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Something Good Can Work ~ Chapter Two

Title: Something Good Can Work
RatingPG-13 (for language)
Pairing: Faberry
Warnings: some angst, and massive amounts of fluff. Also, major ooc will occur. like, major.
SummaryAURachel, a writer, takes a job at a small NYC coffee shop. There, she encounters Quinn- who works at her grandmother's flower shop just across the street and gives Rachel's life a complete 180 degree turn for the... interesting.
Author's NotesThe title hails from the Two Door Cinema Club song of the same name, and each chapter will be named after a song on my ipod, probably. yeh~
chapter two ~ Monday Afternoons

TO: KURT (3:12PM)
Where r u?

After surviving my first day of work, I returned to an empty apartment. It was way too quiet here and oh god, I couldn't allow myself to fall asleep right now and mess up my already almost non-existent sleep-schedule. Falling asleep at this time of the day, waking up at 1AM and then not being able to go back to sleep before having to go to work tomorrow was just NOT an option. Unless I ya know, had a death wish.

So after a few minutes of waiting and no reply from Kurt, I decided that the apartment was dangerous and that if I wanted to stay awake and not be miserable tomorrow, I needed to keep myself busy. Also, I needed caffine. Like, immediately.
After a tedious battle with the door lock and an elevator ride that felt endless, I made my way through the lobby and outside, and attempted to hail a cab.


I lost count of the cabs that passed me by, and I was tired of standing in the cold. I stepped out a bit and whistled (quite loudly) and someone finally stopped. cab drivers are assholes.

went to pick someone up. Will be home in a few.

Well... Leaving the apartment turned out to be a good idea after all. 

The cabbie cleared his throat suggestively. I had been too immersed in my phone to relaize that and hadn't actually told him where to drive...

"Sorry. Uh... Think Coffee, 4th Avenue,"

The cab ride there was completely silent and sufficently awkward. I gathered that the cab driver didn't want to speak to me because he thought I was one of those douchbage kids who stayed glued to their phones 24/7 and couldn't even function normally, which is why I didn't check my phone for the duration of the ride. I'd gone 10 minutes without texting Kurt back. oh god, he was probably thought I had been murdered.

Think Coffee. The place smelled wonderful.

I know what you're thinking... I'm a traitor. But 1) I can't just casually stroll up into the place I work and get coffee after I've left for the day. It's weird, okay? and 2) This place was conveniently close to Utrecht, and I needed some new notebooks and pencils and pens and such.

But at the moment, I just really needed coffee. I was in dire need of espresso.
The line was pretty long, and I already knew what I wanted, so I just let my mind wander and began to people watch, again. I was becoming creepy.

Just the usual coffee house dwelling types- a buisness guy on a cell phone with his macbook out, a crew of hipster kids, a few people with books, and a girl in a back booth with what looked like a sketchbook.

I started to think up a background story for Sir Asswipe Talks-a-lot with the mac book, but honestly, I was too tired. 
I was also curious as to what the girl in the booth was sketching.

By the time it was my turn in line, the only thing I was thinking about was espressoespressoespressoholymotherofgodgivemealltheespresso.

TO: KURT (3:47PM)
omg so I went to that coffee place
u were telling me about the other day and it's amazing!
So I'm like the Benedict Arnold of the Coffee Shop world
but this place is right next to an art supply store &
I'm about to go there! Did u know it was right next to a
Utrecht??? Okay so try to control urself w/ ur company 
because I am coming home after I'm done @ the 
supply store. TC has the best espresso omfgggg.

I was so wired. I felt like I'd just consumed a large cup of "holy shit my life is AWESOME!", and that I needed to skip gleefully down to Utrecht while "Living in the Sunlight" blasted through non-existeant loudspeakers. 

But in reality, I just kinda... power-walked to the art supply place. Whatever, close enough.

Holy crap, this store. I could just live in this place. 

I meandered for a while, observing the paints and the canvases and the varieties of brushes and other supplies. I was in Wonderland. 

I was never really great at drawing or painting, but I still appreicated it. a lot. I was just a different kind of artist; the kind who didn't paint pictures with their hands, but with their words instead. 

I finally stumbled across the notebook section I was looking for, right past the sketchbooks. I didn't expect there to be too wide of a variety, but man, was I wrong.

