I must become a lion hearted girl

Text || Agent 00Q

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 19:34:48 -0400

Rachel: I simply wanted to wish you, your family, and the Puckermans a very warm and merry Christmas from my fathers and I! I do hope the cutout cookies are going over well with the group.
Rachel: Dad also inputs a request that you join us sometime soon for the annual viewing of It's a Wonderful Life, among other holiday classics, and I'd be lying to say I wouldn't enjoy your company just the same.
Quinn: Same to you, Rach. Merry Chrismukkah. Or at least that's what Puck's been saying around mouthfuls of your cookies throughout the night.
Quinn: And let your fathers know I'd be more than happy to join you and yours for your holiday film marathon.
[sent five minutes later]
Quinn: Oh. Almost forgot. Puck keeps mentioning something about his annual New Year's Eve bash? Is this something you've attended before?

It’s been a very Fabray and Puckerman Christmas these past...

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 22:55:46 -0400

It’s been a very Fabray and Puckerman Christmas these past few hours as Puck and his mom and sister are over. Dinner is done and we’ve been indulging in some old holiday classic films as well as the ‘nog, which I’m fairly certain Puck has spiked.

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Sat, 22 Sep 2012 21:48:33 -0400

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Photo

Wed, 19 Sep 2012 18:11:55 -0400

Dinner Date || Faberry

Wed, 19 Sep 2012 18:11:14 -0400

Tagging: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Location: Fabray Residence
Time: Early evening, Friday, November 30
Notes: The Berrys and Fabrays finally get together for a shared meal and conversation.

Rachel:

Rachel was a master at handling a variety of emotions, a skill she would be amiss not to attribute to her extensive training as an actress and thespian. Seamlessly, she could transition from one show of feeling to the next under the pressure of bright, white light and an audience hanging on her every word. When the time came that she inevitably had to pass Aubrey in the hall after fourth period, she could coolly compose herself and move right along. Yet the evening her and her fathers were set to dine with the Mr. and Mrs. and their own Fabray-comma-Quinn, she was excitement personified.

Her grin was permanently fixed, ear to ear, on her face without the slightest bit of effort as she bustled around the kitchen, dodging her fathers in the tight spaces between the small island and counters. The banter flying across that very island was especially lively, even for the three of them, and Rachel felt like she might actually be vibrating with excitement. Those suspicions were confirmed as she had to try once, twice, and a third time to get her shaking hands to center a small wedge of lime perfectly in the center of the pie she’d prepared.

Once her baking chore had been completed, she shifted from a kitchen connoisseur to a drill sergeant, the bouncing she’d been on her toes doing coming to a direct halt after she situated saran wrap over the top of the goods and being replaced by a call of, “Troops, T-minus ten minutes until we move out. Expected on the Fabray doorstep in 00:20 hours, mission moves out in ten. I repeat, mission moves out in ten to accommodate walking time and any other potential mishaps.”

In those ten minutes, she couldn’t find any activity to busy herself with other than standing over her fathers as they put the last touches on the joint appetizer they’d come up with. She made to toy with her hair, but was stopped by the braid she’d worked it into earlier. She went to smooth her dress, but couldn’t get the material any more flat than it was when she’d first put it on. All of these habits weren’t in part to nervous energy, she assured herself, because she knew that her parents would get along just fine with Quinn’s and that this dinner would go perfectly because it had to, considering Rachel’s inexplicable desire for their parents to recognize a friendship that might compare to hers and Quinn’s.

After finally herding her men out the door and into the chilly November air, she wrapped her sweater more tightly around her with her free hand, the other occupied with supporting the pie as they walked down the street and up the cute little driveway/sidewalk combo leading to the front door. Dad made a joke aimed at the size of the house in relation to them as the interesting trio they were, and it stopped her from knocking as she looked back to laugh at him.

When she turned back, there was Quinn, looking every bit the same Quinn she’d seen briefly in Glee club that afternoon and an impossibly different one, dressed up and greeting her. Rachel found herself wanting to stretch on her tiptoes to accommodate for the step’s height and wrap her friend in a hug, but her pie and manners got in the way. “Quinn! You look fantastic, but I believe some introductions are in order. This is Sir Hiram Berry,” she said, motioning to her left, “still one hundred percent bitter over not having been crowned by the Queen an actual knight, and this is LeRoy”—she extended a hand the same to her right—“who was just commenting on the beauty of your home.”

