that you’ve decided to rejoin us,” Ms. Higgins continued, “would you mind answering the question?”
Rachel stared down at the copy of Othello lying open on her desk. Her mind raced as she tried desperately to remember what Ms. Higgins had said while she was caught up in her daydream, but all she could recall was the sound of Quinn moaning her name. Of course, it wouldn’t do for her to be caught spacing out in class. No, Rachel was proud of her four-point-oh GPA, and she wasn’t about to let her class participation mark take a nosedive just because she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the incredibly hot sex she’d had with her girlfriend last weekend. She glanced at the clock. One minute until the end of the period. She could do this.
Ms. Higgins raised one gray eyebrow. “Well?”
Rachel cleared her throat.
“Of course,” she began, “one must keep in mind that Othello is not in fact the ideal man, despite his role as the hero of the play. Shakespeare goes to great lengths to remind the reader, or rather, the audience, that Othello is in fact deeply flawed, completely consumed by a jealous rage which is ultimately proved baseless, since Iago fabricated the entire situation and purposefully incited Othello’s jealousy by suggesting that Desdemona was being unfaithful - “
She was cut off as the bell rang, and the classroom was suddenly filled with the noise of chairs being shoved back from desks and books being dropped into backpacks. Rachel smiled with relief as Ms. Higgins sighed and shuffled the papers on her desk.
“Very well. A one page analysis of Shakespeare’s presentation of Iago’s actions and motivations is due on Friday.” Half the class was already out the door as she gave the assignment, Rachel included.
The hallways echoed with the cacophony of slamming lockers and loud conversations that accompanied the end of the school day. Weaving between jocks in red varsity jackets, Rachel made her way down the hall to the room where she knew Quinn would just be finishing her math class.
She stood on her tiptoes to see over the crowd of students, and smiled when she saw the familiar blonde ponytail and red uniform appear in the doorway. Rachel had been very supportive of Quinn rejoining the Cheerios after having her baby, even though it was more than a little disconcerting at first - seeing Quinn go back to being Quinn Fabray, wearing the uniform that had borne witness so much antagonism between them over the years.
Quinn, for her part, had fallen easily back into being a Cheerio. The workouts, though exhausting, had whipped her body back into pre-baby shape (a benefit Rachel had no qualms about taking advantage of herself), and it felt good to have a routine, however militaristic, after a year of chaos. Cheerleading practice also gave Quinn an excuse to be out of the house more often; though she had moved back in with her mother after the baby was born, she still felt uncomfortable there.
Rachel pushed those thoughts out of her mind as Quinn waved goodbye to another Cheerio and turned to face her, a quiet smile on her lips. None of it mattered now, really, because Quinn was hers, and they were together, and Glee Club was waiting for them.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice just barely audible over the dull roar of the students around them. She reached out and slipped her fingers around Quinn’s.
“Hey,” Quinn replied, tightening her grip on Rachel’s hand. They started to walk down the hallway, carried by the tide of students, none of whom gave their clasped hands a second glance as they rushed to get their books out of their lockers and leave. Rachel relished the feeling of Quinn’s hand in hers and slowed her steps, knowing that it would only last until they reached the threshold of the choir room.
“Is it,” Rachel’s lower lip trembled despite her internal decision that she was not going to cry. “Is it because I’m a girl?”
“What?” Quinn sounded honestly surprised. “No, no, Rachel, no,” she said soothingly, reaching up to caress Rachel’s cheek. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then why?” Rachel demanded. Quinn reached out and took her hand.
“I have hurt so many people this year,” she said. “Finn, Puck, Mr. Schue, you…” Her face took on a pleading expression. “I just don’t want to screw things up any more than I already have.”
“By letting everyone know that we’re together?”
“By rubbing it in their faces.” Quinn looked into Rachel’s eyes beseechingly. “I’m not asking you to be a secret, and I won’t lie about us. But I’d rather we could be quiet about it.” Rachel wondered if it was worth pointing out to Quinn that being quiet was not one of the many and varied skills in her repertoire, and that she would be infinitely more comfortable composing limericks or walking a tightrope, but the look on Quinn’s face seemed to indicate otherwise.
“What exactly would ‘keeping quiet’ entail?” she asked instead. Relief washed over Quinn’s face that Rachel was even willing to entertain the idea.
