an (1): It's late and I'm exhausted and I'm sorry for any mistakes!
an (2): I 100% blame Pervy for this.
an (1): Welcome home, Aly :*
The music is blaring and everything is starting to feel fuzzy. She's 4 shots in and already tipsy. Can't blame the girl, she's 5 foot nothing and handling her liquor has never been her strong suit. Her hands are in the air and she's singing her "favorite song" at the top of her lungs and completely off-key.
But guess what? She doesn't even care. Why? Because Rachel Barbra Berry has just landed her very first Tony nomination and fuck any and all who think they're going to ruin her night.
So, of course, drinks are in order. Her entire cast had ensured she'd get plastered tonight and that's precisely what she intends to do.
The DJ spins Nicki Minaj and between, "I love this song!" and arms flailing in the air, there's a thunk and loud cursing. Rachel spins on her heel and grips the person's shoulder. It's a girl. Her hair is covering her face and she can't make out whether the blonde is angry or not, though she assumes the girl is probably Hulk-angry because who wouldn't get pissed at someone spilling a drink all over their expensive dress? Hello, definite party foul.
"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Her voice suddenly cuts off. "Holy fuck," she blinks twice. Okay, five times. "You're shitting me."
She shakes her head because it's obviously the alcohol. But, nope. It is, in fact, none other than 5 foot 6 (likely 6 feet tall because of the heels), blonde and wavy hair, gorgeous, red colored lips, great fucking legs, hazel eyes: Quinn Fabray. Rachel couldn't tear her eyes off her. It'd been at least 8 years since she'd last seen or spoken to her. Not because they'd fought or hated each other or anything like that; please, that was settled and over with in high school. College had hit them both hard—square in the balls, for lack of a better term—and they'd just lost touch. It was sad at first, but it got to the point where neither of them knew where to begin. Eventually, they grew apart with time and they both moved on.
Since then, Quinn had switched majors and graduated in law, top of her class, and—she may or may not have gotten the scoop from her fathers back in Lima—from what she hears, Quinn is quite successful. And as for Rachel, well, Tony. What else can she say?
"Well, well, well, Ms. Berry. Is this how you greet all your old friends?"
Rachel's little trip down memory lane is cut short when the blonde speaks and she realizes she's had her mouth hanging open for all of 20 years. Quinn barely has time to react when Rachel flings her arms, recklessly again, over her. "Holy living shit, Quinn!" Her grip is air tight and Quinn begins to cough. She lets go immediately. "Quinn fucking Fabray, how are you?"
"Soaked."
Quinn says that dryly, but Rachel's drunk and her mind goes somewhere else completely. It's like she's sixteen again and hormone crazy. A teenage boy, basically. God, is this how Finn felt his whole life? She ponders briefly. Her cheeks quickly flush and she bites her lip. "Seriously, though—"
Quinn cuts her off, "Yes, seriously." She looks down at her dress and then back at Rachel. She grins. Rachel's knees knock.
"Well, okay then, come on. At least let me buy you another drink."
"Why, so you can spill it on me again?" Quinn tries to yell over the music.
"Ha, ha, Quinn, very funny." Rachel says sarcastically. "Stop being a party pooper."
"Yeah, says the girl who just bathed me in Tequila!" She bites back in a teasing tone, 'trying' to make Rachel feel bad.
"Oh, shut it, Fabray. I'm celebrating! Don't kill my buzz."
"Celebrating?"
Rachel takes Quinn's hand and drags her to a couple of couches in a corner of the club. A dark-haired guy with bright blue eyes smiles wide. "Rachel! There you are!"
"Here I am!" She giggles and pulls Quinn forward. The blonde bites her lip.
"And what are you doing with this beautiful girl? I hope she knows what she's getting into!" The whole crowd laughs and Rachel kicks him in the shin.
"Fuck off, Caleb." She turns to Quinn and says, "Quinn, this is Caleb, and this is the rest of my wonderful cast." Then turning to everyone else, "Cast, this is Quinn. We went to high school together."
Quinn smiles politely, "Hi, nice to meet you all."
