Author's Note: Written for Faberry Week, Day 3 - Friends With Benefits. Title from Concrete Blonde's Heal It Up.
Eternal thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being the most awesome beta.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.
Feeling the Void
Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best.
~Woody Allen
She visits New Haven for the first time in the fall. It's a Sunday morning, and her show is dark for the day, so she doesn't have to be back in New York until Monday afternoon, which is perfect, because Quinn only has one late afternoon class on Mondays. Rachel is excited for the visit. She'd had every intention of visiting Quinn at Yale last year, but life had a way of changing even the most well thought out plans. She'd learned that the hard way. She doesn't want to let any more opportunities slip away from her, so when she and Quinn renewed their promise to keep in touch over the summer, she vowed to make sure they did so within actual touching distance this time.
Quinn meets her at the train station with an easy smile, and Rachel doesn't hesitate to greet her with a hug. It's warm and familiar, and she lingers for a moment, just enjoying the fact that she and Quinn have made it to this place where hugging is so natural after their rocky beginning. They exchange the typical pleasantries—hello, how are you?, how was the train ride?—before Quinn tells her, "Come on. I borrowed my friend's car. There's this great little diner in West Haven that's open all day. We can have brunch, and you can tell me all the latest from New York."
They walk in comfortable silence to the little blue Lexus parked in the lot. Quinn takes Rachel's bag and places it in the backseat before opening the passenger door for her. Rachel grins at the unexpected gesture and slides inside. The drive is only about ten minutes, and Rachel finds herself mostly watching the scenery roll along outside the window while the radio plays softly under Quinn's occasional commentary about 'her town.' There's a calmness in Quinn that's been rare to see in the past, but Rachel wholeheartedly approves of the change. It's nice to see Quinn happy.
Georgie's Diner looks like its been eternally frozen in the nineteen-fifties, and Rachel is instantly tickled when she steps inside. It reminds her a little of The Spotlight Diner, but without the singing wait staff. There is a classic Jukebox tucked into the corner, though, and Rachel smothers an excited squeal as she digs into her purse for a few quarters. Quinn chuckles at her enthusiasm. "I had a feeling you'd like this place," she says as Rachel peruses the eclectic song selection. She likes it even more after she and Quinn are seated and she opens up her menu to find a variety of vegan options. She's not strictly vegan anymore, having slipped dairies (organic whenever possible) back into her diet, but that doesn't make her any less appreciative of Quinn's thoughtfulness. She doesn't even say a word when Quinn orders a side of bacon with her omelette. Rachel decides on the Southwestern Frittata.
They don't rush their meal, relaxing and chatting about what's been happening in both their lives. Quinn is getting more involved Yale's cabaret, though it's really only the graduate students that are able to perform, but she confesses that she really enjoys learning everything that happens behind the scenes to get a show on the stage. Rachel shares some of the newer backstage stories from Funny Girl that she hasn't yet told Quinn about, and they both laugh over some of the kerfuffles that have happened. Eventually, Quinn beats her to the bill—"you're my guest this weekend," she insists—and then they're on their way back to Yale.
Quinn wants to give her the grand tour, and apparently there's some kind of fall festival going on this weekend with food and music. Rachel can't wait to get better acquainted with Quinn's little corner of the world. Like the diner, the classic architecture around the campus makes her feel like she's stepping into another era, and she follows Quinn into her dorm so they can drop off Rachel's bag. On the way to her suite, Quinn greets several students with friendly smiles and familiarity, and they respond in kind. Apparently, Quinn wasn't exaggerating when she said that Yale's housing system creates a really close-knit community. The suite is tidy and more spacious than Rachel had imagined, made up of a common room, two double bedrooms and a single—the single being Quinn's—and there's a very pretty view of the quad from the window. She can so easily picture Quinn sitting on the window bench and reading. None of her suite-mates are in at the moment, and Rachel is a little disappointed that she'll have to wait to meet the girls that live with Quinn.
"I'll show you around, but first I have to return this," and she holds up the key fob, "to Tricia before she organizes a search party for her precious car," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes.