“No PDA at school,” Quinn replied quickly. “Nothing in front of the other glee kids. I’ll walk to you class, and things, because no one’s really paying attention then anyway, but nothing during the rest of school, or rehearsals. Definitely no kissing and…stuff.”
Rachel pouted. “You don’t like kissing me?” she asked facetiously. Quinn sighed.
“Please, Rachel. I’m being serious.”
Rachel hesitated. Everything that Rachel was wanted to say no. She wanted to sing ballads to Quinn in front of the club, and make hers-and-hers cat calendars, and wear Quinn’s letterman jacket and make out with her in the janitor’s closet during lunch. She didn’t want to worry about offending anyone, just because they were together and happy after all this time.
But that was Rachel’s problem, the thing that had wrecked all of her other relationships. She wanted everything too much. For once, she could put it aside. For Quinn’s sake.
“Please, Rachel?”
Rachel took a deep breath.
“Okay.”
They reached the door to the choir room far too quickly. Rachel had only just become used to the feel of Quinn’s hand in hers when she felt it slip out of her grip. Quinn offered her a small smile as she pushed open the door and walked through. Rachel tried to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as Quinn moved to take a seat next to Brittany and Santana. She set her bag down a few chairs away and smoothed out her skirt, staring down at her lap as the Cheerios laughed about something. This was part of the deal, she reminded herself - it was good for Quinn to have space, to have her own friends, her own life.
“Where are the boys?” Mercedes asked. Rachel looked around the room. It was empty save for the female half of the club - Brittany, Quinn, and Santana all in the front row, Rachel in the back a few seats away, and Mercedes next to a rather grumpy-looking Tina at the other end.
“Who needs them anyway?” Tina said softly, crossing her arms and staring down at her shoes. Mercedes patted her awkwardly on the back. Rachel offered her a sympathetic glance, but restrained herself from speaking. Artie and Tina had gotten into a blowout fight the week before over Wonder Woman’s new outfit - Artie was not fond of the change, and Tina’s newfound feminist sensibilities were offended by his objection on the grounds that “her current one shows more skin”. (Rachel had, of course, taken it upon herself as both their captain and sort-of-friend to find out the details, and had even offered to mediate towards a peaceful resolution. They had declined, and Quinn had convinced Rachel to let it go, as long as it didn’t affect their performances.) Rachel glanced over and caught Quinn’s gaze, and they shared a slight smirk. Who needs boys, indeed?
“Maybe you should just talk to him, Tina,” Mercedes said. “Artie is a good guy at heart.”
“Please. If he could move his foot, I’m sure the first thing he’d do is stick it in his mouth.” Santana drawled, picking at her nails. Brittany nodded.
The door opened, and Mr. Schuester walked in.
“Hey girls, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully. At the lack of response, his smile weakened, but he clasped his hands and continued. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the boys aren’t here yet.”
“You don’t say,” Quinn said dryly. Santana rolled her eyes.
“Right, well, you girls are in for a treat today, so just sit back, relax and enjoy the show.” Will moved to sit in the front row, and motioned towards the door.
Rachel’s eyebrows shot up at the boys filed in, Artie in the lead. They were all dressed sharply, with black blazers and slacks paired with white dress shirts. And bowler hats. Bowlers! She wondered where they got the outfits. She wondered what she would have to do to convince them to wear them for their next competition.
Artie rolled to a stop in the center of the room as Mike, Matt, and Kurt lined up to his right and Finn and Puck, holding his guitar, stood to his left. He cleared his throat and nodded towards Mr. Schue, who pushed a button on the boombox at his feet. Rachel leaned forward eagerly. This had all the makings of a grand musical gesture, and Rachel loved nothing more than a grand musical gesture. Music filled the room, and Artie began to sing.
“You are my fire, the one desire,” Rachel snuck a glance at Tina and saw that the normally pale girl was flushing a light pink already. She wondered if the song choice had any special meaning for the two of them. It probably did, she decided, because even she felt compelled to roll her eyes. The Backstreet Boys were just so…nineties. “But we are two worlds apart. Can’t reach to your heart, when you say that I want it that way.”
