Work Text:
…
a host of golden daffodils
..
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils
- - William Wordsworth
.
Quinn's summer begins with a hole in her bedroom wall and two broken knuckles.
She is not surprised.
The same, however, cannot be said for her mother, who walks into her room to see her daughter standing with her dominant arm outstretched, fist submerged in a mess of broken plaster.
Quinn looks at her and quirks her lips to the side a little. "Whoops."
Judy spends the next twenty-five minutes cleaning up Quinn's swollen, bloody hand and wrapping it delicately with medical tape. She looks at her handiwork when she's finished and declares that there's nothing else to do unless Quinn has changed her mind about the hospital.
She hasn't.
"Oh, Quinnie—" She presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "—why do you do these things to yourself?"
Quinn doesn't have an answer.
.
Somehow, without having any prior workforce experience, she lands a summer job at a department store in the mall called, "Attitude Problem."
She ignores the irony in this.
.
On her third day, a forty-something year old man screams at her because there's a policy against making change for non-customers. He tells her that she's nothing and never will be and it all seems a little ridiculous for him to screaming at her like that just because she can't break his twenty dollar bill for him.
Still, she has visions of Russell Fabray and spends her lunch break crying in the stock room.
.
There's a note on the fridge a few nights later from her mother. Apparently there's been a "business emergency"—whatever that means—but, never fear, she'll be home at the end of the week.
Needless to say, Quinn has never felt more alone than she does that night.
.
On her first official day off, her mother is still gone so she picks the lock on the liquor cabinet in the den and pours a fourth of a bottle of whiskey into an empty Pepsi bottle.
She takes it with her to the park and sits on a hill as the sun rises.
It's barely 7 o'clock and her day has already completely gone to hell, so she doesn't even blink when she sees Rachel jogging on the bike path nearby. She doesn't curse the skies when the other girl spots her and comes over, either, which she thinks might be the strangest part.
"Quinn?" she says between pants as she slows to a walk and plops onto the grass beside her.
Quinn answers her by handing her the Pepsi bottle.
"What's this?" She doesn't get an answer, but she can tell by the surprised cough a second later that Rachel has probably figured it out on her own. She hands the bottle back and points to Quinn's right hand. "You're hurt."
"I noticed."
"What did you do?"
"I punched a wall."
"Oh." There's a pause. "Why?"
Quinn looks at her for the first time and quirks an eyebrow. "It had it coming."
She looks towards the brightening sky and says nothing else. That is, until she feels Rachel take her injured hand and cradle it on her lap.
"Berry, I swear to God, if you make any attempt to kiss it better, I'll break my other hand on your face," she threatens, but even she doesn't buy it.
Neither does Rachel, apparently, who just lifts her fingers to her mouth, kissing them and then gently pressing them to the medical tape around the other girl's knuckles. "There. All better," she announces, releasing Quinn's hand.
Quinn shakes her head. "Is that so?"
"Yep."
"I'll take your word for it."
The bright side is that Rachel seems to lose her inhibitions a bit, because she takes the bottle and takes a much healthier swig of it.
The downside—if you're willing to call it that—is that her knuckles actually do feel better.
.
None of her other so-called "friends" make any sort of attempt to contact her. Except for Rachel, who she sees every morning on the same hill, almost like they have standing plans.
(which they don't, Quinn thinks)
"I enjoy getting outside as much as possible in the summer," Rachel says one morning. "My elliptical is suited far better for school mornings, don't you think?"
Quinn doesn't answer, but the sun rising and Rachel's fingers brushing over hers as she steals the pop bottle—filled with red wine this time—help to heal some of the loneliness Quinn's been feeling nonstop for the past few years.
.
Her mom comes back three days later than she'd promised and asks Quinn how she's been.
"Spectacular," is the answer she gets, but it's obvious to both of them that it's practically dripping in sarcasm.
.
She sees Santana and Brittany while she's at work one day. They're walking through the atrium of the mall, but they don't even look her way.
There's a huge part of her that wants to tell Hope, her coworker, that she'll be right back so she can rush after them, but it's obvious that they're too absorbed in each other by the way they're talking as they walk.
