“What do you mean, he just kissed you?”
Unfortunately, this line was not an unfamiliar one to Quinn Fabray. Her wife’s tone, now bordering on exasperated, had often been openly hostile during their early years. Even so far back as that blissful time known as Dating, Rachel had been skeptical at best and suspicious at worst when Quinn would mention these strange encounters she tended to have.
“You know I didn’t encourage him,” she replied, her tone airy. There really was no explaining it.
Rachel harrumphed. “I just don’t know what could have made him think he had the right!”
Quinn sighed. “You know that I just have one of those faces.”
“You keep saying that,” Rachel said, “but you know my opinion on this issue: your face is a one of a kind masterpiece. I just don’t see how all of these people can possibly think they recognize you!”
Another sigh left her lips, and Quinn suppressed a roll of her eyes – though it would have been done in a loving manner.
The first time it had happened, Quinn had been a junior in high school. She had been with the Cheerios in Florida for the national cheerleading competition. The day was hot and slightly muggy, and Quinn had been sitting at a restaurant’s outdoor table with Brittany and Santana when it had happened.
“Alice!” someone yelled.
All three girls ignored this call, as it obviously wasn’t intended for them.
The voice was closer now, causing Quinn to look up from the fashion magazine she had been flipping through. The aviators she wore obscured her eyes from the stranger, but the perfectly arched brow conveyed her interest – this person was talking to them. Why was this person talking to them?
“Can we help you?”
Santana’s voice cut through the awkward tension. There was a man, probably somewhere in his twenties, standing before them looking oddly dashing but still wildly out of place in their peaceful afternoon of freedom. Quinn removed her glasses, her hazel eyes now sparkling with curiosity.
“Oh,” his voice immediately became disappointed, though his sight had never left Quinn’s face. She felt his gaze flitting across her facial features keenly. “I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing his hand against the back of his head, now more than a little embarrassed. “You look like her, you look so much like her. It’s uncanny… But, I mean, your eyes are totally different.”
Quinn’s mouth gaped momentarily. “…Sorry?” she suggested.
“It’s all good. Have a nice day, ladies.”
And then he was gone.
That had been the first time it had happened. Or at least, it was the first time Quinn could remember.
And while it was the first, it certainly hadn’t been the last.
During senior year, a middle-aged woman had hugged Quinn randomly at the national glee club competition in Chicago, only to pull back with a smile that had quickly faded from her face. Quinn had apologized, because the look of disappointment had been too sad for her to bear.
Her freshman year of college, Quinn had made friends with a girl named Ashley. It was only two years later that Ashley had admitted to sitting next to Quinn that second week of their literary theory class because she had been powerfully reminded by Quinn of a girl she’d known once, back when they were children.
There were another two less fortuitous encounters in college, one apiece during Quinn’s junior and senior years, when other women had approached her while out clubbing with friends. One had absolutely demanded to know why Quinn had stolen Alex away from her, why? The other had outright slapped Quinn’s unwitting and, later, utterly incredulous face. The less violent interaction had ended with the other woman stomping off, irate, completely disbelieving Quinn’s fervent non-involvement in the matter; the latter had resulted in the offending woman buying Quinn and her friends a round of drinks.
The summer after Quinn had graduated from college, she was sitting at her gate in the airport, waiting to board a cross-country flight home after visiting Brittany and Santana in Los Angeles. In her hands, a paperback book was held, and her fingertips gently turned the pages every so often. The sounds around her were dulled by the story, playing out in her head. And then her vision had abruptly been disturbed, a hand had been on her cheek, and the rough stubble of a man’s facial hair had been scratching against her skin, his mouth on hers. Quinn had not been flattered, she had been offended. And she had been cold to the man, who had tried to maintain his innocence – ‘I thought you were someone I knew, once’; ‘Then she’s lucky you don’t know her anymore’.
At least once every few months, Quinn would be stopped by a stranger on the street, or in a bookshop, or at a Starbucks. They would take the seat next to her on the train to ‘catch up’, or offer to buy her ‘favorite drink’ at a bar, or try to remind her of ‘that one time’. But Quinn never knew them, she never remembered.
Quinn Fabray just had one of those faces.
When she had reconnected with Rachel Berry, there had been a point in time when she’d tried to explain this concept. But Rachel was skeptical, and she maintained her skepticism for a long time. ‘I have a sixth sense, Quinn, and I don’t feel that you are a clone.’
But it wasn’t that, Quinn was sure. It wasn’t a set of experiences based on science fiction. It was a set of experiences born from humanity’s desire to see the familiar in the unfamiliar.
It had happened, once, just after Quinn had left Rachel’s apartment after a lovely date.
“Lucy?” a woman’s voice called out, hesitantly. Her voice carried easily on the relatively quiet street, so late at night.
Quinn’s head snapped up at the familiar name. Her brow was furrowed, steeped in anxiety that she had never fully managed to rid herself of. It was only a second or two before her eyes locked on a woman across the street, a woman looking up and down the road both ways before heading across to where Quinn was standing.
The woman was not someone Quinn recognized. But she felt a pull in her gut at the sight of her. And she quickly wondered if this was the same feeling people had been feeling, all these years, at the sight of Quinn.
“Lucy?” the woman repeated, just before she reached Quinn.
Quinn shook her head – not in the gesture of an outright ‘no’, but in a sign of confusion.