Her smile dropped from mega-watt to something that seemed more shy, and she extended the pie in her hands to Quinn. “And this is for you. Everyone’s welcome to it so long as you’re willing to share, but just in case you aren’t, I’ve brought more treats to keep any Quinneth v. Russell matches away from the dinner table.”

Quinn:

Quinn’s eyes grew in size until they were about as big as the pie tin she was gazing down upon in near reverence, tongue peeking out to wet her lips as she zeroed in on the lime wedge. A slow smile eased its way across her face until a large palm clapped her shoulder and she knew any hopes of hiding away the dessert were lost.

“Rachel!” Russell’s voice boomed throughout the high-ceiling foyer. “Great to see you, especially when you come bearing gifts,” he joked, arm extending around his daughter and offering his hand to Hiram and LeRoy. Quinn dutifully mirrored his actions, her smile tight with nerves and a hint of shyness – something she’d never admit to – as she nodded her head in greeting before stepping aside to allow their trio of guests to enter the Fabray household.

Russell then wasted no time in aiding Quinn to be the good hostess her mother had taught her to be by removing the pie from her hands so she could hang the Berrys’ coats in the hall closet. Quinn saw her father’s smirk, a small, smug grin dancing at the edges of his mouth since he knew he had thwarted her plans to hide away the dessert for herself. As they made their way down the hall and towards the kitchen, simple pleasantries being exchanged amongst the men, Quinn’s eyes narrowed as she calculated the logistics as well as the pros and cons of slide tackling her father to the ground.

Such a move wouldn’t actually be the first time she had taken him out in such a manner, nor would it be the first time in the presence of company. But after weighing her options, Quinn decided against laying her father out across the hardwood considering she could already hear Judy’s screech of reprimand in her head, plus she was wearing a dress and could do without flashing any currently covered part of her body. But ultimately, Quinn decided against such an action because the only true causality of her tackle would be the pie, and the last thing Quinn wanted was for her friend’s hard work to end up in an inedible pile on the floor. She could be the bigger person and share, especially since she could always ask Rachel for the recipe later, even though Quinn was certain Rachel would just bake her another pie before she’d ever divulge her kitchen secrets.

Quinn stood back and watched a familiar scene unfold as Judes welcomed their guests and thanked them for their additions to the meal as well. The excitement was nearly radiating off her mother and Quinn couldn’t suppress her own smile because it was evident in this moment, at least to her, how much her mother had missed this as she had entertained nearly weekly back home in DC. It hit Quinn hard in that moment how often Judy must have put on a brave face, worn a mask these past couple of months as they all dealt with the changes in their lives from DC to Lima because her mother had never acted as if anything was wrong or missing in her life. She had acted perfectly content.

Shaking off such melancholy thoughts, especially considering the near instant camaraderie that seemed to have formed between the four adults in the room, Quinn turned her attention to Rachel, moving until she was just a step behind her friend to return her earlier greeting and compliment. “You look really nice, too, Little Bird. Wanna help me set the table?” Quinn motioned to the counter where six sets of dinnerware were just waiting to be taken into the formal dining room.

Carefully, Quinn lowered a stack containing three of every piece into Rachel’s waiting arms before wrapping the remaining pieces in her own and walking towards the dining room, which was connected directly to the kitchen. ”Don’t worry about correct cutlery placement or anything, Rach. Judes isn’t that particular.” Quinn went about setting up the first place seating, smiling as she heard laughter drift in from the kitchen. ”They seem like they’re getting along well, right? Though I guess they probably met earlier in the year at the block parties? And thanks, Rachel. For the pie.” Quinn ducked her head and busied her hands with folding a cloth napkin to hide her blush.

