omfg this ask was forever ago im sorry i dont check tumblr much😣😣 and probably not tbh? i kinda moved on to another ship a couple of months ago and faberry'll always hold a special place in my heart but I haven't rly written for them in a while and i don't wanna make any false promises
After Quinn moves into Rachel’s house after getting kicked out, you’d think that it’d be more likely for her to be woken up by loud obnoxious singing. But nope, turns out it’s a loud obnoxious elliptical instead.
Note: based on this tweet I made https://twitter.com/paradoxalpen/status/1299734355405807616
Completed Ficlet; 1.2k words
Quinn’s rudely awakened from her sleep by a loud noise.
Grumbling internally, she briefly registers that her internal clock is telling her that it’s way too early for this – it’s Saturday, and she hasn’t needed to wake up so early ever since- well, ever since she was kicked off the Cheerios.
The reminder only serves to make her raging headache even worse, and she swats a hand out habitually to turn off the alarm clock that she assumes is the cause of that horrendous sound filling her ears.
When her hand hits nothing but air, her brows crease together, and she sits up only to see white walls instead of the familiar pink of her room’s. It’s then that another reminder crashes into her, and Quinn gets the sudden urge to cry, because this isn’t her room.
This is the Berrys’ guest room, because she fucking got kicked out, and-
Quinn blinks, hard, and she ignores the sting in her eyes with a vengeance, choosing to channel her energy into feeling annoyed at being woken up at such an early hour instead. The annoying whirl of what she identifies to be a machine doesn’t seem to let up at all, the obnoxious buzzing driving her insane with its high volume, and Quinn growls, her body moving on autopilot.
She vaguely recognizes that she’s in no place to be complaining about anything, but she’s exhausted and emotionally spent and so not in the mood for this, so without herself even knowing it, she stalks her way out of her room to find the source of her head-splitting headache.
When she finishes tracing the noise and stops in front of the door where the commotion seems to be coming from, it really should be no surprise at all that it’s marked with a giant golden star with the initials R.B. smack dab in the middle.
Quinn lets herself roll her eyes internally, and not really giving much thought to her actions – it’s fucking 6am in the morning and she wants to sleep dammit – as she pushes open the door on impulse.
She isn’t sure what she’s expecting to see, but somehow Rachel working out on her elliptical isn’t what she quite imagined, and Quinn just stands there for a second with her jaw gaped, staring at Rachel as she works out diligently.
The girl seems to be too focused on something in front of her to notice Quinn – wait, is that a photoshopped picture of Rachel holding a Tony as she gives an acceptance speech? – but a few more moments past, and Quinn thinks to herself that she’s probably concentrating too much on how good the brunette looks, her calves flexing in a mesmerizing action and a thin layer of perspiration covering her forehead; that’s not how good Catholic girls should act at all, and Quinn Fabray is certainly not finding…a girl working out attractive.
But then, she remembers that she’s long gone past ‘how good Catholic girls should act’, and resisting the urge to put a hand to her belly, she unconsciously lets out a scathing scoff.
It alerts Rachel to her presence, and she lets out a small yelp of surprise as she almost falls off her elliptical.
Quinn instinctively reaches out to steady the stumbling girl before she realizes what she’s doing, and she steps back immediately with wide eyes. Thankfully, it seems like Rachel didn’t catch her slipup, too busy taking in Quinn’s sudden appearance in her bedroom.
It makes Quinn realize how much of a mess she must look right now, and she fidgets in place, just barely stopping her hand from reaching up to smooth out her hair. She shouldn’t care so much about how Rachel sees her, she shouldn’t, because it’s Berry for god’s sake, and if that line of thought can go two very different ways, she doesn’t let herself dwell on it.
The somewhat unsettling silence is broken by Rachel’s voice though, chipper and upbeat as always, and Quinn can’t help but think, of course she’s a morning person, why wouldn’t she be?
She can’t quite decide if it’s with an undertone of annoyance or fondness.
“Quinn! You must’ve been woken up by my elliptical, my apologies,” Rachel says with a sheepish smile on her face. “My dads have been meaning to soundproof my room ever since that pesky lawsuit was filed against my person, but I admit I haven’t been expediting the process as quickly as I should’ve been. I’ll make note to see what I can do to hurry it along.”