It turns out that Tricia lives one floor below Quinn, and when the door to the suite swings open, Rachel finds herself looking at a gorgeous redhead with short, spiky hair and square-rimmed glasses framing a pair of sharp, blue eyes. The woman grins and leans a hip against the door. "Did you treat my baby gently?" she asks, and her voice is unexpectedly husky and colored with the vague trace of an accent that Rachel can't immediately identify.
"Of course. It barely has any new scratches on it at all," Quinn replies playfully as she holds out the fob.
Tricia narrows her eyes and swipes her keys back from Quinn, sliding her fingers across Quinn's open palm as she does. "You'd better be joking, Fabray."
"Rachel can attest that I don't have a sense of humor," she responds gravely, glancing at Rachel with a little grin.
Feeling caught off guard, Rachel can only shake her head. Tricia smiles at her, offers her hand—the one not holding the key fob—and says, "Hello. I'm Tricia Fitzgerald, since Quinn here is a rude bitch. It's nice to finally meet you, Rachel. I've heard a lot about you."
Rachel takes her hand reflexively, the act of courtesy ingrained by her fathers from a very young age, even though she finds herself responding with a confused, "I've heard nothing about you."
Tricia laughs and gives her hand a solid pump. "I look forward to changing that," she says, and Rachel comes to the conclusion that her accent is faintly Irish. She finds herself smiling back, deciding that she likes this friend of Quinn's, although the smile slips a bit when she notices the odd frown on Quinn's face. Tricia lets go of her hand and looks back to Quinn. "I'll see you tomorrow, Quinn," she says, giving a friendly nod to Rachel. "You two enjoy your visit."
Quinn hums in response and touches Rachel's hand. "Come on, Rach. I want to show you my favorite place on campus," she urges.
Rachel grins, turning to Tricia once more with a polite, "It was very nice to meet you," before she eagerly follows Quinn.
She does enjoy the visit. Quinn takes her all over campus—the movie theater in her dorm, the cabaret, the gorgeous old library, the art gallery—and by the end of the day, she feels like she knows exactly what Quinn's life at Yale is like. She meets Quinn's four suite-mates, three of whom are lovely girls and one who really isn't, and they settle in for the night with quiet conversation. There's a brief argument about the sleeping arrangements—Quinn offers to take the floor, and Rachel refuses to displace her from her bed—but they finally agree to share. It's a tight fit in the small bed, but at least it's a full-sized mattress, and Rachel is grateful for Quinn's single room. She falls asleep easier than she has in months with Quinn's body curved against her back and the sound of her even breathing gentle in her ears.
xx
Quinn visits New York in early October. She was there a few times over the summer between her visit to Chicago, where Judy Fabray moved to be closer to Quinn's sister, Frannie, and the three-week acting workshop she'd done at Yale, but it's the first time she's been here since Kurt moved out. As it turns out, the delicate balance that he, Rachel, and Santana had established together in the loft had completely imploded when Blaine had moved in. They're both now living in a loft upstairs along with Sam Evans, which is a bit of an odd development, but apparently they're all getting along famously, and Santana and Rachel have both gotten used to their own new situation. It is nice to have a bedroom all to herself again, and it certainly works out better on the occasions when Dani stays over.
They all decide to have an impromptu party on Sunday night. Quinn and Rachel spent most of the day in the city, and they're both a little tired, but they have so much fun laughing and talking with their friends. There's music and alcohol, and Santana and Dani are slow dancing in the living room, letting hands and mouths wander with abandon. Rachel gets distracted talking with Blaine and Kurt about wedding ideas—though that's still a long way off—so she doesn't immediately notice Sam and Quinn sitting together intimately on the sofa. When she does, she frowns and completely tunes out Blaine's dissertation on why he should perform at their wedding rather than wasting money on a band.
She excuses herself and makes her way over to Quinn and Sam with a cheerful, "Hey, you two. Are you having fun?" She slides onto the sofa next to Quinn, not really caring that she's crowding them. Sam shifts over (away from Quinn) to make room, but Quinn only readjusts her posture to face center, leaving her thigh pressed warmly against Rachel's.
