Belated birthday fic for Dak. Semi-beta'd by jarrow272.

Prompt: Rachel finds out about Quinntana sex, angst, etc.

"It's outrageous that any of them think they have a leg to stand on," Quinn mutters, shaking her head at the marriage equality protesters being interviewed on the TV screen. "There is nothing in the Bible relevant to modern queer identities."

Rachel eats another spoonful of vegan ice cream. "Really? They sure think otherwise."

She rolls her eyes. "Leviticus is talking about property laws… the original Hebrew phrase used to describe Eve meant 'corresponding helper,' which doesn't specify gender… the word 'homosexuality' wasn't even used until after the Bible was written… it's really not that difficult to understand."

"Sounds like you've done a lot of research."

Quinn swallows. "Yeah, I mean… what with your dads, and Kurt and Blaine, and Brittany and S-santana…" She hates that she stumbles over the last name. "I just—wanted to know. For sure."

Rachel nods with a small smile. "It's admirable," she says, licking the spoon clean. "I personally don't understand why anyone makes such a big fuss about being gay in the first place. My dads always taught me that sexuality is fluid and you never know who you might fall for."

Quinn stares down at her own bowl and nudges a few chocolate chips around with her spoon.

"Of course, that's why it's typical for people to experiment at some point in their lives. It's a vital process for figuring out one's preferences."

There's a stretch of silence tainted only by the clinking of spoons against bowls, and the newscast goes to a commercial break.

"Rachel," Quinn manages, forcing herself to make eye contact, "Can I tell you something?"

Her eyes brighten noticeably. "Of course!" she says, putting her bowl on the coffee table and shifting her position on the couch, giving Quinn her full attention.

Quinn wets her lips and then nibbles at the bottom one. "Promise you won't judge me?"

"I would never judge you; you have my word." Rachel tilts her head a little. "Quinn, what is it?"

She takes a few deep breaths, because she hasn't told anyone about this yet… but she knows she can trust Rachel. Quinn opens her mouth once and then closes it before finally speaking. "I slept with Santana," she says, her face burning red as the words come out, and for whatever reason her eyes are anywhere but on Rachel's. She waits for a response, for some giggles or light-hearted teasing, but nothing comes; Quinn lifts her gaze.

Rachel is looking at her, but… not really. Her eyes are blank and her brow is furrowed and she's fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "Oh," she breathes after a moment.

There's a lump in Quinn's throat. "Rachel?"

Her eyes focus and something inside them looks so hurt and why does Quinn feel so guilty all of a sudden? "I-I… I didn't realize you two—"

"No, we're not—it was just—it's not like a…" Quinn exhales heavily. "It was just a one-night thing."

Rachel is nodding now. "O-of course. You don't have to—you don't have to explain anything if you don't…" She trails off, and there's this look on her face that Quinn is one hundred percent not okay with.

"What's wrong?" she asks with a frown, because she might expect that look from one of the protesters in D.C., but not from Rachel.

Rachel clears her throat. "N-nothing. No, I'm—I'm happy for you, Quinn."

"Then why can't you look me in the eye?"

Her nostrils flair and she finally locks gazes with Quinn. "Really, it's fine. You can have sexual relations with… whomever you choose," she finishes weakly, like she's having trouble getting the words out.

Quinn's heart is pounding in her chest. "Rachel, you stood by me when I got pregnant, and when I was a Skank, and even when I tried to steal Beth."

"I never said I—"

"But God forbid I have sex with someone when we're both single and drunk and want to have one night of fun."

Rachel's shaking her head now. "No, Quinn, please—I obviously support you no matter what—we were just talking about sexuality being fluid—I-I'm not judging you, I swear—"

"So why does it feel like you are?" Quinn interrupts quietly, and she thinks she sees tears in Rachel's eyes, but she doesn't understand why.

"I need to use the bathroom," Rachel mumbles after a moment, and she's off the couch before Quinn can protest.

"Rachel, talk to me!"

Rachel closes the door just a little louder than necessary.

Quinn collapses backwards on the couch, shoving her hair out of her face as she tries to figure out what the hell is going on. There's not a homophobic bone in Rachel's body… and neither Quinn nor Santana was cheating on anyone so it can't be a morality issue…

So what's she missing?

Quinn gets up and walks over to the bathroom door, but just before her knuckles hit the wood, she freezes. She can hear Rachel crying on the other side. Her stomach drops.

