Never asked to feel your halo (Faberry)

32: Rising With The Heat.

So this was embarrassing. Not that Rachel wasn't used to her throwing up but she'd really been hoping that tonight wouldn't be about that. It wasn't a surprise though, seeing as she'd been feeling nauseous ever since she'd senselessly tackled Rachel down onto the bed.

She'd really overfilled her quota for 'embarrassing' today, huh.

One thing she wasn't surprised about was Rachel following her in – although she did respectfully knock first (and then didn't wait for an answer).

"I'm uggay," she gurgled, hoping Rachel would leave before she witnessed anything gross.

"You're a gay? Well, again I appreciate your honesty but this isn't something we have to discuss right now."

If she could have glared at her she would have done; she settled for swiping an arm back and hitting Rachel's knees. The other girl laughed and sank down behind her.

"You're okay, I understand. And if you'd rather be left alone just say the word. But if you'd rather not, I'm not squeamish."

At the feel of a small hand rubbing her lower back in just the right way Quinn lost all heart to tell her to get lost. She still wanted to, because she really didn't want Rachel watching her regurgitate pizza, but she wasn't strong enough. Between the tumultuous night they'd shared and Rachel's soothing hand on her back and even more soothing voice in her ear, she was beyond vulnerable and that made her beyond the point of pushing Rachel away.

"I'm not going to be sick," she muttered, feeling the dizzying wave pass, probably thanks to Rachel's proximity. "Just the pizza and the dancing and, um, everything . . . I just need a minute."

Her mouth was watering like crazy and she spat into the toilet bowl. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Do you want me to get you a t-shirt or something?"

She had to spit again. "Sorry." And then looked down at herself. "Why, did I dribble again?"

"No, I thought you might want to, uh . . . you know?" Rachel trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Oh." She had to spit again. "Sorry. No, it'll pass on its own eventually."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry." Spit. "Sorry. It's just, I can't say I've ever been a fan of you seeing me like this but now, after . . . well, it's worse." Spit. "Sorry."

The rubbing on her back went away as she felt Rachel stand. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get you a glass of water and a t-shirt."

"I said I didn't want a t-shirt." She leaned further over the bowl as the baby growled its disapproval. "That's not why I'm here."

Rachel filled a glass at the sink and kneeled back down behind her, offering it forward. "If it helps, Quinn, I don't mind."

"Yes you do." She spat again before taking the glass and sipping from it.

"No, I don't. It's not like I think you spent the entire evening with me just so you could . . . Although I can't help noticing you aren't actually being sick right now."

Quinn rolled her watering eyes. "If it'll convince you I didn't come over here to steal your fabric softener I'll stick my fingers down my throat and still not touch one of your damn t-shirts."

The rubbing came back. "That won't be necessary. I'm sorry."

Quinn retched a little as she tried to reply. "Sogay."

"I'm not ready to label myself yet, Quinn."

And again, "Ragel!"

Rachel chuckled and Quinn felt soft fingertips brushing a strand of loosened hair behind her ear.