Old Friends and New Beginnings—Faberry (1/1)
WHO: Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry
WHEN: Monday, July 6, 2020
WHERE: Rachel’s Apartment, New York, NY
WHAT: Rachel invites Santana and Brittany to have brunch with her and Quinn.
RACHEL: It’s been a fantastic weekend.
Quinn had returned from Turks and Caicos (with some very titillating photographs) in the middle of last week, and Rachel’s show schedule for Independence Day had given her a rare Saturday evening free to celebrate with Quinn (and celebrate they had), and because of the holiday, Quinn gets to have Monday off as well. She’s been staying in the city with Rachel all weekend—a lovely, long weekend of which they’ve taken full advantage. Rachel had only needed to tear herself away from Quinn to race off to her Sunday performances, but then she’d come home to a hot meal and an even hotter blonde.
Waking up together this morning had been perfection, so it’s little wonder that Rachel is suddenly second-guessing the decision to invite the more unpleasant aspects of their reality to come crashing into their blissful idyll. But Quinn claims that she’s ready for this—well, as ready as she can be when Rachel strongly suspects she’s mostly doing this to make her happy—and her meeting with Brittany earlier this month had gone well enough. But Santana is another creature entirely.
Rachel chews nervously on her lower lip as she watches Quinn putter around in her kitchen, feeling a little blossom of warmth in her chest at how comfortable Quinn is in her apartment. She wants to make sure she stays that way.
“Are you sure you still want to do this? Because it’s not too late to cancel.”
QUINN: She’s busy cutting up fresh pineapple for a fruit salad—having volunteered to make brunch for her old friends—when Rachel asks her question. Quinn pauses, placing the knife down on the cutting board, and looks up, meeting Rachel’s concerned gaze and feeling herself relax a touch.
“I’d be lying if I said I was completely sure,” she admits, “but I need to do this. I’ve made so many mistakes in the past, Rachel, and I need to start making up for them.”
RACHEL: With a nod of understanding, Rachel steps closer to her girlfriend, slipping her arms around Quinn’s waist. She can’t really argue the point, though Quinn’s reasons for keeping her distance had been valid—to her mind anyway. There’s nothing Rachel wants more than for Quinn to be able to reconnect with her—their—friends.
But—
“You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much?” she asks, gazing into Quinn’s eyes. “Because, honestly, I’m not sure which version of Santana is going to show up for brunch.”
Santana had promised to play nice (and Brittany had assured Rachel she’d make sure her wife keeps that promise) but Santana’s version of nice is making sure the only sharp object she brings into the room in her tongue.
QUINN: “I promise,” Quinn replies. Her lips quirk up then. “And I can handle Santana.”
And it’s true, despite the sliver of worry Quinn spots in Rachel’s gaze. She and Santana have never had the most steady of friendships, but Quinn knows how to handle all sides of Santana—so long as she’s emotionally prepared.
Which she absolutely is this time. Their last encounter at the Jets Draft Party was kind of a sucker punch.
Rachel’s mouth opens, as if to object, but Quinn cuts her off—taking advantage of their proximity and capturing her girlfriend’s lips in a sweet kiss.
RACHEL: Her concerns about what Quinn’s idea of handling Santana might entail fade into a fuzzy haze of unimportance the moment Quinn’s lips touch hers, and Rachel melts further into her girlfriend’s toned, freshly tanned body, welcoming her kiss. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to drag Quinn right back into her bedroom, and she’s once again second-guessing the invitation to Brittany and Santana for entirely different reasons.
Eventually, she manages to drag her mouth away from Quinn’s and decides to allow her deliberate attempt at a distraction to pass.
“Mmm. Okay then. What can I do to help you complete your culinary masterpiece?”
QUINN: Her eyes flutter open, and Quinn already misses the feeling of her mouth against Rachel’s.
“Just make yourself comfortable. I’ve got it,” she insists, reluctantly releasing her hold on Rachel. “I won’t start making the omelets and imitation sausage until Brittany and Santana actually get here so that the food is warm.”
Having something to do will also help keep Quinn from immediately having to engage with Santana.
RACHEL: “You’re so sexy when you cook vegetarian,” Rachel says cheekily, but really, she loves how willing Quinn has been to go meatless when she’s in Rachel’s company.
Quinn chuckles, shaking her head indulgently before she turns to pick up the knife again. Rachel snatches a piece of the pineapple before Quinn can go back to cutting it, popping it in her mouth as Quinn huffs out her name in warning and glares at her playfully.
Rachel smiles around the sweet tang of the fruit and leans back against the counter, content to watch Quinn work until their guests arrive.