They had notebooks of every size and shape (and even color) you could think of. There were some that had almost 600 pages. SIX HUNDRED PAGES.

And the selection of pens/pencils- don't get me started. I almost fainted.

I had an armful of new notebooks and writing utensils- fully prepared to spend my first paycheck. (which I hadn't even earned yet)


I struggled to get my phone with all the stuff I had in my arms, and the dude in front of me in line was trying to bring back purple paint that was apparently "too blue".

Lay off the coffee, you won't sleep tonight.

Even though I felt like a could run a marathon at the moment, I knew there would be an enevitable crash in an hour or so. 

TO: KURT (4:19PM)
Oh trust me, I'm going to sleep like a baby.

okay, really? In the amount of time it took me to text Kurt back, someone skipped in front of me in line. A fairly tall girl in a pale blue dress and-


My thoughts ranged from: "oh my god WHAT no that is so weird this city is so big what are the ODDS are you serious?" to "holy shit what if she saw me this morning and recognizes me and thinks that I'm stalking her or something shit shit oh my god SHIT"

I tried to stare at the floor until she was done checking out, but...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut in front of you."

When I looked up, she was right there. Right. There. Smiling, sweetly. Holy mother of eye contact. To say that she was gorgeous would be a tremendous understatment.

"oh, uh.. no it's fine," I stumbled. "texting." I waved my phone towards her a bit. she smiled again.

I moved up in line to pay for my things, (at this point I'd almost forgotten I even had anything) and she left.

it occurred to me while the register guy was ringing me up- that my Quinn character now had a definite face. And she totally didn't look like what I'd imagined, but it was nothing anywhere close to a let down. seriously.

"Your total will be $89.43."

How the hell?

So after returning to Think Coffee for another double shot expresso, I settled down at a booth in the back with one of my new notebooks, and found myslef faced with a familiar problem-  I had absolutely no clue where to begin.

I sat there for a while, hopelessly sipping coffee over a blank notebook.


We're ordering some take-out. interested?

Yeah, I wasn't too interested in heading home to a an... awkward dinner with one of Kurt's new "friends". 

TO: KURT (4:34PM)
Not hungry.

hmm, that sounded a bit cold. It was also untrue.

So, I left my booth momentarily to acquire one of the amazing looking sandwhiches from the glass case at the counter, and when I returned, I still had absolutley no fucking idea what to write.

I couldn't really properly people watch, because the only people in that place were those damn hipster kids. Did they like, live here or something?

And then it hit me. Like a fist, or a slushie (oh god, memories), or a freaking brick wall or something.


I started making a character of her earlier today, so why not write about her, right? Even if it was a bit creepy. You know what, fuck creepy. If someone thought I was interesting and wanted to write about me, I'd be flattered.

So I was giddy that I actually had an idea to work with, and I just kinda... wrote. Beginning with what I'd seen of Quinn earlier that day, I started listing things of the strictly physical nature.
Quinn. Tall-ish. short blonde hair. Fair complextion. Thin, but not too thin. practically flawless skin. Emerald green eyes. soft facial features. unconventionally
beautiful in a simple way.

I skipped to the next page, leaving room so that I could go and fill in new things later. Then, I moved on to listing personality attributes.

Quinn. Feels that "everyone desereves a Monday pick-me-up", and arranges and delievers a special bouquet of flowers for Ms. Ashley every single Monday. Arrives precisely  at 9:45AM every Monday to deliver said flowers. So, punctual and kind. Might also be an artist. Painter, perhaps? 

I thought about what I'd seen Quinn buying at Utrecht earlier- two fairly large canvases, and basket full of paints, charcoals, pencils, and probably lots more, because that basket was slam packed with stuff.

I really hadn't written much at all at that point, but it was a start. I had written something of (somewhat) substance, and oh god it felt like someone had finally entered the dark room I'd been sitting in for months and flipped the damn light switch.

TO: KURT (5:09PM)
Home in a few.

After fussing with my huge bag full of art shit for an unknown period of time, I managed to get the apartment door open, and walk into what seemed like an alternate universe.

For one, Kurt and his guest were both fully clothed, and two, Kurt's guest was Blaine Anderson.

In my moment of utter disbelief and confusion and excitement, I said exactly what I was thinking. 

"You've got to be actually fucking kidding me."

