Never asked to feel your halo (Faberry)

15: I Gotta feelin' (Tonight's the Night)

At the end of the short passageway was Mrs. Puckerman's bedroom and Quinn had the door unlocked as quickly as possible. As soon as it was open she let go of Rachel's wrist and shoved the key at her. Hand over her mouth now, she couldn't speak but Rachel got the message and locked the door behind them, fast enough that she was still able to rush into the adjoining bathroom in time to see Quinn slide across the floor on her knees and bury her head in the toilet.

She actually wouldn't have minded missing the next few minutes.

What was she supposed to do? She didn't even know why Quinn had dragged her in here, so she spent the first minute just staring at the back of the cheerleader's head as it bobbed over the toilet bowl. Then she paced the small bathroom from sink to shower stall for another minute. When it was clear the girl's sickness wasn't passing quickly, Rachel worked up the courage to kneel behind her.

"Can I touch you?"

Quinn was having a moment of respite, but her arms were still crossed over the bowl, her forehead resting on them and she was breathing heavy.

"I'm not really in that kind of mood right now, Berry."

Rachel's lips quirked in a little smile. "I was just offering to rub your back. It makes me feel better when I'm being sick."

She barely heard the soft, "Okay."

Rachel nodded and shifted slightly to one side so that she could comfortably rub circles on Quinn's lower back. It had the opposite effect of what she was going for and Quinn suddenly tensed up seconds before she started to be sick again. Unperturbed, she simply switched to pulling the loose strands escaped from Quinn's ponytail back from her face, tucking them behind her ears in soothing strokes. When the retching was losing its intensity she went back to rubbing the slow circles.

Quinn panted into the toilet bowl for a while before she was able to speak. "For someone who's never had a mom you're pretty good at this."

"I don't understand what difference that makes. My dads always do this for me when I'm sick."

"Probably because they're gay," Quinn muttered, retching again briefly before recovering and dropping her head back to her crossed wrists.

Stiffening, Rachel snatched her hand from Quinn's back. "If you're just going to insult my fathers then I don't know why I should help . . ."

"I wasn't!" Quinn looked over her shoulder, her usually pale face flushed and sweaty. "I just meant my dad would never do this. I mean, I can kind of remember when I was five and had the flu or something he stayed up with me all night, but it was only because my mom and sister had it too. It's always my mom's job; although she's been conveniently not noticing how often I've been rushing to the bathroom just recently."

"Oh." Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to such a lengthy admission. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"Whatever."

Rachel rubbed her back again and a few minutes passed in silence. "Do you feel any better?"

"Not really. Can you wet a wash cloth for me?"

As she stood to do that, Quinn reached up to flush the toilet and then sat back on her heels. Rachel knelt back down beside her and handed over the dampened cloth. Quinn wiped her face, in particular her mouth, before throwing it back in the sink.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, don't get any funny ideas."

Before she could even ask what that meant, Quinn's nose was buried in her neck, inhaling the blue wool shoulder of her cardigan.