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Mon, 17 Sep 2012 21:43:27 -0400

I could really use a wish right now || Faberry

Mon, 17 Sep 2012 21:24:37 -0400

Tagging: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Location: Clear skies near the Bresler Lake Reservoir
Time: Evening, Friday, December 14
Notes: Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight…

Rachel:

An impressively busy schedule and a consequentially distinct lack of proper rest was beginning to drive Rachel mad to the extent she feared she might actually wake out of bed one morning to find herself a frazzled ghost-like figure. The only new addition to that notion was the ghost part; she was already more frazzled than she wished her composure to be. Of course, it was her fault for deciding that stocking up her senior year resumé while her class load wasn’t as heavy would be a good idea when she was racing from Glee to Student Council to the guidance office with a scholarship application to rehearsal to the Vocal Jazz Ensemble concert and then getting to school early the following morning for the Music Boosters’ meeting.

She didn’t necessarily try to overdo it or to fill her activities plate like someone who’d never had a real meal, but it had happened nonetheless. In an absence of time for herself, she’d wound up with a distinct lack of time for her Quinn as well, which she lamented daily as she only briefly caught the girl in Glee, laughing or rolling her eyes at something Noah had said, or in homeroom, giving her a nod across the room. Rachel missed debating the merits of everything and anything, a sad fact they’d been trying to resolve for weeks now, but whatever could possibly have gotten in the way—Rachel’s inability to move after a particularly long day, the weather not holding out, and so forth—had, and they’d been clinging to the promise that they’d go stargazing since October. Finally, mid-December, they were going, and Rachel was ecstatic.

The bags under her eyes were more defined than ever, and though it concerned her fathers, she felt more awake as she bustled around the house in search of suitable outerwear for a Lima winter’s night. On her way past the kitchen and into the laundry room, she caught a glance of the digital display on the oven telling her that she was about five minutes behind schedule. It was odd to recognize the fact that she was running a little late, something that never described her timetable. Nevertheless, she doubled the pace at which her socked feet were carrying her and dug around for heavy enough clothing to put over the three shirts and leggings she was currently wearing, coming up with a fleece and a sweatshirt and then Daddy’s sweatshirt. She tugged a pair of jeans on over her socks—the bulk of which she’d be lucky to fit in her boots properly—and scampered back through the kitchen, grabbing the backpack she’d prepared on the way out.

“Quinn’s waiting for you, honey! Oh, bless her heart, I think she just waved at us,” LeRoy called from the living room, and she briefly caught her parents peeking out the window as she stuffed her hair into a hat and wrapped a thick scarf around her neck. “She looks cold. That’s it; I’m about three seconds away from inviting her in.” Then, “It’s been three seconds and Rachel’s only just now getting into her shoes.” Rachel scooted backwards, bent over, hands on boot, balancing on one foot. Moving until she hit a post on the banister, she called out to them, “I’ll be there in a minute! You two can stop snooping, you know. I promise you I’ll be heading out in just a minute.”

The conversation carried on for a minute more until Rachel gave them each a hug goodbye, promised to text, and headed out the door in all of her insulated glory. She took care down the icy steps, but from there made quick work of getting to Quinn, smiling. “I’ll have to give the Mrs. a personal thank you, in that case. It was incredibly sweet of her to think of my nutritional needs, like always,” she extended the hand that wasn’t gripping the strap of her backpack to pull Quinn from the hood, ready to get her out of the cold and into the car where there was a working heater. “Lucky for you, my Mary Poppins-style bag of wonder houses plenty of good.”

Once she was comfortably seated for the short drive, she couldn’t help but lower the radio and turn to Quinn. “You have no idea how thrilled I am that we’re finally getting the opportunity to make good on our plans. I also can’t help but apologize enough that we’ve been so delayed that it’s practically a tundra out there,” she said, fidgeting with her seat belt so she could align herself for a slightly better view of Quinn’s face in the dark.

Quinn:

“And does your bag contain a tape measure that declares your extremely short stature as practically perfect in every way?” Quinn teased as they settled into the car and her gaze flicked to double-check that the seat-warmers were indeed on and turned to high before she released the brake and eased them out of the driveway.