The only times she's known Rachel Berry to shed tears are either a failed audition or a broken heart; and since all they've done is sit on the couch and talk, she has to assume it's the latter.

She replays their conversation in her head: Quinn's Bible research; Rachel's talk of sexual orientation and experimenting; Quinn wanting to confess something without fear of judgment; Rachel's eagerness to know…

Quinn lowers her fist, moisture springing to her eyes even as Rachel's sniffles continue inside the bathroom. "Rachel," she says, swallowing thickly, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't know."

She doesn't get a response, so she walks over to the kitchen table and sinks into one of the chairs, rubbing her temples as she tries desperately to figure out where to go from here. Quinn only gets a few minutes of silence before the loft door opens and Kurt appears, a steaming cup of Starbucks in hand.

"Good evening," he greets, heading to the fridge and grabbing an apple.

"Hey," Quinn mutters, staring blankly at the tabletop.

He takes a bite of apple and glances around. "Where's Rachel?"

She waits a beat. "In the bathroom." Quinn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking up at him. "Kurt, can you… go talk to her?"

Kurt arches an eyebrow. "About what? And can I wait till she's done in there?"

"No, Kurt… she's in there crying."

He blinks. "Oh. Did Brody do something? Or was it Finn again?" He shakes his head. "I don't even want to know. You go fix it; this is your territory."

"I told her I slept with Santana."

Kurt chokes on a bite of apple. "You what?"

"I can't tell if you're 'you what'-ing about me sleeping with Santana or about me telling Rachel about it, but both happened and now she's bawling her eyes out in there and I really need you to go make sure she's okay."

He blinks again. "O-okay. Of course." He tosses his apple core in the trash and starts to head for the bathroom, but then pauses for a moment. "You and Santana?" he asks over his shoulder. "Really?"

Quinn clenches her jaw. "Kurt."

"Right," he replies, knocking softly on the bathroom door and then slipping inside.

She sits at the table for a bit longer, half of her straining to hear what's happening and the other half terrified to know; she finally pulls out her phone, selects the contact she wants, and hits "call."

"Where are you?"

.

Quinn meets Santana at the Panera Bread a few blocks away and they get a table in the back corner of the room, order drinks, and now Santana is looking at her expectantly.

"Q," she says, taking a sip of her Coke, "What did you need talk about?"

She takes a deep breath in and out. "I just had this conversation with Rachel."

Santana's eyebrow quirks. "Yeah? What kind of conversation?"

"We were watching the news—that stuff about the marriage equality protests?—and I started talking about the Bible, and then she said all this stuff about sexuality and experimentation—"

"Oh my god, did you two finally make out?"

Quinn sinks down in her chair a few inches. "I told her I slept with you."

Santana swallows a big gulp. "Oh, shit." Quinn just nods slowly, and Santana narrows her eyes. "And?"

Quinn licks her lips. "She shut down and then locked herself in the bathroom."

"Oh…"

"Yeah."

"…shit."

Quinn stirs the ice around with her straw. "Thing is, we both said stuff that—I think she thought I was going to—"

"Tell her you have the hots for her?"

She chews the inside of her cheek. "Yeah."

Santana sits back a little and crosses her arms loosely around her chest. "Do you?"

"I don't know," Quinn snaps, shrugging in exasperation. "I'd never even been with a girl until the thing with you… I-I'm not used to thinking about—I haven't—" She waits a beat. "She's my best friend, but I've never thought about her that way. With the extra stuff."

Santana takes another sip of her drink. "Never?" she asks, her face completely neutral. "You sure?"

"Are you suggesting otherwise?"

"Look, I'm not gonna sit here and tell you you're gay, but I'm also not gonna sit here and tell you you're a Kinsey One." Santana looks her square in the eye. "You're Quinn Fabray, and you've had a handful of boyfriends, and you lost your virginity to a guy, and you've also had sex with a woman." She thinks for a moment. "Twice."

"Santana…"

"Maybe what you're into is changing, or maybe it's not… but just forget about labels and categories for a second."

Quinn takes another deep breath. "Okay."

"Berry is into you, apparently, and now you've got some options," she says, then sticks out her thumb. "You can be an idiot and push her away and let it ruin this nauseatingly ABC Family thing you guys have going…" Santana sticks out her index finger now. "You can let her feel what she's feeling and not do anything about it," she continues, then adds her middle finger. "Or, you can give it a shot."

Quinn fidgets with her straw.