So she just watches them walk away until they move out of sight.
.
"I'm sorry, you know." Quinn says it out of nowhere one morning.
Rachel looks at her in shock. Probably because she doesn't talk much when they're together. "For what?"
Quinn turns her head and looks at her. That's rare, too. "For everything. The names, the drawings, the slushies…everything. I'm really sorry, Rachel."
"Oh."
"If I could take it back, I would. I've been so…stupid these past few years. I've hurt a lot of people and I don't even know how to start gaining back their trust."
There's silence and Rachel can tell by the chilly silence that Quinn is brooding. She bumps her with her shoulder. "Hey." Hazel eyes meet brown ones. "I forgive you."
Quinn smiles then, unfiltered, like she doesn't mean to, exactly, but it's beautiful anyway.
When Rachel rests her head on her shoulder a little later, blonde hair mingles with brown as she leans their heads together.
.
Obviously, Sam is a little surprised when he opens the door one afternoon to see Quinn standing on the concrete outside the room.
"Um…hi." He makes a face, but step outside of the hotel room, closing the door behind him so as not to disturb his siblings' afternoon cartoons.
"Hey." She looks awkward, like they haven't spoken in years rather than weeks. Without any further pretenses, she holds out a gift bag. "This is for you."
He shakes his head, but smiles despite himself. "What is it?"
She doesn't answer, so he opens it.
Inside is a small guitar shaped box with guitar picks in it and bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. He looks up at her in confusion.
She shrugs sheepishly. "I'm not sure what the boy version of flowers and chocolate are," she explains.
Sam laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's fine, Quinn. Thanks." He grins at her. "Why are you giving me…um…'flowers and chocolate' anyway?"
"I just wanted to say that…that I'm really sorry for hurting you…earlier this year. That was a bitchy thing to do and you're a great guy…the best guy, in my opinion and you didn't deserve that." She bites her lip and looks down at the pavement. "I'm really, really sorry, Sam."
The gift bag is forgotten on the ground when he scoops her into his arms.
"Hey, Quinn?"
"Yeah?"
"What happened to your hand?"
.
"So you just punched a wall?"
They're sitting on the ground outside his family's room, backs leaned against the wall.
"Yeah."
"And, surprise, surprise, you didn't feel better afterwards?"
She chuckles a little. "No. No, I did not."
"I could have told you that," he says through his smirk.
Quinn scoffs. "Well, excuse me, I had no idea that you just go around punching walls there, Evans. Otherwise I would have asked you for advice on technique." He laughs and she does too. "It wasn't like I planned it. I was just so…"
"Hurt?" he offers. She nods. "And you needed something to take it out on." Another nod. "I get that." There's silence for a beat before he hits his knee against hers. "So, why'd you decide to come apologize, anyway?"
She shrugs. "A little birdie convinced me to start at the top of my list of people I've wronged," she answers vaguely.
"And this little birdie would be…?"
She looks at him. "You really wanna know?" He nods. "Fine. Rachel."
He doesn't even attempt to hide his confusion.
"Are you guys like…friends now or something?" he asks once he's stopped sputtering.
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because we don't really talk when we're together," she answers and, if anything, his jaw drops further, eyes wide with shock. "Not like that, pervert."
"Sure…"
"It isn't. We just…kinda spend time together every morning."
"Oh, I bet you do."
"Shut up, Sam."
She's smiling, though, and so is he and she actually feels good about herself for once.
.
"I'm proud of you," Rachel says the next day, and Quinn take a swig from another alcohol-filled bottle because she doesn't want to make eye contact.
She grunts in response because Rachel being proud of her wasn't something she expected or asked for.
Still, it feels good to know that she has two people in her court—two people who can tell that she's actually trying to get her life together.
It's such a change that she isn't sure what to do with her hands, so, when Rachel places hers over one, she makes no move to pull away.
.
She gets yelled at again the next day by another angry customer, even though it is hardly her fault the store has a 'no return' policy.
Instead of crying, though, she grits her teeth and stands her ground.
.
Rachel doesn't show up the next day.
Quinn sits on their hill for the better part of two hours and there's still no sign of her.