"It's, like, the best night," Sam says with a drunken nod, laying his palm on Quinn's other thigh, close to her knee. "It's so great we're all here together, right?"
Quinn chuckles quietly. "Yeah. It's great."
Rachel frowns. "So what are you two talking about over here?"
"I was just telling Quinn we should hang out more," Sam says excitedly. "I mean, she could totally come on a Friday night next time. Stay for the whole weekend."
"I have a show Friday night," Rachel reminds him, a little miffed.
"Yeah, but I can totally entertain Quinn while you're working. It'll be awesome."
Rachel opens her mouth to protest—after all, Quinn is coming to visit her, not Sam, and okay, Santana too, she reluctantly concedes—but Quinn shrugs and says, "We'll see," before Rachel can utter a word. Then Kurt and Blaine interrupt with their continuing banter, asking Sam and Quinn's opinion on wedding songs, and the evening continues on into a collage of dissonant conversations. Rachel doesn't leave Quinn alone with Sam for the rest of the night.
The visit comes to an end in no time at all, and Rachel is sad to see Quinn go, but they make plans for her next trip to New Haven in a few weeks. Two days later, Rachel drops by to see Kurt, but as she's waiting for him to get back from his class, she finds herself alone with Sam. She can't resist asking, as unobtrusively as possibly, of course, "Are you interested in Quinn again?"
He looks taken aback, furrowing his blond brows. "What? Like romantically?"
Rachel growls quietly. Honestly, Sam is a very sweet man, but sometimes he can be a little slow. "Yes, romantically." She huffs and sets about fluffing the pillows on the sofa as a distraction, even though Kurt does a exemplary job of keeping everything pristine, considering with whom he's living. "You just...seemed very...close the other night," she mutters between fluffs.
"Well, yeah. I mean, I could totally be into it again," he admits, and Rachel smacks the pillow particularly hard, but then he says, "But I kinda got the feeling she might be seeing somebody already."
Rachel punches the pillow. "What?" Quinn has mentioned nothing of a new relationship to her. "Who?"
Sam only shrugs. "I dunno. I just mentioned maybe getting dinner sometime, and she said stuff with her is complicated. Isn't that, like, a thing people say when they're in a relationship but not really, like, committed yet?"
Rachel stares at him blankly. She honestly doesn't know.
Later, she asks Santana if Quinn mentioned any new relationships to her, and Santana gives her an annoyed look, saying, "Like she'd even tell me after the last time she made a fool of herself with Professor Married-With-Wrinkles. Besides, you're her new bosom buddy. Shouldn't you know?"
It bothers Rachel exceedingly that she doesn't.
xx
The next time she visits Quinn, she's determined to find out if she is, in fact, seeing someone. She'd repeatedly asked her on their various phone conversations, Skype sessions, and emails if there was anything—or anyone—noteworthy in her life, and Quinn had repeatedly told her that things were pretty much status quo. Quinn has a big paper due that she claims she just needs to put the finishing touches on, so Rachel tells her not to worry about meeting her at the train station. She's perfectly capable of finding her own way to Quinn's dorm.
When she gets there, Quinn's suite-mate, Pam, greets her. "Quinn's in her room," she says kindly, and Rachel thanks her and pads over to the door, which is only slightly ajar. She doesn't bother to knock, opening it and stepping inside with a smile to see Quinn sitting cross-legged on her bed with Tricia next to her, both of their heads bent close over Quinn's laptop.
Quinn's gaze jerks up quickly, and after the barest hesitation, she smiles, saying hello as she closes the lid of her laptop and uncurls herself from the bed to greet Rachel with a warm hug. Tricia stretches her back, lifting her arms over her head with a groan, before she rolls off Quinn's bed as well.
"Hello again, Rachel. Nice to see that Quinn didn't scare you off."
"Trish," Quinn warms in low tones.
Rachel feels the need to rush to her defense. "If she didn't manage that in high school, I doubt she can now."
Tricia's bright eyes spark with interest. "Really? You'll have to tell me about that sometime."
"No," Quinn cuts in sharply. "She really doesn't."
