Author's Note: This sequel is something I've been wanting to do since, well ... since I posted the first part. Unfortunately, this one isn't anywhere near the level of porn that one was - which I (creepily) find disappointing, but hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

For those of you who haven't read the first one, I highly recommend it because this one would basically make no sense outside of a basic story (those nuances of character and plot would be lost). It was called Game On, which reminds me: Sorry about the title. I honestly couldn't think of anything better and "Game On 2" seemed silly. :)

As always, thanks for reading (and reviewing - hint hint)!

Rachel watched the cameraman silently count down, pointing to the host with the final cue. She widened her smile just a little, angling her body more toward the middle-aged man, who'd also plastered on his own small grin after clearing his throat. It wasn't as if they'd sat in silence during the entirety of the commercial break, but they definitely both knew better than to be anything but ecstatic to be at that particular interview at that particular moment.

"So we're back with Broadway superstar Rachel Berry."

"... I don't know about that," Rachel interjected with a light laugh.

"Well, we're going to have to agree to disagree," the host joked playfully. "When we learned of the interview, we asked viewers to send us their questions and, I must say, the response was overwhelming."

"I'm flattered," she responded honestly, sitting a little straighter in her chair. She'd done enough interviews in her time to know exactly what to expect - and yet knew better than to assume anything. Questions from fans were always a crapshoot, but they were also the perfect opportunity for the show's producers to include questions that she'd otherwise avoid answering. When they come from a fan, it required a bit more finesse to avoid the question otherwise she'd look like an ungrateful diva.

"The first question comes from Cynthia in Long Island," he read off the card. "Cynthia wants to know, 'What has been your favorite role to play so far?'."

"What a great question!" Rachel exclaimed, mostly to give herself a moment to formulate an articulate response.

"Unfortunately we don't have all day to spend with you, so we only chose the best."

Rachel laughed at the host, reaching across herself to push against his knee in her own attempt to flirt (albeit minimally) back with him. They'd already spoke during the break about how he couldn't wait to go home because it was his anniversary with his wife and they were leaving for an all-inclusive beach vacation. But, again, they both had a part to play while on camera.

"Each role certainly holds a special place in my heart, for various reasons. For instance, Penelope was my first lead role on Broadway, so naturally I still hold a strong love for that character. And I still can't believe I was able to originate the role of Jasmine in the production of Aladdin, playing such a beloved character for so long - and winning a Tony for it, no less!"

Rachel beamed, adding, "But I'm also very excited about the new direction of my career. I've always been very involved in writing original music and it's an honor to work with such an amazing ensemble of cast and crew members for the new show."

"Where you are not only playing the lead character, but also contributed to nearly half of the songs being performed."

"It's a lot of work, but I am completely confident that it will all be worth it."

"Sleep be damned?"

Rachel tipped her head back to laugh, answering in a small shrug of her one shoulder. The truth was, staying busy helped keep her mind off less productive things. Like how the odds tipped in disaster's favor at each new cross-country roadtrip or how lonely the house seemed without a certain occupant away on said road trips. Honestly, if she didn't like basketball when she was younger (despite her father's many attempts to get her to at least understand the game), then dating a starting forward on a professional team made her detest the game.

"OK, our next question comes from Tyler in South Beach. Tyler says, and I'm quoting, 'Rachel Berry is the sexiest woman alive. Chicks with tattoos are so hot!'."

Rachel felt herself blush even as she laughed. "I don't believe that was a question."

"No, but we got so many questions regarding your tattoos that I had to choose the best one to butter you up with." The host grinned wickedly. "Word on the street is that you recently got a new one. Bringing your total to 12, is that right?" He waited for Rachel to nod, though she wasn't necessarily keeping track. "Are you addicted to them or …"

"Oh, no." Rachel shook her head, a welcoming smile on her face and in her tone. "It seems like a lot, but each one represents either a treasured memory or honors someone or something important in my life."

"And the newest tattoo? Which one is it?"

She considered the question for only a moment, flashbacks of the last time she'd conversed with someone for so long about her tattoos quickly coursing through her mind. She could easily recall the warmth of Noah's touch lingering on her skin as he examined each newly revealed marking. There had been something in his touch, even back then, that expressed so much more than whatever it was he was saying; it was desperate but powerful, gentle but possessive. Paired with his voice, which had been so gruff and so raw (both in tone and in the words he spoke), Rachel nearly shivered at just the memory.

"Both, I suppose," she finally answered, her voice coy.

"We're almost out of time, but is there any chance we can get our eyes on this new ink?"

Rachel smiled nervously, feeling the blush rise onto her cheeks. "I'm fairly certain your wife would have a problem with that." She giggled at the way his eyes widened, adding, "And the FCC."

"Well, then …"

The host led them out of the interview, thanking Rachel for her time again and wishing her well in the new endeavor. It seemed silly, but she appreciated the sentiment. The show was already reaching critical acclaim even before the first real run, but the assurance that every seat wouldn't be completely empty was always welcome. Not that she had to worry about the theater having absolutely no attendants. Her fathers had already booked front row seats for more than one showing, and Kurt and Blaine were equally eager. Finn had even said he and Santana already got a babysitter for their little one, months in advance.

Plus, Noah had promised to try to pencil her in.

