FF vondrunkaton - [FaBerry] Kissing Quinn Fabray

Quinn comforts Rachel after Finn says something oafish. Rachel is surprised by how sweet Quinn is. There's also some making out in delicious detail. Fluffy getting together fic, rated somewhere between T and M.





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Chapter 1

"Well, at least my mom didn't decide she didn't want to know me and then choose somebody else's kid instead."

You can't even react. You know that you're sitting with your mouth dropped open and that tears are starting to sting your eyes, but other than that, you've got nothing.

Worse things have been said to you before, of course, but never like this. Never by Finn.

"That was harsh, Finn," you hear Brittany say, but she sounds farther away than she should, like you're all on a stage and she's being lifted to the catwalk by a wire the crowd can't see. You think that Brittany would giggle at that and say something about being Peter Pan and never growing up.

You know Finn is hurting and angry that you broke up with him, you do. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. He was your first kiss; your first love. He's Finn for god's sake. He might be clueless from time to time, but he's never been mean.

You push yourself to your feet. You will make it out of the choir room without crying. You have to.

You lift your chin so determinedly that you feel your hair flip on your shoulder.

"Mr. Shuester," you're shocked that your voice sounds as steady as it does, but then, you always could pull a performance when you needed to, "I think it might be more profitable today for one of my teammates to act as interim captain. I..." You think you should say that you haven't been feeling well, that you've inadvertently missed an appointment, that you thought you might have seen Jesse St. James in the hallway with a carton of eggs under his arm, but you think better of it and just stumble down the risers to the door and push through it.

You're in the hallway now and you make it a whole row of lockers before the door latches behind you, and you can't hold it in any longer. The tears overwhelm you and you cross your arms over your stomach, exactly at the spot where it feels like you were punched. Your face is contorted and you know you must look awful. It's imperative that you find the nearest bathroom to ride out this breakdown in the solitude of a stall, but you can't move.

You don't know how long you've been there, but you hear the door open and latch again. You don't know who's watching you come apart from the inside out but you can't turn around. It might be Finn and you're positive that you can't look into his face at this moment.

Then, there's someone beside you and you feel the softest fingertips slide down your arm, prying it gently loose and tangling in your own clammy fingers. You look up, startled, and instantly forget how to breathe when you're met with calm hazel eyes.

"Quinn—" You choke on the word, and she says nothing, just tugs on your hand and you have no choice but to follow her.

You stumble blindly behind her; she could be leading you anywhere.

She pulls you through a door and into a room you've never been in and suddenly you're gasping, unable to get enough air into your lungs. You think this must be what hyperventilating feels like and you hope briefly that you don't suffocate. Dying in front of Quinn Fabray would be mortifying.

You blink rapidly and through the tears you can tell she's led you to the Cheerios lounge. It's bigger than the teachers lounge and has a cappuccino maker and – you gasp – a slushie machine. You have a horrible fleeting thought that she's brought you here to land the final blow; there must be some humiliation waiting for you here that the illustrious head cheerleader has devised.

You wait for it, but the only thing that happens is Quinn gently rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb. Your eyebrows furrow and you look down, confused. And then she's pulling you again, and you have no choice but to fall into her arms.

You have been alive sixteen very full years. You have two dads who love you more than anything. You have been in love with Finn Hudson and have made out with Noah Puckerman, both football players and extremely handsome, no one would argue there. You have won several show choir competitions and have performed in New York City and have met one of your idols, Patti Lupone. You've done all of these things, and you feel as though you've had a relatively happy life.

But until this moment, until Quinn Fabray pulls you into her arms, that's all you feel. Until this moment, you've been alive for sixteen years, but you've never really lived.

It happens so slowly, it's like you're watching it unfold right in front of you. Your hand in hers, tugged gently until you stumble forward, her guiding your arms around her waist and then winding her arms around your neck, pulling you close.

Quinn is holding you tightly, making small circles at the base of your neck with her thumbs. It's not possible for you to be upset about anything with her doing that, and before you realize what's happening, you're not crying any more.

You have no idea how long the two of you stand there. Long enough for your sobs to stop racking your body and for the tears to dry on your face without you wiping them.

