Kissing Quinn Fabray

Chapter 3

When your eyes finally flutter open, the feeling in your chest locks you down and you're forced to look it in the eye. You've never felt it before and, even now, you're not sure you can identify it for what it is. You only know that you're laying in your own bed, cradled in the softest, strongest arms.

You're anchored and floating at the same time.

You stir, they tighten around you. A nose burrows deeper into your neck, and you shiver.

Quinn.

Memories from last night roll over you, wave after wave; they rise and crest and break over your heart until you're delirious in your happiness.

She held you. She told you she wanted to be with you, wanted to follow you and take you with her into the future.

You can still hear her pleading with you to suck her neck – you wonder if the mark you left there is now a swirl of purple against perfect creamy skin.

The feeling rises again in your chest and spreads through your body like sunlight breaking through a thunderstorm – you never knew that you had the ability to feel this happy. Waking up beside Quinn... if Neverland were a real place, this is the memory that would make you fly.

Other memories come now, and you lose yourself in the flood. Quinn in your tank top, flustered and blushing as her nipples begged you to touch, to taste. Quinn, biting softly on your ear. Quinn, asking in a breathy, timid voice if you really fantasized about her. The way your heart fluttered at the promise of tomorrow, the way she wanted to build a foundation with you. A foundation.

You and Quinn.

Rachel and Quinn. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray.

Your names sound like they've always been meant to be said together.

You replay Quinn's voice, raspy and tender, telling you that she cares deeply for you. That's what she said. Deeply.

She's certainly holding you like she does. One arm through the crook in your neck, draped down your chest; the other wrapped snuggly around your abdomen, holding you solidly against her body. You trace your fingers over her skin, following the line of arm down and up again. She's so soft. The bulge of her bicep, the bend in her elbow, her wrist. The skin is delicate but the muscles that ripple beneath it belong to an athlete. She's strong.

Lying here with her, sunlight streaming through the slats in your blinds, you're struck by the intensity of Quinn's dual nature.

You've mostly seen her hurting. Even when she schemed and manipulated, tormented you, you didn't think she was a bad person; you only saw her as injured, a helpless thing trapped by her own world. Void of acceptance for herself, for anyone. But you've also seen her vulnerable. Fighting for and then giving up Beth. Finn's anger over her deceit. Losing her family. Losing herself.

The Quinn that has her body wrapped around you now seems to be some kind of amalgamation of the two.

This Quinn, the Quinn who spent the night in your bed, pressing her mouth feverishly to yours, this Quinn is a nurturer. A protector. A giver of secrets and a taker of tears.

You get the feeling that she sees you, really sees you, and you never thought anybody ever would. You try to talk yourself out of it; she's just Quinn. A girl who takes what she wants and leaves what she doesn't. A girl who doesn't feel.

But she does feel. She showed you as much last night. She feels more than anybody you've ever known, and it scares you. She's like a storm, capable of sweeping you away, of capsizing you. Of raining and railing and thundering against you. She's somehow volatile and steady at the same time. A sleeping storm.