Tricia laughs and picks up a book from Quinn's desk. "Well, I leave you two to do whatever you do. Don't get too crazy with the catching up," she jokes, winking at Rachel as she sees herself out.
Quinn sighs and sits back down on her mattress, patting the space beside her. Rachel shrugs off her coat and sits. "So, how was the train ride?" Quinn asks, propping one leg up on the bed and angling her body toward Rachel.
"Tedious," Rachel admits, sitting back on the mattress a little in an attempt to get more comfortable. The tips of her fingers land on something hard sticking out from under the pillow, and Rachel turns around as she slides the object out, staring at it in confusion.
Quinn sees what she has and blushes, quickly grabbing it out of Rachel's hand.
"I didn't take you for a Doctor Who fan, Quinn," she comments, still eyeing the DVD case of The Complete David Tennant Years.
"Um...it...it's Tricia's, actually. She's been trying to get me into it." Rachel's eyebrows arch in surprise, and Quinn tosses the case on the desk like it's going to explode. "I need to return it to her later."
Rachel stifles a giggle at Quinn's chagrined expression. "It's quite alright, Quinn. I know for a fact that Sam has a similar collection. Kurt is constantly complaining about his viewing parties with Blaine."
Quinn seems to relax at that, and soon they're talking about other things. Quinn still never mentions seeing anyone romantically, and Rachel never sees any indication that she's hiding any secret lovers. She's inexplicably relieved.
xx
The next time Quinn visits New York, it's to see another performance of Rachel's show, and she brings Tricia with her. "She really wants to see all that talent I've been bragging about," Quinn tells her, and of course, Rachel's ego can't resist. She gets them both reserved tickets. It's Tricia's first Broadway show, and she's bouncing with excitement after the final curtain, complimenting Rachel, her costars, the music, the theater, and everything. Rachel preens with pride.
They all meet Santana at a nearby restaurant for a late dinner because Santana is curious about this new friend of Quinn's. It's a little amusing watching them both size one another up and take turns trading barbs, but it's fairly good-natured—well, for Santana—and it seems to Rachel, at least, that they all leave the restaurant on good terms.
Santana agrees to let Rachel bunk in with her for the night, leaving Quinn and Tricia to share Rachel's bed. After all, Tricia is more familiar with Quinn than either of them, and it just makes sense. There's no reason for anyone to have to sleep on the sofa. Santana smirks when she wishes them good night, but Rachel doesn't think much of it until the next morning, after Quinn and Tricia leave to catch the train back to New Haven, and Santana off-handedly says, "They're totally fucking."
Rachel freezes, nearly dumping her cup of coffee onto the floor. "Don't be ridiculous," she scolds. "They're friends."
"Friends who are fucking," Santana repeats authoritatively. "Trust me. They had so many vibes coming off them that my vagina was tingling just from standing too close."
Rachel swallows thickly, feeling her stomach turn sour. "You're wrong. Quinn would have told me if that were the case, and anyway, Quinn is straight."
Santana laughs and shakes her head. "She's about as straight as a piece of cooked spaghetti. Apparently, her little college experiment exploded into a rainbow of gay."
Rachel's brain is still struggling to catch up to what Santana is saying, but she manages to croak out, "What experiment?"
Santana sighs, looking away guiltily. "You know Schue's wedding that wasn't last year?" she asks needlessly, and Rachel nods, growing queasier by the second. "Yeah, Quinn and I had a little one-nighter. I figured she was just trying to get it out of her system, but I guess it was more than that."
Rachel processes the news slowly before she finally nods, whispering, "Excuse me," as she stiffly stands up and retreats to her bedroom. She sits down on the edge of her mattress before she remembers that she hasn't yet changed the sheets, and she jumps up in disgust before collapsing against the wall with tears in her eyes.
Why didn't Quinn tell her?
She wraps her arms around her middle, replaying the last several months in her head. She knows that Santana is telling the truth about the wedding—she recalls seeing them dancing together. It had bothered her at the time, but she'd been preoccupied with her own drama with...with Finn, and to be honest, she hadn't really wanted to know what had happened between Quinn and Santana. She'd preferred to keep existing within her own preconceptions, otherwise, she would have had to ask certain questions that she hadn't been ready to have answered at the time.
