A/N: First Faberry fanfic. First fanfic ever. SPOILER ALERT: This occurs right after the end of 3x19: Prom-asaurus. You have been warned. I wanted to crack something out after all the Faberry feels, and here we are!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Glee or its characters. If I did, Faberry would be more in-your-face than Finchel and Klaine combined.

Word Count: 1,589

Take My Breath Away

Chapter 1: Who Could Love Me?

Rachel pulls away from Finn's lips. She knows she should feel happier to be in the arms of her fiancee, but all she really wanted was to talk to Quinn. She feigns a smile to Finn, and whispers, "Thank you for a lovely dance, Finn Hudson." Finn smiles back and leans in for another kiss. Rachel, however, steals a glance towards the stage, where she sees Quinn frowning and collapsing back into her chair. Rachel shifts away from Finn to watch her wheel herself to the bathroom. Rachel couldn't be sure, but she thinks she can see tears glistening in Quinn's brilliant hazel eyes. "Finn, I need to talk to Quinn," she tells a confused boy. He looks foolish with his chapped lips puckered like that. Rachel's eyes furrow. He's my fiancee. Shouldn't I love his chapped lips?

Rachel huffs and jostles her way through the crowd, trailing after Quinn.

xxx

Quinn sniffles and dabs at her eyes. She had everything she thought she ever wanted: she earned the title of Prom Queen, just like her mother and sister before her. Regardless, standing (really, truly standing) up on that stage, looking down on Rachel and Finn's lip-lock, all she felt was a twisting in her gut. Her legs tremor briefly, so she leans her weight on the sink before her. She clears her throat and speaks to her reflection in the mirror. "You did it, Quinn Fabray. You stood up on that stage. You gave up the crown to someone who... someone who deserved it." Quinn's voice cracks.

Rachel heard Quinn's discussion with herself, and she was confused. Quinn... gave up the crown? For me? She steps into the room, letting her reflection shine in the mirror. Quinn, seeing Rachel behind her, whirls around in astonishment.

Rachel smiles. It's the soft smile, the smile reserved for Quinn Fabray, and only Quinn Fabray. She whispers, "What were you saying, Quinn?" The blonde gapes, fishing for words that do not come. "You gave up the crown for me?" Quinn swallows down the lump in her throat and sighs.

"Please don't be mad, Rachel. Please..." she pleads. Rachel's eyebrow furrows.

"Quinn, why would I be mad?"

"I... I lied to you. I... Rachel, no one voted for you." Rachel's face falls. Quinn continues as she returns to sitting in her chair. Standing is tiring. "Well. There was one person. But she's not important. Anyway... Rachel, you deserved to win. You... you are the one person on this Earth who could possibly forgive me for... for all I've done to you. And not only have you forgiven me, you've let me into your life, let me be your friend. I am... so honored to be your friend, Rachel Berry. And... Finn is so honored to be your fiancee. I hope he knows that. I hope that you know he wants you. He doesn't want me. He wants you. Who wouldn't?" Quinn rambles. Only after her monologue is complete does she realize how much she sounds like Rachel Berry.

"Quinn..." Rachel sighs. "First of all... who voted for me?" Quinn laughs at Rachel's childlike curiosity.

"Rachel, she doesn't matter," Quinn deflects.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Rachel quips. Quinn blinks rapidly. "It was, wasn't it?"

"How did you–?" Rachel cuts off the rest of Quinn's question.

"I know you, Lucy Quinn Fabray." She smiles the "it's Quinn Fabray" smile and asks the next question on her list. "Do you think Finn... is he right for me? Does he... does he know how honored he is?" Quinn laughs a short, sarcastic bark.

"He doesn't, Rachel. He doesn't know. I don't think so. Tell me, Rach, does Finn ever tell you you're beautiful?" Rachel nods.

"When we were dancing, he called me sexy, then beautiful. Does that count?" Quinn shakes her head. Rachel marvels at the blond tendrils of hair falling in front of those hazel eyes.