She pulls her phone out and almost texts her a couple of times—even filling out a message before deleting it.
After emptying the bottle on her own, she gets to her feet and staggers back to her house.
.
Sam visits her at work later and asks if she wants to go see a movie or something when her shift is over.
She's still tense and agitated from being stood up, and she wants to say no, but he looks so happy and calm that she doesn't.
"So, um. I'm kinda seeing someone," he tells her while they fight for control of the popcorn before the movie starts.
She's surprised by this, genuinely. Well, she is and she isn't. She's not surprised that someone wants to date him—he's kind and gentle and cute. But she is surprised that he's making time for something like that after all he's been dealing with.
Quinn bobs her head. "Am I allowed to ask who it is?"
He grins at her—a lopsided, dorky thing that makes her chest feel full. "It's Mercedes."
Her eyebrows shoot up like a fire has been lit beneath them.
He chuckles. "Yeah," he says. "Surprised me too."
"Wow." She shakes her head a few times to try and get herself together. "How long has that been a thing?"
He shrugs. "Couple weeks. It's not serious or anything, but…I don't know. I think I want it to be." He pauses and wrinkles his nose. "Does that make me sound gay?"
She swats his arm and steals his soda, taking a long drink out of it, despite having her own. "No. It makes you sound sweet." She thinks for a minute and then says. "And since when is 'gay' a bad thing?"
It's his turn to look surprised.
"Well…not a bad thing, per se. I was just asking." His eyes narrow and the lights start to dim as the previews start up. "And since when are you so defensive about that word?"
She blushes and turns to look at the screen.
"Quinn." He's whispering now, trying to be courteous of the other people in the theater. "You gonna answer me?"
She purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest, eyes fixed firmly on the screen.
"Your silence says it all, you know," he whispers. "Quinn, if you want to get in Rachel's argyle skirt, don't say anything."
She turns then to shoot a glare his way only to see him grinning widely.
"I knew it!"
Someone hushes him from the back and she gives him a triumphant look before turning to watch the movie again. "Serves you right, loud-mouth."
She listens as he shoves a handful of popcorn into said mouth. "Yeah, well this conversation isn't over."
.
True to his word, Sam starts his interrogation back up the moment the credits start rolling.
"You've liked her this whole time, haven't you?"
Quinn wordlessly stands, gathering her trash, and leads the way down the steps and out of the theater.
"It all makes sense now—your obsession with torturing her, stealing Finn away. Oh, my god, Quinn." She tosses her trash out and he does the same, smiling at her in a way she's not particular fond of. "You're in love with Rachel Berry, aren't you?"
His words cut through her chest, icy and unexpected.
She'd never thought of it like that.
"W-what?"
Sam can see the shock in her eyes, the panic that's settling into her features. "Quinn, come on," he says, his voice gentle now. "You had to have known that."
She shakes her head and turns on her heel, practically running out the theater and to her car.
She can hear him calling after her as he follows her, but she ignores him and drives away.
.
She doesn't go to the park the next morning, or work, for that matter.
Her mom comes into her room around the time she gets home from work and says, "Quinnie, have you been in bed this whole time?"
When she doesn't answer, Judy takes her temperature, and, upon discovering that she's not ill, leaves her alone.
.
Sam comes over two days after she's gotten out of bed and returned to work.
He stands on the front stoop with his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, shifting his weight back and forth. He doesn't look at her when he says, "Hi," so she lets him in.
They sit on her bed, the silence a living, palpable thing between them.
Sam kills it after a few minutes with, "I'm sorry." He pauses and looks at her in the eye for the first time since arriving. "I shouldn't have said what I said. Especially not in the way that I said it. It's none of my business."
Quinn nods, accepting this apology, but says nothing. She plays with her fingers on her lap and stares at her mismatched socks.
"Quinn?" Sam says when she continues to be silent.
"I've never really thought about it," she finally whispers, still not looking at him.
"What?" He's confused. She can tell by his tone, so she goes on.
"The thing with Rachel. You know, like…I just thought I was angry when Finn started spending more time with her because she was trying to steal my boyfriend. But I didn't mind the idea of him cheating, so long as it wasn't with her. I guess I chalked it up to her being my 'arch enemy' or something. And when they broke up last year and I went after him while still—"
She gestures between them to indicate that they'd been dating at the time.
