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[fab-q-blog1]

berrybestbarbra:

Rachel felt Quinn easing in closer to her, the closeness peaking as the blonde slipped an arm around her stomach. Rachel had practically cocooned herself in the pile of blankets on the bed. Rachel had an affinity to comfort and warmth, which easily explained the sea of pillows and blankets on her bed. Of course, Rachel was going to milk this situation for a while longer. She was far too melodramatic to give the act up now. Well, it wasn’t entirely an act. Rachel had been bummed out when Quinn didn’t show up yet again. Finally removing her face from the pillow beneath her, she titled her head and glanced over her shoulder toward Quinn. “Maybe we shouldn’t plan any more best friend dates for a while. Especially if they’re always going to end in disappointment,” the brunette exaggerated, a few quieted huffs and puffs escaping her lips.

“I know, I know. You’re an intern. G-d forbid they find someone else to fetch their coffee so that you can clock out at a reasonable hour. You were supposed to get off hours ago, Quinn,” she continued, before pulling her legs up toward her chest as if to mimic fetal position. “A girl can only listen to her ‘sad broadway songs’ playlist for so long,” Rachel added, as her guided up her own torso and brushed against the blonde’s momentarily, resting her hand carefully on top of Quinn’s. 

“Fine. Just this one time. But, do it again and I’m going to have to post a ‘roommate wanted’ ad on Craigslist and I don’t think that’s what either one of us want here.” Rachel paused, a faint smile forming in place of her pout the longer the blonde lingered closely behind her. “What movie shall we watch first?”

Quinn knew all too well by now that she had to let Rachel rant. She wasn’t too happy about having to stay on for some extra hours herself, but she was grateful to have the position in the first place. It’d look fantastic on her resume once she’d finished college once and for all. The downside, made obvious by tonight’s events, was that she was held up—on more than one occasion. Rachel, dramatic as she was, may have made a valid point about holding back on movie nights—at least until Quinn knew she had a concrete schedule and she could actually make it home for a certain hour. But she kept her lips sealed; just something to bear in mind, she supposed. 

The mention of her infamous sad Broadway collection made her smile—it was impossible not to. “Rachel Berry: notorious wallower,” she jested, turning her palm around to squeeze Rachel’s hand. 

"Hmm... I dare say you’ve earned the rights to choosing tonight’s movie. I promise I won’t complain, even if it’s the corniest musical in the universe. And then when you come home late one of these nights, I get dibs. And bitching rights.” 

F2F → Faberry

[fab-q-blog1]

berrybestbarbra:

Eight o’clock. At exactly eight o’clock the two roommates had made plans to veg out on the couch all night and binge watch films with terrible plots on mute, substituting with improv dialogue of their own. But, 8:00 came and went. Then 9:00. Lying face first into a pillow, Rachel finally heard some movement in the apartment. It could’ve been a burglar, she thought. But, at the very least, in exchange for a few valuables, maybe the burglar would agree to take part in the itinerary she had planned for the evening instead. This was the feeling of desperation, wasn’t it? Hoping that someone would come rob the apartment in exchange for a little company?

Wallowing in self pity, Rachel didn’t move as she heard the knob to her door turn, a shadowy figure entering her room and hovering above her. She heard Quinn’s voice and felt a small nudge against her side, in what she assumed was an attempt to wake her. “I’m not asleep. I wasn’t even tired,” she paused and sighed dramatically. “But, you want to know what’s exhausting, Quinn? Agreeing to plans that you either bail on or you show up hours late for and then you bat your dumb eyelashes while holding your dumb apology vegan takeout and then you expect me to just come around and not care at all that you didn’t keep your word yet again,” Rachel muttered into the pillow with a slight scowl that couldn’t be seen. “Where were you, anyways? And with whom?,” Rachel questioned in an almost incomprehensible manner, a pout steadily forming on her lips.

Quinn couldn’t help the small smile lining her pink lips, rolling her eyes just so. Rachel’s theatrics were to be expected. If ever a day—or night, as the case was—went by when Rachel didn’t express her displeasure with a situation in an over-the-top manner, Quinn would be concerned. She’d just hoped and prayed that Rachel had actually drifted off to sleep waiting for her so that she could escape the guilt trip punishment. Ideal? She’d nudge her awake, slip her her vegan takeout, and they’d curl up and proceed with their plans. 

Just too much to ask for, she figured. 

“Don’t be like that,” she said, pulling her bottom lip down into a presentational pout as she surged forward to rest her chin on Rachel’s shoulder, slipping an arm around her torso. “I was held up at work. I’m an intern—whatever they say I have to do, I have to do. However long they say I have to stay and help, I have to stay and help.

“Everything’s just... new right now. And crazy. You can understand that, right?”

F2F → Faberry

[fab-q-blog1]

F2F → Faberry

It’s 9:36 by the time Quinn gets through the door and, damn, she’s late for movie night again. She instills all of her faith in the bag of vegan Chinese food she’s clutching in her hand—the bag with delicious contents that could just be her saving grace. It isn’t the first time she’s been a little late for one of their traditional nights in. 

She throws her keys on the counter and shrugs off her coat, certain that Rachel would come out of her room when her ears prick up at the obvious Quinn-is-home sounds. When she doesn’t, well... she’s confused, to say the least, only because she’s sure she’ll get a mouthful for being even the tiniest bit late. 

When she goes to investigate, opening the door to Rachel’s room just a smidge, she can only smile, experiencing what she can only describe as a heart squeeze. “Rachel...” she coos, inching closer before climbing onto the bed and nudging her awake. “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up. I got food. Vegan food. You have to be conscious to appreciate me.”