"Not exactly. Rach, he should call you gorgeous. Stunning, breathtaking, sensational, beautiful. Because you are." Quinn blushes, and Rachel ducks behind her hair.

"Quinn, Finn probably doesn't even know half those words..." Both girls pause and laugh at the statement. Rachel watches Quinn's lips, which are not at all chapped, as they pull back to reveal perfect teeth. "Do you really think all those things about me, Quinn?" The blonde tries to hide the "it's Rachel Berry" smile, but fails.

"I do indeed, Rae. Among other things..."

"Quinn, why do you think no one wants you?" It was a question heavy on her mind since Quinn mentioned it.

"Look at me. I'm in a wheelchair, and–" Rachel cuts her off. Again.

"But not for much longer! You can stand, you can walk! You don't need a wheelchair!"

"And you don't need Finn!" The words tear from Quinn's lips before she can stop herself. The eyes of both girls widen at the statement.

"Quinn–"

"No, Rachel. You don't deserve to be stuck with that oaf. He'll hold you back. You two fight all the time, and he calls you sexy before he calls you beautiful. He... he doesn't even know the meaning of the phrase aesthetically appealing, even though he's engaged to you, the epitome of aesthetic appeal, and–"

"And what, Quinn, do you think you would be better for me?" Tears are slipping freely down Rachel's face, though she manages to keep her voice in check. "Do you think you could put up with me? All my idiosyncrasies? My obsession with Broadway? My over-excessive talking? My Jewish nose? My man hands? My– mmph!"

Quinn ditches the idea of verbally interrupting her again as she rises from her chair. She kisses her.

Rachel is in sensory overload mode. Quinn's hands are around her waist, Quinn's hair is brushing her cheek, Quinn's lips are covering hers. Rachel kisses back. Quinn's lips are so much better than Finn's... With that thought in mind, she pulls away, gasping, from Quinn, who stumbles briefly at the imbalance.

"Quinn! W-what was that for?" Rachel shrieks. If she were honest, her cheeks still burn, lips ache to reattach themselves to Quinn's, and her heart is racing. She tries to push the feelings down and pull up outrage and coldness. (Perhaps she is becoming more like Quinn...)

"I'm sorry, Rae. It was the only way I could think of that would make you stop talking so much about stupid things," Quinn answers. "Do you have any idea what you mean to me?" Quinn questions, flipping Rachel's earlier comment from the hallways back at her. "You're everything I've always wanted to be. Confident and proud of who you are. Beautiful in a natural way. Do you remember our duet, Rae?" The brunette swallows.

"I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. What about it?"

"I sang it because you are so beautiful, Rae. Beautiful in a natural way. I have to change everything about me to be beautiful, but you just are.You are beautiful and talented and self-assured and courageous, sweet, kind, honest, forgiving, ambitious, and you do not have man hands."

"How would you know, Quinn? You don't hold my hands very often." Quinn resolves to correct that by weakly stepping closer to Rachel and taking her hands, trusting Rachel to help carry her weight.

"Usually, the giant has your hands and your heart held captive," Quinn murmurs. Her hypothesis was correct, Rachel's hands were smooth and soft and warm. They made Quinn's own hands tingle.

"That's not true," breathes Rachel. Quinn raises an eyebrow, the classic Fabray movement, daring Rachel to explain her statement. She doesn't, and Quinn decides to let it slide. For now.

"Rae, you were going to marry him. If he doesn't have your heart, then why would you marry him?" Quinn questions, skimming her thumbs over the backs of Rachel's hands. Rachel quivers before huffing.

"Who else would marry me? Who else could love me?" Rachel's eyes begin to water. Quinn makes a strange sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a grunt and a snort. Somehow, Rachel thinks, that noise is incredibly sexy... Wait. What? Quinn's hazel eyes are staring into her own.

"I could. I do. Rachel Berry, I lo- I like you."