"—you know, it was because I thought it was because I never ended things with him right and I knew Rachel would give up her dreams to be with him, which is so frustrating because…I don't know. Because it is."
"Because you would never ask her to do that for you."
She says, "Fuck you," and means it but doesn't because he's ten times more insightful than she's ever been, and it's annoying to think that someone else knows your motives, when you don't.
And then she's crying—harsh, loud sobs that Sam muffles with his shoulder as he pulls her into his arms.
.
It takes Quinn three hours to stop crying that night before Sam leaves, and she decides to get drunk on their hill again the next morning.
She's halfway through the second soda bottle she's brought when she spots a familiar figure jogging on the path below.
She's only alone for another minute before Rachel is standing before her.
"Hey, you came back." She says it cheerfully, but there's something deeper in her eyes—apprehension, maybe, and the fear of being rejected again.
Quinn doesn't say anything, but she does take a large drink from the bottle.
"Sorry I didn't show up last Saturday. My dads made me get up early to go antiquing with them."
Quinn takes another drink.
"I was going to text you, but I guess I lost your number at some point." Still, Quinn says nothing. "Are you going to say anything?"
Quinn narrows her eyes. "No," escapes her lips in a biting tone that make Rachel's eyes, if possible, look sadder.
"Oh." Rachel's lips form a tight line, as though bracing herself for anything else that Quinn might say. "I apologize for having wasted your time then."
In true diva form, she turns and leaves, heading down to the bike path to resume her jog.
Quinn watches her as long as she's in her line of vision, mumbling, "Shit," when she realizes what she's just done.
She drinks until her vision is a little blurry before going home.
.
"You fucking idiot, Fabray!" Sam scolds, punching her in the shoulder—firmly, but not painfully.
She rubs the spot tenderly and says, "Ouch."
Sam's eyes go wide at the thought of having hurt her and he reaches over the table to places a warm palm over her skin. "Oh, shit. Sorry."
She shrugs it off, which he takes as his cue to return to being angry.
"What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"
They're sitting at a table in the, mostly, vacant Lima Bean later that afternoon. Against her better judgment, Quinn had decided to tell him about her morning encounter and was now wishing she'd just kept her mouth shut.
"You were actually making progress with her and you just ruined that."
"Maybe I don't want to make progress with her."
Sam gives her a disgusted look and she sips her coffee and averts her eyes.
"Fine. Go back to treating her like dirt. We both know how much she loves that."
He scoffs and she almost hates him for a second.
That is, until the last person she wants to see sits down beside him.
"What's up, losers?" Santana drawls, already looking bored, despite having just sat down. They don't answer, so she makes a face. "What? Who died?"
"I'm sorry, is there something you need?" Quinn asks, her voice bitter and harsh in a way it has been for years.
It's practically habit by now.
"Well, sor-ry," Santana says sarcastically, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I thought you'd be happy to see your best friend in the whole world."
In reality, Quinn did miss her. Quinn has missed Brittany and Santana both so much this past month or so that it's almost embarrassing. Thing is, she can't let them know that.
She doesn't want anyone to know that, let alone them.
"So, you two back to doing the hippity-dippity, or what?"
Sam sighs. "This is not a date, Santana," he tells her. "In fact, the only reason I'm still here is to scold Quinn some more."
Santana nods, seemingly liking the sound of that. "Yeah? What'd she do this time?"
Quinn makes a face at them. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Brittany comes over then, holding two coffees that she must have been waiting for. She hands one to Santana as she takes a seat and is rewarded by a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, guys," she greets smiling at them all. "What are we talking about?"
"We're scolding Quinn," Santana says.
"Oh. What did she do this time?"
Quinn holds her hands up in a questioning gesture. "What the hell, guys?"
Santana rolls her eyes at her. "Oh, please. As if you aren't aware of all the fucking stupid life choices you make."
"Wow, hey," Sam cuts in. "Way harsh. Let's just…try to be reasonable about this."
Santana shrugs and Brittany looks confused.
