Status: Workin' on gettin' the 13th chapter out there.
Changed Directions
Well?
"Are you going to yell at me about everything that just happened? Cause if so, can I ask you something before you storm out in anger?"
Quinn raised an eyebrow in silent question, before nodding consent.
"Two questions actually, since I really do not want a repeat of high school. First, are you single?" The blonde's eyes widened in shock. "I'm gonna take that as a yes. Next, and please don't slap me, I'd rather not have another bruise added to this shiner, can I take you on a date?
………………………………………………………………………………….
Quinn blinked. “Huh?”
“Same old blunt Berry; asking a girl out less than twenty four hours after seeing her again for the first time in four years.” Santana stood, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.
Rachel’s eyebrow rose, but she didn’t take her eyes off the hazel ones in front of her. “Well,” she drawled, “I’ve wanted to ask since dancing with her; so I would hope that means my self-restraint has grown at least a little.”
That drew a chuckle from the Latina. “You are somethin’ else, girl.”
Brittany walked up behind her fellow blonde, who was still frozen with her mouth slightly open in shock. “Quinn?” The dancer tapped her friend on the shoulder, snapping her out of her daze and causing her to leap a foot in the air.
“Huh? Wha?”
“Are you gonna say yes?”
Quinn looked at Brittany dazedly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Santana crossed to the former HBIC and took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “You gonna go out on a date with this hot, military vet, new Berry, or aren’t you?”
Quinn blinked. Was she?
Of course you are.
Huh?
Don’t you think you’ve said that enough in the last ten minutes?
Shut up.
Telling your subconscious to shut up; very mature. Just go tell Rachel yes and share sweet lady kisses.
Quinn rolled her eyes. Great, my subconscious sounds like a mix of Santana and Brittany. That’s what I get for spending too much time with them.
“Quinn!” A finger snapped in her face, causing her to glance up, startled. “Stop gettin’ lost in lala land and give her a freakin’ answer!” Santana whirled her around and shoved her at the small brunette. Stumbling forward, she was caught by strong hands gripping her waist. Her hands hit the table on either side of Rachel, bringing their faces close enough for their breaths to caress.
The corners of Rachel’s lips quirked. “Hi there.” One tan hand left the blonde’s waist to cup her cheek; the skin on skin contact causing a spark to shoot through both girls. “You know, you don’t have to answer now. I’ll understand if you want some time for us to get reacquaint-” She was cut off by soft lips pressing against her own in a chaste peck.
“I’d love to.”
Rachel smiled, bringing Quinn into a longer, slower kiss. Pulling away, she buried her face in the crook of the blonde’s neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla and cinnamon.
“Freakin’ charming.” A smile belayed the sarcasm dripping from Santana’s comment.
……………………………………………………………………….
Quinn paced her bedroom, clothes strewn around her.
What the hell did Rachel mean by “Dress casual. Jeans or sweats and a sweatshirt. Something comfortable.”
Um… I think she meant exactly what she said.
You know what I mean! Nice sweats?
You have nice sweats? Nice sweats exist?
Ugh! You’re useless.
Again with the insults. You do realize you’re insulting yourself, right?
Shut up.
And the lack of maturity returns.
Will you just be helpful for once and help me pick what to wear?
Hmm… How bout, oh I don’t know… A pair of sweats and a sweatshirt!
I hate you.
Love you too, sweetheart.
Narcissistic much?
What?
Well. You said that we’re the same person, hence, if you love me it’s the same as me loving myself.
Stop stalling and get dressed already.
She crossed to the pile of clothes, digging through to find a loose pair of black sweatpants, white tank top and deep purple NYU sweatshirt.
Happy?
Very much so.
The bell tolled.
Oh look, perfect timing. Now stop staring at the hallway like a petrified squirrel and go get the door.
Sprinting to the door, the blonde took a deep breath, before pulling open the door with a smile. Rachel stood in black sweatpants, a red tank top and open black zipper hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, and a small smile graced her lips.
How the hell does she look so gorgeous in sweats?
“Shall we go, Quinn?” An arm was offered to her, which she quickly looped with her own.
“I think we shall.”
Not totally clichéd and tacky at all.
Quinn raised an eyebrow in silent question, before nodding consent.