QUINN: She tries not to let herself get distracted by Rachel’s gaze and close proximity as she finishes cutting up the pineapple before adding it to the bowl that already contains fresh strawberries, watermelon, cantaloupe, and grapes.
Despite the ripple of nervousness at her impending reunion with Santana, Quinn is more content than she has been in a long time. This weekend was exactly what she needed, and Rachel’s apartment almost feels like a home away from home.
It’s sometimes hard to believe that she’s ended up here, but Quinn isn’t willing to let it go. She wants to make this last.
Quinn turns to look at Rachel and offers her a soft smile, feeling warmth blossom in her chest as her girlfriend returns it with a smile of her own.
A sharp knock interrupts the moment, and Quinn feels her nerves tick up as her gaze shifts toward the door.
RACHEL: She’s been so thoroughly caught up in watching Quinn gracefully move around her kitchen that the sudden knock makes Rachel jump. She watches hazel eyes dart to the door in mild trepidation, and she offers Quinn a reassuring smile.
“We’ve got this,” she promises, as much for her own sake as for Quinn’s. Stepping closer, Rachel leans in to brush a soft kiss across Quinn’s cheek.
“I’m gonna go let them in before Santana beats down my door.”
There’s another knock just then—sharper than the first—to punctuate her point, and Rachel rolls her eyes at Santana’s predictable impatience.
“Come with me?” she prompts, holding out her hand to Quinn in invitation.
QUINN: She takes Rachel’s hand without hesitation, feeling her nerves settle somewhat as they walk hand-in-hand toward the door. Quinn is hoping for the best but expecting the worst in regards to this latest meeting with Santana, but having Rachel (and Brittany) to act as a buffer is immeasurably helpful.
There’s yet another impatient knock, and Quinn can’t help but shake her head in mild amusement as Rachel goes to open the door, even though her hand involuntarily grips Rachel’s tighter.
RACHEL: After taking a fortifying breath, Rachel pulls open the door to find Brittany wearing a wide smile and Santana—well, she finds Santana.
“Took you long enough,” Santana grumbles, accusatory gaze moving between Rachel and Quinn.
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Good morning to you too, Santana. Lovely to see you.”
“Yeah. Whatevs,” Santana responds flippantly, side-eying Quinn as she pushes past them into the apartment.
Rachel feels Quinn tense up even more, and she gives her hand a comforting squeeze. If Santana is already in bitch mode, then Rachel has no problem kicking her out right back out on her ass.
“Wow, you look so coupley,” Brittany chirps as she enters the apartment, pausing to tug Rachel into a crushing hug before doing the same to Quinn, who seems to relax at the contact.
“Yeah, well they should, Britts,” Santana chimes in with faux sweetness. “Quinnie Pooh’s had nearly a year to get all coupley with Rachel here. We just didn’t get an invite to see it until now.”
QUINN: She feels her hackles rise at Santana’s comment, but Quinn bites her tongue, having mentally prepared for the worst. She doesn’t want to escalate things into a fight immediately, and, deep down, Quinn understands why Santana’s not exactly enamored with her.
Also, having Brittany’s arms still tightly wrapped around her in a hug helps keep her from verbally lashing out.
“Santana,” Brittany chides her wife as she releases her hold on Quinn and turns her gaze toward Santana. “You promised you wouldn’t let your claws out.”
“I said I would try,” Santana replies with a shrug before glaring at Quinn, who does her best to keep a poker face.
But out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Rachel is doing no such thing.
RACHEL: “If you ever want another invitation, then you’ll try harder,” Rachel warns, taking a step forward and wrapping a protective arm around Quinn’s waist.
She knows Santana is still nursing her own hurt feelings that it’s taken this long for Quinn to agree to see her again, but how can she not see that this is exactly why.
“You’re one of my oldest friends, Santana, but Quinn is my girlfriend now. If you’re not willing to give her a chance…”
“I am, okay,” Santana cuts her off huffily, darting her eyes away, even as Brittany moves to her side, rubbing her arm supportively. “I mean, I’m here.”
Rachel knows it’s as much of an admission as Santana is willing to offer right now that wants to make things right with Quinn.
QUINN: Rachel’s touch is like an anchor, and Quinn unconsciously leans into it as she watches Brittany seemingly temper Santana’s ‘claws.’
“And I appreciate that,” Quinn says, knowing that it’s only fair that she extends the same effort.
Santana meets her eyes then, and Quinn can still see the distrust plain as day, but the hostility has lessened.
“I messed up,” she continues. “And I want to make things right.”