Kurt was standing in the kitchen, putting away various takeout containers, and I heard him laugh. fairly loudly.

Blaine laughed too, and got up from where he was sitting. "I'm not actually fucking kidding you."

I squeeled, dropped my bags, and tackle-hugged him. Like, full on tackle-hugged. We almost hit the floor. Kurt seemed unphased, putting dishes away like it was his freakin' career.

"Holy shit when did you get here? Because if you just got here we have to go see all the sights, like, right now. Have you been to Coney Island yet? Oh my god, you have to let me take your Coney Island virginity instead of Kurt; he's already taken enough of your virginities." I heard something crash to the floor in the kitchen, but nothing shattered so I guess it wasn't anything important. Blaine flushed a bit and smiled.

"I-" Blaine tried to speak, but he should have known by then that when I'm that excited, you're not allowed to get a word in edgewise.

"Are you going to NYU now? I thought you were going to college in Cincinnati? What was your major again because I-"

"I told you to lay off the espresso," Kurt urged, finally emmerging from the kitchen. He sat down on the loveseat and Blaine followed. I sat in the recliner. Kurt seemed a bit flushed, and I guessed it was due to my earlier comment. "It makes you talk even more than usual."

Coffee aside, I was just really excited to see Blaine. I hadn't seen him since Kurt and I graduated from McKinley, when he was still a junior.

"Sorry, you talk now." I did the zipping-my-lips motion, but all of us knew that wouldn't last long.

"Well, I was going to college in Cincinnati, but I just kept feeling like I was... missing something," Blaine paused for a moment and looked at Kurt with a smile before continuing. Kurt smiled back.

"So, I'm starting my senior year of college here in New York, at NYU. My parents are putting up rent for an apartment and everything, so I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me." Blaine finished, and nudged Kurt playfully. Kurt nudged back, and they both laughed.

These two. I was getting butterflies just looking at them. The looks they shared were like, made of cotton candy. 

I suddenly felt like the third wheel.

"Well, I'm just gonna take my stuff to my room," I said, without being fully acknowleged. Blaine nodded, Kurt smiled. "You two kids behave."

After I left the room, they were conversing comfortably and as if I hadn't just been in there three seconds ago. If it would have been anyone else I would have been a bit offended, but not them. it was different. A part of me hoped they'd take this golden opportunity to rekindle that old fire, because they were just too damn perfect for each other. Watching them interact was like, watching two really fluffy puppies snuggle. 

After putting all of my new notebooks and what-nots away, I flopped down on my bed, and stared at the ceiling. I heard movement in the living room, and eventually the front door opened, and then closed again. I guessed that Kurt was still here, but I wasn't entirely sure, and I didn't have the energy to get up and check. 

I just blankly stared, too tired to actually think. If you've ever had popcorn ceiling, you'd know that if you stare at it long enough, it looks like the popcorn pieces go inside the actual ceiling, instead of the other way around. trippy. I then, realized, how weird it was that the bedrooms in this apartment where the only rooms that had popcorn ceilings... also, who even came up with the term "popcorn ceiling" anyway?

My bedroom door opened, and Kurt stood in the threshold, propping himself up against the door frame. 

We were just silent for a while, mostly because I was too exhausted to carry on a conversation. I think it was safe to assume that I'd crashed.

"So you're writing again?" Kurt asked, gesturing toward the desk that sported five new notebooks. wow, I bought five notebooks. Why did I buy five notebooks?

"I'm trying," I said. I couldn't move at this point. "I wrote something earlier, but it wasn't much. I'm getting there, though."

Kurt laughed a little, and let out a sigh. "Baby steps, Rach."

I laughed too.

"So we'll talk about what just occurred in our living room over breakfast tomorrow, right?" I asked into the ceiling. Kurt was no longer
in the doorway, and I had no clue where he'd gone.

"Maybe." judging from where his voice came from, I figured he was in the kitchen. again.

I didn't say anything else. I was drifting in and out.

"Try to stay awake Rach, it's only 5:45."

I was sure waking up before 6AM wouldn't be an issue.

I woke up about an hour later, to Kurt putting me under my covers and tucking me in.
He shh-ed me after I whined about needing to get up to change clothes, kissed me on the top of my head, and told me to go back to sleep.

I gladly obliged.

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