Heedless of Santana’s barely muffled snickering, the boys launched into the chorus. “Tell me why ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, tell me why ain’t nothin’ but a mistake.” Mike, Matt, and Kurt fell into a simple dance routine while Finn rolled Artie forward, as close to Tina as he could get. “Am I your fire? Your one desire?” Artie sang, looking as much like a sad puppy as Rachel had ever seen him. Tina’s hands obscured the bottom half of her face, hiding her expression. “Yes I know, it’s too late, but I want it that way.” Artie pulled away and spun his chair around as they flew through the next chorus,
Puck pulled fluidly at the strings of his guitar, swaying gently as he took the lead, crooning, “Now I can see that we're falling apart, from the way that it used to be, yeah.” Rachel frowned. She would have to make a note to chastise him later - he wasn’t making eye contact with the audience. In fact, he wasn’t looking towards her half of the room at all. “No matter the distance, I want you to know, that deep down inside of me….” Rachel followed his gaze, and swallowed against the sudden flare of heat in her throat. Quinn. He was singing to Quinn.
“You are,” Artie chorused along with Puck, “my fire, the one desire,” they launched into the cascading “You are, you are, you are, you a-are...”
“Don’t wanna hear you,” Finn broke in, but Rachel could barely hear him over the slow buzz in her ears. Puck was singing to Quinn. To her girlfriend. “Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, ain’t nothing but a mistake.” Rachel stared dumbly at Quinn, who didn’t seem to notice anything was awry. She was nudging Santana and smiling, mouthing the words along with the boys. “I never wanna hear you say I want it that way.” She looked back at Puck. He was still strumming, singing along in the background now, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Quinn. The boys started the final chorus, but Rachel didn’t care. Puck had to know that Rachel was there, that Rachel would notice him singing so blatantly to her girlfriend.
Rachel’s fists clenched in her skirt as the song wound down to a close. Her eyes moved back and forth between Puck and Quinn, who still seemed oblivious. It’s probably nothing, she told herself. It doesn’t mean anything. Swallowing down her anger, she forced her hands into a small, polite clap as the boys bowed to the smattering of applause and Mr. Schue stood up.
“That was really great, you guys, really great,” he said earnestly, clapping Artie on the shoulder and Finn on the back. “I’m really proud of you guys for putting yourselves out there like that. I know you were working really hard on that number this week.” He smiled. “And because of all that hard work you put in, you can all take the rest of the day off. Practice is over, everyone!” Without waiting for a response, he walked briskly out the door, leaving the stunned class behind him.
“Did anyone else think that was kinda weird?” Finn asked uncertainly. Santana stood and stretched.
“He’s planning some kind of surprise for Ms. Pillsbury tonight and needs to get to the florist’s before it closes,” Santana said dryly, grabbing her letterman jacket and extending her hand to Brittany.
“And how would you know something like that?” Kurt asked, eyebrow arched as he brushed off his slacks.
“We heard Coach Sylvester talking about it earlier. She sent one of the freshmen to go burn down the florist’s,” Brittany said. She and Santana linked pinkies and exited the room, leaving Quinn behind. Rachel watched as Puck approached her, slinging his guitar over his back.
“Scoping out the competition, Rachel?”
Rachel turned and found Kurt standing next to her, watching Quinn and Puck with a mild expression.
“There is no competition,” Rachel snapped. “Quinn and I are very much together and in love.”
“You might want to let her know that.” Rachel followed Kurt’s gaze and saw that Puck had moved closer to Quinn, who didn’t seem to be in any rush to push him away. She could see their lips moving, but they were speaking quietly, and she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Just because we do not feel the need to flaunt our relationship does not mean that it does not exist,” Rachel forced out through grit teeth. “We simply prefer our privacy.”
“Please. Like you wouldn't kill to prove to everyone that you're dating someone as pretty and well styled as Quinn Fabray. You like privacy as much as Brittany likes algebra.” He paused for effect. “You don't even know the meaning of the word.”
Rachel wheeled on him. “What are you trying to get at, Kurt?” she demanded. Kurt just arched an eyebrow at her.
“Stop kidding yourself, Rachel. It’s just a matter of time before Quinn gets fed up with this little lesbian charade you have going on and Puck sweeps her back up off her feet.”
Something snapped deep inside Rachel, and her anger surged back full force. Red clouded the edges of her vision and a vein throbbed in her temple as her nails dug into her palms, her arms trembling with the force of keeping her fists at her sides.