"So, what did Q do exactly?" she asks. "Does it have to do with Rachel? It usually has to do with Rachel."
Quinn is looking away with her arms crossed, cursing her own predictability when she hears Santana's amused laugh.
"That's it, isn't it, Q? You're back to torturing the dwarf. I want in."
"She's not 'back to torturing' anyone, Santana," Sam says. "She just happened to hurt Rachel's feelings by being…less than friendly just when they were starting to fix things."
"Interesting." Quinn looks back over to find Santana staring at her with a smirk on her face. "So you're at that part of denial, huh? The part where you've maybe, subconsciously come to terms with it and are now angry that you've made so much progress so you're backtracking?"
Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Santana gives her a smug look and says, "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Well, if Quinn is backtracking so much, maybe Rachel can go with her," Brittany suggests. "Does she like the woods, Q?"
Utterly confused by this, Quinn says nothing.
"Backtracking, babe," Santana corrects. "Not backpacking."
"Oh."
They're all silent for a while and Quinn wants to leave—wants to run somewhere, anywhere else, because she's bored with this monotony. She's getting tired of having her emotions and her heart put out on display for everyone and everything and she's tired of giving up pieces of herself to people and never having them returned.
After a bit of silence, Santana says, "Piece of advice, Q? Stop hiding." She gets to her feet and Brittany does the same. "Between you and me, we're all getting a little sick of it."
They leave and Sam follows them a little later, and then she's alone.
.
Quinn shows up at the Berry's front door early the next morning with actual flowers and chocolate because it worked last time.
Honestly, she's getting tired of running and she wishes she weren't such a terrible person sometimes.
Instead of ringing the doorbell, she sits on the front stoop—assuming Rachel will come out for her run in just a little while. She's right, but, because of where she's sitting, Rachel almost trips over her when she comes out.
"Quinn?" she asks, stopping herself short to look down at the other girl.
Quinn gets to her feet, arms behind her back to hide the flowers she has. "Hey."
"What are you doing here?" She pulls her ear buds from her ears and furrows her brow, clearly confused.
"I, um…" Quinn's hands are shaking, much like her voice, so she clears her throat. "I wanted to give these to you." She holds out the flowers and Rachel's mouth drops open a little. "As an apology, I guess, for being a bitch before. And, well…always."
Rachel looks between the bouquet and her, mouth still open. She says nothing.
"I'm really sorry for being rude to you before. I guess…I don't know, Rach. You make me nervous. All the time. Like I can't breathe, actually. And I just thought it was because I hated you before but I don't hate you. You're sweet and funny and beautiful and kind. How could I hate you?"
Rachel's eyes are wide now, but she stays silent.
"So now I don't really know what it is that I feel when I'm around you. I mean…I have an idea, but not…" She clears her throat again. "Not one you'd want to hear."
She licks her lips and looks at her feet.
It's because she's not looking that she almost falls over when Rachel launches herself at her.
The shorter girl wraps her arms around her neck and buries her face in Quinn's shoulder. "I forgive you," she says and Quinn maneuvers the flowers so they aren't being smashed and wraps her arms around Rachel's waist.
She closes her eyes and, for the first time all summer, lets herself relax.
.
Quinn quits her job a few days later because she's tired of being yelled at by strangers.
And, honestly, between alimony and her mom's job, it isn't as if she needs the money.
.
Quinn's sister, Frannie, and her husband, Thomas, come to visit the next week for the Fourth of July and Judy insists that Quinn spend more time at home—and less time at the Berry's or with Sam.
She wouldn't mind if it weren't for the fact that she never really got along with her sister. Frannie was always the model to which she was held while growing up, and it's hard for her not to be bitter about it.
Thomas is nice, though, and he takes her out for ice cream one day because they're going stir crazy.
While they wait for their orders, Thomas asks a boy with a skateboard if he can try it, and almost breaks his neck trying to skate around the parking lot. The boy shows him a few tricks and then lets him attempt them and Quinn laughs so hard it hurts later.
Thomas manages to skate from one end of the parking lot to where Quinn is standing, holding their ice cream cones in her hands. He grabs her arm for balance and she holds up the cone for him to grab.