RACHEL: Santana’s dark eyes assess Quinn for a long moment.
“You know that’s not gonna happen in a day, right?” Santana challenges. There’s no malice in the question—simply a delivery of the cold, hard facts. “I mean, you cut us out for six years.” Quinn purses her lips at the unnecessary reminder, giving a short, jerky nod of acknowledgement before Santana’s gaze darts to Rachel. “And you basically did the same for six months just because Quinn asked you to cover for her ass.”
“San,” Brittany warns softly.
“No, she’s right,” Rachel answers, feeling her own guilt flair up at having kept her relationship with Quinn a secret from her friends for so long. “I’m sorry that what I did hurt you, Santana. My only explanation is that I thought it was the right thing at the time.”
And if given a choice, she’d probably do the same again if that’s what Quinn needed her to do.
QUINN: “I’m sorry too,” Quinn adds softly but emphatically, drawing Santana’s gaze back to hazel eyes. “And I know that this is going to take time. I need to earn your forgiveness.”
“I want to believe you, Quinn, I do,” Santana replies after a beat, curling her fingers around Brittany’s free hand. “But you cut me deep.”
Quinn swallows guiltily then. Even though she never meant to hurt anyone, that’s exactly what she did. It’s what she’s always done, it seems.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, wishing there were better words to convey.
RACHEL: Santana sighs heavily, nodding. “I guess we’ll try this thing then.”
Brittany beams at her wife, and then not-so-subtly pokes her side. “Aaand,” she prompts.
Santana huffs out a put-upon breath. “And, you know, I’m sorry too,” she rushes out, averting her eyes away from Quinn. “For showing up at your Rah-Rah convention,” she clarifies with a roll of her eyes. “That wasn’t cool.”
“It really wasn’t,” Rachel agrees with a frown, remembering the panic she’d felt when Quinn disappeared that night. She glances at Quinn then, wondering if Santana’s version of an apology will be enough for her.
QUINN: It wasn’t cool, but then Santana hadn’t intended to trigger Quinn. She was looking out for Rachel, in her uniquely Santana kind of way. Quinn understands that now, and she’s glad that Rachel has someone like that in her life.
“Apology accepted,” she replies sincerely, earning a stiff nod from Santana, another pleased look from Brittany, and Rachel relaxing her hold around Quinn’s waist.
RACHEL: First potential landmine sidestepped, Rachel feels some of her tension melt away. “This is good,” she decides, smiling at Quinn before glancing back to Santana and Brittany. “We can move on from our past mistakes and start fresh.”
Brittany claps her hands in enthusiastic agreement. “Yay. We can all be friends again.”
Santana rolls her eyes again. “Yeah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, babe,” she warns her wife, strolling further into the living room and eyeing Quinn on her way. “But-I’m-A-Cheerleader here has a ways to go before she earns my forgiveness. But I’m game to let her turn some cartwheels for me in the meantime.”
QUINN: She purses her lips and tries to let Santana’s words roll off her back despite the way they get under her skin. After all, it’s exactly what Quinn promised she would do—put in the effort to make things right.
“Fair enough,” Quinn agrees after a beat. “As for cartwheels, I’m pretty good in the kitchen. What kind of omelets would everyone like?”
RACHEL: Quinn already knows how Rachel likes her omelets, so she decides to let her friends place their orders, which Brittany happily does.
“Put lots of cheese in mine,” she instructs, snagging Santana’s hand on her way to the sofa. “Like, an omelet fondue.” She practically falls back into the cushions with a graceful bounce before tugging Santana down beside her.
Santana’s expression softens as she settles next to her wife—hands still joined together. “Throw some cheese in mine too. And whatever meat you managed to smuggle past Berry.”
QUINN: She smirks slightly at Santana’s request. There is zero actual meat in Rachel’s apartment, but Quinn is curious if she can trick Santana into thinking some of the fake ham is the real thing.
Turning to face Rachel, Quinn wraps her arm around her girlfriend’s waist and leans in to softly say, “Go relax and enjoy yourself while I go turn cartwheels.”
RACHEL: Quinn fails to mention to Santana that she’s only cooking with meat substitutes today, and Rachel suppresses a grin as she gazes at her sneaky girlfriend.
Rachel has managed to grit her teeth and fry up some bacon for her friends in the past, of course, but it’s typically been a way to butter them up when she’s needed to ask for their help with something or to apologize for something she’s done wrong—like not telling them about Quinn for nearly six months. And she’s also cooked it for Quinn as a means of impressing her, but Quinn had volunteered to be in charge of brunch today, and Rachel had happily embraced the opportunity to let Quinn take over her kitchen—which remains blissfully meat-free today.
