A long, slender arm reached out, searching for warmth and comfort in the early hours of Sunday morning. Her fingertips brushed hot skin and she blindly traced a pattern while the boozy haze of sleep lingered over her.
Her eyes flickered open and shut several times, trying to get used to the light streaming through the window. Squinting, she took in the mess of dark brown hair and naked torso on the other side of the bed. Without a thought she slid her fingers up and tangled them in the long locks, combing her fingers through and massaging the scalp.
"Mmmm," a voice purred and she froze. It was a flat sound, lacking the melodic tones she had expected, and suddenly her stomach bottomed out.
She jerked her hand back, sleep forgotten as she rolled, tumbling awkwardly out of bed, and rushed into the en suite. Her head spun violently from the motion and she emptied the contents of her stomach.
As she stood over the sink, willing the nausea to pass, a lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She lifted her gaze to the mirror, and swallowed thickly as she took in her appearance. Her short, blonde hair was disheveled, stuck to her head on one side and wildly defying the laws of gravity on the other. Her eyes were bloodshot, the remains of her makeup clumped in the corners and streaked across her normally flawless skin.
Her hand shook as she lifted it up to swipe at her eyes, which were now shedding tears at a more consistent rate.
Opening the faucet, she let the cold water run over her hands while seconds, and then minutes, ticked by. Then, cupping them together, she lowered her face and splashed the cold water against it over and over and over again.
Face washed and teeth brushed, she felt slightly more human. She vaguely registered the dull thudding of her head and realized that the sooner she was able to usher out her unwanted guest, the sooner she could down a few painkillers and some greasy bacon.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her features into a mask of indifference and stepped back into the bright bedroom.
She made it three steps into the room before her gaze was pulled towards the bed. The overwhelming desire to look at Rachel was like a force of nature - it had always been that way - and her steps faltered along with her breath as a realization hit her.
'This is it,' she thought to herself. 'I never want to wake up to another face, another voice for the rest of my life.'
She smiled and took the remaining steps back to the bed, sliding in next to her sleeping angel.
"Hey," she said as she roused her companion with a not-so-gentle shake, "it's time to go."
The girl stirred and started to sit up, so Quinn turned to collect the items of clothing strewn around the room. As she returned to the bedside, she held out the clothes and nodded for the girl to take them.
When she didn't, Quinn dropped them in her lap and turned to walk away.
"I was thinking we could get some breakfast," the girl called out.
Quinn didn't even turn around, tossing out a curt 'no thanks', and continuing out of the bedroom.
She shouldn't have been surprised by her feelings for Rachel Berry, but they snuck up on her and Quinn had never been great at owning her emotions.
They'd been close friends for three years by then, ever since the summer before junior year of college when Quinn came to New York for an internship and stayed on the couch in Rachel's tiny apartment.
From tentative beginnings where their high school past was never far from memory, their three years of sharing relationship dramas, school and work stress, and audition disappointments (and successes) brought a friendship, stronger and deeper than either had previously experienced.
They grew more affectionate as the years wore on too, thanks mostly to Rachel's tactile nature, but Quinn - once she got used to trusting and being comfortable with Rachel - grew to love it.
But when catching Rachel's eye started making her heart skip a beat, she began keeping her gaze lowered.
And when their innocent touching started lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach, she began rebuilding the famous Fabray walls.
It was a Tuesday night and Quinn was curled up on Rachel's couch with a book after their weekly diner.
Rachel tentatively approached her with two cups of tea.
"I made you tea," she said sweetly, offering it to Quinn with a hopeful smile.
Quinn looked up from her book, taking the cup and returning Rachel's smile as she took a sip.
"Thanks Rach."
Rachel flashed her thousand-watt smile and Quinn's heart tap danced in her chest, before returning to her book.
The words seemed to scramble on the page as Rachel took a seat next to Quinn, their knees resting together. She maintained the effort of pretending to read until she felt a small hand on her thigh.
She chanced a look up at Rachel's face, finding an earnest expression, and willed her heart to stop racing. Their eyes locked and, feeling as if Rachel was reading her thoughts, Quinn pulled her gaze away. Rachel squeezed her thigh to command her attention once more and cleared her throat.
"Is everything okay Quinn?" Rachel asked; her voice laced with sincerity and concern.
"Of course it is," Quinn replied with a smile meant to dispel Rachel's worry. She took another sip of tea to distract herself. Or maybe Rachel.