Quinn, unsure why the feeling in her chest at Rachel’s rambling feels more like warmth instead of irritation, just gives her a dry look in response, and Rachel seems to take that as a slight against her. “Look, it’s not my fault I wasn’t able to foresee your stay at our residence, no matter how psychic I may be,” the brunette defends, an almost pout forming on her face.
And if her tone is carrying a bit of a whine to it, Quinn will never admit that her lips curve upwards in amusement as a result.
“You’re fine Rach,” she laughs lightly, voice still rough from sleep, and she watches as Rachel takes on a peculiar expression.
“R-Rach?” she questions.
Quinn tugs on her lip softly in a nervous tick. “Don’t make this weird Berry.”
“Of- Of course Quinn,” Rachel nods, and a bashful smile nearly blinds the blonde in its sweetness. “Now would you like to go back to sleep? I can get off the elliptical, I’ve mostly finished my workout today anyway.”
At the remembrance of the sleep that Quinn was so unjustly robbed of, a grumble makes its way out of her throat, and she shakes her head. “I can’t really go back to bed after I wake up,” she sees.
“I see,” Rachel says regrettably, before a slightly hopeful look dawns in chestnut doe eyes as she offers, “would you like to eat breakfast with me then? My dads are most likely snoring away right now and I’m not a very good cook – my skills lie with baking really – but I’m sure we can dig something out of the fridge.”
“Yeah sure, I just gotta freshen up in the bathroom first, I probably look like crap,” Quinn groans, and she runs a hand through her hair to tousle it.
“You look beautiful Quinn, you always do.” Rachel has her brows furrowed, almost as if she doesn’t believe Quinn’s words, and it sends something rushing through her; if she thinks hard enough, Rachel’s actually one of the only people who’ve given her affirming words of support, and she doesn’t really know what to do with that information.
“Well,” Quinn gives a small shrug, not really knowing what else to say, “thank you.” She moves to turn around and leave, but before she reaches for the door handle, she can’t help but pause. “For- For everything.”
She can practically feel Rachel’s megawatt smile from the back of her head. “You’re welcome.”
It’s said with so much passion and joy that a flutter rushes through Quinn’s stomach unwillingly, and she knows there’s so much more she needs to say, but that’s the best she can do for now.
Living with Rachel Berry sure is turning out to be interesting.
Quinn picks up a call from a very drunken Rachel. Faberry fluff ensues.
Note: For Dianna’s birthday (it’s probably still April 30th somewhere in the world). Also thank Monique for holding me at gunpoint to post something. Set in unreleased Tweeting Birdies universe.
Completed Ficlet; 1.1k words
“Hey, Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“Quinn.”
“That’s my name, correct.”
“Quinn.” A pause. “That’s a really nice-sounding name.”
Raising an eyebrow, Quinn decides to bite. This certainly isn’t what she’d expected from her girlfriend when she got a call right after work. “Rae, are you okay over wherever you are?”
“Quinnnn. Quinn. Quinn?” is the reply that rings through, and at the confirmation that Rachel is definitely more than a little bit drunk, Quinn lets out a worried little hum.
“Yeah okay, where are you?”
“Quinn.” Rachel blatantly ignores her, too enwrapped in her own little world. “Why is that such a pretty name?” A loose giggle erupts from the other side of the line, and then, “Almost as pretty as my girlfriend is.” Here, there’s a small thoughtful pause, before Rachel gasps, “Oh wait, guess what? Quinn’s her name too! But…But that means they share Quinn…and I don’t like sharing Quinn, she’s all mine!”
Her girlfriend’s drunken rambles make Quinn let out a low chuckle, and she humors, “Mm, all yours.”
Her girlfriend doesn’t seem to be in much danger so she’s a bit less worried now, but she still doesn’t like the thought of Rachel being drunk and alone, and she nods along to Rachel’s mumbled words, already hailing a cab from the sidewalk.
“Stay put okay baby? I’m going to be at Spotlight in like five – because there’s no way anyone other than Santana can get you this drunk – and let me guess, she ditched you again?”
“I dunno, she just kinda…left, I think?” Rachel replies, at least gaining some sort of coherency, and then there’s a beat before, “…I miss Quinn.”
