AN: If you follow me on tumblr, you'd know about this fic. You've probably read it before. I just thought it would be nice to use my account once in a while.

Bright mornings in New Haven were fairly common, and Quinn was enjoying the warm streaks of sunlight illuminating her golden locks. Trees rustled with the wind, the faint scent of springtime wafted through the boughs as Quinn walked along the gravel path. With her cappuccino in hand, and a spring in her step, she was about to head to the library to have a quick review for her impeding midterm when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

"Look, Santana. I know you had fun as much as I did at Mr. Schue's failed wedding, but-"

"Bitch, I'm not calling about that." Through the phone, Santana sounded testy, and it gave Quinn pause. "I'm not calling about me. It's… God damn it, Quinn. It's Rachel."

Luckily, her cappuccino cup had been drained a few minutes prior, or else the coffee would have spilled all over her hand, burning her skin. "What about her, Santana?" Quinn asked, forcing a steady tone out of her. In reality, Quinn's heart rate sped up, and her ears rang with all the possibilities. "Is she hurt? Sick? For the love of god, Santana. Answer me!"

"Quinn… She might be pregnant."

Quinn stood in the middle of the campus, her phone held up to her ear in one hand, a crushed Starbucks cup in the other. It couldn't be. Rachel couldn't be that stupid. Quinn took a deep breath. "Is she okay?"

"Hell no." Santana's voice lowered, and Quinn imagined that Rachel must be close by. "She was panicking a few minutes ago and I barely managed to get her breathing right. Look, I'm not asking you to drop everything and ride the train for god knows how long just to help me with her. But Quinn, she needs someone."

Quinn heard the undertones of Santana's sentence. Rachel needed someone… who knew just how it felt, experiencing the terror of an unplanned pregnancy alone, especially away from her parents. Quinn tossed her coffee cup into the trash and walked like a woman in a mission, back to her dormitory. "Give me a few hours and I'll be there."

In three hours, Quinn found herself with an overnight bag, standing in front of Rachel's, Kurt's, and Santana's New York apartment in Bushwick. She knocked on the door, only to be opened immediately by Santana who yanked her inside. "Oh thank god. She started having a panic attack again and I tried to talk her into calming down but she won't listen—"

Quinn gently pushed Santana out of the way and followed the symphony of sobs and sniffles. It led her to the bathroom. The sight of Rachel, sitting on the tiled floor, her hair a frenzied mess, crumpled wads of tissues, and…

Pregnancy tests, scattered all over the floor around Rachel, who was sobbing into her drenched shirt. Quinn bit her lip, dropped her bag somewhere and crouched down beside Rachel. "Hey."

It was as if Rachel was ripped from her reverie, as if the sound of Quinn's voice was enough to calm her down. "Q-Quinn, what are you—" Her eyes darted to Santana. "She told you, didn't she?" Rachel's voice cracked, and a tear escaped her eyelids. "She told you t-that I'm p-p-p—"

"Shh," Quinn sat down, amidst the pile of tissues and boxes of pregnancy tests. She wrapped an arm around Rachel's trembling shoulders and rubbed small circles on the centre of her back. "I want you to breathe with me, okay? In…" She took a deep breath, followed by Rachel, whose body was wracked with sobs. "Out…" They released in unison, repeating the process until Rachel was calm again. "Can you stand up?"

Rachel nodded and together, they left the bathroom and walked into the living room where Santana was sitting, nibbling on her thumb. At the sight of the two girls, she stood up and helped Rachel on the couch. They sat there, Rachel sandwiched between the two women, while Quinn ran her fingers through her dark hair. "Rachel, I need you to answer me." Quinn murmured, afraid that if she raised her voice, Rachel would curl into a defense. Noticing her small nod, Quinn asked: "Have you had unprotected sex recently?"

Rachel shook her head and Quinn sighed in relief. "Are you on birth control?" Rachel shook her head again, no.

"Well, condoms aren't one hundred percent efficient." Santana said.

"I know." Rachel sobbed, hugging a pillow to her face, muffling her voice. "I don't know what to do. I'm only a freshman in NYADA, and I can't do this. If I tell Brody, he's going to freak out and leave me—"

Quinn squeezed Rachel's shoulder. "Calm down. It might be just a false positive. Maybe you're so stressed out about the wedding and school that your cycle messed up. I know the box says the pregnancy tests are efficient but we'll wait until we go to a doctor."

"Yeah, but they can't really test her until since it's too soon to know, right?"

Quinn nodded. "More or less. But let's worry about that later. You look like you haven't slept." She told Rachel, who nodded.

"I haven't slept for at least a week. I can't."