“Thanks, baby,” Rachel murmurs, bouncing onto her toes to brush a quick kiss across Quinn’s cheek. “Although,” she considers, pulling back with a smirk of her own, “I do enjoy watching you flex those cartwheel-turning muscles.”
She’s rewarded with an almost bashful smile and the slight pinkening of Quinn’s cheeks—and Santana’s muttered, “So freaking charming.”
Brittany bumps her shoulder into Santana. “Don’t be mean,” she chastises lowly before smiling at Rachel and Quinn. “I think you guys are cute together. And super hot. I’m glad Rachel found you again, Quinn.”
QUINN: “Me too,” she agrees with a soft smile, face still warm from Rachel’s comment.
Quinn doesn’t miss Santana rolling her eyes, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything.
Rachel presses one more kiss against Quinn’s cheek before happily joining her friends in the living room.
‘So far, so good,’ Quinn thinks as she moves back into the kitchen and gets to work on making the rest of brunch. As she cracks and whisks the eggs into a bowl, Quinn can’t help but keep an ear on the conversation in the living room.
RACHEL: Sinking down into the chair that’s adjacent to the sofa, Rachel smiles happily at her friends. “I want to thank you both again for giving Quinn another chance.”
“Yeah, well...it’s not like we really have a choice if we want to hang out with you,” Santana grumbles, making Brittany’s amiable grin falter slightly. “You’re practically super-glued to her when you’re not at the theater.”
“I’m not,” Rachel denies with a frown—although she does spend as much of her free time with Quinn as she’s able to.
“You shouldn’t use Super Glue,” Brittany advises seriously. “It’s a really bad sex toy. Trust me.”
Rachel pauses, trying to shake off the mental image, while Santana only shakes her head.
“Look. I get it, okay,” Santana continues lowly. “She’s still hot, and you finally get a chance at the original model instead of dating those bitchy imitations.” Rachel’s frown deepens at Santana’s unfiltered assessment of the women she’s dated since she came out, and she spares a quick glance to the kitchen to see if Quinn is listening. Her girlfriend is still whisking eggs, so Rachel assumes that she’s not paying close attention. “And, yeah, I’m giving her a chance,” Santana assures her again, “but just know it’s gonna be a long time before I can really trust her.”
With a sigh, Rachel slumps back into her chair. “I know,” she concedes sullenly, wishing Santana could be as affable as Brittany.
QUINN: It’s hard not to feel guilty and angry at herself for letting things get so messed up with her oldest friends, even though intellectually Quinn completely gets it. Hell, she’d probably feel exactly the same way as Santana does if the roles were reversed.
Quinn starts cooking the omelets, and as she does, she tries to remember what she and Dr. Herrara have been talking about in therapy—focusing on the opportunity she has now and that her feelings of guilt and anger won’t last forever—and she feels some of her frustration subside.
RACHEL: “What Santana is trying to say…”
“I said what I was trying to say.”
“...is that we really just want you to be happy,” Brittany finishes, ignoring her wife’s petulant interruption. “And you seem happy. I mean, you don’t look super happy right now,” she observes with a pout, “but I know that’s because Santana is being all growly. You looked really happy when we first got here though.”
Rachel feels her lips curve upwards again—because Brittany is right. “I am happy. Quinn makes me happy.”
Brittany nods, smiling again, completely validated in her opinion. But Santana—
“Guess crazy cheerleader Barbie’s as good in the bedroom as she seem to be in the kitchen,” she muses with an obnoxious smirk.
And Rachel isn’t quite certain if the heat she feels crawling up her neck is embarrassment or irritation. She really, really hopes Quinn can’t hear them over the sound of sizzling eggs.
QUINN: She raises an eyebrow at Santana’s latest comment, trying to let the “crazy” part roll off her back, which is kind of easy when she thinks of just how many times she made Rachel come this weekend.
“It’s true, I am pretty good in the kitchen,” Quinn agrees, lifting her gaze and sending a smirk of her own in Santana’s direction.
“Oh, I remember,” she replies before leaning into her wife’s body. “But no one is better at cooking than Brits.”
“Wait, are we actually talking about cooking?” Brittany asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Because I still find recipes confusing.”
RACHEL: They’re absolutely not talking about the kitchen, Rachel realizes with a flush of definite irritation this time as she’s forced to remember that Santana had once (twice, damn it!) experienced Quinn’s ‘kitchen’ skills first hand. And of course Quinn would be listening to them for that!
