It really is too bad you guys can’t marry each other. You’re pretty much soulmates.
Well, I mean. We can marry each other. We’re a man and a woman, I’m fairly sure that combination is the least problematic, marriage-wise.
(Source: berryshinystar)
He’d have to have them though, since you don’t want to share your uterus.
True, we’d have to wait for a while before having them. We’d still be happily married and full of songs, though.
(Source: berryshinystar)
Well, at least they’d be cute, I guess.
Oh, yes. And Broadway bound. And with pretty eyes.
(Source: berryshinystar)
quinnsjusticeleague said: You two should just get married already. Gays can marry these days, you know.
We’d make absurdly talented children, that’s for sure.
Karaoke night with the bestie never fails to cheer a girl up. There may have been a bit of an exception to the no alcohol rule.
They had both crossed lines, really. Rachel wasn’t the only person in the wrong here. Quinn had stooped to her level when she bit back with more detail than could ever be necessary. Only, it kind of was necessary, because Rachel had taken what was sure to be an immensely fun night of challenge and battles for dominance, and turned it into…
Well. Quinn was tempted to use her safeword. Tag out. Hadn’t she already made it clear that she didn’t like it? Did Rachel really not care about that? Because it seemed like the more Quinn tried to stop it, the more fun Rachel was having with it, and honestly, Quinn didn’t know how to feel.
So okay. Rachel won. Rachel got her into that vulnerable position she wanted her in so badly. But it wasn’t sexy or fun or even remotely enjoyable. This kind of vulnerable was exactly what she was afraid of. A squirrel’s nightmares come true.
She plopped herself down on the well-loved sofa next to Parker, phone in hand with dirty words on the screen trying to twist up her insides. For a little while, between contemplating her safeword and the reality of it all hitting Rachel like a ton of bricks, Quinn considered calling Jon. Or maybe Frannie. Or maybe her dad. Not to mention anything, of course. She wouldn’t ever, for lots of reasons, some completely obvious. But mostly it was because Rachel wasn’t a bad girlfriend and Quinn wasn’t going to, like… tell on her for perhaps unknowingly pushing too far.
As it turned out, Rachel did get it after Quinn got a bit too graphic, and so she asked to come over. Said she needed to be with Quinn for a bit, and that was nice. It was, because Rachel never let her stay sad, which was an absurd trait. Who else was like that? It was just like, so what if Rachel kind of hurt her today? So what if she was flinging around her past experiences, using them to push Quinn into a position she didn’t want to be in? Yeah, that sucked, but she would sure as hell still be the one to come over and make it okay again. And in a funny peculiar sort of way, Quinn could appreciate that.
The buzzer went. Rachel was waiting down there, probably with food, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for them but this time a wave of anxiety drenched her insides because yes, she was… ugh, she was vulnerable and it was… it was just… she was embarrassed of that, looking weak and needy and really just pathetic. With a bit of a sigh, she pulled herself up from the sofa to answer the door. Rachel’s voice came sweetly, all familiar and girlfriend-y, which Quinn didn’t know to feel better for, or worse.
She took a moment to breathe, to cool her eyes over and seal over any unwanted emotion, keeping it all below the surface.
“Hey. The door’s open, come up.” she said, buzzing the girl in with practiced indifference, her voice low and unwilling to betray. While she waited, she idly debated whether to greet her with a kiss for the sake of forcing them out of this and into something casual, or whether that would be too awkward to pull off. Maybe, she reasoned, maybe it would all be fine once she just saw Rachel, and they could forget all about it…?
She hated feeling like this.
The sound of familiar footsteps down the hall had Quinn standing up, quickly smoothing out her appearance. She had dressed up for their silly competition, but never bothered to get out of it once it all came crumbling down. Clammy palms ran over the flowing, white summer dress, then twitchy fingers shifted the bra strap of her saucy red lingerie that had fallen when Quinn slumped her shoulders.
In one last desperate bid for just a fraction of control, Quinn grabbed a glass and filled it with cool(ish) water for Rachel. The gesture wasn’t as nice as it seemed, just that if she was taking care of Rachel too, she couldn’t possibly be the weak one. Really, she wasn’t good at being taken care of. She just… it didn’t sit right. It felt like when you stroke a cat’s fur the wrong way, or something. She couldn’t take it.
“Hey,” she said with determination when she set eyes on her girlfriend. “I, um, I thought you might want a glass of water, since, you know… that’s your thing.” she offered the glass to the girl in the doorway with a hopefully confident, easy-looking smile. Hopefully.
Jeez. Man up, Fabray.
Rachel climbed the stairs to Quinn’s apartment slowly, which was completely out of character, but she practically had to beg her feet to please cooperate. This wasn’t her thing. She didn’t fix things. Fights with a boyfriend usually ended up with either a break up or a mutual unspoken promise to never speak of it again. This whole… defusing that she was learning to do since she started dating Quinn was new to her.
It had been that first fight. That misunderstanding that Rachel had handled as per her usual modus operandi and had resulted in a week without Quinn. No. No, that would not do. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of walking away and sulking, or avoiding the conflict or doing any of those things that she’d learned to do so well. She couldn’t grab all her frustration and scream it at her face and tell herself that it didn’t matter because next time- next time surely she’d find the right person.
Turns out, Rachel was fairly sure Quinn was it. So her focus had to shift from a… volatile and detached way to handle crisis, to a more calm, rational stance. Cutting the aggravating feelings off and walking away would not do anymore. Now she had to fix them. Mend them. And that was new. And it made her feel like she was clingy, to be honest. Like she was begging for Quinn not to leave her. She wasn’t sure exactly at what point of her life her brain decided that anything less than letting people go was automatically equal to clinging, but there it was.
And it was hard to fight it.