"Two questions actually, since I really do not want a repeat of high school. First, are you single?" The blonde's eyes widened in shock. "I'm gonna take that as a yes. Next, and please don't slap me, I'd rather not have another bruise added to this shiner, can I take you on a date?
………………………………………………………………………………….
Quinn blinked. “Huh?”
“Same old blunt Berry; asking a girl out less than twenty four hours after seeing her again for the first time in four years.” Santana stood, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.
Rachel’s eyebrow rose, but she didn’t take her eyes off the hazel ones in front of her. “Well,” she drawled, “I’ve wanted to ask since dancing with her; so I would hope that means my self-restraint has grown at least a little.”
That drew a chuckle from the Latina. “You are somethin’ else, girl.”
Brittany walked up behind her fellow blonde, who was still frozen with her mouth slightly open in shock. “Quinn?” The dancer tapped her friend on the shoulder, snapping her out of her daze and causing her to leap a foot in the air.
“Huh? Wha?”
“Are you gonna say yes?”
Quinn looked at Brittany dazedly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Santana crossed to the former HBIC and took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “You gonna go out on a date with this hot, military vet, new Berry, or aren’t you?”
Quinn blinked. Was she?
Of course you are.
Huh?
Don’t you think you’ve said that enough in the last ten minutes?
Shut up.
Telling your subconscious to shut up; very mature. Just go tell Rachel yes and share sweet lady kisses.
Quinn rolled her eyes. Great, my subconscious sounds like a mix of Santana and Brittany. That’s what I get for spending too much time with them.
“Quinn!” A finger snapped in her face, causing her to glance up, startled. “Stop gettin’ lost in lala land and give her a freakin’ answer!” Santana whirled her around and shoved her at the small brunette. Stumbling forward, she was caught by strong hands gripping her waist. Her hands hit the table on either side of Rachel, bringing their faces close enough for their breaths to caress.
The corners of Rachel’s lips quirked. “Hi there.” One tan hand left the blonde’s waist to cup her cheek; the skin on skin contact causing a spark to shoot through both girls. “You know, you don’t have to answer now. I’ll understand if you want some time for us to get reacquaint-” She was cut off by soft lips pressing against her own in a chaste peck.
“I’d love to.”
Rachel smiled, bringing Quinn into a longer, slower kiss. Pulling away, she buried her face in the crook of the blonde’s neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla and cinnamon.
“Freakin’ charming.” A smile belayed the sarcasm dripping from Santana’s comment.
……………………………………………………………………….
Quinn paced her bedroom, clothes strewn around her.
What the hell did Rachel mean by “Dress casual. Jeans or sweats and a sweatshirt. Something comfortable.”
Um… I think she meant exactly what she said.
You know what I mean! Nice sweats?
You have nice sweats? Nice sweats exist?
Ugh! You’re useless.
Again with the insults. You do realize you’re insulting yourself, right?
Shut up.
And the lack of maturity returns.
Will you just be helpful for once and help me pick what to wear?
Hmm… How bout, oh I don’t know… A pair of sweats and a sweatshirt!
I hate you.
Love you too, sweetheart.
Narcissistic much?
What?
Well. You said that we’re the same person, hence, if you love me it’s the same as me loving myself.
Stop stalling and get dressed already.
She crossed to the pile of clothes, digging through to find a loose pair of black sweatpants, white tank top and deep purple NYU sweatshirt.
Happy?
Very much so.
The bell tolled.
Oh look, perfect timing. Now stop staring at the hallway like a petrified squirrel and go get the door.
Sprinting to the door, the blonde took a deep breath, before pulling open the door with a smile. Rachel stood in black sweatpants, a red tank top and open black zipper hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, and a small smile graced her lips.
How the hell does she look so gorgeous in sweats?
“Shall we go, Quinn?” An arm was offered to her, which she quickly looped with her own.
“I think we shall.”
Not totally clichéd and tacky at all.
♠ ♠ ♠
A/N: I don’t own Glee. Or NYU (though I really would love to go there… to Tisch)Ok, so this is getting posted a little later than I hoped it would, but it is done! And I know it isn’t very long, but I wanna make the date its own chapter.
I kinda find the idea of Santana not so subtly pushing for Faberry would be epic.
Also… I know the head voice arguments can get annoying, but I personally argue with myself all the frickin’ time, so… I’m leaving it :P
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