You hear the door to the lounge open behind you, but you make no move to turn and see who has disturbed your moment with Quinn. All you can think in a blind panic is that this is almost over. You've been here for too long and soon Quinn will let you go and you'll have to go back to not feeling anything.

The cheerleaders (you assume; it's the Cheerios lounge after all, and who else walks around giggling like that?) stall out at the door when Quinn says in a cold voice, "I think you meant to go to the other Cheerios lounge, girls."

"But there isn't another—" You hear the cheerleader's voice die in mid-sentence and you know the exact look on Quinn's face that killed it. You've seen it directed at you a fair number of times.

"You're right. We were looking for the other lounge," another agrees and the door closes, leaving you alone with Quinn once more.

You're surprised when she doesn't let you go.

And now that you've calmed down, you take a moment to examine your situation.

This is not a casual hug. Every inch of the front of your bodies is touching, and you marvel at the sensation of being pressed up against her. She's soft. She's warm. And your arms fit around her waist perfectly. You can feel the soft skin of her shoulders rub yours and you're happy for Cheerios uniforms and also that you wore your ruffled black sleeveless shirt today.

This hug should have turned uncomfortable for both of you a long time ago. That's what you're thinking when you feel her fingers toying lightly with your hair. Your eyes drift closed and you bite your bottom lip.

That's when you realize – she's holding you.

You remember what it used to be like when Finn held you, and you can't help but compare. Not that there's any comparison, really.

Your face smothered in Finn's chest when he hugged you; with Quinn, your chin rests naturally on her shoulder. She's only a few inches taller than you, if that, and you're shocked at how well you fit together.

There's a moment when she shifts slightly, and you frown. You don't want her to let go yet; you want to feel whatever this is for just a moment longer.

But she's not letting you go. She's rubbing your cheek lightly with hers.

She's nuzzling you.

For a split second you tense, expecting her to humiliate you, call you a lesbatron, accuse you for enjoying this too much, punish you for wanting to be close to her.

But when you feel her skin moving against yours and her hot breath on your neck and especially when you smell her hair, you lose yourself all over again, and all you can do is hug her tighter and pray that she doesn't let you go. She feels so good against you, and you've never in your life – not even when you were kissing Finn – had such an intimate moment with another person.

You wonder how she's doing this, creating this connection. It's nothing short of magic.

You can remember you were upset about something but you can't remember what.

You tuck your head, tilt your chin, trying to get closer to her somehow and at some point, she clutches tighter, almost crushing you to her and holding you there. You realize that your lips are on her neck. Your lips are on Quinn Fabray's neck.

Oh god.

All you would have to do at this moment is open your mouth slightly and you'd be kissing her skin.

You wonder what it tastes like; you feel delirious with the thought of it.

You draw a shaky breath and hope that Quinn thinks you're still crying and that it's not because of how aroused you are. But you haven't been crying for a while now. It's been twenty minutes at least.

"Do you want to talk about it," she asks, and you're not sure if she means what happened in the choir room or her holding you for a half an hour in the cheerleaders lounge.

In either case, and for the first time in your life, you definitely don't want to talk about it.

Instead, you decide to risk it.

You open your mouth slightly; press a kiss to her neck. A low moan rumbles in your ear, and you'd give everything you owned to be able to hear it again.

She tastes amazing.

Her hands are no longer toying with your hair, they're full-blown running through it. You feel like you're about to come apart and she's barely touching you.

Now her hands are running circles on your shoulders and she breathes one word into your ear: "More."

You feel your stomach flip at the request.

She wants you to kiss her again.

This is not happening. This cannot be happening.

You swallow, a little in awe at what you're about to do. You wet your lips and press a careful kiss to Quinn's neck and – you swear you can't help yourself – suck a little bit this time.

The moan she makes this time is completely different. It's almost a growl and you become aware of how she's making you feel; you're wet and all she's doing is holding you and making soft sounds in your ear. This is the first time that another person has solicited that reaction from you, and you're a little giddy at the thought that it's Quinn Fabray.

Suddenly, you're overwhelmed with the desire to touch her everywhere.

All you can see, hear, smell is her, and you're in overload.