“I am very sorry that your ploy to get Finn by arranging a relationship between your parents didn’t work out, and I understand that you’re jealous of mine and Quinn’s loving homosexual relationship, but please stop projecting your insecurities onto me,” she snapped acerbically. It was below the belt, and they both knew it. Kurt’s eyes narrowed.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Rachel,” he replied, glaring at her icily, “Quinn is back on the Cheerios. She isn’t pregnant any more. She’s back with her family. Her life is returning to the way it was before, and that does not include a farcical relationship with a girl she used to call ‘Manhands’.”
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Quinn had walked over to them, her bag slung over her shoulder, and was looking at Rachel with some concern. Rachel glanced behind her, but Puck was gone. She looked back at Quinn, then shot Kurt a glare. Farcical? She would show him farcical.
“Hey, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” she said quickly, then leaned up for a kiss…only to be stopped by Quinn’s hand on her shoulder. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” she hissed, glancing around them wildly. “We’re in school.” Rachel followed her glance around the room. Kurt was pointedly looking away, down at his impeccably manicured nails as he smiled to himself. Mercedes was laughing with Mike and Matt as they moved to leave. Finn was awkwardly trying not to gawk as Tina practically mounted Artie in his wheelchair. Rachel realized faintly that they must have worked out their problems, because their mouths didn’t seem to be in any danger of separating any time soon. Then she looked back at Quinn, and saw the panic in her eyes, and swallowed.
“I…I’m sorry, Quinn,” she said. “I’ll…see you at my house later?” Quinn nodded, her expression still guarded, and then reached out to squeeze Rachel’s hand briefly before leaving quickly. Rachel watched as the door closed behind her, blocking the red uniform and blonde ponytail from her view. Kurt sighed and brushed imaginary lint off his suit.
Quinn was hers, no matter what Kurt thought. Right? Rachel paused for a moment and let manic determination, comfortable and familiar, flood her mind, clearing it of doubt. Right. So she was just going to have to prove it. To Kurt, and to Puck, and especially to Quinn. Rachel Berry was not going down without a fight. She looked at Kurt sidelong, and felt a plan begin to form.
She walked over to Finn and reached up to tap him on the shoulder. Startled, his gaze whipped away from Tina and Artie and he looked down at her guiltily, his face red.
“Hey Finn?” she asked, as sweetly and nonchalantly as she could. “Where did you get that hat?”
PART TWO
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Quinn
Warnings: Slight D/s play, egregious use of italics.
Word count: ~11000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: After everything that happened last year, Quinn wants to keep their relationship quiet, and Rachel is fine with that. But there are some unintended consequences to Quinn's conditions, and when things go too far, Rachel decides to take the situation into her own hands.
A/N: Big thanks go to my beta, for helping me through this process from start to finish. You’re incredible and I truly don’t know what I would do without you. Thanks also to the person who told me to give this a shot in the first place, for your faith and encouragement. This story is based on a combination of all three prompts I received, filling the second and third and just a little of the first.
Rachel pressed a line of hot kisses down Quinn’s jawline and onto her neck. She never thought she’d be much of a neck person - was there even a word for ‘neck fetish’? Neckophilia? What was the Greek word for neck? She couldn’t remember right then, but it didn’t quite matter, because the taste of Quinn’s skin on her tongue was positively the most distracting thing Rachel Berry had ever encountered. And, okay, it wasn’t exactly the taste - after all, skin didn’t actually taste like much, just a little salty from sweat or bitter from soap and perfume - but there was something about that indescribable texture on her tongue that made her nearly delirious with desire, and Rachel was fairly sure she could spend at least the better part of an hour sucking on Quinn’s neck.
“Oh, Rachel,” Quinn let out a breathy little moan, one hand winding its way into Rachel’s hair while the other stroked down the back of her tank top, already damp with sweat. Rachel’s lips curved against Quinn’s skin, and she let her teeth scrape gently over Quinn’s collarbone. The hand in her hair tightened its grip, and Rachel found herself being unceremoniously jerked away from Quinn’s absolutely delicious, delectable -
“Not my neck,” Quinn said, firmly despite the breathless quality to her voice. “No hickeys, remember?”