"Thanks," he says and laughs. "I could go pro."
Quinn laughs too and he wraps his arm wound her shoulder as they start the short walk back to her house. "Mhm. Sure. Something like that."
She doesn't know that Rachel is driving past them on her way home from her voice lesson. She doesn't know that Rachel sees her walking with her brother-in-law's arm around her shoulders, so she doesn't think anything of it.
.
Judy insists that Quinn invite her "new, polite friend" over for the fireworks on the Fourth. Having met Rachel just once, it was surprising how quickly Judy took a liking to her.
Quinn thinks it's because she's so used to having Santana—with her potty mouth and attitude—and Brittany—with her nonsensical comments and vacant stare—over all the time.
Still, she doesn't argue and texts Rachel moments after the conversation.
After three hours and two more texts, there's still no response. So Quinn slips on her shoes, grabs her keys and says, "Hey, I'll be right back."
Her sister, mother, and brother-in-law are watching Judge Judy in the living room, so they don't answer—which is fine with her.
She drives to the Berry's house as quickly as is legal.
It's a holiday, so she's assuming they're home and rings the doorbell, waiting anxiously for one her dads to answer.
One of them does. A tall, handsome one with black-rimmed glasses. "Can I help you?" he asks kindly and, when he smiles, she can see a hint of Rachel in the curve of his lips.
"Hi, Mr. Berry. Is Rachel home? I was hoping to speak with her."
He waves her in and closes the door behind her. "She's in her room," he tells her, pointing towards the stairs. "Third door on the left."
She nods and thanks him before heading up the stairs.
She hesitates before knocking on the door—just a brief moment where her knuckles brush against the painted wood. There's a muffled, "Come in," from inside and Quinn opens the door.
Rachel's room is relatively small, with a large Wicked poster immediately to Quinn's left and a slightly smaller Little Mermaid one right across from the door.
Rachel is lying on her bed, facing the TV across from it while wrapped around a pillow. Quinn watches Fred Astaire dance the second number of Easter Parade on the screen and smiles.
It takes Rachel a moment to look over at her. When she does, she shoots up, eyes wide and watches Quinn in a kneeling position on her bed.
"What are you doing here?"
Quinn frowns. "Your dad let me in." Rachel continues to stare at her, saying nothing. "Have you gotten my texts?" Still no answer. "My mom wanted to invite you over to watch the fireworks with us tonight. The fairgrounds are only a few streets away so we'd have a good view."
Rachel turns away and falls back into a seated position, eyes focused on her film again. "While I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I have prior plans to spend the evening with my fathers."
There's a cold finality in her words that makes Quinn's face falls.
"I could invite them too," she offers. "My mom would probably love their company."
She doesn't actually know if that's true, but they seem nice enough and she's grasping at straws here—wracking her brain for what she could have possibly done to upset Rachel.
"No, thank you, Quinn."
Quinn nods and goes to leave because she's earned this—this cold silence from Rachel. She doesn't deserve her friendship after years of ridicule. In fact, she doesn't even know what she was thinking by trying to come to terms with her feelings for the other girl.
"You know what?" Quinn says suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "Fuck that."
"What?"
Quinn turns and looks over at a very shocked, very confused Rachel. "I said, 'fuck that,' Rachel," she says. "I'm tired of running away from the messes I've made. So, what did I do this time? Tell me and I'll do my best to fix it."
Rachel huffs and folds her arms over her chest. "I saw you."
"Saw me what?"
"You and that…forty-year-old skateboarder. I saw you all cozied up with him at Pete's the other day."
It takes Quinn a minute to understand what's being said, but, when she does, she can't stop laughing.
Rachel looks hurt and says, "This isn't funny, Quinn! You could have told me you were…dating him or…whatever you're doing. You could have said something before I…" She trails off, clearly unsure of what she was about to say.
Quinn stops laughing, but is still smiling when she tells her, "He isn't forty, Rach. And he's not a skateboarder and I'm not dating him."
Rachel pauses her movie and gets to her feet. "He sure seems to be under the impression that you are. I saw the way he was touching you."