"You have to. I'm going to make you some tea." Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand and went to the kitchen, where she started the kettle and looked through the cupboards for their stash of tea. Santana came up behind her and pointed to the cupboard right above the sink. "Thanks."

Santana sat on the counter and crossed her arms. "Now do you believe me when I say it's not an interstate booty call? Even though yes, I have to admit. You had some moves, Fabray."

Quinn laughed and poured the boiling water into the mug. "Of course I do. Why did you call me though? Other than the obvious fact that I went through this four years ago. Why me?" She turned to Santana with a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Or is this actually an interstate booty call?"

A loud crash of a door slamming in its frame tore Quinn and Santana from their reverie. "What the hell? Rachel's gone into her room."

Quinn went up to the whitewashed door and rapped against it. "Rachel? Open up, I have your tea."

"No! I'm in the way between you and Santana. You can… Go ahead and u-use the couch. I promise I won't listen."

"What the hell are you talking about, smu—Rachel?" Santana sighed, leaning against the wall.

"The booty call!"

"Oh Jesus." Quinn thumped her forehead against the door. "Rachel, that was a joke. Open the door and I'll explain."

"No!"

Quinn tried turning the knob but it was locked. "Please, Rachel. Little star—"

The door jerked open and a swollen-eyed, sniffling Rachel opened the door. "What did you call me?"

"…Rachel?" Quinn blinked, glancing at Santana who was smirking. "What did I call you?"

"You called me little star…" Rachel said, her voice a gentle quiver against the back of her throat.

"It got you to open the door, didn't it?" Quinn joked, stepping in slowly, only to be shocked at what she saw. "Wow."

"I'm sorry about the mess," Rachel murmured weakly. Men's clothes were strewn all over the hardwood floors. Socks, dress shirts, and neck ties hung all over the furniture. "Brody's not usually so messy."

"Doesn't matter." Quinn said, swallowing down the bitter pill of Rachel's relationship status. She set the mug of tea down on the bedside and pulled back the covers so Rachel could sidle in. "There. Lay down, and I'll sit with you until you fall asleep."

"What if I can't?" Rachel whimpered, her head against the headboard, the duvet tucked over her lap. "Quinn, please don't leave."

"Then I'll stay here for as long as it takes." Quinn murmured, sitting down beside her as she blew on the steaming cup. "And who said anything about leaving?" Quinn asked, tucking the blankets around Rachel's lithe body. She smoothed her palm against Rachel's warm cheek. "I'll stay here with you until we find out the truth." Quinn's thumb caressed Rachel's cheekbone, and she swore Rachel leaned in to her touch. Just then, Santana walked in, dressed to go out.

"I have to leave soon for work." Santana said, sighing as she watched the two. "You'll be alright?"

Quinn hummed as she handed the slightly-cooled cup to Rachel. "I'll take care of her.

Santana nodded. "I know you will. I'll see if I can have a short shift today so I can be home early. Kurt's going to be late, and I don't know about the manwhore—"

"Brody's not a manwhore." Rachel mumbled.

"Yeah, yeah." Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You go ahead and drink that tea I brewed for you. Sleep, Berry. You look like Frodo when he came back from Mordor." Santana patted Rachel's head and waved at Quinn, before disappearing out the door, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone in the apartment.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked after a small bout of silence. "Will you get in bed with me? T-to cuddle…"

A smile passed through Quinn's lips and she walked around the bed, to what she assumed to be Brody's side. She took off her jacket, hung it over a chair, and slipped in between the covers where Rachel automatically curled into a ball beside her. Quinn willed herself to take a deep breath, as her arm wrapped around Rachel's tiny shoulders. "Is that better?"

She felt Rachel nod against her, and Quinn eased into the bed with a sigh of contentment. "You finished drinking your tea?" Another nod. "Good girl."

They spent minutes in silence, but to Quinn, time was of no essence. Her fingers relished the silky strands of Rachel's hair, her head tucked between Quinn's chest and cheek, her breath, sticky and humid against Quinn's neck, came out even and deep.

"Quinn?" Rachel whispered, voice hitching as she spoke. "Will you… I mean, you don't have to, but it would probably help… Will you sing for me?"

Fingers ceased their strokes as Quinn contemplated a song to sing. "I can't think of a song right now. How about a poem?"

"A poem sounds delightful."

Quinn took a deep breath and picked up Rachel's hand that was slung across her stomach. She moved in slow, delicate moves so she wouldn't frighten Rachel. With Rachel's small fingers tucked between Quinn's slender ones, Quinn could feel the beginnings of a poem.