"Why not try it out? You know what it's like to be with a girl when you're both drunk and horny. Try it when you're both sober and have potential feelings going on."

"It's not that simple."

Santana shrugs. "Says who?"

Quinn takes a careful sip of her drink and swallows slowly. "Me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not—Santana, what I said at the hotel about it being a one-time thing… I meant it."

"And I totally believe you. I believe that you won't screw around with me again—but do I believe you won't screw around with any woman for the rest of your existence?" She smirks. "Lord, no."

Quinn flushes red and starts crunching on an ice cube. "I don't want to hurt her."

"No shit. Alert the presses." Quinn glares at her and she rolls her eyes. "Jesus, Q, just talk to her. It doesn't even matter what you're feeling or not feeling—just let her in on whatever crazy shit is going on in that Ivy League noggin of yours."

Quinn sighs. "Since when are you the logical one?"

Santana shrugs again. "Since when does Quinn Fabray need help with girl trouble?"

"Shut up."

.

When they get back to the loft, Kurt is watching Grey's Anatomy and Rachel is nowhere to be found.

Santana plops down on the couch next to him. "Are you watching this week's?"

"Shhh, Arizona's speaking," he murmurs without looking away from the screen, but when Quinn walks over and stands behind the couch, he glances up at her. "She's in her room," he says quietly.

Quinn nods and heads over to the curtain blocking Rachel's bed from view, and she raises her fist to knock before rolling her eyes at herself. "Rachel?" she calls out softly, then moves the edge of the curtain a few inches to the side. "Can I come in?"

She's curled up on her bed with her back to Quinn; she doesn't answer.

Quinn nibbles her lip then lets herself in, approaching the bed until she can see that Rachel's eyes are open. "Rach," she says, wetting her lips, "Can we talk?"

"About what?" Rachel mumbles.

"You know what." She climbs onto the mattress and lies down on her side, facing Rachel.

There's a stretch of silence before Rachel finally speaks. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

Rachel rolls over to face Quinn, and her eyes are red. "Neither did you." She sniffs. "And I'm sorry for acting like you did."

Quinn looks at her for a long time before taking a deep breath. "Can you tell me why?"

The corner of her mouth quivers a little and her eyes get shiny. "I'd rather not."

"Please."

Her gaze falls away from Quinn's, but she clears her throat. "I, um. I think…" A tear falls and Quinn rests her hand on top of Rachel's.

"Don't be scared. You're safe with me."

Now Rachel's staring at their hands. "When you told me about Santana, I felt—I hated knowing that—I don't even know, I just…"

"Hey," Quinn whispers, "Breathe."

"I think I'm in love with you," Rachel blurts, and when her eyes meet Quinn's again, they're terrified.

Quinn's heart nearly bursts in her chest; it was one thing to talk about this with Santana, but to actually hear the words come out of Rachel's mouth...

"A-and of course I understand if you need some space, or would rather not speak to me for a period of time—whatever you need to do, really, it's fine. I-I won't be offended, I promise." Her voice thickens at the end and Quinn can feel Rachel's hand trembling just a little.

"Is that everything?" she says with a small smile, and Rachel nods with a sniff; Quinn squeezes her hand. "Feel this? I'm still here. I'm not leaving you."

Rachel nods again and manages a thick "Okay."

Quinn takes a deep breath. "I've never thought of you in a romantic way before," she begins, and hurt flashes through Rachel's eyes. "But that doesn't mean I won't ever. And I'm not saying I definitely will; I'm not making any promises."

Rachel is staring at their hands again.

"But I'm not ruling out any possibilities, either."

Big brown eyes snap to hers.

Quinn chews her lip again. "I need you to be patient with me, and honest, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Rachel squeezes back now. "I think so."

"Okay," she whispers, taking her hand back so she can brush a few locks of hair behind Rachel's ear, and kisses her gently on the cheek. When she pulls away Rachel leans forward, and for a moment she's afraid Rachel wants to try an actual kiss, but then Rachel curls up against her side, draping an arm over Quinn's stomach.

"Is this okay?" she asks quietly, her voice tight like she's terrified of what the answer will be.

Quinn kisses the top of Rachel's head and brushes her fingertips up and down her back. "This is perfect."

.

In the morning, when they wake up still fully-clothed and plastered against one another, and when they go out into the kitchen for breakfast and don't get a single teasing comment from Kurt or Santana, and when Rachel lets Santana have the last bit of coffee from the pot, Quinn starts to think that it really might be that simple.