Chapter Text
She hadn't seen Rachel Berry all day. At least Quinn was positive the singer wasn't avoiding her.
She hoped.
Today, Quinn had determinedly decided to apologize, to make sure Rachel knew she was sorry for everything she ever did to her. More than sorry. But now Rachel was nowhere to be found, and her morning affirmations started to look more and more like horrible delusions, likely leading her towards scathing embarrassment, or perhaps a quick and messy death. Quinn let out a frustrated groan as she hastily marched down the hallway, heading towards the last place where Rachel could be. (And frankly, the first place she should have looked. But who could blame her for taking a few more minutes to fret quietly in private.)
A minute later Quinn busted through the door of the choir room, desperately wishing for Rachel to be there. Instead she was met with the sight of Santana straddling Brittany on Mr. Schuester's desk chair. She remained unnoticed, until she awkwardly coughed.
Santana practically leapt out of Brittany's lap and rapidly turned on Quinn, eyes narrowed, smouldering with a pinprick of heat that would inevitably escalate into a classic Santana roast session.
"What the hell, Q. Why are you here?" she asked angrily. Behind Santana, Brittany shot her a sweet smile, both oblivious to the somewhat amusing spectacle of opposites they were showcasing. "Hey Q, nice to see you here. Santana and I were just getting our sweet lady kisses on after Santana dragged me in here, because she couldn't-"
"Okay, Britts, that's enough," a now properly irritated Santana intervened. "Q, fucking say something already. I mean, have I every thought any less of you after finding out about any of your disgusting backyard escapades with Bigfoot Hudson? Never. Well, thought, maybe, but never expressed," accompanied by excessive hand gestures, "what are you, the flipping Thought Police? So don't even try to just come sauntering in here and-"
"Santana, you're rambling," Quinn stated with an amused look on her face, expertly smothering the lecture before it could become infected and fester. They were both rambling, really. So much for opposites.
"Now listen here, pendejo, at least let me make my fucking point before-"
"Santana! It's fine, really. I don't care. I was just looking for Ra- uh.. Berry, because we got paired on this week's 'funtivity' for Glee club."
"Oh, that's nice. She just was here, but then she left. I wanted to go with her, but before I could Santana grabbed me and shoved me into this chair and she sta-"
"Okay, B, way too much info. Do you know where she went?" Quinn was getting tired of their antics.
"Quinn?" A new voice spoke, a voice she would recognize everywhere. "I couldn't help overhear that you were looking for me, I assume you wanted to talk to me?"
Quinn swallowed and forced the words out of her mouth. "Uhm, yeah, that's right."
"Would you join me on my way to Starbucks?"
"Yeah, sure. So, S, Britt, I'll see you guys."
"Sure, have fun, Q," Santana smirked, no doubt picking up on how flustered Quinn had become.
Rachel strode out into the hallway and Quinn rushed to follow. "So Quinn, what did you want to talk about? You seem a bit... out of sorts, am I right?"
Quinn took a moment to relish in the fact that Rachel had paid close enough attention to notice that something was up. But that thought vanished as soon as it had appeared, because Quinn got distracted by the feeling of a smaller hand softly brushing against hers.
Then she realized that Rachel had asked her a question.
"I'll tell you when we're at Starbucks, I want you to sit down first, 'cause it's kind of a big deal."
Fuck, where did that come from? She was pretty sure that were the words Puck had used while literally in the process of breaking up with her. However, Rachel couldn't know that and was currently, blissfully unaware, scouting for the perfect table. In relatively comfortable silence, they sat, each armed with a substantial mug of coffee.
"So, I'm ready now, I guess." Rachel said, sipping on her decaf mocha. Quinn allowed herself a final moment of procrastination and tried to get a read on the woman in front of her. She didn't sound particularly nervous, or apprehensive, or even performatively curious. in fact she wasn't emoting much at all, instead radiating a quiet kindness. Quite the achievement for Rachel Berry. Quinn took a deep breath.
"Rachel, I know we haven't been good friends. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry for what I did to you. I shouldn't have done any of it. I told people to stop throwing slushies at you. I know I'm not quite the head cheerleader anymore, but most still listen to me. I can't bear seeing your face covered in that stuff. Also, when anybody tries to hurt you, I'll be there. I want you to know that. I really like you Rachel, a lot. I did what I did out of jealousy, or envy, whatever. I want to be like you, Rachel. I want to be true to who I am. I want us to be friends. Please?"
Rachel was stunned. She had never thought of Quinn as a friend. Well, she had thought about it, she just couldn't believe her dreams were coming true. Well, not every aspect of her dreams, but it was certainly a start. Rachel felt her face heat up and lifted her mug to pass the blame to the steam drifting upward.
"Rach?" Quinn said in an unsure voice.
Hearing that wonderful, brand new nickname fall from Quinn Fabray's lips was like a bucket of ice being emptied over her head. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, then abruptly rose from her seat when her mouth simply returned the words to her brain with an error message attached. She made the simple effort of returning her empty mug to the counter, then returned to yank a befuddled Quinn up and towards the exit.
"Come on, let's go to my place and talk, right?"