Rachel did remember, and she wanted nothing more than to rip apart her comforter with sheer frustration. Quinn insisted that Rachel leave no visible reminders of their lovemaking on her skin. It was a small price to pay, Rachel figured, considering all the hardship they had gone through to get together in the first place. But she hadn’t considered how frustrating it would be, to have Quinn laid out on her bed, flushed and sweaty, and not be able to just sink her teeth into that expanse of smooth, pale skin.
Of course, Rachel prided herself on her self-control. And really, she couldn’t complain - not when she had Quinn Fabray beneath her in just a blouse and her underwear. So she just nodded and smiled apologetically before undoing the rest of the buttons of Quinn’s shirt.
And if she took a bit of perverse pleasure in sucking just a little too hard on Quinn’s clit fifteen minutes later, well, no one had to know. Besides, Quinn was reacting fairly well to the sensation, her nails digging into Rachel’s scalp as she arched her back and moaned out her approval.
“Rachel, oh, Lord, Rachel,” she groaned, her hips moving up off the bed to into Rachel’s touch. Rachel grinned internally as she opened her mouth and sucked in much of Quinn’s flesh as she could. “Aaah!” Quinn cried out incoherently, her hands fisting in Rachel’s hair as she was surrounded by the liquid heat of Rachel’s mouth. She writhed in Rachel’s grip for another minute before letting out a long, satisfied sigh and slumping back against the pillows, feeling her muscles tense and relax, and finally tugging Rachel upwards when the long, drawn out swipes of Rachel’s tongue became too much for her to withstand.
“Too much,” she gasped out. Rachel grinned, but allowed herself to be pulled up to the head of the bed, lying on her side next to Quinn.
“Good?” she asked cheekily as Quinn wrapped her arms around her. Quinn let out a shaky laugh.
“You have no idea,” she said, pressing her face into Rachel’s shoulder. “Mmmm, Rachel…”
“Rachel.”
“Rachel!”
Rachel started in her seat, jolted out of her reverie as the rest of the class snickered. Ms. Higgins, her elderly English teacher, was peering down at her though her bifocals from the front of the room.
“Now that you’ve decided to rejoin us,” Ms. Higgins continued, “would you mind answering the question?”
Rachel stared down at the copy of Othello lying open on her desk. Her mind raced as she tried desperately to remember what Ms. Higgins had said while she was caught up in her daydream, but all she could recall was the sound of Quinn moaning her name. Of course, it wouldn’t do for her to be caught spacing out in class. No, Rachel was proud of her four-point-oh GPA, and she wasn’t about to let her class participation mark take a nosedive just because she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the incredibly hot sex she’d had with her girlfriend last weekend. She glanced at the clock. One minute until the end of the period. She could do this.
Ms. Higgins raised one gray eyebrow. “Well?”
Rachel cleared her throat.
“Of course,” she began, “one must keep in mind that Othello is not in fact the ideal man, despite his role as the hero of the play. Shakespeare goes to great lengths to remind the reader, or rather, the audience, that Othello is in fact deeply flawed, completely consumed by a jealous rage which is ultimately proved baseless, since Iago fabricated the entire situation and purposefully incited Othello’s jealousy by suggesting that Desdemona was being unfaithful - “
She was cut off as the bell rang, and the classroom was suddenly filled with the noise of chairs being shoved back from desks and books being dropped into backpacks. Rachel smiled with relief as Ms. Higgins sighed and shuffled the papers on her desk.
“Very well. A one page analysis of Shakespeare’s presentation of Iago’s actions and motivations is due on Friday.” Half the class was already out the door as she gave the assignment, Rachel included.
The hallways echoed with the cacophony of slamming lockers and loud conversations that accompanied the end of the school day. Weaving between jocks in red varsity jackets, Rachel made her way down the hall to the room where she knew Quinn would just be finishing her math class.
She stood on her tiptoes to see over the crowd of students, and smiled when she saw the familiar blonde ponytail and red uniform appear in the doorway. Rachel had been very supportive of Quinn rejoining the Cheerios after having her baby, even though it was more than a little disconcerting at first - seeing Quinn go back to being Quinn Fabray, wearing the uniform that had borne witness so much antagonism between them over the years.
Quinn, for her part, had fallen easily back into being a Cheerio. The workouts, though exhausting, had whipped her body back into pre-baby shape (a benefit Rachel had no qualms about taking advantage of herself), and it felt good to have a routine, however militaristic, after a year of chaos. Cheerleading practice also gave Quinn an excuse to be out of the house more often; though she had moved back in with her mother after the baby was born, she still felt uncomfortable there.