When they had originally discussed their plan, the nitty-gritty details also involved windows rolled down and music from a homemade playlist blaring, but for obvious circumstances, such as the just below freezing temps, the car’s windows were currently sealed tight. However, the music was currently at a blare but only so that it could be heard over the whoosh of the hot air billowing and delivering warmth throughout the car’s cab. Quinn didn’t mind when Rachel turned it down, though, because with the roads likely icy from the earlier snow and the dropping temperature, she wanted all her focus on making a safe exit out of the neighborhood as well as ignoring the slight burn that seemed to still permeate her palm from when Rachel helped her off the hood of the car.

Coming to a stop sign, Quinn tested the brakes, just barely hearing the crunch of gravel and salt beneath her tires as they halted, possibly a little too harshly since their seatbelts locked and they jolted. Quinn tried to look a bit sheepish as she mumbled “apologies,” somewhere between a groan and sigh. But more sure of the general quality of the road’s current surface, she was less hesitant navigating to Lima’s main thoroughfare and out west toward Amanda and Bresler Lake.

Just like Rachel, Quinn was equally excited they were finally able to pull stargazing off together because she still ventured out – solo, of course – to the empty lot down the street, the music from her ipod her only companion. It served as a space where she could melt into the soft grass and damp earth and get lost with creating her own constellations, the sky one giant connect the dots puzzle just waiting to be played. But now, there was this little thrill bubbling inside of Quinn’s chest that she could share her personal astronomical discoveries with her friend.

“Aside from the cold, Rachel, I honestly don’t think we could have picked a better night out for our adventure.” Quinn pointed to the sun roof, the shade drawn back to reveal a cloudless night. “Not only is the moon currently in its new phase, which always makes stars brighter, or so says the internet, this morning was the peak of the Geminids meteor shower so hopefully you have some wishes you’ve been waiting to cast since the likelihood of us seeing a few shooting stars is favorable.”

She chanced a casual glance at Rachel then, though she had been trying to keep her eyes on the road and the fields they were driving through, and Quinn had to bite her lower lip to hold back the chuckles threatening to escape because her Little Bird looked both ridiculous and adorable at once. Quinn couldn’t decide if Rachel was doing a stellar impersonation of the Michelin Man or maybe even the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters and gooey fluff was moments away from foaming out from the layers of sweatshirt and fleece. Or, if the numerous garments she wore were actually just swallowing her passenger whole and by the time they arrived to the reservoir, Rachel would be lost in a pile of fabric.

A solitary laugh cracked through the silence of the car, Quinn no longer able to hold back her amusement at the images she was creating in her head. She turned to look at Rachel again, smile wide as she shrugged her shoulders because she really had no explanation to offer besides, “Little Bird, you are cute.”

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Sat, 15 Sep 2012 21:25:15 -0400

I could really use a wish right now || Faberry

Fri, 14 Sep 2012 10:48:03 -0400

Tagging: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Location: Clear skies near the Bresler Lake Reservoir
Time: Evening, Friday, December 14
Notes: Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight…

Quinn:

It was cold. Actually, it was freezing as Quinn watched her exhale turn to vapor and drift skyward towards the heavens. Granted, it was mid-December but Quinn couldn’t shake the memories of the mild winter DC had the year before where she actually only wore her heavy, winter coat a total of four times. Now, she wore said coat over a hoodie that helped to keep the scarf wrapped around her neck in place as she tugged her beanie that kept riding up back down over her ears before puffing a hot stream of warm, moist air into her chilled hands cupped around her mouth. Her breakaway mittens were in the pockets of her coat since Quinn couldn’t stand to drive with gloves on her hands so she was braving the wrath of Jack Frost nipping at her fingers rather than her toes as she waited for Rachel.

Seeing the curtain across one of the front windows move again, the defined shadows of two heads distinctively backlit, Quinn ducked and waved, hoping that Rachel’s fathers didn’t think her too odd for choosing to sit on the hood of her car rather than come to the door and wait in the warmth of their household for their daughter to be ready for their nighttime stargazing excursion.

They had been planning this outing for weeks now, but busy schedules – more so Rachel’s rather than Quinn’s – coupled with cloudy skies on the nights when they were both free continued to push their proposed trip further down the timeline until the last of Autumn’s leaves had fallen to Winter’s harsh breath of wind, which Quinn knew right now was causing her cheeks and more than likely her nose to turn a rosy pink even though the heat from the idling motor was beginning to seep into the seat of her jeans. Still, Quinn was glad her car was packed with everything she thought they might want or need when their current and only plan was to spend an hour or two in the rapidly dropping temperatures propped against the metal hood and glass windshield of her car staring at stars.