"I do not ask for you to love me, nor do I ask for you to ignite my skin by grazing your eyes upon me." Quinn whispered. "I do not ask for you to say my name, nor do I ask for you to be the sugar in my tea."

"If I led multiple lives," Quinn released Rachel's fingers, one by one, as she turned it palm side facing up. "As a poet," she traced Rachel's heart line. "An architect," The spirit line. "A crime fighter," The life line. "A tree branch." The spirit line. "You will be my words, my blueprints, my handcuffs, my splinter."

Quinn could hear Rachel's breath hitching with every line she uttered, as her words expelled through her lips like butterflies bursting out of its cocoon. "Already, you are all these things for me." Quinn murmured, the conviction in her words, thick like half-melted wax. "Even though I am just a girl with a history of forgetting,.." Quinn swallowed hard. "How to breathe."

For a few moments, only their synchronised breathing could be heard. Quinn's fingers, warm against Rachel's palm, tingled with the exorbitant relief of uttering poetry in Rachel's ear, while tucked in bed. It was the stuff Quinn's dreams were made out of, after all.

"Who wrote that?" Rachel asked, her hand closing around Quinn's to grasp her fingers tightly.

"I did."

Rachel's legs shifted beneath the duvet, her body turning until she was facing Quinn. Her sunlit eyes, bright from the tears she shed, did exactly what the poem asked her not to do. Quinn's skin felt warm, as she tried to hold Rachel's steady gaze. "Quinn…"

Quinn curled her arm around Rachel's shoulders and rubbed her arm. "You need to sleep, Rachel."

"Okay, but you can't leave." She murmured, her words slurring by the consonants.

"I won't, I promise. I'll be here when you wake up."

In the peaceful quiet of Rachel's bedroom, Quinn allowed herself to daydream. Her arm, numbed by Rachel's flushed weight, tingled like static. But she barely noticed. All she could really think about was the sleepy smell of lavenders, the proximity, the delight of having Rachel in her arms. Quinn closed her eyes for a minute, only to be jolted awake by the sound of the front door opening.

A man who Quinn assumed to be Brody burst into the bedroom and promptly began to strip. "God, class was long today." He complained, only to freeze at the sight of Rachel draped across Quinn. "Uh, what's going on? Is this a present for me or something?" Brody smirked and chucked his shirt somewhere in the room. "I can deal with that."

Quinn was unable to move due to Rachel's soft weight keeping her still, but Santana chose that moment to burst in. "Hold up, stripper with no name. This is not a set-up for a threesome." She glared at Brody and stood between him and the bed. "For your information, the last thing Rachel needs is you. So why don't you go and find a nudist colony to feel at home with?"

Brody gawked at Quinn, then at Santana. "Rachel, what's going on?"

"Shut the fuck up, she's sleeping." Quinn hissed, her hold on Rachel tightening by a fraction. "If you even cared for her as much as you should, you would notice that she hasn't been sleeping lately. For the first time in days, she stopped being a ticking time bomb. She needs to rest, and she can't if you're around—"

In Quinn's arms, Rachel squirmed and let out a sleepy moan. "Quinn…" She whimpered, face buried into the crook of Quinn's neck. She stifled a smile, her icy glare trained at Brody. "Leave, please."

"This is my apartment!" Brody insisted. "She's my girlfriend."

Quinn tried her best not to react to his words. "Exactly. She doesn't need a boyfriend. She needs a friend. And I am that friend."

"I haven't even seen you around before, what makes you think you're what Rachel needs?"

Santana smirked. "As much as I would love to give you a history lesson, you're giving me a headache. And for the love of god, put a shirt on."

Brody clenched his jaw and grabbed a shirt from his drawers. He said nothing as he left, the door slamming shut behind him. Quinn sighed in relief, Rachel still sleeping on top of her. Santana closed the bedroom door shut and sat on a chair not piled with clothes.

"Remember when you told me that you've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman?" Santana asked, head cocked, a smile curling her lips. "Don't be a wuss and deny this, but… You thought about being with Rachel. Didn't you?"

Quinn ducked her head and smiled. She counted Rachel's thick eyelashes, wondered what it would be like to kiss them open, before looking back up to Santana. "What do you think?"

"I think," Santana began. "That you've always wanted her. All those years, claiming to want to make her life a living hell? Classic schoolyard bully with a crush. But if you two ever hook up, it's not going to be just sex, isn't it?"

Quinn nodded. "That's the thing with Rachel. For me, she can't be just anything. She always has to mean something more." She smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear and sighed. "But I'm not here to win her heart or anything. I don't need her to be my girlfriend. She's the…" Quinn took a deep breath and released it in a steady hum.

"She's the love of my life. She doesn't owe me anything."

~tbc