"Now, another round for the gang!" Rachel hollers. The crowd cheers her.
"Wait, what are we celebrating again?" Quinn asks, still curious as to why Rachel hadn't answered the first time.
"Haven't you heard?" Caleb wraps an arm around Quinn's shoulder, handing her another shot. "Your girl here's got herself a Tony nomination!"
Rachel blushes and rolls her eyes. Quinn grins before shooting more Tequila.
. . .
5 rounds later and they are all laughing hysterically. Michael had told a story about how his best friend had tripped over a beer can and landed straight into his ex-girlfriend's crotch, right in front of her new boyfriend. Later followed by a broken nose and a lost tooth.
Surely the story sounds much funnier after a ton of alcohol.
"I don't know, I think Quinn and I had much bigger, more serious drama," Rachel laughs and Quinn shoots her a look.
"Oh, God, Rachel. You don't want to bore them with that." She crosses her legs.
"No joking, we could totally write a musical with all the craziness that happened in high school." Rachel turns to her friends, "Quinn was quite the item back in grade school."
There are a few whistles and cat calls. Quinn sips on her water. She's taking a break.
"Everyone was in love with Quinn. She was like the girl."
She winks at Quinn and Quinn's eyebrows raise, "No, way, Berry. Not everyone."
"Okay, let's count, shall we? Glee club: Finn, Puck, Sam, the dreads kid, and probably Artie. Santana, too."
"Santana, the one that came to our show that one time?" Christina, an ensemble dancer, asks.
"The very same." Rachel nods.
"That bitch is cray. Hilarious, but cray."
Quinn scoffs, "She told you that? Oh, my God, how much alcohol did she have in her system for her to spill that?"
The diva smiles deviously, "I've got my ways."
Quinn rolls her gorgeous hazel eyes and shakes her head, "Whatever, it's still not everyone, Berry. Please."
"Don't please me, Quinn Fabray." She leans closer, her lips dangerously close, "Even I was a little bit in love with you." She grabs a glass and takes another shot of whatever.
Chatter erupts and the subject is quickly changed over to another one of Michael's 'hilarious' stories, but Quinn's eyes remain on Rachel. The brunette shrugs playfully, not even trying to take anything back and Quinn's stomach drops. Suddenly, she feels a rush of heat take over her entire body. Truth be told, Quinn was devastated to find that her friendship with Rachel had evaporated before her eyes. One minute they were Skyping every other day, and then poof, gone the next. To see her again, now at almost 28 years old, God, she'd never looked better.
It takes Quinn a few seconds to realize she'd been breathing a little heavier and she'd been squirming in her seat. Her eyes scan over Rachel's smooth, bare legs and she automatically licks her lips. She looks so much more mature, elegant, and poised. So different from the Rachel she knew 10 years before. Finally, she lands her stare onto Rachel's eyes, which had been looking at her the whole time. The blonde feels her cheeks burn and gets up abruptly. She takes two steps toward Rachel and whispers, "Follow me," takes her hand and pulls her from her crowd of friends.
. . .
They are in the bathroom. A very nice bathroom, actually. Rachel's stage manager has a major hook-up at this club, so the VIP section was nothing short of glamorous. Quinn locks the door and Rachel eyes her suspiciously.
"What are you doing?"
"So, you were in love with me in high school?" Quinn asks, intrigued.
"Oh, come on, Quinn. That was ages ago."
"You're not denying it."
Rachel's breath catches in her throat. "So what if I was? I mean, have you seen you?" She tries to dodge it, crossing her arms over her chest.
Quinn's eyes narrow and takes a step forward. "So, you've thought about me...about kissing me?"
She licks her lips, "maybe."
"You've," Quinn pauses, her fingers slipping over the fabric resting atop her breasts, "thought about touching me?"
Rachel takes a step back when Quinn steps right into her personal space. A trillion things are running through her mind right now.
Quinn's hands cup the other girl's face and stares into her chocolate eyes. "Well, then. What are you waiting for?"