“I’ll be there real soon,” Quinn promises, her girlfriend’s dejected tone making her heart twist even though she knows that Rachel is probably perfectly fine. “I know how much you hate being alone when you’re drunk.”
“I miss- I miss Quinn though,” Rachel goes back to stammering to herself, distraught. “I miss the smell- I miss the smell of pretty. Of Quinn. Quinn, where’s Quinn?”
Rachel starts sounding like she’s about to burst out crying, and Quinn feels her heart clench, already panicking inwardly. “Oh sweetie, please don’t cry,” she begs softly, willing the taxi driver to go faster so that she can go take her girlfriend back home to cuddle. “You know I hate it when you cry.”
“But I want Quinn!” Rachel whines, breath picking up. “I want- I want Quinn.”
At how the brunette’s voice wavers and breaks at the last few words, Quinn just knows that Rachel is going to bawl her eyes out any second now, and she curses Santana under her breath for getting Rachel this drunk in the first place.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes baby,” she promises, biting her lip when she hears sniffling start to come through. Her chest aches even more at Rachel’s distressed self, and she groans quietly. “I swear, Santana is so dead when I see her.”
x.X.x
She finds Rachel in the VIP bar, hurdled up in the corner alone and looking absolutely miserable.
Her girlfriend looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and melting at the sight, Quinn once again mutters a few choice words aimed at Santana, not amused at all.
It’s not the first time she’s left a drunk Rachel to fend for herself alone at Spotlight, and it certainly isn’t the first time Quinn’s had to come pick her up – Rachel usually isn’t this drunk, so Quinn winces as she anticipates how hungover the brunette will be tomorrow.
It doesn’t take long for Rachel to spot her, and the way her girlfriend’s face lights up immediately makes Quinn’s chest warm.
She can barely make out Rachel calling her name over the loud music, and Rachel tries to stagger to her feet, swaying drunkenly. Not wanting her to accidentally lose her footing and bump into something, Quinn hurries her steps towards the couch that Rachel’s on, and she presses a hand down on Rachel’s arm to tell her to stay put.
Rachel’s face scrunches up in the most adorable way possible, and Quinn lets out a soft laugh. “You okay there?”
The brunette tries getting to her feet once again, and Quinn reaches an arm around her to steady her movements. “Missed you too dork,” she says with a quirk of her lips, and she grunts when Rachel tips over slightly and an elbow’s dug into her ribs.
“Thank god the paps aren’t here to witness this, they’d have a field day,” she half-mutters half-laughs. “Our publicists would not be happy with the front-page headlines at all.”
“They’d have to deal with it then,” Rachel hmpfs, voice petulant, “just like how everyone has to deal with me having the best girlfriend ever.”
The brunette’s resolute statement makes Quinn’s stomach flutter even after so long, and she smiles. “Think the pleasure of having the best girlfriend is all mine Rach.”
“Well you’re just simply wrong then,” Rachel rebuts, and her pout is on full display as she opens her mouth to go on a sure tirade.
Before she can though, Quinn silences her with a quick peck to her lips, and she nuzzles her nose against her girlfriend’s. “Come on baby, let’s go home.”
Rachel’s eyes dim in confusion. “But you are home.”
Quinn will deny to her last breath that she swoons, but well- she swoons, and she does her best to push it away for later. “You’re so drunk,” she says instead.
“Drunk on love,” Rachel corrects matter-of-factly, and Quinn can’t find it in her to hold in her fond grin anymore.
“I’ll be sure to tell that to your hungover self tomorrow then.”
Rachel doesn’t respond for a few seconds, and Quinn arches a brow; she better not pass out on her.
“Rae?” she prompts, and suddenly chestnut doe eyes are staring intently into hers.
“I love you.”
The declaration takes Quinn by surprise, and at the utter simplicity that Rachel says it with, like there’s nothing else more obvious than that, Quinn can’t help but fall in love all over again.
“I love you too,” she says, softly, and then Rachel’s back to blabbering about how her girlfriend is the best ever and how everyone else will just have to live alone and miserable forever.
Quinn thinks that this is one of those moments where she thinks, yeah, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this woman, and she grins.