"He's my brother-in-law, Rachel," Quinn tells her and a look of understanding crosses over the other girl's face. "He's married to my older sister. They're visiting for the holidays. If you'd answered my texts and come over tonight, you would have met him."
There's nothing else for Rachel to say except, "Oh."
She averts her eyes, looking anywhere in the room but at Quinn.
"Before you what?" Quinn asks after a moment or two and Rachel gives her a confused look. "You said that I could have told you I was dating him before you what?"
Rachel doesn't seem to have an answer for that.
They stand there in silence for a while and then Quinn says, "So, do you want me to invite your dads or not?"
.
Judy is both surprised and excited when Quinn arrives with three more dinner guests. Rachel's dads are nothing but polite and Judy doesn't seem at all uncomfortable with their relationship, even though Quinn knows her father would have been.
Rachel glares at Thomas for a bit before he introduces himself, telling her that Quinn talks about her nonstop—even if it isn't necessarily true.
That seems to loosen her up a bit.
They all sit in foldout chairs in the backyard for the fireworks.
The adults make conversation and Rachel and Quinn sit far enough away from them that they're not included.
The volume of the fireworks bothers Rachel and she clamps her hands over her ears just a few minutes in. Quinn reaches out and places a hand on her bare knee and the look Rachel gives her makes her feel like she's drowning.
.
Sam makes them go bowling with him, Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany a few days after Frannie and Thomas leave.
Quinn really doesn't want to go, but Rachel seems excited enough for the both of them, so she agrees.
Santana gives her meaningful looks all night—like she's trying to say something without words—so Quinn ignores her and rolls her eyes a lot.
Sam and Mercedes are surprisingly cute together and Mercedes looks at him like he hung the moon—even when he eats too much pizza and almost makes himself sick—which is enough.
Brittany beats all of them by a long shot and Quinn's nerves are on end by the time they leave.
It's worth it when Rachel kisses her on the cheek when she drops her off, afterwards, though.
.
Sam calls her one day the week before school starts back up to tell her that Finn is planning on asking Rachel out—again—and Quinn nearly breaks her knuckles on her wall again.
He says that Finn texted him, asking for advice, and then he says, "You'd better get a move on," before hanging up.
She doesn't know what that means so she sits on her bed for a while.
Against her better judgment, she calls Santana not long after Sam hangs up.
"Whaddup, bitch?" she greets happily.
"Finn is going to ask her out," Quinn tells her with no further pretense. "He's going to ask her out and Rachel is going to say yes, I know it."
"Wow, hey. Slow your roll, Q-Tip. What's going on?"
Quinn sighs. "Finn. Is. Going. To. Ask. Rachel. Out. Again," she reiterates, stressing each word.
"Oh." There's a pause. "So go get your girl before he does."
Quinn doesn't answer so Santana continues.
"Q, we both know you have a hard-on for the girl. Personally, I don't get it. I mean, you could do much better. Hell, even Trouty Mouth is better than that fuzzball, but, what can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants."
"Santana," Quinn says. "Stop it with the nicknames."
"Yeah, yeah. Point is, Gigantor is gonna steal your lady if you don't man-up and claim her yourself. Just go to her house and fuck her already. We all know you want to. We've practically had a glee-wide bet going."
Beyond the Santana-speak, Quinn knows that her friend is right. Even if it's embarrassing to admit, this has been going on for years She's really just so sick and tired of watching the Finchel show day in and day out.
"Okay."
Santana seems momentarily thrown by Quinn's agreeing with her for once. "Huh?"
"Thanks, S."
Quinn hangs up, grabs her car keys, and rushes out of the house.
.
Finn's car isn't in the driveway when Quinn pulls up, which she thinks must be a good sign.
She rings the doorbell and it's a weekday, so Rachel's the one to answer—her dads being at work.
She smiles in greeting and says, "You know, you have a knack for just showing up here. And, don't get me wrong, it's always a pleasure to see your lovely face, but, on occasion, some advanced notice wouldn't be a bad th—"
She doesn't get to finish her thought, though, because suddenly Quinn is holding the sides of her face and kissing her. She's leaned forward, over the threshold of Rachel's house and kissing her for all she's worth and Rachel goes stiff, eyes wide in shock.