Now you're aware of Quinn's lips on your skin. Your cheek. Your temple. Your hair. She rubs her nose into your hair and you shiver.

"Okay," you've lost your breath more times in the last half hour than you can count, "maybe we should talk about it."

That draws her back, and she studies your face, finally. You realize that you haven't really looked at each other since she led you in here.

You've known her for how many years? You try to think of a time when you've seen this look on her face before and you don't think you ever have.

"Rachel." Her voice breaks over your name, even though it's only a whisper, and your eyes flutter.

You can't get enough air in your lungs. Your bodies are still touching, and you feel like your skin is humming everywhere. You look from her lips to her eyes to her lips again. You want them. You want her.

"I don't want to hurt any more," you say, and you can tell she doesn't either.

She pulls you back into her again, and you wonder if it's because it's so much easier than looking into your eyes. You don't blame her. You think it's easier too.

"He shouldn't have said that about your mom."

You can't think of anything to say that doesn't make you sound pathetic, so you just focus on committing everything about this moment to memory. Because you know in your heart, when it's over, you won't be getting another one like it.

She's nuzzling again, and you just feel content to stand there and let her.

"Rachel," she whispers again and this time it's like she's trying to wake you up. You smile into her hair. She smells so good. It should be a crime for another person to smell this good.

Finally, you say, "Do you know that feeling of..." You're trying to think of how exactly to say this so she'll know what you mean. You're voice is barely audible and you try to make it louder because you want her to understand. "When you see everyone being happy with someone else and you feel like you're standing outside in the rain looking through a window at them. Like you don't belong there." Your throat suddenly feels like it's filled with cotton. You can't believe you're about to admit this to Quinn Fabray of all people. "And you just want to be happy too. Happy with someone." That started out as a question but you got lost somewhere along the way. Now you're not sure what you were trying to say in the first place, and you pull her closer instead.

The hands tracing circles around your neck come to a stop and you think that maybe you've broken the spell. Then, they're moving again, looping a strand of your hair around and around a finger. You suddenly want to kiss her fingers and maybe even suck them a little and you can feel your face redden at the thought.

The bell rings and it's so loud and foreign in this safe moment that you flinch into her shoulder.

She finally pulls back from you, a whole step, and now you know you've broken the spell, and you sigh. You knew this would happen; it was far too beautiful to last.

At least she's holding your hand.

"Rachel, I have to go to practice. But we definitely need to talk. Can I... come to your house later tonight?" You can't think of anything to say. Quinn Fabray wants to come to your house? To talk? She just spent the last hour holding you and nuzzling your hair and now she wants to talk? You honestly think that maybe you might pass out. When did it get so hot in here? Has it always been so stifling in this room?

You must have nodded because she ducks her head and says, "Yeah?" Yeah, you think. You can come over to my house every day for the rest of our lives if you'll hold me like that again. She smiles softly, and you think she might even look kind of bashful. When in the world have you ever seen Quinn Fabray acting bashful? "Okay, see you tonight," she says without making any move to let go of your hand. And then, softly, "but first... I think... I want... to..."

Her eyes flicker toward your mouth.

She's moving so slowly, and you know what's going to happen. And even though you're watching Quinn Fabray lean into you, her eyes holding tight to your lips until they flutter closed at the last possible moment, there is really no preparation for what happens when you finally feel her lips against yours.

There was nothing before this moment and there will be nothing after.

It's sweet and slow and so very tender that for a minute you think that she might have a twin who got hidden away at birth and somehow broke free from her secret prison and took Quinn's place at McKinley. I mean, this is Quinn Fabray we're talking about here. And she's being so... gentle.

And then Quinn tilts her head just so and it's – ah! – it's simply magical. You experience every lame cliché at once: the fireworks exploding behind your eyes, the soaring symphony, butterflies in your stomach, weak knees. You can't be certain, but you think your foot might even have popped up behind you ever so slightly; it makes you feel like you are in an old musical and you can't help but smile into Quinn's kiss. You're beyond intoxicated when you feel her smiling back.

When she pulls gently away, you're completely stunned.

You feel like you've never been kissed before, really kissed, and Quinn has just pulled you to her and kissed you into life like some kind of perfect prince charming. It's the single most exhilarating experience of your