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
The woman had reached out, upon getting to Quinn’s side of the street, and her right hand had grabbed a hold of Quinn’s left. The touch was gentle. A thumb rubbed against Quinn’s index finger, almost apologetic.
“Oh,” the woman breathed. “I-I really thought…”
“It’s okay,” Quinn reassured, “it actually happens all the time.” They smiled bashfully at each other. “It’s funny, though. This is the first time I’ve felt like I know the other person, too.”
“Really?” A chuckle from the stranger that sounded of relief. “Well, I guess that’s at least mildly reassuring.”
“At least,” Quinn agreed.
“I um, I have to get going. You take care—”
“Lucy,” Quinn interrupted. “That actually is my name.” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “I haven’t gone by it in years.”
“Wow… I mean, I knew my Lucy much more recently. But…thank you, for not thinking I’m some freak. Have a good night.”
And then the woman was gone, and Quinn cursed herself for not at least getting a card from her, something to prove to Rachel that these interactions could not possibly be made up…
But this last, this last one was a doozy. It wasn’t any more or less invasive than the kiss all those years ago in the airport, but it was during a time when Quinn was married. And while she wasn’t at fault, she didn’t like secrets. And so she’d sat her wife down to explain, and the response she’d received was quite unexpected.
“Well,” Rachel said, “all right. Okay. There’s obviously only one answer remaining to us.”
“Really?” Quinn responded, amused by her wife’s suddenly prim disposition and unmistakable air of authority regarding the matter.
“Yes. I am revisiting the clone theory.”
Quinn laughed. Rachel smiled, then pounced. They fell back on the couch, giggles interspersing their kisses like jimmies on ice cream – and just as sweet.
Because of course Quinn wasn’t a clone.
That, that would be silly.
When Rachel arrived at the place she and Quinn had agreed to meet, Quinn was already there, sitting on a low stone fence and listening to something on her phone and looking equal parts nervous and bored. And also very beautiful.
Inexplicably, Rachel felt decidedly annoyed that Quinn had arrived there early, even though she usually appreciated punctuality.
When she approached her, Quinn immediately jumped up and removed her ear buds, and wavered awkwardly for a moment, reaching for Rachel and then leaning away.
"Hi," Rachel said finally, smiling weakly at Quinn.
"Hi," Quinn echoed, and she sounded like it was physically painful for her to speak, and she looked like it was physically painful for her to stand still, with none of her touching any of Rachel.
"Would you accompany me on an elaborate lunch picnic, in the capacity of a romantic date?" Rachel asked her quietly.
Quinn shook her head frantically and said, very definitively, “Yes.”
"You’re sending a bit of a mixed message there," Rachel pointed out mildly.
Quinn continued to shake her head. “Rachel Barbra Berry,” she said, “you’ll forgive me if I tell you that you have absolutely no right to complain about that particular thing.”
They set up the picnic on a cartoon fruit themed blanket in a nice patch of grass. Rachel was in charge of dessert, which she’d made herself, and wine, which she’d let Leroy pick out. Quinn had brought the food, which was surprisingly entirely vegan and delicious.
Or maybe that wasn’t really that surprising, at this point.
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Summary: They look like…Hickeys?
One-Shot. Faberry Week: Day Three- Hickeys.
"Hey Rachel, what’s that on your neck?" Rachel Berry heard her best friend, Kurt, ask her as the two of them waited at Rachel’s locker for the first bell to…
Faberry Week -Day 6: Doppelgangers
Rachel is in charge of finding the perfect private entertainment for Quinn and her to watch and what she finds is more than perfect.
Faberry Week Day 7 – Nightmares
“Finn asked me to marry him.”
“What did you say?”
Quinn hoisted up from her bed disoriented and shivering.
Her muscles tensed and her mind screamed; begged her to do something.
‘You can’t. Please. I love you’ resounded in her ears over and over…
Faberry Week 2014
Day Three: Hickeys
When Quinn wakes up, she feels disoriented for a second and when she recognizes where she is she panics. Waking up in her old bedroom is not something she thinks she will ever be prepared to do, but her panic doesn’t last long when she realizes that she’s not alone in her bed, she’s got Rachel by her side and she smiles. She thinks that if she keeps on waking up like that, all the bad memories might be able to fade away, or at least lose power and be replaced with another type of memory… and what better time to start than in that very moment.
She leans into Rachel and kisses her neck, a quick peck to see if the girl’s awake, when she realizes she’s not she smiles broadly.
“Rachel, baby, wake up now.”
Faberry Week - Assassins (Assassin Quinn)
Gangster daughter Quinn Fabray is asked by her father to kill Rachel Berry and is transfered to McKinley to do so. In the process of getting closer to her victim, she falls in love with her.
Faberry week - Reunion (part 2 of 2)
Faberry Week Day 2 - Meeting Frannie (100-word-drabble)
„What if she doesn’t like me?“
„Why wouldn’t she? Rachel, stop worrying.“
„But, Quinn! How do you know she will? She could react like your father and pass out!“
„Frannie comes more after our mother. Rachel! Hands away from…
This is just something short and sweet because I didn’t have a lot of time to write it, but I still wanted to participate, so thank you for reading it if you do!
This headache is serious. I haven’t drank this much since the 21st birthday party Rachel threw me at that club in Las…
faberry week - day 2: meeting frannie
Written for Faberry Week Day 1: Scars
Pairing: Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray
Word Count: 633
Quinn used to love the summer months. It was the one time of the year she could spend with no care in the world. There was no school work to be completed, no house…