Still, just because Quinn had experimented doesn't mean that Santana is right about Quinn and Tricia.
She doesn't want Santana to be right about that.
xx
Quinn is surprised when Rachel calls within the week and says she wants to visit this weekend. Quinn's finals are only a week away, and they'd already agreed that Quinn would come spend a few weeks in New York after her last exam before going 'home' for Christmas. "Is everything alright?" she asks on the phone.
"Of course," Rachel lies.
She takes an earlier train than she usually does, and when she arrives at Quinn's door, she discovers that she doesn't have to ask Quinn if she's involved with Tricia, because Tricia is just stepping out of the room with a grin and tousled red hair, leaning in to brush a quick kiss across Quinn's lips before saying, "Later, luv."
When she turns to see Rachel, she has the grace to blush, running a hand through her hair. "Morning, Rachel. Good to see you."
Quinn's head whips in Rachel's direction and a pained look crosses her features. "Rachel," she rasps. "You're...early."
"Actually, I think I'm late," Rachel whispers.
Tricia uncomfortably shifts her weight from foot to foot. "I...ah...think I'll be heading back to my room. Uh...yeah," she mutters before making a hasty retreat.
Quinn stares at Rachel for a long moment before sighing. She turns and disappears back inside her suite, padding through the common room and into her bedroom, not looking to see if Rachel is following. It takes Rachel a moment to get her feet to cooperate and trace Quinn's footsteps, and when she does, she finds Quinn waiting beside her door. She quietly closes it after Rachel enters, and then she leans back against it.
She and Rachel continue to stare at one another for what feels like an hour before Quinn finally sighs and runs a hand through her messy hair. "So, that was awkward."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rachel fires back, hurt.
Another audible sigh escape Quinn's lips. "There really isn't much to tell," she says.
Rachel scoffs, turning her back to Quinn and pacing over to the wall. "You're romantically involved with Tricia," she growls, tossing her hands in the air before she spins around. "How is that not much to tell? Even disregarding the fact that she's a woman, which is a pretty big something, you misrepresented your relationship with her, and...and you slept with her in my bed!"
Quinn bites into her lip guiltily, averting her eyes. "First, nothing happened when we stayed with you. That would have been incredibly vulgar," she says with a grimace. "Not to mention that you and Santana were both sleeping twenty feet away, so, just...no. Second, I prefer not to define my sexuality right now. And, Tricia and I are not romantically involved. We're just friends who occasionally have sex."
That marginal bit of relief that Rachel had felt at Quinn's initial denial evaporates in a puff of smoke. "Friends with benefits," she squeaks incredulously. "That's not," she stutters. "Who even?" She growls and spins around again staring at the wall. "No one actually does that," she mumbles, completely unable to wrap her mind around the possibility of the Quinn Fabray that she thinks she knows so well agreeing to that kind of arrangement.
"Just like no one actually agrees to have an open relationship?" Quinn counters snippily.
Rachel gasps, turning back to Quinn with wounded eyes. "That was a mistake."
Quinn closes her eyes and drops the back of her head against the door with a thud. "I'm sorry." She puffs out a frustrated breath and meets Rachel's gaze. "That was uncalled for, but what Trish and I have works for us, okay? No expectations, or lies, or false declarations of love, or hurt feelings. Just a little fun from time to time when one of us needs a release, and I don't have to worry about getting pregnant," she adds lowly.
Rachel stares at her dumbly, still not processing this new discovery. "But don't you want to be in love?" she finally asks in a small voice.
Quinn chuckles ruefully. "Of course I do. Someday." She shrugs. "I haven't exactly been lucky in that respect, and honestly, I don't want to fall back into old habits, letting guys define me, or falling for," she hesitates, glancing away, "for someone who can't love me back."
Rachel's breath catches, and it's her turn to look away guiltily. She had stolen Finn away from Quinn once upon a time, so she feels somewhat responsible for at least one of Quinn's bad experiences. As for what else that statement might mean—well, one thing at a time. Right now, she really wants to know, "Why Tricia?"