“Hi, Quinn.” Rachel wasn’t really smiling. She also didn’t know why Quinn was, to be honest. It confused her. It also made her uneasy, because she really hoped Quinn wasn’t going to pretend nothing was wrong. Rachel could defuse, but she was not nearly at the point where she could also beg for her girlfriend to tell her what was wrong. “Thank you.” She offered when she took the glass, even though it seemed… she didn’t know. She didn’t know what it seemed. She was thirsty, but not for that water. And she didn’t need to make sense.
Rachel walked into the familiar apartment without asking for permission. Quinn wouldn’t make her stay outside, right? She didn’t think she would. So she just walked inside and handed Quinn one of the bags. “Here. I thought you’d like comfort food.” She shrugged slightly, awkwardly, and she hated this whole thing.
It hadn’t even been intentional. If she’d really been trying to be ruthless, if she’d tapped into that cutthroat part of her brain, she wouldn’t be apologizing. She’d just shrug and tell Quinn that it sucked that she was hurt, but if she couldn’t take the heat she should’ve stayed out of the kitchen. But no. That hadn’t been it at all. Rachel had been completely oblivious until Quinn slapped her with that particularly graphic text. Until that very moment, there had been no doubt in her mind that they were still playing. That Quinn was faking that jealous rage to see her break again, like when she’d gone out of character a little bit earlier out of concern for her. This had caught her completely off guard.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Rachel suddenly wanted to cry. She’d hurt Quinn, and she hadn’t felt this awful in a very long time. Not even during the Crack House incident of ‘03. But she bit back the tears because she didn’t want to be that person. The one who ended up being consoled by the one they hurt. That person sucked.
“I had no idea. I promise you, Quinn, I promise you I would never in a million years purposefully hurt you in any way.” She looked at her with an almost pleading look in her eyes. She had to know that, right? She had to know that Rachel wasn’t that awfully self-centered. “I thought we were playing. I thought- I thought we were being silly, like when you mention Jon. You know? I thought it was just… a little bit of jealousy, and you playing it up so I’d back down like earlier.”
Rachel shifted on her feet, avoiding part of the issue, which had less to do with Quinn’s feelings and more with her own. Fix first. Then talk. Wasn’t she mature. She almost didn’t believe this was the same girl that walked into that coffee shop almost two months earlier. “I just- I want you to know that I wasn’t trying to use any… sexual experiences from my past against you. I only mentioned it for a- well, I guess I wanted to assert that I’d gone up against people bigger than you. And then-” She sighed, because avoidance and denial sounded extremely appetizing to her.
“When you mentioned how they’d never… given me an orgasm.” Awkward. Rachel preferred only touching certain topics via tumblr, text or in the heat of the moment, when she could use shorter, snappier, cruder words. “I guess I didn’t see the line. I ran with the sex thing and I didn’t realize when I’d started hurting you. And I’m so sorry. I am.” She left the untouched glass of water on the nearest surface. She was still thirsty. She just didn’t want that stupid glass of water.
(Source: berryshinystar)
Rachel was about ready to just grab her phone, throw it far away, and pretend that stupid little gadget had never been invented.
This was the second time in less than two months together that she and Quinn fought over something said while texting. Well… maybe fought wasn’t the word. The first time they’d let a misunderstanding keep them apart for a week. This time, Rachel had stepped over several lines in the heat of the moment and ended up hurting Quinn. Which, frankly, was the last thing she ever wanted to do.
It had to happen, she figured. Jesse had repeatedly warned her that there was no such thing as a perfect relationship, and fights happened. So Rachel figured she could count herself lucky, really, considering not only did they go almost two months between fights, but none of them had been the huge kind of screaming, vase-throwing fights they usually showed on TV. Although, to be perfectly honest, Rachel almost would’ve preferred that kind to… this.
Really, it had been such a silly way to hurt someone she loved. They started their usual texting, that rapidly became sexting, as usual, then they somehow started challenging each other, and before she knew what had hit her… Rachel had stepped over every single line in the world and made Quinn get mad. No, not just mad. Furious. Patti help her.
Rachel walked into the restaurant feeling more than a little out of place. Could they smell her veganism? She hadn’t been in an omnivorous restaurant in years. She’d heard vegans tasted better (yes, in that way), but she didn’t know about the smell. It was probably silly. She probably didn’t look any different than anyone else in the room. Except maybe for the slight (slight) look of apprehension when she ordered a bacon cheeseburger.
“Please don’t leave it bleeding.” She pleaded as the waiter walked to the kitchen with her order. She’d found an organic fast-food place, oxymoronic as it may sound. If she was going to put her dollars into meat, she wanted to at least make sure it was going to be for farms that let their cows roam free munching on delicious grass and being happily oblivious about their fate. Oh, God. She was giving money to cow assassins.
She left the restaurant twenty minutes later, a facon beanburger in one bag and a bacon cheeseburger in another. This wasn’t a regular thing, or an attempt to buy Quinn’s forgiveness with animal corpses. No. This was Rachel, genuinely concerned after hurting her girlfriend, wanting to make sure she could have her favorite comfort food. Honestly, bringing her some kind of tofu-based substitute would’ve seemed to Rachel like adding insult to injury.
So, as she waited for Quinn to answer after pressing the buzzer to her apartment, Rachel told herself that she had to suck it up and get over her issues, because she’d fallen in love with a lady who needed her bacon, and sometimes she’d have to put up with it. And kiss her afterwards. Not every day. Not even every week. But sometimes, mostly when her girlfriend needed to be comforted, bacon would have to feature in her meals. And Rachel would have to relax her ‘no kisses after meat’ policy on those particular times.
“Baby, it’s me.” She said into the speaker when Quinn answered the door. “Can I come up?”