Only about fifteen minutes prior to now had found Quinn racing down the stairs – sweatshirt tucked under an arm as she pulled at the tight neck of her Under Armour thermal – to get ready and prepared after receiving Rachel’s text confirming that tonight was indeed a go after weeks of missed opportunities. Russell provided a couple of old, flannel- and fleece-lined sleeping bags while Judy had pulled some heavy quilts from the hall linen closet before she wondered into the kitchen to find her daughter rummaging through the shelves in the fridge. Quinn had nearly bumped her head on one of the shelves at the sound of her mother’s voice asking if she could help find anything, but she kept her head inside the cool space as her eyes searched for the jar of instant coffee because Rachel liked coffee. It was the sound of her mother clearing her throat that straightened Quinn up from her bent posture to turn and watch Judy’s manicured, French tips tap against the stainless steel of a thermos.

Hearing the creak of a door, Quinn’s head snapped up and a smile almost instantaneously curled at the corners of her mouth as she saw her friend finally exit her house. “I’m sorry I don’t come bearing gifts of homemade blueberry muffins that certainly do not contain anything but the most natural of ingredients, but I can promise a thermos full of vegan-friendly hot chocolate, because apparently for some unknown reason my mother not only knows such a recipe but actually prepared it especially for tonight.”

Dinner Date || Faberry

Fri, 14 Sep 2012 10:46:12 -0400

Tagging: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Location: Fabray Residence
Time: Early evening, Friday, November 30
Notes: The Berrys and Fabrays finally get together for a shared meal and conversation.

Quinn:

Judy had kicked Quinn out of the kitchen over twenty minutes ago because she swore her “endless fidgeting and nervous behavior” was going to cause Judy to slice her finger as she chopped vegetables for the side salads. Plus, Judes hadn’t appreciated Quinn’s return quip that if such a travesty were to occur, Russell could stitch her up no problem.

There was no point in trying to distract her mind with television or a book because Quinn knew she didn’t have the proper focus for either medium right now, and her dad was still busy in his study finishing up a couple of files before he could (hopefully) forget about work and pray that his pager didn’t beep for the next forty-eight hours; thus pestering him was out of the question.

If it weren’t for the fact that Quinn was wearing a dress and cardigan rather than her usual jeans and shirt, she probably would have escaped to the back yard to kick around a ball just to have something to do besides pace across the few square feet of space available in the front foyer while she waited for Rachel and her fathers to arrive for dinner.

Because this felt like a big moment. Like the few steps right before Quinn would connect the sweet spot of her foot to the ball, knowing before she even made the strike that it would sail into the upper corner of the net. Tonight was big. Tonight was meaningful because Quinn was meeting Rachel’s parents when she hadn’t made the effort to get to know any other neighbors, or for the most part anyone, since she arrived in Lima months ago. Aside from soccer tryouts Quinn hadn’t tried to impress anyone. Not her teachers. Not her peers. Yet here she was wearing a dress, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles and checking the set of her hair every so often as her pacing path sent her by the hallway’s mirror.

Quinn shook her head as she finally sat at the bottom of the stairs. Yet another rule, another limit set in place that she was breaking for the girl who was slowly breaking down and dismantling her walls. Because Quinn wasn’t supposed to try for anything aside from acing her classes and playing soccer because that would get her out of Lima where she didn’t want to be, didn’t belong in the first place. But she was trying. Trying for the girl — her friend — whose voice, her laugh, Quinn finally heard carry through the paned glass of the front door. And Quinn tried to keep down her nerves then as she stood, inhaling a deep breath through her nose as her hand wrapped around the cool metal of the door’s handle, opening it before the chime of the doorbell or a knock could announce an arrival.

“Hey, Rach.”

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Thu, 13 Sep 2012 10:37:30 -0400

This was bound to happen sooner or later, right? It is December...