"Why not?" Quinn answers. "We got to know one another last semester after...after I decided to...be more flexible about potential partners..."
"After Santana, you mean," Rachel interrupts, watching Quinn's eyes widen in muted surprise before she clears her throat and nods jerkily.
"We'd both been burned in the romance department, and one night, we had a few drinks and..."
"I really don't want the play by play," Rachel cuts in sharply.
Quinn nods once in understanding, saying only, "It happened, and then we both agreed that we wouldn't mind if it happened again sometime. But it doesn't mean anything, Rachel."
"I just... don't understand how that's possible at all."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Were you in love with, Brody?"
"That was different," she defends heatedly.
Quinn doesn't comment, just pushes off the door and stands there with her head down and her hand resting on the doorknob. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay? It just opens a whole can of worms that I haven't felt ready to deal with yet, but now you know, and honestly, Rachel, my arrangement with Tricia really doesn't concern you. So are we really going to keep arguing about this?"
Rachel crosses her arms and paces a small circle in Quinn's room. Her emotions are flying all over the place right now. She's confused and angry and hurt and jealous—God, so jealous. "Why didn't you ask me?" she finally blurts out.
Quinn stifles a little scream and throws a hand in the air. "I don't need to ask your permission to have sex with someone!"
"No," Rachel shouts back. "Why didn't you ask me," and she thumps her chest with her palm, "if I wanted to be your friend with benefits?"
Quinn staggers back against the door, flattening her palms against the wood as she gapes at Rachel. "Are you kidding me?" she whispers in shock.
Rachel shakes her head, staring at the corner of the doorframe above Quinn's head because she can't quite bear to meet her confused eyes. "Do...do you not find me attractive enough? Is that it?"
"Are you fucking serious?" Quinn grunts.
Startled by the curse, Rachel snaps her eyes back to Quinn. "Yes, I am," she insists. "I want to know. I mean, obviously Tricia is a very attractive woman...with an incredibly sexy accent," she mutters enviously, ignoring Quinn's hiss of surprise, "but you never even mentioned to me that...that you could be interested in...in something like this," she accuses, waving her hand around the room aimlessly. "And we're friends, Quinn. Or I thought we were, and I just don't know why you wouldn't even consider asking me. As you've so sagely pointed out, my arrangement with Brody wasn't so very far removed from this very situation."
Quinn laughs, but it's hardly a joyful sound. "I could never go there with you."
Rachel feels the wound acutely, like a hole being torn open in her chest. She'd known it was unlikely that Quinn could want her that way, of course, but it hadn't stopped her from hoping. She nods. "I see. I...I'm not suitable for the...benefits aspect," she concludes with a quiver in her voice.
Quinn shakes her head, letting her eyes fall closed. "It could never be just that with you," she whispers hoarsely.
Rachel inhales sharply, holding her breath for several seconds as that little flicker of hope reignites. "What...what would it be?" she pleads.
Quinn sighs and hangs her head, quietly admitting, "More," into her carpet.
Rachel steps closer, reaching out to brush her fingers over Quinn's wrist until wet hazel eyes are locked onto hers. "For me, too," she confesses with a faint smile. "For awhile now, actually. Maybe...maybe we could find out how much more," she suggests hopefully.
A shaky breath rattles in Quinn's throat as her eyes race over Rachel's face, looking for something indefinable. Rachel feels Quinn's warm, trembling palm slide against hers, slipping into place until their fingers are linked. "You'd want that?" she asks timidly.
Rachel nods silently, leaning forward to press her lips against Quinn's mouth. The kiss is brief and fleeting, just a whispered promise of what could be, and when she leans back, she sees the ghost of a smile dancing on the edges of Quinn's lips. "Quinn Fabray," she breathes reverently. "Will you go out with me? As more than friends, with the option for benefits with every conceivable string attached?"
Quinn's smile blooms. "I will."
And when she kisses Rachel again with intent, Rachel is certain that they'll be taking that option, and she'll gladly tie herself to Quinn for the rest of her life.