Rachel pushed those thoughts out of her mind as Quinn waved goodbye to another Cheerio and turned to face her, a quiet smile on her lips. None of it mattered now, really, because Quinn was hers, and they were together, and Glee Club was waiting for them.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice just barely audible over the dull roar of the students around them. She reached out and slipped her fingers around Quinn’s.
“Hey,” Quinn replied, tightening her grip on Rachel’s hand. They started to walk down the hallway, carried by the tide of students, none of whom gave their clasped hands a second glance as they rushed to get their books out of their lockers and leave. Rachel relished the feeling of Quinn’s hand in hers and slowed her steps, knowing that it would only last until they reached the threshold of the choir room.
“Is it,” Rachel’s lower lip trembled despite her internal decision that she was not going to cry. “Is it because I’m a girl?”
“What?” Quinn sounded honestly surprised. “No, no, Rachel, no,” she said soothingly, reaching up to caress Rachel’s cheek. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then why?” Rachel demanded. Quinn reached out and took her hand.
“I have hurt so many people this year,” she said. “Finn, Puck, Mr. Schue, you…” Her face took on a pleading expression. “I just don’t want to screw things up any more than I already have.”
“By letting everyone know that we’re together?”
“By rubbing it in their faces.” Quinn looked into Rachel’s eyes beseechingly. “I’m not asking you to be a secret, and I won’t lie about us. But I’d rather we could be quiet about it.” Rachel wondered if it was worth pointing out to Quinn that being quiet was not one of the many and varied skills in her repertoire, and that she would be infinitely more comfortable composing limericks or walking a tightrope, but the look on Quinn’s face seemed to indicate otherwise.
“What exactly would ‘keeping quiet’ entail?” she asked instead. Relief washed over Quinn’s face that Rachel was even willing to entertain the idea.
“No PDA at school,” Quinn replied quickly. “Nothing in front of the other glee kids. I’ll walk to you class, and things, because no one’s really paying attention then anyway, but nothing during the rest of school, or rehearsals. Definitely no kissing and…stuff.”
Rachel pouted. “You don’t like kissing me?” she asked facetiously. Quinn sighed.
“Please, Rachel. I’m being serious.”
Rachel hesitated. Everything that Rachel was wanted to say no. She wanted to sing ballads to Quinn in front of the club, and make hers-and-hers cat calendars, and wear Quinn’s letterman jacket and make out with her in the janitor’s closet during lunch. She didn’t want to worry about offending anyone, just because they were together and happy after all this time.
But that was Rachel’s problem, the thing that had wrecked all of her other relationships. She wanted everything too much. For once, she could put it aside. For Quinn’s sake.
“Please, Rachel?”
Rachel took a deep breath.
“Okay.”
They reached the door to the choir room far too quickly. Rachel had only just become used to the feel of Quinn’s hand in hers when she felt it slip out of her grip. Quinn offered her a small smile as she pushed open the door and walked through. Rachel tried to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as Quinn moved to take a seat next to Brittany and Santana. She set her bag down a few chairs away and smoothed out her skirt, staring down at her lap as the Cheerios laughed about something. This was part of the deal, she reminded herself - it was good for Quinn to have space, to have her own friends, her own life.
“Where are the boys?” Mercedes asked. Rachel looked around the room. It was empty save for the female half of the club - Brittany, Quinn, and Santana all in the front row, Rachel in the back a few seats away, and Mercedes next to a rather grumpy-looking Tina at the other end.
“Who needs them anyway?” Tina said softly, crossing her arms and staring down at her shoes. Mercedes patted her awkwardly on the back. Rachel offered her a sympathetic glance, but restrained herself from speaking. Artie and Tina had gotten into a blowout fight the week before over Wonder Woman’s new outfit - Artie was not fond of the change, and Tina’s newfound feminist sensibilities were offended by his objection on the grounds that “her current one shows more skin”. (Rachel had, of course, taken it upon herself as both their captain and sort-of-friend to find out the details, and had even offered to mediate towards a peaceful resolution. They had declined, and Quinn had convinced Rachel to let it go, as long as it didn’t affect their performances.) Rachel glanced over and caught Quinn’s gaze, and they shared a slight smirk. Who needs boys, indeed?