Quinn pulls away after a moment, having realized what she's done and clears her throat. "Um…Sorry…I just…"
Rachel shakes her head, though, and grabs her hands. She tugs her forward and loops her arms around Quinn's neck to kiss her again. Quinn has no problem with participation and she walks Rachel backwards, into the house, kicking the door shut behind them, kissing her the whole time.
Somehow, Rachel ends up being pressed into the banister of the stairs, their hips pressed together.
They stop for air with their lips still brushing and Quinn says, "Did Finn ask you out?"
Rachel quirks a little smile. "So that's what this is about."
Quinn kisses her to show that it's not all it was about, and she only stops when Rachel gasps a little into her mouth.
"I turned him down," Rachel tells her. "I told him there was someone else."
Quinn's grin is wide when she says, "Who could that be?"
Rachel rolls her eyes and drags her up the stairs and into her room, closing the door behind them before pushing her back towards the bed.
Quinn sits down on the edge of her mattress and Rachel walks over to her, leaning down and kissing Quinn's cheek, then jaw, then neck. "You, Quinn," she whispers. Her hands trail up Quinn's sides and then bury themselves in her hair. "It's always been you."
Their kissing resumes then, deeper and slower than it had been before.
Quinn leans back on the bed and pulls Rachel down on top of her, moving her hands under the other girl's shirt before pressing her palms into her skin.
Rachel props herself up a bit and moves one hand down to tug the shirt off, but Quinn stops her.
"Hey," she whispers when Rachel pulls back. "Are you sure?"
It's a big deal when Rachel nods and Quinn's stomach bottoms out, but she eagerly tugs the garment off her and tosses it onto the floor. She kisses her again, leaning up so that Rachel can discard of her shirt as well.
It takes less than ten minutes for the rest of their clothing to be in piles on the floor of Rachel's bedroom and, as unceremonious and sudden as it is, it's really all Quinn's ever wanted.
She asks if Rachel's sure about ten more times, and, finally, Rachel stops answering, choosing instead to guide Quinn's hands where she wants them.
Quinn can take a hint, fortunately.
She's as gentle and careful as she can be when she slips her fingers into Rachel, trying to make sure she doesn't hurt her. There's only a brief moment of pain, though—one second where it's unexpected to have someone else's fingers down there—but then it passes and Quinn fucks her slowly until Rachel says, "Faster," with her fingernails digging into Quinn's shoulder blades.
It's only a few moments after that before Rachel is coming with a whimper that bounces around Quinn's mouth.
Quinn barely has a minute to catch her breath before Rachel has decided that it's her turn.
.
Quinn wakes up later that evening—sometime after the sun has set.
She thinks they're lucky that Rachel's dads haven't come in, because the only thing keeping them from exposing everything is the thin red sheet on Rachel's bed—her comforter having been kicked towards the end of the mattress.
Rachel has her head on Quinn's chest, her breath even and steady as she sleeps. Quinn presses a kiss to her hair and smiles with her eyes closed.
A buzzing forces her to open her eyes and she sees a dim light coming from her shorts on the ground. Without waking Rachel, she pulls herself out of the bed enough to grab her phone before resuming their previous position.
She has two texts, one from Sam and one from Santana.
Sam's says, hey, finn texted me and said rachel turned him down. fingers crossed that u had something to do w/ that. i expect a briefing tomorrow fabray.
Quinn smiles, but doesn't answer. She'll tell him the basics of what happened tomorrow, but nothing more.
She looks down at where Rachel's skin ends and the sheet begins and smiles. She won't tell him this, certainly.
Santana's says, yo, bitch. really hoping u got urself some tail so u can stop being so fukin uptight all the time. ;) let me know how berrylicious is in the sack.
Quinn rolls her eyes and presses the button to put her phone to sleep, setting down on the nightstand beside Rachel's bed.
Rachel smacks her lips in her sleep and mumbles something. Quinn grins and wraps her arms around her tightly.
She kisses her head again and closes her eyes to sleep some more.
Quinn's summer ends with her naked, exhausted, and wrapped in the arms of her, equally naked, former enemy and, honestly?
She's not surprised.
.
fin
…