Wed, 12 Sep 2012 17:35:00 -0400

This was bound to happen sooner or later, right? It is December in Lima, Ohio after all. But did it really need to snow on the day I decide to wear a dress?

Thanks, Mother Nature. I see we still haven’t reached a truce yet, but if you continue to let this white stuff rain down for the next few days and help my boys carry out their plans, I might forgive you.

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Tue, 11 Sep 2012 20:21:13 -0400

oh take me homelet me go all dayjust be here til I know

Tue, 11 Sep 2012 20:20:43 -0400

oh take me home
let me go all day
just be here til I know

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Wed, 15 Aug 2012 18:39:12 -0400

Audio

Wed, 15 Aug 2012 10:36:09 -0400

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Wed, 15 Aug 2012 10:04:27 -0400

Target 13 || Faberry

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 21:01:49 -0400

Tagging: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry
Location: William McKinley High School
Time: Tuesday, October 30
Notes: Aubrey strikes again.

Rachel:

While Quinn took the opportunity to redo her hair, Rachel sifted through her stack of books to make sure she’d gotten rid of any remaining ice and flicked through her Economics folder to place that day’s homework at the front so she wouldn’t have to make a fuss of finding it before handing it in. She let out a small laugh at Quinn, looking back to her. “So maybe you’re not a celebrity. It’s kind of hard to be one of those in Lima with the devastating lack of glamour and paparazzi, but I do know that you’re the Quinn Fabray because I have yet to meet a soul who’s anything like you.” Unspoken was an entire bounty of implications, Rachel leaving the words to be taken in whatever way her friend desired. “Now, I know the teachers here aren’t exactly the most wise, but I’d say this long is abuse of the powers of the hall pass,” she said, smiling. “Unfortunately, you’re right.”

As soon as Rachel had conceded to Quinn being right, she was being steered out of the bathroom, speaking all the while, and thinking that she could get used to that hand on her back and Quinn’s ponytail swishing into her from time to time. “Econ is a class that I can’t get myself into. The majority of it is vocabulary and common sense presented in a spectacularly boring fashion. How am I expected to enjoy that?” Her and Quinn parted to their separate lockers, Rachel scuffing her toe on the ground just in front of 899 to make sure that the spot—already cleaned and taken care of by the custodial staff, bless them—before multitasking between her combination and Quinn’s voice. “Politics? I can’t say I’ve thought about it. As much as I enjoy debate and presenting myself as rightfully superior, I have yet to explore the idea.”

Rachel stretched on her toes to reach a plastic bag from the top shelf of her locker and deposited the grape-stained towel and hairbrush there, folding it neatly and placing it in her school bag. (Politics, huh?) Maybe she would search up more details later. Despite being fully aware that Broadway was what she intended to make “work out,” there was always room for research and planning in the Big Book of Rachel Barbra Berry, a book that was apparently on file for the public containing a one Quinn Fabray who was reading it all too thoroughly, pegging exactly why Rachel felt guilty about the incident. “I still stand by my opinion that I should take care of it for you,” she said, “but I do like the idea of you taking matters up with your coach instead of coming back with immediate revenge before the big game.”

Pulling out the satchel bag she always used for periods seven and beyond to eliminate locker trips, she tucked away her books and refastened her combination lock. She made her way down to where Quinn was informing her of a new plan and tugging at the zipper of her soccer bag, and Rachel noticed that it wasn’t a McKinley issued duffle like the others she’d seen. Quinn will be Quinn, stubborn and all, she decided as she shrugged into a garment slightly too big for her. She tilted her head down far enough to read the logo over the breast of the jacket and smiled at it as Quinn explained the plan involving her warm up.

“Good thinking, 00Q. I’d be more than happy to walk you to the bus; there’s usually a fifteen or so minute gap before rehearsal actually gets underway anyhow. I should have plenty of time for a good luck gold star,” she said, putting the strap of her bag back on her shoulder and wrapping the sides of the cozy zip up jacket tightly around herself. “I suppose this is the part where we have to go back to class.” She turned to face the direction of the AP Lit room, subtly offering her hand to Quinn—it would be easy to play off if Quinn didn’t notice or take it—as she started walking, planning on dropping the girl that was sort of maybe a guardian angel in disguise off at her class before heading back to attend Economics with as much shame as she could muster, which wouldn’t be much after spending half a period with her own personal agent.

