8: first kiss - any faberry
Quinn knew she was in trouble the second Rachel looked at her and smiled. It wasn’t like any other smile before, or any other look before; it felt different. It made Quinn’s stomach do backflips and her heart race; made her cheeks burn and hands tremble. Rachel Berry was the girl she had spent years tormenting and harassing, taking joy each time the pint-sized diva was ambushed by red, icy dye.
Now though, it’s as if the entire year had changed everything.
Quinn told herself over and over it wasn’t an actual crush, just the fact she liked the attention, but the more it tumbled around in her head, the more she had to... accept it. Maybe she was bicurious or something, having spent the start of the year on the arm of Sam Evans. That had broken her heart, and with Santana preoccupied by her ex, Rachel had been the one to offer up words of comfort to the former Cheerio, a hand carefully brushing back blonde hair from Quinn’s face. Quinn wanted to reach up and keep the girl’s hand against her cheek, but instead she gingerly brushed it away, muttering she was fine and it was bound to happen anyway. Nothing good ever lasts in the life of Quinn Fabray.
The night of the Rachel Berry Party Extravaganza, later to be dubbed the Rachel Berry Trainwreck, Quinn forced herself to go. Her hair was curled, golden locks resting against a denim jacket, telling her mom she would probably end up at Brittany’s for the night. Getting to the party, it was easier said than done to try and seem at all happy, but Quinn put on a smile as best as she could. All for Rachel. The night continued on, better alcohol being brought out from cabinets, and with a good enough buzz, it only brought her mood down that much more, and seeing Sam and Brittany going at it at Spin The Bottle far from helped.
Still, she had to put on a front, all for the rather drunk miniature diva, as the rest of their friends encouraged and coaxed Quinn to join in on the same. “Fine, okay, okay!” She exclaimed, sitting on the floor and fixing the hem of her dress from resting not too far above her knee. The bottle spun at Rachel’s turn now, and Quinn swore every other sound around her seemed to fade away. No loud music, no laughing or yelling, just the sound of her heart racing in her ears. Her brain battled back and forth between wanting it to land on her and also not-
“Quinn’s up!”
Oh, God.
Taking another quick sip of her drink (vodka with cherry Coke), Quinn already could feel her entire body on fire as the distance between she and Rachel closed, one hand steadying herself on the floor as the other somehow wound up along Rachel’s neck, fingers curling into chestnut hair. It was a peck at first, Quinn barely hearing Puck yell “Weak!” before rolling her eyes and bringing Rachel back in close again. It had to be the alcohol that was making her not care for once. Now it was an actual kiss, not the hungry kind like everyone else, but almost as if Quinn had been holding any sort of feelings for as long as she could. The only thing she did know? That kissing Finn may have made her feel fireworks, but it was nothing compared to the complete Disney World firework show that Quinn felt with Rachel.
That, and cherry Coke tastes best when mixed with pink wine cooler.