The blonde's lips hover over Rachel's and her heartbeat sounds like thunder in her head. Suddenly, every sense is heightened and she can feel everything. Quinn's breath is hot on her mouth and she can't help the small noise she makes when her whole world comes crushing down.
Her lips are devine. It's almost comparable to kissing heaven's clouds. Quinn runs her tongue over Rachel's lower lip and she tastes absolutely delicious. The kiss gets deeper and then there are hands caressing Rachel's breasts, thumbs running over erect nipples. Immediately they break apart for air.
"Holy fuck, what are we doing?" Rachel pants.
"Who cares, fucking touch me." And their lips crash together again.
Thank God for sturdy sinks because Rachel is now sitting on one, with legs spread just far enough for a certain blonde to fit right between. Her fists have the front of Quinn's dress crinkled in a tight grip, but who the fuck cares when Quinn's tongue feels so amazing against hers. Fingers crawl through blonde hair and they are moaning onto one another. Kiss after kiss, their tongues battle, not leaving any part of their bodies untouched. Fingers and hands fumble under and over clothing; teeth scraping skin; nipping and biting and sucking at every inch exposed. Quinn's hand creeps up her dress and Rachel gets impatient. She grabs the blonde's hand and brings her fingers against her clit.
"Fuck, you're not wearing underwear."
"Fucking right, I'm not, now there."
Quinn's fingers begin to make tight circles onto her clit and she's fucking soaked. "Ugh, Rachel, I can feel it on your thighs."
Rachel hisses through gritted teeth, "Oh, shit, there. Do that. Yes, that."
Quinn teases the other girl's opening before entering her with two digits. Rachel's hips begin to buck forward , but Quinn grips her side hard, keeping her steady. She's pumping slowly, in, out; feeling every ridge of her walls, pressing up slightly, just to make her squirm. Rachel sighs and cries out when she feels fingers ram into her roughly.
"Fuck, Quinn, harder." She demands before Quinn begins to kiss down her jaw. Quinn's fingers alternate, circling her clit and entering her again, more forceful every time, enjoying the hell out of Rachel's groans.
"You feel so fucking good," Quinn bites her earlobe softly, pulling it back between her teeth, "You're so tight, and so wet."
Rachel's eyes are black. She can't take it anymore, "Quinn, please."
"Please?"
"Yes, please." She's shaking against Quinn. She's ready, and she needs release now. Rachel's lips ghost over the blonde's and her voice dips low, "fucking make me come all over your hand, baby."
Quinn growls as she takes her lips and locks them into a searing kiss. Her tongue enters Rachel's mouth and Quinn begins to pump her fingers fast, adding another. Rachel cries out against her. Faster, harder, more, more, more. She feels Rachel's walls squeeze tight around her fingers, finally breaking apart for a gasp. Thighs tremble, hips bucking slightly, Rachel rides her orgasm; her eyes are barely shut, and her lips parted just a bit. She looks incredible. Quinn's never seen anything so beautiful.
. . .
The faucet runs loudly, even over the muffled dance music outside.
"I can't believe that just happened."
"You're telling me. I'm here on business and suddenly I bump into you? Here at a club?"
Rachel smiles with cheeks still flushed from their little sexcapade. She leans on the wall. "You're fucking amazing, you know that?"
Quinn turns the water off and grabs a paper towel and begins to dry her hands. "You're the one with the Tony nomination. Congrats, by the way. I never got a chance to say that."
"It's quite alright. I think you congratulated me enough." She laughs, and so does Quinn. The blonde reaches into her clutch and pulls out a card and a pen. "This," she scribbles something down quickly, "is my cell, and there is my hotel address."
Rachel's eyebrows raise and opens her mouth to speak but is only silenced by Quinn's lips. She moans happily.
"I've got a case tomorrow afternoon. So, maybe I can see you after?"
The brunette brings her fingertips to her lips and just nods. "S-sure."
"See you around, Rachel."
. . .
3:34pm- Quinn's phone buzzes in her blazer pocket as she walks down the stairs of the court house.
(212): I can still taste your lips and feel your fingers inside me and I'm craving more. So, when's dinner?