She smiled the instant her mind wandered back to thoughts of her boyfriend - even though they started with her rolling her eyes at his lame attempts to rile her up. He was usually very successful, something that made her want to scream at the top of her lungs (but she never would since it was terrible for her voice). Still, he was due home in just a few days after an extremely long (in her eyes) stint of road games. And even though she knew they would probably end up fighting about something only a few hours after he'd returned, she couldn't be more thrilled.

It was hard to imagine five years ago that she'd be where she was today. Not professionally, of course; she was destined for a Tony since she was two and she'd earned the award. But, realistically, Rachel had never thought she'd be able to balance both worlds. Even in high school she'd had trouble committing herself to more than just the stage. Her personal life should be a disaster given the time and dedication given to her career, and she'd be the first to admit her surprise at how long she'd maintained such a successful career in addition to a committed relationship - especially with someone like Noah and especially after their first encounter.

Despite her frequent attempts to lie whenever his ego inflated beyond the means of its confines, Rachel had been attracted to Noah from the very beginning. He likewise, which he never denies - though she doesn't necessarily let that get him off the hook for anything; his standards weren't particularly high back in the day. It wasn't just his physicality, either, but she'd liked the way he carried himself. She'd been accused of being overly confident, but there was something about seeing it on a man that drove her crazy - a good and a bad thing, as he'd passed the point of confident into arrogant a few times (that night); those times her craziness was less lust-induced and more centered on wishing him dead, which he infuriatingly enough only found hilarious.

Through it all, though, they had a chemistry that was undeniable. The ease of their conversations was new to Rachel, something she'd never experienced with anyone else; she was always very aware of what she was saying and how the other person might interpret her words (even if she'd never perfected her filter in terms of people's feelings). With Noah, it felt completely natural to talk freely, as she trusted him not only to keep whatever they'd discussed between them but also knew he was being just as open. Which, as she knew now, was very uncommon; Noah was as blunt as a butter knife, but he was very guarded with things that mattered - to everyone but her.

A couple of years ago, Noah had admitted that he probably would have told her everything she'd asked even without the tattoo question game. It was on their anniversary, so it made sense for him to be openly reminiscing about their night together back then, but it had also been the first time Rachel had heard the words make love ever come out of his mouth (outside of his go-to response, "Make love, not war," anytime she was mad at him for something). Even back then, back when they'd silently agreed to keep it a one-time thing, Rachel knew what they were doing had evolved into something much more intimate; she'd been in relationships before - sexual ones - and nothing had ever compared to the feelings she got when she'd been with Noah.

Again, chemistry. It was so present between them that it was almost tangible. A spark ignited when they touched, mountains moved to let them be closer, time stopped so they'd have longer to be together. That night had felt like it lasted an entire week and yet seemed to end far too soon, which was probably why they'd both never let it really end. One night turned into one long weekend that turned into the most agonizing week apart until one of them (both say it was the other) gave in - gave in to temptation, gave in to feelings they each swore weren't possible after such a short time together.

Yet, five years later, those feelings were only the beginning. It sounded so cliche and much too sentimental for her ever to admit to him, but Rachel loved Noah more and more every day. Even when she wanted to throw one of his own basketballs at his perfectly chiseled face, she loved him. She loved him for the way he made her feel, so many new emotions evoked in her throughout the years that she couldn't believe she'd ever lived without some of them. She loved him for how easily he fit into her life despite the fact that they couldn't be more different from one another. But, mostly, she loved him for how he'd never made her choose between him or her career.

Many of the other basketball players' wives seemed to despise Rachel, almost looking down on her for not dedicating all of herself to Noah. They'd often give very spiteful, condescending advice about how a man like him needed watched or how she should demand something more permanent between them to at least give him a reason to be faithful. During one event, they'd basically interrogated her about whether she'd quit her work if they ever were to have children, as if any of them were actually raising their own kids instead of hiring a nanny to do so - giving them more time to shop and hire private investigators to track their mates, she'd concluded.

Needless to say, Rachel did not frequent many of team gatherings; she was taught to say nothing when she had nothing nice to say, and she certainly had nothing to say to a group of women who seemed to be more interested in their partners' paychecks and endorsements than the actual person under the jersey. She, however, loved Noah, unconditionally. She trusted him to be on the road with all the temptations she knew that came with it, and she tried not to think about all the women she knew that must offer themselves to him on any given night. She wasn't naive enough to think there weren't any, but she also wasn't insecure enough to tail him like a prisoner out on parole.

Nor did she feel she had any right to demand anything from him that he hadn't already given. Their life together might not be conventional, but they were both happy. They had separate lives that were important to both of them and that they loved, but when the timing worked and they were together, they were completely caught up in each other. She didn't need a ring to know they were on the same page, but she'd also been thinking a lot lately about that unasked ultimatum. She was pretty sure he'd never ask - or even consider asking - mostly because he thought it wouldn't go his way, but she was starting to realize her decision would be 100% in his favor.

Case in point: She was walking home from an interview to promote her new show that she was very heavily involved in, and yet she'd spent the entire time thinking about her boyfriend. Granted, he'd been gone a long time, but it didn't take much for her to miss him these days. The phone calls only seemed to make it worse, his distance all too prevalent even though his voice was right in her ear. After five years, one would expect her to be getting the hang of the separation, but it was actually starting to get worse. But, much like Noah, Rachel would never make him choose between her and basketball. After all, he'd loved the game before he'd ever loved her.

Or at least that's what she'd assumed before she opened the front door of their apartment and saw his luggage resting by the side table.