Quinn:

It was one of those rare moments when everything seemed to slow all around her as Quinn’s eyes dropped to Rachel’s slightly upturned palm, her friend’s intention explicit. The near stoppage of time gave Quinn’s mind a moment to think, look back on past interactions with friends in which she would have held their hands, but nothing came to mind because it was something her and her friends had never done. Yet her friends weren’t Rachel Berry, because they also never spent who knows how long baking away in a kitchen for a family of three down the block, nor had they ever showed up uninvited sitting on the roof of her car with a basket of muffins and some surefire rant that would grant them all-exclusive access to a boring day spent at a soccer tourney. They had never given her gold stars and sweet smiles before a match, either, because just like Rachel had said she had never met anyone like Quinn, Quinn had never met anyone like Rachel Berry. And for that reason, Quinn reached out and went so far as to not only take Rachel’s hand in hers, but also entwine their fingers, slipping her own slender digits into the negative space between Rachel’s.

Quinn remained rooted in place, though, when Rachel started to walk down the hall towards her English classroom, because unbeknownst to Rachel, Quinn had no intention of returning to her class that period since she now had other business to attend to and tasks to assign. Holding on tight, Quinn let Rachel get to the near-breaking point of their joint wingspan before she tugged her back in the opposite direction towards the Econ room. “Nuh uh. There could be dangers lurking in the shadows and behind closed doors of the Janitors’ closets. Nope, Little Bird. I do realize you were trying to be all sweet and drop me off, but I’ve got to ensure that you make it back to the nest safe and sound,” Quinn teased, squeezing the soft skin of Rachel’s small hand as they walked down the empty halls. “And don’t fight me on this because I’m fairly certain I could hoist you over my shoulder and fireman carry you if need be.”

The trip to the classroom door was quick, though Quinn had the desire to not slow her stride and just continue walking laps throughout the corridors with Rachel’s hand in hers because it was simply just nice and surprisingly easy, but her steps did slow just before the lip of the door, which afforded her and Rachel the small privacy of a few yards of space. Dropping Rachel’s hand to only take her books and momentarily set them on the floor, Quinn’s fingers nimbly found the ends of the jacket, slotting the zipper in the pull and watching as the teeth came together all the way to Rachel’s chin. Quinn smiled as she saw the stark contrast of ‘Fabray’ embroidered in white stitching against the black of the jacket before she turned her smile to Rachel as she handed back the books. “Wear it well and I’ll see you ninth.” Taking a single step back towards the way they had just come, Quinn hesitated, the need to say or do something else, something more, physically causing her body to stall, but she shook her head and forced her feet to move, her steady voice drifting over her shoulder and down the hall. “Stay safe, Rach.”

Quinn waited until she rounded the corner to pull out her phone and text Puck again, double-checking that he could find a way to pick Rachel up from Econ and drop her off at her eighth period, before she went and found Sam in his study hall to put him on duty for pickup from eighth and drop off at ninth where Quinn herself would be able to take over until she was on the bus with the threat driving away. Because Quinn knew the moment Aubrey saw Rachel in her jacket – and Quinn knew Aubrey would make a point to seek out the girl come the next bell so she could get a glimpse of what Rachel had been forced to change in to – Aubrey would see a shade so red that it would be ironically the same scarlet Quinn’s jersey had been before the bitch decided to try her hand at free-form tie-dying. So though Quinn was 99% certain Aubrey wouldn’t attempt anything else, she wasn’t about to take any chances.

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Tue, 14 Aug 2012 20:43:43 -0400

radiantlyrachel: newquinnontheblock replied to your photo: I may only be a self-proclaimed techie...

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 13:11:40 -0400

radiantlyrachel:

newquinnontheblock replied to your photo: I may only be a self-proclaimed techie in…

Fire hazard?

Technically, I don’t think so. Considering gels are used on lights much brighter and hotter than the ones lining the aisles, I’m leaning towards this just being an interesting, unconventional way of expressing creativity.

I guess that’s one way to describe it.