“No, we are not,” Rachel answers Brittany before frowning at Santana. “But I assure you that Quinn doesn’t need to be drunk to cook in my kitchen.
QUINN: “Ouch, Berry,” Santana replies. “You make it sound like I take advantage of women. I’m not Puckerman.”
Quinn’s eyes narrow at the reminder of her disaster of a first time. The only good thing to come from that was Beth, but everything before that was pretty much hell.
“Thank God for that,” Quinn agrees before turning her attention back to finishing the omelets. Liquid courage definitely helped give Quinn the push to flirt and dance with Santana that night, but unlike with Puck, she was the one in control the entire time.
Not that any of this matters now. She’s with Rachel, and there’s nothing else like being intimate with someone she loves and trusts.
RACHEL: “Of course you’re nothing like Noah,” Rachel admits a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. But some of us would prefer not to be reminded of your...cooking lessons,” she supplies with a wry smile, carrying on with the ridiculous euphemism, “with Quinn.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Santana concedes, rolling her own eyes. “But, I mean, it’s not like you’re not benefiting.” She gestures toward Quinn. “Someone had to unpress that lemon.”
“I unpressed myself, thank you very much,” Quinn calls out.
“Not how I remember it, Blondie.”
“Your wife is sitting right there,” Rachel reminds Santana in exasperation.
“Oh, it’s cool,” Brittany dismisses with an unconcerned wave. “I know Quinn was just the next best blonde. And Santana was, like, the next best brunette. Right, Quinn?” she directs to Quinn in the kitchen.
Rachel’s eyebrow inches up as she glances at Quinn, curious to hear what she’ll say.
QUINN: She’s not sure what’s more uncomfortable—Santana being pissed at her or the fact that her two-time thing with Santana is now being discussed so casually. Granted, it’s just Brittany and Santana who are being nonchalant about it. Even only seeing her girlfriend from behind, Quinn can tell that Rachel’s not exactly enjoying this.
“No,” Quinn says with a shake of her head. And yes, part of what Brittany says is true—there were moments when she forgot it was Santana between her legs because she wanted so badly for it to be Rachel. “No offense, Santana, but Rachel is—and always has been—in another stratosphere. No one else comes close.”
RACHEL: When Quinn says ‘no,’ Rachel’s whole body goes tense. For just a moment, she actually imagines Quinn might be admitting that she’d had some sort of real feelings for Santana on that wretched night, but then she goes on to imply that Santana wasn’t even a close second choice, and—
Rachel blushes, feeling warm all over despite the conversation having rapidly swirled into the gutter thanks to Santana’s need to keep poking a metaphorical stick at Quinn. And probably at Rachel too for her months of lying and evading and avoiding.
She smiles adoringly at Quinn. “The feeling is very mutual,” she tells her girlfriend, watching her return the smile as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before turning back to her food preparation.
“You two are gonna make me lose my appetite,” Santana grumbles.
Rachel turns to flash a smug smile at Santana, surprised to find something that looks suspiciously like grudging approval on her face, and the somewhat bitchy retort she’d planned dies on her lips.
Brittany pats Santana on the leg, grinning. “I think they’re kinda sweet. And I’m totally hungry.”
QUINN: Her cheeks are flush from Rachel’s compliment, but Quinn is still focused on the task at hand. “Good, because breakfast is ready,” she declares before placing each omelet onto a plate, adding generous helpings of potatoes and fake sausage.
Having finished preparing breakfast, Quinn glances up then, meeting Rachel’s attentive gaze, and she feels herself practically melt.
And for the millionth time, Quinn wonders how she got so lucky. Not just with Rachel, but getting a second chance with Santana and Brittany—the former obviously being a challenge, but for reasons Quinn can’t help but admire.
RACHEL: Brittany bounces off the sofa almost immediately, tugging Santana up with her, and Rachel smiles at her friends. Even with Santana being stubbornly difficult as usual, she’s so glad that they’re finally getting a chance to spend time together with Quinn.
Rachel has been a fifth wheel with her happily married friends for too long. Neither Kurt nor Santana had particularly liked Riley very much—at least, not after they’d found out how snippy and controlling she could be whenever her jealous streak was roused. And of course, Riley had never wanted to act too coupley in public since she’s not really out. And none of the people Rachel had dated before meeting Quinn again had felt important enough to warrant an invitation to spend time with her friends.
She really wants this to work out—for Quinn to become a part of their group again, and not just because she’s Rachel’s significant other. She thinks it could be good for Quinn. Or, well—she hopes it might be.
Hopefully, today will the start of Quinn truly reconnecting with their old friends and putting the past behind her.
