Quinn pushes through the crowd of people frantically rushing to their last comfort. It's absolute mayhem, but why wouldn't it be? The world's ending and there's no time to leave. No point in leaving. She's a block away from her apartment when she slams into someone, her 'end of the world' groceries knocking to the ground, the contents spilling everywhere.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" A familiar voice cries and Quinn straightens up, eyes going straight to the dark haired girl currently trying to scoop up the packets of bacon and shove them back into the paper bag. It couldn't be… The girl straightens up and lo', there she is, Rachel Berry, hair in a disarray and cheeks flushed pink. Her name slips through Quinn's lips, and Rachel freezes, eyes meeting Quinn's tentatively. "Quinn.." she attempts, handing the paper bag over. Their hands brush and that spark that was always there in high school shoots through them.
"It's been a while," Quinn musters, and it's a little ridiculous because the whole world is in a state of chaos and she's standing on a sidewalk with the girl she let walk away from her without a fight and trying to make small talk.
"The world's ending." Rachel says simply, almost casually, and if Quinn was anyone, any passing stranger on the street, she wouldn't have noticed the catch in her voice, the choked sob that's threatening to erupt. "Quinn, everyone's, my fathers are back in Lima and all I have is-"
"I don't want to die alone," Quinn admits, stepping closer, reaching an almost unbearable closeness to Rachel. "Rach, if you're not- I mean, will you-" Her voice breaks and that's all Rachel needs to take her hand.
"Lead the way, Quinn."
Rachel hops onto the kitchen countertop, eyes flickering from place to place, taking in Quinn's apartment. It's…. exactly what she expected Quinn to have, with a few surprises like the movie posters along the back wall. She bites her lip, casts another look around and says, "Do you have anything to make pancakes with?"
Quinn looks taken aback, flabbergasted even, before she rattles off the placement of her ingredients. She stands silently while Rachel amasses all the ingredients from memory, her movements that of a one who made pancakes often enough for it to be familiar. A grin flickers to her face when Rachel squirms and reaches for the flour, which is just an inch out of reach of her fingers. She lets Rachel struggle for another second or so before walking over, and grabbing it for her, inadvertently pressing herself against Rachel. Rachel turns, grabbing the flour, a thank you on her lips, and instead a strangled whimper comes out. "Happy Sunday?" she tries, licking her lips.
Quinn furrows her brow in confusion before the reference clicks. Sunday morning pancakes were a staple in their routine when they had lived together. Sunday mornings were always full of making love, hot lattes and pancakes. She gulps, breathing sharply through her nose. "What part?" she husks.
Rachel bites her lip again, her heart pounding as Quinn's eyes lock directly onto the motion. "What do you think of all this?"
"That you're deflecting?"
"Answer the question."
Slowly, Quinn rips her gaze away from Rachel's lip to look into deep brown eyes. "I think," she murmurs, leaning closer until her forehead grazes Rachel's. "that this was supposed to happen. I think that this is final few moments of the world, and we shouldn't waste any of it. So we should spend the next twelve hours like the greatest day of our lives, because it is."
"You know what that means?" Rachel asks with a smile. "You should-"
"Kiss you right now."
"Start making some lattes."
Quinn raises an eyebrow, and leans down to kiss Rachel anyway. She feels her relax, their warm lips gliding together in such a familiar action that it makes her heart ache even though this is now. Rachel's hands slide up to the back of her neck, tugging her closer and closer until a tongue parts her lips, tracing her own tongue. Quinn breaks the kiss, her hazel eyes dark and half lidded with desire, and drags her lips along the side of Rachel's neck, sucking and licking.
"Quinn! Don't!" Rachel managed as she suckled on her neck, no doubt about to leave a hickey. "I have a performance tomorrow!"
The thought makes Quinn suck harder, Rachel's moans egging her on. She runs her tongue down the column of Rachel's throat, down to her collarbone, down to the V of her shirt. Her fingers dig into Rachel's waist, holding tight. Rachel's cries grow louder and louder as articles of clothing are shed, as passion consumes them and carries them from the kitchen to the meticulously made bed in Quinn's room.
Through whimpers, moans, pants, and screams, somewhere, somehow, a declaration of love is made, and returned.
An hour later, they drag themselves out of rumpled sheets, and into the bath. Rachel presses Quinn against the bathroom tile, kissing her languidly as the bath fills with steaming hot water, the mirrors fogging up quickly. "I'm so glad you knocked me over in the street."
"Stop talking, Rachel." She laughs in the midst of a kiss. A clock chimes behind them and they both turn, reminded of the situation they're in. "C'mon," she says, turning off the water and dipping a toe in the bubble filled water. "Steaming hot, your favorite."
They slide in the bathtub, Rachel's back pressed against Quinn. They take turns washing each other, catching every nook and crevice with care. Quinn drops kisses onto Rachel's shoulderblades, nose nuzzling her neck. "M'sorry for eve-"
"You said spend today like it's the greatest day of our lives, Quinn Fabray, which means no apologizing." Rachel scolds, leaning back to look at Quinn. "There's nothing to apologize for anymore, there's no time for wishing to make up for lost time. All we can do is enjoy it."
Rachel's words are tinged with desperation, fear, love and longing. And that's all that's going through Quinn right now. But with Rachel, there's reassurance, affirmation, and she knows that, regardless of the apocalypse, this is how her life should play out. She smiles and nods, letting Rachel kiss her, letting Rachel love her.
They finally end back up in the kitchen, making their Sunday morning special. Quinn gets dressed in one of Rachel's old sweaters that she still has and fires up her espresso machine, while Rachel tends to the stove in just one of Quinn's button downs, pancakes in one pan, and bacon sizzling in the other(despite Quinn's insistence she really didn't need all the bacon she had bought when she thought she was going to die alone because now she had Rachel and that was a trillion times better than bacon).
They curl up on the couch with plates of food, not really watching the movie Rachel had selected, and instead focusing on each other.
They know there isn't much time left as the sky begins to darken and earthquakes start happening every hour so they slip into the den, armed with sheet music and more coffee. They sit on the bench together, hips and legs touching; Quinn plays songs, any song Rachel wants, and Rachel sings, her voice haunting, beautiful in the din of the room.
Then, as an earthquake passes, Quinn launches into a song that's unfamiliar to Rachel and she looks up at Quinn, puzzled. Quinn smiles, presses a kiss to Rachel's lips and starts to sing. And this song, it's so raw, so Quinn that Rachel starts to cry, tears sliding down her cheeks and hitting the ivory.
The world ends with Quinn's song.