“Maybe you should just talk to him, Tina,” Mercedes said. “Artie is a good guy at heart.”
“Please. If he could move his foot, I’m sure the first thing he’d do is stick it in his mouth.” Santana drawled, picking at her nails. Brittany nodded.
The door opened, and Mr. Schuester walked in.
“Hey girls, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully. At the lack of response, his smile weakened, but he clasped his hands and continued. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the boys aren’t here yet.”
“You don’t say,” Quinn said dryly. Santana rolled her eyes.
“Right, well, you girls are in for a treat today, so just sit back, relax and enjoy the show.” Will moved to sit in the front row, and motioned towards the door.
Rachel’s eyebrows shot up at the boys filed in, Artie in the lead. They were all dressed sharply, with black blazers and slacks paired with white dress shirts. And bowler hats. Bowlers! She wondered where they got the outfits. She wondered what she would have to do to convince them to wear them for their next competition.
Artie rolled to a stop in the center of the room as Mike, Matt, and Kurt lined up to his right and Finn and Puck, holding his guitar, stood to his left. He cleared his throat and nodded towards Mr. Schue, who pushed a button on the boombox at his feet. Rachel leaned forward eagerly. This had all the makings of a grand musical gesture, and Rachel loved nothing more than a grand musical gesture. Music filled the room, and Artie began to sing.
“You are my fire, the one desire,” Rachel snuck a glance at Tina and saw that the normally pale girl was flushing a light pink already. She wondered if the song choice had any special meaning for the two of them. It probably did, she decided, because even she felt compelled to roll her eyes. The Backstreet Boys were just so…nineties. “But we are two worlds apart. Can’t reach to your heart, when you say that I want it that way.”
Heedless of Santana’s barely muffled snickering, the boys launched into the chorus. “Tell me why ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, tell me why ain’t nothin’ but a mistake.” Mike, Matt, and Kurt fell into a simple dance routine while Finn rolled Artie forward, as close to Tina as he could get. “Am I your fire? Your one desire?” Artie sang, looking as much like a sad puppy as Rachel had ever seen him. Tina’s hands obscured the bottom half of her face, hiding her expression. “Yes I know, it’s too late, but I want it that way.” Artie pulled away and spun his chair around as they flew through the next chorus,
Puck pulled fluidly at the strings of his guitar, swaying gently as he took the lead, crooning, “Now I can see that we're falling apart, from the way that it used to be, yeah.” Rachel frowned. She would have to make a note to chastise him later - he wasn’t making eye contact with the audience. In fact, he wasn’t looking towards her half of the room at all. “No matter the distance, I want you to know, that deep down inside of me….” Rachel followed his gaze, and swallowed against the sudden flare of heat in her throat. Quinn. He was singing to Quinn.
“You are,” Artie chorused along with Puck, “my fire, the one desire,” they launched into the cascading “You are, you are, you are, you a-are...”
“Don’t wanna hear you,” Finn broke in, but Rachel could barely hear him over the slow buzz in her ears. Puck was singing to Quinn. To her girlfriend. “Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, ain’t nothing but a mistake.” Rachel stared dumbly at Quinn, who didn’t seem to notice anything was awry. She was nudging Santana and smiling, mouthing the words along with the boys. “I never wanna hear you say I want it that way.” She looked back at Puck. He was still strumming, singing along in the background now, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Quinn. The boys started the final chorus, but Rachel didn’t care. Puck had to know that Rachel was there, that Rachel would notice him singing so blatantly to her girlfriend.
Rachel’s fists clenched in her skirt as the song wound down to a close. Her eyes moved back and forth between Puck and Quinn, who still seemed oblivious. It’s probably nothing, she told herself. It doesn’t mean anything. Swallowing down her anger, she forced her hands into a small, polite clap as the boys bowed to the smattering of applause and Mr. Schue stood up.
“That was really great, you guys, really great,” he said earnestly, clapping Artie on the shoulder and Finn on the back. “I’m really proud of you guys for putting yourselves out there like that. I know you were working really hard on that number this week.” He smiled. “And because of all that hard work you put in, you can all take the rest of the day off. Practice is over, everyone!” Without waiting for a response, he walked briskly out the door, leaving the stunned class behind him.