"Things just seem a little," Rachel hesitated. "Strained between us."
Quinn didn't know what to say. She sat looking at her tea so Rachel continued.
"It just feels like maybe you've pulled away in the last couple of weeks. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. You're my best friend and you know you can talk to me about anything."
"I know Rach. Thank you," she replied softly, her eyes still cast downward as she ignored the pang she felt when Rachel called them friends.
Silence fell over them for several seconds.
Rachel's hand slid off Quinn's leg and she couldn't help but miss it immediately until she felt it again over her hand.
"Quinn," Rachel tried again. "If you're feeling something that's confusing you, it could help to talk it out. I know that it's not always easy for you to open up, but I feel that we have built a very strong foundation over the last few years and I–"
"Rachel, please, I can't," Quinn interrupted, looking up.
"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed. "You're crying."
Discarding her book, Quinn reached up to touch her face, surprised to find moisture on her cheeks. She wiped haphazardly at her eyes, vaguely registering that Rachel was taking the cup from her hand and placing it on the table with her own.
Moments later she was engulfed in Rachel's arms. Her body stiffened and then relaxed as a torrent of tears started to fall and she choked on a heavy sob.
Rachel held her close, resting her forehead against Quinn's temple, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear, telling her over and over that it would be okay, that she was okay, that she was safe.
As her tears subsided and her breathing slowed, Quinn felt a sob go through Rachel's body and her heart pounded dangerously knowing that Rachel was also upset.
"Please Quinn, please tell me how you're feeling," she heard Rachel plead in a whisper. "Please. Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels it."
Her mouth went dry. Did she hear that right? Could Rachel have feelings for her too?
She pulled back slightly, turning to face the now-crying Rachel.
"Rach," she started, feeling their roles reverse as Rachel's brown eyes were fixed on the carpet.
Quinn lifted her hand to Rachel's chin, using her index finger to gently guide Rachel's face up.
"Rachel," Quinn tried again, and something in her voice pulled Rachel's gaze from the floor.
Quinn felt the air leave her lungs as their eyes connected.
Recognition passed between them and her skin buzzed all over.
Seconds passed with Quinn's finger under Rachel's chin and their eyes locked. The air was still, waiting for them, giving them their moment.
All at once Quinn pulled Rachel toward her and, pausing to gather her courage, pushed forward to close the gap.
Rachel gasped as their lips touched. Or maybe it was Quinn.
They were pressed together, frozen.
Then they came to life, their lips crashing over and over again, sliding over and in between.
When she was alone in the apartment once more, Quinn sat down on the couch and took a swig from an open bottle of whiskey.
She barely felt the burn anymore. Six months of practice had built up her resistance.
Had it really been six months? Six months of getting wasted and going out to clubs, picking up girls with long brown hair that she could fuck.
If she couldn't pick one up, she could make a phone call. They knew by now which girl to send, and that girl knew the part she was supposed to play.
Neither method numbed the pain completely. Nothing did, but the combination of the two did a good enough job. At least until morning.
They'd had eleven blissful months together.
It wasn't always smooth sailing. They were both far too strong-willed for that. But the fireworks never lasted very long (or they turned into a different kind of fireworks).
But Quinn couldn't remember ever being happier.
She spent weeks orchestrating the perfect anniversary dinner. She booked Rachel's favorite restaurant, the one that made the best vegan chili in the city. She organized a limo to pick Rachel up after her rehearsal.
She wore the dress that made Rachel bite her lip and whisper that she couldn't wait to remove it.
They had the kind of night people write poems about.
At the end of it, Quinn got down on one knee in and asked Rachel if they could spend eternity together.
Rachel giggled as Quinn spun her around after she said there was nothing she wanted more.
When they got home they wore each other out, whispering promises of forever into each other's skin.
They woke up late the next morning and Rachel rushed out the door with a quick kiss and 'I love you' tumbling from her lips.
An hour later, a knock at the door had Quinn ready to make a joke about how many times Rachel had forgotten her keys.
Instead, she was greeted by two policemen.
She didn't know what kept her in that night.
For the first time, she didn't feel so alone in the apartment. She sat on the couch and pretended she could feel Rachel next to her until she was sure she really could.
She talked and cried, and then shook the bottle until it was empty.
The remaining whiskey washed them down and she lay on the couch. She felt herself drifting closer to Rachel.
Reunited for eternity, just like they promised.