“Did anyone else think that was kinda weird?” Finn asked uncertainly. Santana stood and stretched.
“He’s planning some kind of surprise for Ms. Pillsbury tonight and needs to get to the florist’s before it closes,” Santana said dryly, grabbing her letterman jacket and extending her hand to Brittany.
“And how would you know something like that?” Kurt asked, eyebrow arched as he brushed off his slacks.
“We heard Coach Sylvester talking about it earlier. She sent one of the freshmen to go burn down the florist’s,” Brittany said. She and Santana linked pinkies and exited the room, leaving Quinn behind. Rachel watched as Puck approached her, slinging his guitar over his back.
“Scoping out the competition, Rachel?”
Rachel turned and found Kurt standing next to her, watching Quinn and Puck with a mild expression.
“There is no competition,” Rachel snapped. “Quinn and I are very much together and in love.”
“You might want to let her know that.” Rachel followed Kurt’s gaze and saw that Puck had moved closer to Quinn, who didn’t seem to be in any rush to push him away. She could see their lips moving, but they were speaking quietly, and she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Just because we do not feel the need to flaunt our relationship does not mean that it does not exist,” Rachel forced out through grit teeth. “We simply prefer our privacy.”
“Please. Like you wouldn't kill to prove to everyone that you're dating someone as pretty and well styled as Quinn Fabray. You like privacy as much as Brittany likes algebra.” He paused for effect. “You don't even know the meaning of the word.”
Rachel wheeled on him. “What are you trying to get at, Kurt?” she demanded. Kurt just arched an eyebrow at her.
“Stop kidding yourself, Rachel. It’s just a matter of time before Quinn gets fed up with this little lesbian charade you have going on and Puck sweeps her back up off her feet.”
Something snapped deep inside Rachel, and her anger surged back full force. Red clouded the edges of her vision and a vein throbbed in her temple as her nails dug into her palms, her arms trembling with the force of keeping her fists at her sides.
“I am very sorry that your ploy to get Finn by arranging a relationship between your parents didn’t work out, and I understand that you’re jealous of mine and Quinn’s loving homosexual relationship, but please stop projecting your insecurities onto me,” she snapped acerbically. It was below the belt, and they both knew it. Kurt’s eyes narrowed.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Rachel,” he replied, glaring at her icily, “Quinn is back on the Cheerios. She isn’t pregnant any more. She’s back with her family. Her life is returning to the way it was before, and that does not include a farcical relationship with a girl she used to call ‘Manhands’.”
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Quinn had walked over to them, her bag slung over her shoulder, and was looking at Rachel with some concern. Rachel glanced behind her, but Puck was gone. She looked back at Quinn, then shot Kurt a glare. Farcical? She would show him farcical.
“Hey, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” she said quickly, then leaned up for a kiss…only to be stopped by Quinn’s hand on her shoulder. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” she hissed, glancing around them wildly. “We’re in school.” Rachel followed her glance around the room. Kurt was pointedly looking away, down at his impeccably manicured nails as he smiled to himself. Mercedes was laughing with Mike and Matt as they moved to leave. Finn was awkwardly trying not to gawk as Tina practically mounted Artie in his wheelchair. Rachel realized faintly that they must have worked out their problems, because their mouths didn’t seem to be in any danger of separating any time soon. Then she looked back at Quinn, and saw the panic in her eyes, and swallowed.
“I…I’m sorry, Quinn,” she said. “I’ll…see you at my house later?” Quinn nodded, her expression still guarded, and then reached out to squeeze Rachel’s hand briefly before leaving quickly. Rachel watched as the door closed behind her, blocking the red uniform and blonde ponytail from her view. Kurt sighed and brushed imaginary lint off his suit.
Quinn was hers, no matter what Kurt thought. Right? Rachel paused for a moment and let manic determination, comfortable and familiar, flood her mind, clearing it of doubt. Right. So she was just going to have to prove it. To Kurt, and to Puck, and especially to Quinn. Rachel Berry was not going down without a fight. She looked at Kurt sidelong, and felt a plan begin to form.
She walked over to Finn and reached up to tap him on the shoulder. Startled, his gaze whipped away from Tina and Artie and he looked down at her guiltily, his face red.
“Hey Finn?” she asked, as sweetly and nonchalantly as she could. “Where did you get that hat?”
PART TWO